A big reason why I enjoy holidays is because it gives my family a reason to get together. Otherwise, we're all too busy living our separate lives. These special occasions almost force us to put our bickering and private lives aside and act like a somewhat functional family, if those exist these days.

This Mother's Day was no exception. The big eight got together for lunch and surprisingly, didn't argue (unless you count Jesse's showdown with the hostess who seated us forty minutes after our reserved time). Then again, we were late like usual, but that's no excuse for poor service. I used to be a host so I take these things personal.

Anyhow, it's a gloomy May morning and I digress. What I wanted to articulate was the fact that this past Mother's Day was especially important for me.

These past couple weeks have been, to say the least, frustrating. And what's almost confusing and irritating is that with all these college acceptances, I would have expected it to be joyful. This is the time where I'm supposed to breathe a sigh of relief and jump for joy. I just thought all of this hard work would have surrmounted to a big horrah especially from the woman I love the most in this world. I suppose I also wanted her to read my mind. The point is I wasn't getting it. And yet I should know this, coming from a family that doesn't express itself in either healthy or effective manners. (We're a very demanding and impatient family for the most part.)

So instead I took to pen and paper and wrote my mother a five-page letter, expressing to her all the emotions I've withheld in the past couple years. Everything I've wanted to say but was too afraid to came out. There were parts were I was so angry and bitter that my words came out so hurtful, I then rewrote them and resolved some issues on my own. I certainly would not have been able to find such clarity without the lunch talks and support of professors and friends.

When I struggled to understand why my parents didn't seem happy for me. My history professor, Susie Ling put it to perspective, "Don't you see. They're afraid of losing you." I immediately thought of my mom who left her family and college to marry my father and mother six kids.

In reference, the LA Times published a poignant op-piece this Sunday titled "Moms are People Too." Deborah Tannen, a Georgetown professor writes, We want our mothers to see us and love us for who we are, but we are often disappointed in them for falling short of who we think they should be. Mother's Day is a good time to try to see our mothers and love them for who they are: creations of their lives and their worlds, which doubtless are different from our own.

To my mom and mothers around the world, we can never say it enough, thank you. Love you, Mommy.

matt lauer has my dream job, or at least one of them.

i've been thinking..

the only upside to this gloomy weather is drinking warm soy chai (for free, thanks tim).

a nervous habit of mine: using like a bajillion times in every other sentence.

last weekend i went out to dinner with old h.s. friends. one had just broken up with her bf and in spite of all the uplifting words that attempted to come out of my mouth, nothing seemed to boost her spirits. it only worsened when her steak was served. on the verge of tears she said it was difficult to eat because her (now ex-)bf used to cut her meat for her. i laughed and passed on the most confused look to the party of 15. i assume that's better than telling her how pathetic i thought she was acting and how she managed to survive cutting her own meat for the past 19 years she's lived without him. i also thought about presenting her with the good ol' option of vegetarianism, but figured i could wait till dessert.

my analysis of The Log from the Sea of Cortez is lagging.

and i'm about thirty terms short of memory for my political theory exam.

i find it discouraging when talking to my parents about my future. makes me want to cry every time. they want me to go one way; i can't help but want the other. and what's tough is explaining that or more realistically, them accepting it.

i'm ready for spring break. looking forward to lying on the shores of san diego.

i wish it was june 1st. judgment day for gu and my life for the following two years. also, twenty-nine days closer to my bday.

i've been running on pcc's track these days. great remedy for stress and good exercise (something you don't hear too often).

alright, i should stop trying to run from studying.

happy easter, folks.

OK, this anecdote is totally cheesy but I'm going share it anyway because I'm sure there are some (if not a few) who've felt the same way...

I had just gotten out of class and was walking towards the parking lot when I noticed a really good looking guy walking towards my direction. Usually out of embarrassment I look the other way but this time it was too late before we caught eyes and he smiled and said "whatsup." In shock I just kept on walking and couldn't help but smile the whole way to my car.

For the first time in a long time I had a real weekend. No school stuff, no work or any other prior commitments. Nope. Zip. Nada. And I loved it! My weekend started a day early thanks to César Chávez and the farm workers union and movement. So, much celebration and relaxation was done at the beach. I can't tell you how great of a feeling it is to drive out of such an orderly society with so much madness at the same time all to be calmed by the cool breeze and taste of salt water.

Following was time spent with old and new friends. And later a mystery-love story, which I only have a chapter left of because I can't seem to want it to end.

Sunday I washed my car for the first time and asked myself why I hadn't done so before. I've watched my brother wash his a plenty but for some reason, it was just convenient and the obvious for me to take it to the wash. But with such a beautiful day and some money to save and muscle to gain, I fished out the hose and cleaning supplies from the garage. This might sound silly but while soaping and scrubbing I realized how appreciative I was of my car. It wasn't just something I used to haul myself around in or pay lots to fuel. It was a hard-working machine, and quite a filthy one at the time. And to think that I've been paying someone else to do my dirty work just feels wrong. I even had a conversation with my neighbor Uncle Wong, a retired and genuine ol' man, for the first time. I can't believe I had gone for so long seeing this man and having never spoken a word to him. We talked about school, family and our cars (he also happened to be washing his). At that point I felt like I was part of a community.

While I cleaned my car I also cleaned my head. I reflected on how I've lived (much on the premise of convenience) and how I want and am trying to live--in good health, respect and sense of common good.

Most of this weekend was spent judging at the Cal State Fullerton High School Speech and Debate Tournament. In high school I competed in a number of events (mainly original advocacy, foreign extemp and policy) but my coaches and friends in forensics could easily tell that my passion lied in debate. Unless you're a cx debater, it's difficult to explain because debate in itself is its own world. The activity changed my life. It opened doors to countless perspectives of politics and academia, philosophers like Michel Foucalt and theorists like Cynthia Enloe, life--everything I learned blew my mind. I took so much from debate if only I could describe the feeling here.

It's difficult to talk about debate to non-debaters. People don't believe me when I tell them that there are debate camps. It's a scary thought, actually. High school students should be enjoying their summers in the woods, running around, hiking, swimming, doing frivilous nonsense, not stuck in a classroom researching, writing, and debating. But debate was in my blood and so I did. And I was hooked. The summer of my junior year was spent at three different camps in Austin, Flagstaff and San Marino. I remember after I came home from UTNIF my friends and family threw me a surprise party to celebrate my sweet 16, and that same day I had to leave to catch the train for CDE in Arizona. It was hectic and I was so consumed, and not even that good (I can't even begin to talk about my infatuation for such great debaters). The work was rigorous and sometimes I fell behind, but the intellectual stimulation that I got from debate was out of this world and that's what I loved.

At the same time I hate debate because of its elitism. Only those debaters with money can afford to attend camp (the really good ones, for that matter) and travel and attend tournaments because fees are ridiculously expensive and not always a short bus ride away. So much paper gets wasted for evidence that rarely even gets read, and it's tough to find a coach, most of whom are starving college students who hate to commute unless they're getting paid big bucks for their time. At tournaments you wake up early and stay up late, go to rounds, "spread" (debate jargon for reading aloud so fast it's uncomprehensible) and claim to solve for nuclear proliferation. It makes you feel good, like you're saving the world. Very realistic, not.

Having spent your entire summer at some elite college prepping for the coming year's resolution, you're overwhelmed with knowledge and unfortunately, conceit. There are those debaters --the ones with their tubs stacked high atop a skateboard, donned in birkenstocks and their hair, uncombed. You sense they know everything about the world and only they have the solution to solve it. They easily clear prelims with a 6-0 record and have their bids to the TOC. Yup, and you love and hate 'em, or at least I did.

One round that stands out in particualr from this tournament was between two teams who were more or less JV level. The aff plan advocated extending the number of coast guards in the US; the neg countered with a militarism kritik. The need to analyze the construction of the military, its heirarchy, creation of the "enemy," and system of perpetual violence. This made me think, why is it that names like "sissies" get thrown at male soldiers, so as to put their"manhood" on the line so that they can "toughen" up, and yet demean women at the same time. Why is it that we have a don't ask-don't tell policy of military personal's sexual orientation, or why women serving in the military are threatened to be reported of being lesbian and thrown out of service if they don't consent to sexual intercourse by a male counterpart. Gay/lesbian-baiting, it's called. This sort of violence and domination transcends the military to every day society. I was watching Wedding Crashers this morning and as much as I laughed, it bugged me that Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn were calling each other "pussies." I don't find that sort of stuff funny.

I don't agree with war or the use of violence. Some call that being a pacificist, but to me, appeasing isn't my ideal either. I want peace but I'm unsure of what that's supposed to be like, and I don't think it's the opposite of war. Inbetween needs to be some sort of communication, dialogue. Too easily we resort to violence or the thought of it. And I'm just as guilty as a bit earlier my little sister, Brittney, was rushing me to drive her to cheer practice. I was fustrated with it all and said under my breath in the midst of wanting to do three things at the same time that I was going to slap her in the face, even though I would never lay a hand on her. That fustrated me even more.

Reflecting on debate, what captivated me was not the point of arguing against your opponent, but rather it's being able to exchange varying viewpoints, conversing in the real world. Debate opens a space to talk about why things are the way they are, and come up with solutions. Oh, the power of discourse!

The car ride with Britt was a silent one for the most part. I wanted to apologize for my uncalled-for behavior, instead, I asked her if she was excited for school to start again. Poor sort of communication on my part.

Hmm, I think I know what to do when I pick her up. Maybe it'll be easier if I take her to get some frozen yogurt at 21 Choices.

And that sort of explains my love-hate relationship with debate. I never said it was easy.

Rock climbing yesterday has made me sore all over. Oh, but it was beautiful--hiking the serene Santa Monica mountains and cleaning for the first time in Echo Cliffs, tremendous. I'm ready to start the new year (if only I could move).

Typically, I make vague new year's resolutions like to be more organized and take new risks. You know, goals that can be easily achieved, and broadly interpreted so achieved. But I've put some thought and specifics into this year's and hopefully will stick to them.

My 2007 New Year's Resolutions, here it goes:
-be fluent in Spanish (or at least hold a ten minute conversation) and travel to South America
-read a non-school related book a month (mm, 12 books in a year doesn't sound like much, but when the semester starts I get so bogged down with school reads that I forget to make time for other good stuff)
-visit a museum a month (there are still a bunch I have yet to see--Norton Simon, Pacific Asian Museum, Getty Villa..)
-practice power pilates as a routine work-out
-learn to knit

We'll see how it goes.
Happy new year to all!

It bugs me when every time my mom introduces me to someone, be it a friend, distant relative or the cashier working the register at the market, I'm the "crazy one." It's not just my mom but entire family. And it bugs me.

I don't know..I love the ocean, forests, animals, nature, everything outdoors. Call me selfish but I want to ensure that we'll still have trees and clean water in a hundred or even fifty years from now. Ok, so I don't eat meat. I would never eat a dog. I can't imagine a chicken being any different. And because I believe if two people truly love each other, whatever sexual orientation they may be, they should be able to marry. And because I don't believe that violence is the answer to violence, I don't understand why 2,988 U.S. military troops have died in Iraq. I can't even begin to imagine the number of Iraqis who've died, and the amount of destruction that's been done because of war. I love my country and am proud to say that I'm an American. But that doesn't mean I'm going to settle for status quo when I know that something's wrong, and that I have the power to act. I'm sick of watching and reading about "terror and violence" and how it's "eating us up." Why sit and wait for something to happen, when I can make changes myself? And I don't expect huge changes all at once. Little seps, I remember.

My family thinks I'm crazy, and they're probably worried that I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. But there are a lot of things I want to accomplish--and I'm learning that throughout college. After my experience with GP and the GOT I am assured that I want to be part of our government's political process--at the forefront of writing and passing legislation, communicating and creating diplomacy (what a foreign term it's become). I want to travel the world and learn from different communities and cultures. I want to photograph and document as I go. I want to share my stories and perhaps I'll obtain my doctorate and teach, and hopefully inspire. I also want to open a bakery because I love sweets, and make everything free from animal suffering if possible. So I'm a dreamer and an optimist. But I'm also a doer. And if that makes me crazy, so what.

i'm trying to get back into a routine work-out schedule. i'd like to join my mom in the early morning but getting out of bed to face cold and exhaustion prompts me to think of other things i'd rather be doing like sleeping. but after going to bed before nine last night (i know, i know. nine is so early. i'm still adjusting to the time change, or so i'll keep telling myself) i was wide awake around seven this morning and hit the gym with my mom. the work-out was alright, my ipod was on shuffle and playing really slow drowning songs. i would have pressed skip but i was low on battery juice and any tamper with it would have just killed the minipod. while i was at the gym i ran into my great-grandmother. this wasn't so much of a surprise as practically my whole extended family on my dad's side has a membership to the same gym. bizare. seeing my great-grandmother who is 92 mind you was mind-boggling. i was watching her work the machines (while nervous out of my mind afraid that her fragile bones would fall off) but outrageously that tiny little old lady was workin' it--pumping iron non-stop! now i have no excuse for not getting off my lazy ass and excercising. no fair!

there's no doubt i've fallen into the discourse of what is known in my women's studies class as the "together woman," who's seemingly strong, determined and independent. she knows what she wants in life and let's nothing else get in her way. she's the proud and confident feminist who changes her own tires and knows she doesn't need a man to make her happy. she's come a long way by dropping the pearls and vacuum, and obtaining the right to vote, own property, and excel in the workforce, and not to mention, is damn right about exercising those powers. the together woman has simply got it together, emotionally and physically.

if only it was that easy. not only is maintaining the together woman persona appealing and empowering, it's also extremely tiring. as an optimist, i rarely complain, but that's also because i've learned to suck it up and take it like a woman. i fear being judged as weak and so i smile and keep my problems to myself. but the thing is i'm exhausted of holding it all in--handling four online classes with a couple exams approaching, revising personal statements to meet the novemeber 30th admission deadline, intense weekday GOT trainings, and extra long weekend hours and demands at work. i'm just exhausted with trying to make everything seem ok. last week i sat in front of my laptop for four hours struggling to produce an essay, and all that came out was a few phrases. i went downstairs for some support from my housemates when i realized i was on the verge of tears and didn't want them to see how much i was suffering from all the stress so i ran back to my room and tried to cry and sleep my worries away; i really needed rest. luckily, i also got some direction and encouragement from my editor.

i'm in the process of finding a balance. i've taken a break from my stack of political-junkie-related books and picked up some light-hearted romance paperbacks. i'm slowly accepting the idea of taking a break and doing nothing, and have actually come to enjoy it (it's allowed me to notice the really neat decor on our living room ceiling). while feeling like i always have to have it together, i'm adjusting to just going with the flow. and as much as resist shallow depictions of body image, i worry about weight gain, and then brush that aside and indulge in sweets and good food. i budget wisely and am craving to hit the salvation army and then macy's. i work hard and as they say, try to play harder. lately, i've done a lot of dancing and hanging with friends. i think now would be a nice time to snuggle with a chick flick, some kettle popcorn, and perhaps even a cute boy.

looks like all ends well while listening to alanis morissette's jagged little pill album. i've noticed a pattern with my blogging. it takes me a really long time to post becuase throughout the thought process of organizing my thoughts and putting them into words, i end up resolving the problem that initially came to mind, thus conclude with positive regards. funny how therapeutic blogging can be.