I don't think facebook is an addiction because it's enjoyable. It's boring and routine to go on every day just to count red speech-bubble alerts. But we manage to convince ourselves otherwise because we don't know how else to stay in touch. Surely this must be fun because we're spending so many hours browsing pictures and blurbs, trying to squeeze meaning out of screens that promise to show us what our relationships are made of.

So we go on looking for things that probably won't appear. Because we need to know if the world misses us when we're not around. Facebook is the cheerful euphemization of our collective capacity to be alone.

It must have been hard to have a crush before the internet! Online you can make like you're intimate by reading their thoughts, or pretend like they're not so far away by looking through their pictures.

Why is it called stalking? I'm not that sinister. I've never really crushed before, either. KitKat and NYLove made it seem fun to harbour these happy secrets, like keeping mum on what the Christmas present is going to be, or flaunting chocolate you're not about to share. But it's like what I said to Digi - I never knew I was lonely until I started to think about my life in terms of how it could be shared with someone else.

It's 1:30 AM in the morning and I'm online making a pathetic collection of your digital footprints. Becuase I don't know how else to miss you.

I might be teaching piano at a children's art studio. The owner also asked to see my drawings, giving me a chance to relive my glory days.

   

   

   

 

    

      

My mood has lifted 110% since I started working out again. Did early morning yoga today, and I always oogle the teachers (male and female) when they come in the class. Makes me want to get a tight bod and become a yoga instructor.

I can almost do all the poses! I remembered what Jinryu had said, that pain is only weakness leaving the body. To my surprise, if I concentrated enough on what I was trying to do I wouldn't feel the pain at all. It was literally just a figment of my imagination, a manifestation of the fear in your head that tells you to put on the brakes because no way you'll be able to do that crazy-ass pose, that bad things will happen if you try. But in the 40C room you can stretch all kinds of crazy ways without hurting yourself, and once I realized that I was immediately able to reach farther, pull harder, stand stronger. Yoga is more about bravery than it is about ability. This is the most flexible I've been, ever.

All this exercise means I've been liberated from my winter bundle of clothing and I've consequently been renegotiating my relationship to my body. My knees will never be pretty again because I've scraped them up too many times now on my bike and in ultimate. I hate the restriction of long sleeves and jeans, but I don't like wearing shorts either because I hate to shave. I like having smooth legs, but what a colossal waste of time and plastic/metal razors over something so trivial!

Also, my lower and upper body are completely at odds with one another; my legs are a flushed pink color and my body is more the yellow Asian color == My upper half is tiny and trim, but my legs are sturdy like tree trunks. They're not ugly, but they're not dainty or delicate either.

Had two ultimate games in the evening. I didn't catch or throw as well as I would have liked, but I ran as if on wheels; I flew. I think my checks eventually gave up on trying to follow me, and when it was my turn to be on their watch I boxed them relentlessly (because ultimate is a non-contact sport, boxing is where you position yourself always a step ahead of your check so they have to change their momentum or risk running into you, the result being that they can never get to where they're trying to go. If my teammates are wondering why I'm always crashing into people that's why).

I know the other team's girls (ultimate is co-ed) weren't that good to begin with, and also that I'm playing division 4 in the league now instead of div 2. But whatever. I was running on air. I felt beast today. This is my game.

I've been achy all week - that savory kind of sore you get after working out a lot. My biceps and (almost) abs are back! I feel like my old self again.

Partly I keep up the workout because it's addicting. Your body transforms and tones so quickly that you feel compelled to keep up. But also I remember lying about how many pushups I had done in Strenght&Conditioning class. I was working out nearly everyday, sometimes more than once a day, and still I couldn't pushup as much as the guys who were obese and inactive. I lied because I had to be more than just The Girl.

I'm much more disciplined than Trumon is about exercise, but already he's taller and soon to be stronger than me. Even at my strongest I am still weaker than the weakest male. This isn't about safety - I just won't accept the fact that being a girl means I have to be weaker.

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I try not to complain about Trumon because my brother is truly awesome and I would hate for anyone to think otherwise. But lately all I've seen of Trumon is his Maple Story addiction and his ability to dodge his chores by using his I'm-your-adorable-only-son powers on the parents to bypass my authority.

"For every rod of wet bamboo upon the student the teacher deserves two."

The quote is from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (which is hilarious, if a bit long) but it is nonetheless applicable. Whenever I get angry at Trumon I still beat myself up over it. It must be so awful to have kids. You can't help but take their every action as a measure of your own sucesses and failures.

It seems like all Trumon wants to do nowadays is be cynical and read manga. I scolded him last week about his excessive computer usage and since then he's rolled his eyes and sighed every time I ask him to do anything. It's crushing. Why do I fail so much as a parent? Why didn't I teach him better? I want to give up sometimes.

Trumon is gone right now for his grade 7 Quebec trip. The flight was 5:30 AM last Saturday. I woke up late in the morning to find this note slipped under my door. I couldn't believe it - it's the sort of sentimental thing I do all the time, but I certainly wouldn't expect it from Trumon. It was nice to know I had been thought of, but I still think I need a break from family at the moment. Though it's awful being the only child to these particular parents, I'm thankful right now for the solitude.

A: Hi Louise ca va? Il fait du beau soleil ici je veux le partager avec toi!

L: Merci pour ton beau soleil il est aussi rayonnant que toi! Je t’embrasse fort! : )

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The Ericsson walkman w300i was one of the breakthrough mp3 phones, yet its memory capacity can barely handle both my texts and my contact list. Its phone camera is next to useless, but I won't get a new phone until the current one breaks because I feel bad to think of it sitting in an electronic waste mound somewhere in a third world country.

Nonetheless, I have messages on my phone that go all the way back to 2008. Instead of a tombstone, they should just leave my cell phone at the grave. On it are the names of everyone I'm closest to, as well as records of all our SMS interactions. My unlimited text plan is kind of a waste when I'm single, but I'm still very much a text-head. I keep every Merry Christmas/Happy Birthday/Happy Chinese New Year/Happy Pi Day text. Anything that once made me smile, any small thought sent and formulated for me in an instance of someone else's beehive life.

I keep even the ones from old boyfriends that I'll never read again. It doesn't really matter anymore what the messages say or who they're from. The feelings don't still have to exist in order for me to carry around this reminder of our capacity to care.

I'm glad there's such a thing as Youtube, cause then I'll get a second chance at performing my song sans stage fright. I sang badly at the concert yesterday because I was so nervous. I felt like a dumb kid next to Siamack and Sasan. I'm 19; I shouldn't get jittery anymore! Fifteen years of piano and still in need of stage experience aie yaa

Also I should learn to sing with my eyes open and not make awkward arm movements  t__t

Nonetheless, complete strangers came up afterwards to compliment me, and I was reminded of when I used to wait for OStar while she badgered Vancouver Jazz Festival musicians after their performances. I have fans! I feel like a real musician.

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[PunkPrince] asked for my number yesterday after the concert.

I actually like this guy cause he's nice and so talented. But I think it would save everyone a lot of headache if boys asked less ambiguous questions. Yes, you can have my number and most likely I even want to get to know you better. But when you ask "Do you want to hang out sometime?" is it heartless TMI when I answer "Yes let's hang, but I don't want it to be a date / I like this other boy" ?

It's about to get messy.

Whoever doesn't like Gaga obviously hasn't heard an acoustic performance. Gaga is goddess.

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It doesn't count if it's a date and they do it only out of an awkward expectation - it has to catch me a bit off guard. I always fall a little for people who offer to take the bill.

This isn't a feminist thing; I often take the bill for my friends, regardless of if they're a guy or a girl. We exercise consideration everywhere else - we hold doors for our friends, we hang on to their words and we give them rides home when the buses aren't running. Why does that stop at the cashier?

I refuse to accept their generosity of course, like a good little Chinese girl. It's an old-fashioned game of verbal, cat-and-mouse politesse, but it's good to know people can and still do look after one another like that.

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Siamack was smiling last Wednesday at rehearsal after the first run-through of his song. I could tell he was happy his baby was coming together and sounding the way he wanted. I was just relieved not to have disappointed.

"I've got something for you," he said, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket. I held the lyrics for him while he picked up his guitar and sang in throat-rattling German. It sounded so harsh after having learnt an Italian song. I don't think I like it, but it will be fun to learn nonetheless.

We have enough projects now to call ourselves a band, including a radio interview! Funny how the radio show I wanted to do about local bands fell through, and now my band is the one getting an interview!

Yesterday we were chilling after rehearsal when Siamack again swung his guitar into his lap asked me, "How would you like to sing country?" He wanted me in his music; he wanted to share it with me. It was the sweetest thing he could have said.

I didn't yet know the words but I swayed on my chair and hummed out an improvisation. Julie says I look possessed when I play the piano. It's probably not a look I should sport in public - but how else is music supposed to make you feel? I don't understand how people listen to mp3s on the bus sitting silently, hands in lap, just to pass the time. It's not just the fact that they're shutting themselves off to the rest of the world - what's the point of listening if you can't sing or dance along? How can music be so contained? Music isn't just something you put in your ears - it's something you live.

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Sasan says I sound like Loreena McKennitt : )

I always knew I had singing potential but I didn't think I was good enough to pursue it. So many singers make it big without ever having received formal training. Talent is so naturally endowed to them that it seems like if yours isn't already whole and perfected there isn't any point in trying.

And now that I'm trying again it's obvious that my singing needs a lot of work. I don't know how I'm supposed to develop my voice, but if I am to stick with these guys then I had better figure something out fast.

I didn`t sleep enough yesterday because my body is stupid and feels like waking up after exactly 6 and a half hours regardless of when I hit the bed. At least it means I get to blog in the early morning quiet.

I wrote a new song yesterday!!! I`m going to pee my pants in excitement. I performed it for Trumon and it's funny because he shows approval in the same way as Dad. If it's okay he'll shrug or at the most he'll tell you "It's good," but you know he doesn't really mean it. He doesn't say anything different if it's actually good, but I saw him raise his eyebrows so I could tell he was impressed.

I`d post it now but I want to find better recording equipment, and plus I want to premiere it at the Recital Society concert. I`ll work on a video at the end of the month.

I know I`m making a lot of fuss; people write songs all the time, and there are a number of composers in the Society alone. But I'm not an exceptional singer, musician or writer, and so it's very reassuring to be creative like this when I'm so insecure with those identities. I identify so much with the title of "artist" that I become extremely nervous when I'm not producing.

Not only am I singing my own song at the Recital, but I`ve been asked to add my voice to Siamack`s and Sasan`s! Siamack was auditioning me last Wednesday and I was a little nervous. I know my singing can be nice but I'm not as talented as I'd like to be. But when Siamack started to play I jammed along with the harmonies like how I always do when I'm in my room. It felt so different from classical music where I'm always being told to change this, to be that, to work on this passage. Here all I had to do was just be me in order to make the music work.

I think we were all surprised at how easily it all came together. When Sasan came in the room Siamack said, "Hey check this out. This lady has a sexy-- I mean nice - voice." haha

These brothers play Celtic/Spanish guitar and sing in four different languages. I`m learning Italian for the performance. Apparently the way the Quebecois roll their r's is different from how Europeans roll r's (I speak Quebecois French) so I have to learn that too >_<

We're calling the collaboration a "project" and not a "band" because we don't yet want an ongoing committment. But if this performance works out, who knows?

Gosh, if you asked me just two weeks ago if I ever thought I'd be composing and singing both by myself and in a group I would've said you were crazy!

P.S. if I know you IRL you better come to my concert! I will sing extra sexy for you ; )

Date:	Thursday, April 29, 2010
Time:	7:00pm - 9:00pm
Location:	Shadbolt Centre for the Arts, 6450 Deer Lake Avenue

Vincent played a brillant rendition of Ravel's Alborada del Gracioso at the Recital Society concert dress rehearsal last Wednesday. Then the strangest thing happened: everyone threw up their hands and cheered.

I too, had been impressed, but my first reaction was not joy but dread. My experience with classical music is with piano competitions and with Asian parents who compare their kids to all other people's kids. Classical music for me is competitive. So when Vincent did well, I felt threatened. Then slowly I realized that I didn't have to be. We were among friends; support for one person didn't mean less for everyone else.

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I'm generally embarassed by the fact that I'm a classical pianist. I'm ashamed that all I've been taught to do is to push buttons as dictated by the page, and that the extent of my creative capability is how much I've personalized and interpreted a piece written by someone else. Classical music is also undeniably nerdy. It's something Asian kids are forced to do by their parents and teachers.

I got over this mentality when I met normal, well-adjusted people who were also classical musicians. We have other styles of music too - Celtic, violin, opera, Chinese traditional folk, even punk. Some people do covers, and others compose and improvise. It's so inspiring to be in this room of talented, creative people who are all supportive of one another. For the first time, music is about celebration and friends instead of control and restraint.

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I'm going to quit piano lessons. It was silly to think that I could've paid for another year of classes by myself, and what's more, I'm glad! We're going to have so much money!! More money = happier parents. Less piano practicing time = getting a $job$, going back to full time studies, as well as more time with friends! I'm free to listen to music that I enjoy!

The truth is I did piano because other people said it'd be good for me. If I had doubts, I surpressed them, because sometimes that's what you have to do to get things done. But a lot of my friends are good pianists, and I notice the difference between them and me is that they practice what they love, and I practice for what I should be / am supposed to be.

It's not like I don't like the music, but it's not my passion. I was afraid that I wouldn't have the context in which to continue music if I quit my lessons, but the Society will provide not only the context but also the inspiration. I want to be my own musician, I want to make music that is relevant to myself. Classical training has given me the technique and foundation. The rest is up to me.

This morning I watched Nova Scotian officials live on TV issue a formal, posthumous apology to Viola Desmond. Desmond, a black woman, was arrested 65 years ago for refusing to leave the whites-only section of a movie theatre.

To some, this is routine ceremony, a necessary political banality. To others, this is a wholly unnecessary inconvenience in an age where racial assimilation can be taken for granted. Can't we get on with our lives without this pomp and pageantry?

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A few days have passed since their initial blowup, and the parents are now acting like nothing ever happened. Dad's trying to make his usual stupid jokes to me, and mom's making extra efforts to cook my breakfasts and dinners. I thank mom and dad for the meals out of politesse, but I make sure not to act too friendly.

Lime once called me out on my ability to hold a grudge, but that isn't exactly what I'm doing. Despite their abuses, I'm not at all mad anymore. What I'm waiting for is an apology.

[Chik] introduced me yesterday to the concept that parents shouldn't ever have to apologize to their kids. The gwai part of me agreed at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I disagreed. Why should it sound arrogant that I want an apology from my parents? I don't expect one, of course, but the facts stand that they have acted out of line. Pretending like the past few days didn't happen is an insult not only because my puny feelings had been hurt, but because they didn't acknowledge their wrong as wrongs, and thus, are certain to repeat their offense in the future.

[Chik] told me about how a friend of ours, [FCUK], endures her parents' abuses as form of rent payment. The understanding is: "I will be subject to your lack of self-control as long as I have your financial support." This compliance is all that keeps my friend shut up and silent - but it shouldn't have to be that way. I wouldn't have to argue as much as I do with my parents if I were similarly submissive, but I can't stand there and not protest the gibberish (see: Bus Uncle) that comes out of these people's air-holes. Just because you're older and have more money shouldn't give you the right to fuck around with people.

It's not right to be able to throw a temper tantrum whenever you like. It is not a loss of face to apologize to your child, but instead a mutual reinforcement of all parties' commitment to harmonious behaviour. It is furthermore a sign of your adult maturity and your ability to solve problems in a team setting. Why would you strive for anything else? It sends the message that to lose your control is to be crude and uncivil, and that anyone who does so is wrong and should apologize. Conversely, Chinese culture sees parental outbursts of anger as necessary and vital.

It's not like Western parenting practices are carried out with complete temperamental governance (in most cases it shouldn't be), but what's important is that unreasonable outbursts are labelled and stigmatized as undesirable behaviour. Western society makes the assumption that we are all enormous fuckups, but that we can redeem ourselves by apologizing and promising to learn from the situation and to better ourselves in the future. You cannot move away from the past if you never make the point to recognize it (thus, the state of Chinese human rights as a result of their failure to acknowledge events such as Tienanmen Square).

And who says discipline cannot be achieved without violence, without yelling and corporeal punishment? It's been done before and it's possible, and therefore it's what we should strive towards. It might require a bit of creativity and patience, but I'm sure we can do it for the sake of our children. I'm sure every one of us can recall many former teachers having kept an iron-clad control over their classrooms without any hitting or yelling (Also, there is a reason why Western or Western-style education is valued all over the globe as superior to those from countries like China).

The apology issued to Viola Desmond this morning is the same that has been issued many times to many people all over the world (ex. Rosa Parks). But it is given again and again because it is not only necessary to recognize one's wrongs, but also never to forget them. People don't become perfect human beings once they become parents. Instead of meekly accepting the realities that they live with, Asian kids should hold their parents - these "adults" - accountable for their actions.