delicate decay

the end is near

2006-12-17T13:01:00.000-08:00

like all things ephemeral, so is this blog.
there must be a better way to archive than having to highlight, apple C, then apple V into word, then eventually inDesign.
seeing that my last post was over 3 months ago, the time has come to inflict permanent decay unto this online diary of mine. while copying and pasting, i scanned some of my old posts. i don't regret starting this blog. i like to remember my thoughts; understanding that i have selective memory, they are nice reminders of past events. i think that's why i kept diaries the moment i learned english. sadly, nearly all of my written records perished. anything preceding age 18 now conjures up a black hole in my brain's memory center. from age 18 until the inception of this blog, i've been a spotty documentarian. bits and pieces of my 'legally adult' life are strewn about in my sketchbooks. since i started this blog 2 years ago, i've been an irresponsible sketchbooker.
it's back to the sketchbook diary.

i need a new nose

2006-09-04T21:46:00.000-07:00

another long lag in blogging. this is in part due to lack of inspiration and also being so damn busy in the last month with work. i'm tired of drawing ultra dumbed-down hearts with mega defects that require multiple surgical corrections, like hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS). being in patient education can be frustrating that way.
it's been a very low-key long weekend. i opted to do pretty much nothing. i feel like i'm still recovering from the last couple weeks of hell. plus, today something in the air triggered a massive histamine respone in my immune system. i've taken claritin, 2 ibuprofens, 2 benadryls (which knocked me out cold for 2 hours), and used nasal spray. i'm still stuffed up with drippy, watery snot in abundance.
celluoid watch:
me and you and everyone we know | a surprisingly wonderful film with quirky characters. even with its common themes of lonliness and happiness in life, it was really appealing and well-done.
strangers with candy | amy sedaris is odd (looking) and hilarious
little miss sunshine | i loved it- another dysfunctional family story. it featured music by devotchka (we saw them recently. it was the BEST show i've seen this past year)
inside deep throat | rather educational and should be in history books. actual porn clips, too.
milwaukee, minnesota | * * * (outta 5)
Iedereen beroemd! (everybody's famous) | * * * 1/2. we mimicked the singing of "lucky manuelo" for days.

Laetiporus sulphureus (sulfur shelf)

2006-07-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

while searching for food in the sequoia national park, we spotted these beautiful, vibrant tree fungi thriving on remains of a fallen tree. if only we had known these 'shrooms were edible and taste like lemony chicken. that's why the fungus is also called as "chicken of the woods."

ragpicking

2006-07-10T20:29:00.000-07:00

i love flea markets. egad, so does my capt kirk. we've scored some lovely finds at the various local flea markets. my sister and i have been scouring flea markets with my dad since school age. i don't think my mom liked to rummage through all that junk much. my dad loved good finds, antiques, tools, and just seeing the crazy shit folks are selling. after immigrating to houston, most of our pet pigeons came from the downtown flea market. therein lies my predilection for bric-a-bracs and old things. conveniently, my apartment is a 5-minutes drive to the alemany flea market (SF's best!). this sunday we bought an awesome accordion of italian origin. from the inscription by a previous owner, we know it is at least 37 years old. i also finally got my first couch ever, since moving out in 1993. it's a cute little old thing. even if i do find bedbugs, as a paranoid friend suggested, the $15 loss won't hurt my wallet much.

the lovely borshelli accordion of castelfidardo, italy

while researching the origins of flea markets, i encountered some citing no know origin. other sources indicate that secondhand sellers started to flourish in the large markets of fledging cities from the middle ages thru the 18th century. they were sometimes called as "ragpickers." one of the world's first and largest flea markets is the Saint-Quen in paris. the term "flea" may have come from the flea-infested sofas and other used furniture sold at these secondhand markets. well, if my cat (who seems to like the new sofa a lot) starts scratching madly, i shouldn't be surprised!

adrenaline rush

2006-06-17T01:18:00.000-07:00

insomnia, i think. i've been busy rearranging and moving furniture around since i got back from s.c. i've yet to shower from the hiking and climbing over rocks earlier today. perhaps finding out soon after i got home that my ear protocol class is canceled tomorrow inadvertently energized me. it actually would be nice to have some company other than a meowing cat wanting my attention. sigh. the unraveling of my apartment continues. . .

denouement

2006-06-16T22:10:00.000-07:00

i never thought i'd turn to blogging as one would to a therapist, albeit formless and insentient. i kept diaries and sketchbooks since gradeschool. i think that's what kept me from going to bedlam. i still fill 50% of my sketchbooks with emotional outpourings and arbitrary thought. i think the notion that some anonymous person could read my miscellany and react, empathize or whatever is curiously appealing, yet not necessarily comforting. even if i write to nothingness, to no one but this black hole of the Web.
i shed some tears en route to santa cruz. the rest of the way my eyes burned immensely. random flashback clicked in and out; my brain was a self-acting view-master. i decompressed on boulders along the ocean for a couple of hours and marveled at the marine life:

pettable sea grass! i thought of those punk wigs.

large starfish in the tidepool

the final resting location was at the pfeiffer state park by a large redwood along a creek that carried water from pfeiffer falls. i was fascinated by how so many of the giant redwoods have a cave-like entry at the base of their trunks. it was a rather numbing experience. i felt in a daze, in part from having an occipital headache and carsickness. the intangible and ineffable are surreal.

see you in my dreams

2006-06-15T02:04:00.000-07:00

in less than 12 hours i will be on my way south toward santa cruz. after 8 months i am finally relinquishing my hold on my mother's remains, so that she can be reunited with her 2nd half. after consulting with a couple of friends, we decided on julia pfeiffer beach at big sur. anne is meeting me in santa cruz, then spending a weekend in the bay area to research her latest business venture. although i don't pray or acknowledge my mom daily, it's been strangely comforting having her around, so to speak. at times i think, would it matter if i kept a small ampoule of ashes? it is tempting. but her wish was to have us disperse all, to have no physical attachements. it was her wish to have the other half sprinkled among the trees, up high by the sea betwixt anne and me. it would be selfish if i were to revoke my promise. perhaps seeing the dust getting absorbed by the trees and earth would be cathartic and provide a closure––
a sure release of the heart.

the greenest state

2006-06-01T01:20:00.000-07:00

i just got back from a pleasant roadtrip to southern and coastal oregon. we drove through the cascades, hiked, camped and enjoyed nature. here are some pictures:

campfire the first night, emigrant lake

20-30 feet of SNOW at Crater Lake. i've never seen this much snow in my life. we were practically in a snow blizzard! despite not being able to see the lake due to snow, it was still so beautiful, so white!

some 200 plus steller sea lions basking in the sun. we got to take an elevator down into a huge cave where these sea lions breed and hang out. the sea lion caves is located near florence, oregon.

i [heart] skulls

2006-05-17T15:23:00.000-07:00

cool skull hairpins i got for me barfday

another discursive entry

2006-05-16T00:36:00.000-07:00

mother's day came and gone. my birth mother's absence is still quite raw. subconsciously, maybe that explains why i checked out a book called How I Learned To Cook (& other writings on complex mother-daughter relationships) last week at the libary. i love the libary–even the tiny, musty bernal heights branch. on the other hand, this is something i'd read anyway, and it just happened to catch my eye.
over breakfast on april 28th, the day of my departure from taipei, my dad courageously gave us a little talk. he's a man of few words, and when those words come out they are chosen carefully and meaningfully. i liked our long breakfasts at the hotel. we noshed slowly and chatted. he acknowledged with empathy anne and i's tumultuous last few years, followed by 3 deaths in the last 9 months. he gave examples of inequality/favoritism exhibited by my uncles against their children. dad ensures us that he tries to make everything equal for anne and i, and if we ever think he's being unjust to speak up. the truth is nothing can be 50/50 but they try to get close. then. . [translated] now, the closest family you have is just me and ah-yi (my stepmom). if i happen to die first, then ah-yi will be your closest family. make sure you don't leave her out, and you can talk to her about anything. ah-yi will divide everything equally. we've already discussed things and made plans in case. and if ah-yi passes away first, then i will do the same. [the conversation was making me really sad. i was actually surprised at my dad's improved communication skills. yes, this is reality though. we have to talk about things like this sooner or later. death can be so unpredictable. dad mistakenly assumed that he'd go first, but ah-yi interrupted and said you never know. .she might go first. look at grandma. .who would have suspected!] point taken.
there were a lot of things my parents would never talk about. my mom (and dad too) carried a heavy onus around, which i think she tried to shed through meditation. i wish i had known what it contained. one of the stories i read in the How I Learned to Cook said: "My parents taught my sister and me how to keep things hidden in silence. . . During the stable periods my parents got along, my sister and I got involved with school, with our friends, with life in general. But it's the silence that kills you; it muffles, suffocates, and distorts your confusion and pain." thought the story dealt with the domestic violence against the author's mother, much of the emotional cycles and circumstances fit. silence characterized my teens.
by the time i thought i was starting to understand my mother and why she did the things she did, it was already too late. i wish i had asked more detailed questions and relieved some of the burden she took with her. with death, new relationships open up with the remaining close family members. i think my dad was partly trying to articulate this. maybe he also fears being shut out by our grieving. it was a way to reach out to us and let us know what we can be cohesive again.
i don't know what this all means, but it makes my mind churn. and i like to think and churn, even if it keeps me up at night.

bar

2006-05-15T23:52:00.000-07:00

muerte, part II

2006-05-09T14:24:00.000-07:00

since, grandma requested a cremation, we actually got to view her body a few times during the complicated ceremonies. her casket was behind the altar, hidden from attendees. i felt bad for the elders, like my dad, who had to kneel and prostrate twice as much as the young 'uns. he's got compressed disks and that eccentric coronary artery stenosis. for me the greatest tear-jerker was seeing how devoted my grandma's younger brother was. he was unsteady, with an altered gait and suffered from parkinson's. yet he still tried to kneel at one point. he dutifully paid his respects, and it was so touching. even my father cried, which was hard to see. i think after 2 previous funerals, one being that of my mom's, i became a bit more hardened and resistent. my cousin amber was sobbing. i wonder if they thought me callous for managing to keep tears from leaving my eye socket. i got lacrymose a few times but blinked them away instantly. my mother inured me. we avowed to her not to shed tears at her funeral.
after the rites at the hall, we were off to the crematorium. a huge, old-style limo hearse transported my grandmother. i was envious of those who got to ride in the hearse. i had to yield to the elders anyway. we all carpooled with the funeral people.
the crematorium also had those individual funeral halls. it was a huge facility. after some more praying and words from the monk, we sent grandma off to the oven. we were to wait until the burning was completed, about 2 hours. the most interesting event was the act of delicately placing the charred bony remains into grandma's huge jade urn. the temperature must not be as high as in the US, because there were big chunks of bone. i could even make out a sphenoid. the bone handler separated the pieces from feet to head. we all took turns using giant chopsticks to place a lower limb bone into the urn. then the handler carefully placed the rest, ending with the calverium. there was no ash. he even studied the skull and noted coral-colored patterns in the skull. this was not a common occurence and means the person had reached a certain level of moral rectitude, so to speak. there's not a perfect word in english, unfortunately. we were even invited to touch the patterns on the pieces of skull.

la muerte #3

2006-05-05T16:45:00.000-07:00

grandma's altar at the funeral hall

i just returned from a 5-day trip to taiwan to attend my grandmother's funeral. my grandfather passed alway just last july. though seemingly healthy for her age, she perished as well. wow, i have no grandparents left. my grandmother's funeral was a bit different from her late husband's buddhist one. she had a taoist-buddhist-taiwan cultural rites mix. it was quite interesting to be involved in it. similar to grandfather's, we all participated in the funeral, had to pray/prostrate all day, and make scheduled trips to the altar for prayer/offerings. the actual day of ceremony lasted from 1pm until 6:30ish. like grandpa's, we had our own decorated "hall" with orchids galore and a lavish altar (see pic above). us participating family members wore the black, graduation-like smocks with a gauze thing specific to your familial ranking pinned to the right shoulder. us grandkids had a rice-colored 2x2 square. we also had to wear this gauze-like ribbon with a coin (unlike last time); it was status-specific. ours was blue. when dye stained my right wrist blue when i sweated or got it wet.

atopos

2006-04-17T08:47:00.000-07:00

for over a year now, there has been an online diary through SFGate (online version of SF Chronicle), written by one of their copy editors who had been diagnosed with a rare cancer. it's called Alicia's Story. i keep up with her diary every so often; she chronicles her battle with cancer, treatment, and her daily life-good and bad. her story is honest and doesnt invite pity but empathy and reflection. i just read her latest entry and felt compeled to finally make a commentary. i can't help getting choked up. the stoic, reticent reputation i built up in my teens and 20s is over. as a primary caretaker for my mom during her cancer ordeal, i know how painful cancers can be, and the emotional rollercoaster one goes through. alicia's mom also died from cancer. i wonder if the feeling of loss will ever go away when a parent dies. i feel particularly emotional because next week would mark 6 months since her passing. it's still so surreal. maybe once anne and i disperse the other half of her remains in june, and i make a trip back to houston soon would bring more closure. sometimes i feel so numb to the loss and that bothers me. i have friends who have lost a parent and know 2 medics at the clinic who have lost their mothers to cancer. i know i'm not alone, and life goes on. . . but it still sucks. i just have to strive for that balance of indifference, melancholy, and happy rememberance; never invite pity or to self-pity.

power of 3

2006-04-14T11:35:00.000-07:00

three has been a significant number historically and culturally. 3 points make a triangle, a shape of a flat pyramid or where the 3rd eye can be found. trigonometry. 3 magis. the pietá (and other triangular works of art). newton's 3 laws of motion. the holy trinity. philosopher Hegel's concept of triads, particularly thesis, antithesis and synthesis. i even came upon a site devoted to 3's called the book of threes. on a lighter note, there are three's company, three stooges and three musketeers.
my grandmother just passed away. my cousin amber called the other day asking if i was going back to taiwan for the funeral rites. she said, 'yeah you know how they say death occurs in threes.' amber cites an example regarding her mom encountering 3 deaths in succession. within 9 months, i have now experienced 3 deaths: grandpa, my mom, and now grandma. now i think back when my maternal grandparents passed away within a year of the other. was there a 3rd i can't recall?
so, i'm off to my 3rd funeral next saturday. what melancholy.
life. death. after-life or (fill-in-blank).

rahhhhhhhh

2006-03-16T10:27:00.000-08:00

a fun, rowdy evening at club waziema (an ethiopian restaurant/bar!) tuesday evening- an unassuming place to have bands play. kemo sabe played as part of city sessions, which hosts acoustic bands once a month.

where hails the hail?

2006-03-13T10:19:00.000-08:00

cool little hail pellets. they look like stuffing in toy animals or tapioca (unlike the golf-sized ones in texas). we've had incessant rain, with alternating light snow in the hills and some hail. plus it's brrrr cold!

the irony

2006-03-05T23:20:00.000-08:00

since volunteering at the clinic, i've learned so many new things about stds, upper resp. infections, harm reduction, drug use, and on and on. i already work in an enviornment where i learn about different pathologies, and i'll stress out briefly over an unprobable self-diagnosis. it's hard not to be paranoid sometimes.
i was assigned to research alcohol for the harm reduction class. i was hoping for something sexier, like hallucinagenics. we all know about alcohol, so i thought. even though i'm sadly allergic, i've witnessed and studied its effects. what i didnt realize is that alcohol in greater amounts and over time affects libido and sexual function! you'd think men and women will perk up and curb their drinking. it's already proven and well-know that smoking can cause erectile dysfunction (among other more greater health risks), but i don't see men throwing out cigarettes in a jiffy. i'm sure we've all seen in small amounts "alcohol can reduce inhibitions and increase sexual desire in both sexes." i wonder if years of drinking just adds up, and now viagara is a top 50 most commonly prescribed drug. it's also Pfizer's #6 top drug.
"In men, alcohol causes impotence through several means. Long-term use of alcohol reduces testosterone levels and increases estrogen levels, which can result in impotence. Short-term use can cause transient (temporary) impotence through alcohol’s sedative effect. Additionally, alcohol can affect the nerves of the penis, causing neurogenic impotence." of course, the same goes for women. despite all this, i still wish i could just hang out and have a beer or 2 on the weekends.

in dreams

2006-02-26T23:17:00.000-08:00

i have had frequent dreams about my mother. i think i mentioned this in a previous entry. most of the time she is healthy; once in a while she would be ill. they can be so realistic, yet eerie. i usually wake up from them feeling frazzled. my friend carin said she had similar dreams after her father passed away years ago, also from cancer. but now, carin says she rarely dreams about him and felt saddened because the dreams were a sort of connection between them. i can relate completely. i got quite worried when my mom didnt enter my dreams for a week. most recently, my sister and my mom were characters in my dreams. i don't remember the setting or events, but at one point i said to my sister "mom died. that's not her. she can't be here because she is dead." then i became slightly conscious and tried to stop the dream. it was really strange. it was like being stuck in the reality and non-reality of a dream. i woke up immediately.

phone etiquette, please

2006-02-10T00:29:00.000-08:00

san bruno bart station. i missed the sf bound train by a hair and wait for another. a heap of train riders just disembarked, and the lazy ones wait for the elevator to come down. the escalator is broken. tsk tsk. alas the elevator doors open and people start to rush in. a chunky girl waddles toward the elevator, on her cell phone, of course. her voice gets louder. soon she's practically shouting. by now most people are inside the box looking uneasy and anxious. the offensive girl enters last. "..what the *#&$. .i told you *#$* expletive expletive expletive. . . " she seems completely unaware. she continues to scream and cuss into the phone. as the door closes to enclose the elevator goers, her voice fades away from my ear. i'm sure the elevator people are wishing they took the stairs.

void

2006-02-07T00:24:00.000-08:00

random chores or visuals on occasion unexpectedly trigger my limbic system. i wonder how long this can last. a lifetime? it's only been a few months since my mother passed away. sometimes i'm still in shock and the reality of it remains abstract. around this time last night i was brushing my teeth. suddenly i recalled and vividly visualized when i had helped my mom brush her teeth during her last weeks. the hospice gave us these disposable "brushes." the apparatus basically consisted of a contoured blue sponge on a thin plastic stick. i remembered trimming the sponges smaller for my mom because they made her feel like gagging.
i'm training to be a volunteer at the berkeley free clinic. if my mom was around, she would love to hear about my weekly classes and i'd be calling her to tell her about my training. stuff like this i can't relate well with my dad or stepmom. though we are close, i only speak with them once or twice a month. whereas, i spoke to my mother at least once a week. nothing will ever fill the specific void that a mother once filled. moms are like proteins that only fit that one receptor. even if you create a synthetic receptor to mimic the original, it's never quite as good.
sometimes i wonder if i was religious and believed that she's watching over me or is in heaven that i'd feel better and be less sad. or if i justified it as 'oh it was her time to go. god needed her.' on the otherhand, that christian notion is just another form of denial. i think i like the buddhist approach-that she achieved nibbana. that makes me less sad.

door crack,
mom's bedroom door

in need of recharging

2006-02-06T00:25:00.000-08:00

this blogging thing is starting to be a drag. i vacillate between wanting to destroy this blog and wanting to keep it going. i hardly write. if i do, much of it isn't very uplifting. i feel stuck--words and political passions aren't mellifluous nor vibrant. the mood strikes to submit an entry, but the moment i bring up blogger the fire dies.

fees suck

2006-01-27T01:35:00.000-08:00

i caved. i bought Belle and Sebastian tickets just a while ago through the price-gouging ticketmaster. on top of the $30 ticket, there is a convenience fee of $7.50 PER ticket. can you believe that?? that's like a 25% tax. obsurd. the only other way to obtain tickets to the show is at the box office of another music venue, The Independent, which operates m-f, 11am-6pm. it's cash only and a $1 charge per ticket. i'd save $13. on tuesday with the help of cary, i scramble to get cash after work and rush there before 6pm. guess what? NO TICKETS, says the girl nonchalantly. what?!? she calls someone. WE'LL GET MORE TOMORROW. she shrugs her shoulders with disinterest. i was irked. other people out of desperation like me will eventually, though grudgingly, shell out that extra 15 bucks. so finally, afraid the show will sell out soon, i did the ticketmaster thing. BAH!

grassy glassy fillmore

2006-01-22T22:25:00.000-08:00

(top picture) kemo sabe plays the fillmore lounge. the hippies and stoners loved them. the aroma of marajuana was omnipresent. i was not particularly fond of the main attraction: railroad earth. cary's friend casey and i were scornfully shushed by a rotund, ardent railroad earth devotee.

F*&#King shit

2006-01-08T18:24:00.000-08:00

my wallet was pilfered on a crowded 22-fillmore bus this saturday afternoon. i felt suspicious about the man standing close behind me and shifted about. my senses were seconds too slow. by the time i thought i heard velcro being slowly pried open and swung my bad around, my wallet was gone. the thief disembarked. the spot where my wallet sat still held its former shape, now vacant. tachycardia set in. i announced to cary my wallet was gone, stolen. we got off the bus. the guy was no where to be seen. certainly, my story is not unique, but when it happens to you it just really sucks. dread and panic momentarily set in, and you just want to scream WHY ME? WTF!! and other profanities. GRRR

well, it's back to drawing the brain. i have a deadline tomorrow for the parkinson disease booklet. i love to procrastinate.