smile and wonder

11:46pm: HI GAREN!!
hehehehehee MUAH!

2:10pm: How to re-upholster Kitchen chairs--Jeng style


Start with chairs--we did these years back with old tent material.


Unscrew seats. notice dirty stains


Scrub frame with soap and water


Hang to dry


Pump a little metal


New fabric--old curtains


Figure out how to work the machinery


Cut pieces, stretch and staple-gun new fabric over


Finished chair number 1. Try it out


More pics


Detail


My old camera still does good macro shots, Pretty!


Hm, what to do now? 5 more days to school...

3:14am: no subject


unrelated:
sometimes, you really have to do that really "unimportant" thing right now so that you can do the really "important" thing without blowing your brains out. got me??

9:25am: Thanksgiving weekend two thousand and 7.
Thanksgiving weekend two thousand and 7.
Have I always known that joy was ephemeral, or did Dad teach that too me? Since a couple years now, I have been home after a ridiculously fun day and felt extremely sad that nothing of it remained still. I’d come home after a day of laughing and joking and yelling, neurons all fired out, and realize that that was the end if it—nothing remained. When I type this out onto my ibook and send it to cyberspace, it may seem to the rest of my westernized world that wth is she whining about? She had s great day and can’t complain more. But maybe that’s because we’re taught never to think about the end of things, the continuation of time as we flounder it away—never to stop in the midst of joymaking and proclaim—“I am not happy.” I can feel happy for this second and these couple of laughs with you my friends but afterwards, I am stuck again with myself, rushing forward and not moving at all with and in time.

We are taught never to think about what it is that is really missing, instead we shop and drink and find comfort in other people. I don’t want to rely on you anymore. When I lay here in bed and feel so loved but so alone all at the same time, I feel like a paradoxical black hole.

So people I know, some people very dear to my heart. I watch them have fun and listen to their stories of joy and contentment in daily life and I feel all at once envious that they can find such peace in such an existence, but I’m also worried that they may not be worried enough.

Because the world as I see it is a perpetual-motion-machine, always moving forward in time. Beings as I see them are gleams of light much like in a photograph of fiery ash blown away in the sky—trailing, always following. Or like streamers, or in my most analytical mind, just plain, graphite pencil lines of start, intertwine, stop. (at least for this life). Its like this—I was born to my mom and dad, lets call them mom and dad. So my mom’s line suddenly becomes intertwined with a suddenly appearing new line, my own, this time very very twined, much like a very very tightly twisted yoyo string before you let it down to loosen. So then I go to school, and I’m interacting and twining with you and her and him and all of a sudden, there is a web, and beings (I say this to include my dog, in some cases birds, and other non-humans) are entering, twining, and exiting. Life goes on in one direction as a braid or a finitely large blanket. And then it ends.

And it won’t have really made a great difference—my husband’s line will be bound a little tighter than most, my children as well. You’ll see my parent’s ceasing to exist around two thirds of my length, but it makes no difference. Those emotions that we felt are reduced to mere recollections, and although we are intertwined, we are ultimately alone, as evidenced by tonight and every night when I lay and you lie in your beds alone, all others only a figment of memory.

So I don’t want to rely on you anymore!!! I used to think that when I cried for fear of someday being alone, I felt a pain that was deeper than others did and more profound. I now understand that it is my own weakness and attachment and ignorance that leads me to become so attached. There is a journey to be undertaken, one so much more important than taking the mcat (which I am for sure taking in apr, unless my mind is changed completely)—and that is, correcting this "cognitive error."--i learned this phrase in intro to buddhism

12:35am: strange lucidity-- should i try to remember every phase and change and stage of my surroundings, or do i let them grow and change the way they are doing so now--morphing in and out of evolving stages of life, that are so defined, to me, as a bed here, a shelf here, another one tossed out on the street. i wander between trying to remember it all--documenting every change and every different arrangement this house and home has taken, clutching at the past and the way things were--and letting life explode into color then die into grey. should i have a list, July 7, 2007, we move the futon from the family room to the living room and the bookshelf to the baby room, August 13, 2007 Afoo packs his things, August 24, 2007 the house is empty, alone without the cpop blasting from dirty speakers in every room. Everything is clean now, with just two remaining members of the clan. gone are the noises and messiness with the accompanied sounds and smells. Its not loneliness, its not nostalgia, its a combination of yearning for a home that is still here and understanding that it will not always be. it is grasping for the past, a stab in the heart, it is trying to take a picture of a child who wont stop moving. it is a child who is growing up too fast, one whose parents love dearly but are standing by to let her take rein of her own life.

because what am i but another person?
born of my mother and father, nourished until i was able to nourish myself, i am organic. when i look down i see meat thighs and legs, organic matter. born into a body over which i have only marginal control, i am just like you just like me. if nothing matters, everything matters. when i die the sheet pulled over my body will have a small mound over my nose, but garen’s will be pointy. i realize that people have been dying since they’ve been living, and i guess everyones O.K with it. I guess i’ll be okay too.

today when i was with friends a brief second of optimism hit me. if i could feel this happy more than once in awhile, i guess that’d be OK.

9:39pm: Spanish 191A Undergraduate creative writing seminar
Before I lose them to my computer's hard drive,

( Ejercicio 1 )

( Ejercicio 2 )

( Ejercicio 3 )

( Ejercicio 4 )

( Ejercicio 5 )

( Ejercicio 6A )

( Ejercicio 6B )

( Ejercicio 7 )

( Cuento 1 )


( Cuento 2 )

11:03am: EJERCICIO 1: UNA EXPERIENCIA MIA
EJERCICIO 1: UNA EXPERIENCIA MIA
Por Jinfae Jeng, el 7 de abril

Cuando tenía siete años, mi familia y yo vivíamos en una ciudad que se llama “La Ciudad de Diez Mil Budas.” Era una comunidad, en mi memoria, grandísima y mística (siempre me recuerda en niebla densa circundante los altos pinos de la selva). La ciudad fue completamente amurallada: incluyó entre los limites un comedor largo (me tomaba casi dos minutos y media a atravesar desde los puertas dobles del atrás a la gran pintura del Buda en la delantera con los piernas cortos, aunque eran fuertes) en que todos los miembros de la comunidad comían a la misma vez (y en que las mujeres se turnaban preparando la comida), incluyó una biblioteca grande y llena de bastantes libros religiosos e algunos no religiosos, escribido en china, tibetano, ingles, e otros lenguajes que no reconocía en este edad—era sola una pequeñita geniosa. Incluyó la ciudad también dos escuelas: una para los muchachos, otra para las hembras, porque los dos sexos eran siempre separados—había dos pasos a todos los lugares.

Katina fue mi amiga mejor del mundo. Ella no era China, sino Tai, y a mi este parecía muy curioso. Nosotros dábamos en bicicleta a la Inculcando Bondad y Desarrollando Virtud Escuela Primaria Para las Muchachas todos los días, y compartíamos la misma maestra, Sra. Rebecca Lee, gringa que, cuando se ponía a sentar en el suelo en el estilo indio, siempre nos dejaba ver sus bragas.

Un día, Katina me dio unas noticias espantosas. Me dijo que va a hacerse una monja. Ella va a afeitar el pelo y dejar todo su efectos personales la próxima vez que la ciudad tendría la ceremonia en que los ciudadanos normales “salen de casa” para ser empleados de la religión. Conmocionada, me callaba por algunos días. Vivía en una comunidad budista—no era confundida la definición o los motivos de una monja: era desconcertada porque todos los monjes que conocía era ancianos y algunos eran amable, pero ninguno eran mi amiga mejor. Casi una semana después, anuncié a mi mama que yo también va a volverse en monja. Ella no me tomó en serio, pero hasta hoy en día, imagino que diferente me vida sería, si me había afeitado el pelo, tirado la ropa y si me había librado de los posesiones materiales para simplificar mi vida y limpiar mi mente.

10:32am: My Mystical Past (Part I)
When I was a small girl (well, I’m still a small girl), one of the places my family lived was north, north, north of where I am today: a day’s car ride and the most memorable familial experiences lived. Burgundy-colored Volvo filled with the feet, feet, feet, and cheese bread. Hours and hours in the car, grassy rest stops, each of which stood out in one particular way or another: colossal rocks to climb (barefoot of course—the only way too keep from slipping), toilets without stall doors, very shiny vending machines (which we never bought from, always cheese bread, oranges, peanuts). Approximately six hours up my father stopped to visit his aunt, or other relation of some sort. She and he with two daughters offered tea and rest for a night, and one time a polar bear stuffed friend of pure white called Snuffles. We’d leave promptly in the morning, wishing not to overextend the invitation or to overeat toast and powdered milk. She died a couple years later after a battle with cancer, head always high, forever strong, just as I remember her. Half a days more, and we were there. Just outside, a little shop—bread shop where we bought more cheese bread. Once an argument erupted, Dad wanted to buy cheese bread from the bottom shelf, stating that no one else would and there’s nothing in the world worse than wasting. Mom wanted a little fresher, citing stomach aches. Sometimes, we’d stay in a motel, swim and watch the Star Trek movie (scary queen Borg one). In the morning we’d cross into the City.

12:21pm: side of my house










in my dream there was a tiny girl for whom my love for must only have been that a mother has for her own. To my shock it was not a love so wide that through her clear eyes I saw the world, but a love so colored as for her and only her I would give anything. Now, even in my dream I thought, how is this love so consuming so energy exhausting, so narrow and selfish? To be able to see the world without the fog of private happiness and stringent love..

11:28am: Pictures
Recently, I've:





tutored some, in Chinatown. (This is Gigi)



and this is Deborah and hers


painting


been home, (I explained a little too late that the neighbors DON'T like dandelion seeds on their lawn)


not so cute!


photo shoots


anniversaried with Garen + goatee hehe

2:41pm: The one about the numbers
I have been here for 20 years and 8 months and 33 days, which is 248 months, which is 7549 days. I wrote this number on my hand and then I smudged it accidentally. I thought maybe if I saw these days I am living in different parameters than the ones that I usually think in, maybe something will change. See, in a couple hours I will have been here for 20 years plus 8 months plus 34 days, which is 7550 days. Which I quite a lot of days. What if I didn’t know that today is Wednesday, August 16th, of the year 2006? As far as I could know it could be that I thought like a microbe and it is a miracle to live past one rotation of the earth. What if a day is my life—sunrise, sunset! It seems to fit.

I’m still waiting for the change .. :)




Also, I love that 4 + 6 makes 10, more than I like that 7 + 3 or 2 + 8 also make ten. Four and six complement each other well, unlike 7 who is too lanky for fat little 3.

12:23pm: On moving on
Today I threw away a yellow highlighter that you gave me when we were together. A couple weeks ago I took down the photographs form my dorm room wall knowing that when it came time to decorate my new place, I would not reinstate that sunny picture of you and I on the beach. I hadn’t the heart to replace it when we broke up, but now, it just appears to me like a shuffling of people and dreams in my life. No replacement, just a flowing, a coming and going.

I really liked that highlighter; it was a yellow that wasn’t gaudy and fluorescent but instead a true yellow, gold even. I used it to its very last drop; wet the tip so I could use it longer.

11:19pm: Thoughts
How will I remember if I don’t write it down?
At the end of each day, I feel as if so much has happened, nothing yet monumental, but at the very least I have learned something and gained another few things to think about.

Today I am home and when I am here I feel as if I don’t know what I am doing. I feel around and think about lots of things.

I fell asleep in the red jetta on the way back home (it was already 10 pm) and my first thoughts when we rolled up closer to our curb was how horrible it was to have terrible vision and the need for such things as contact lenses. I mean, what is that? There are plenty of other things that I wish that I could live without. But distorted vision without the aid of technology is such a tragedy. So I blink once, twice, contacts dried out for lack of oxygen, or whatever the explanation is, and feel pathetic. I can’t even see without the help of society! How am I supposed to be able to think outside the box! How am I supposed to be able to free myself from all that binds me??? I may be over reacting but this makes me gravely sad every so often.

12:54am: ?
it's probably the final lesson that our parents will teach us- they will leave. if anything i think i know but i wish to understand that everything is transient and that what i worry about today will be obsolete in a day or two, month, year, millenium, the whatever infinte amount of time that things will exist. by understand i mean live as it is so but always in balance of what the reality of today wants of us. It's strange this necessary role of our parents. as they teach us to live they teach us that we must die. as they teach us happiness they teach us acceptance of sadness and of truth. always, a balance. (i am afraid of when you will leave)

12:23am: Monday
It can't be so hard to write a couple words every few days.
Today i am feeling good. I have Math at 8 am, then breakfast with someone special, then class again at 10 am. Physics and Math don't usually make me feel that great because I am not caught up enough to understand a lot of it (need to work on that!).Today i had work, during which Dr Ascenzi called to offer me a research position that I had interviewed for last week. (Big deal for me involving a bus, tall shoes, and striped pants) I'm just happy to be accepted somewhere for now, honestly speaking.

Tommorrow I have math then LS 3 lab. Math homework is due tommorrow and i seriously need to get started earlier!! same with physics homework due on wednesday cause this just gives me 2 entire days of Math then Physics homework when i could have been doing them a little a day for the entire last week. sad to be the master of bad planning.

Spoke to dad today about a computer.. he asked me when i would be back to pick it up, and i thought, i hope or i wonder if he is asking me that because he misses me..

1:14am: back to the green...


dandelion



dye

1:12am: Mom

10:13pm: Flowers

2:34am: Dye napping

11:55pm: Dye Shower

11:47pm: Happy Pi Day!!


they play a game where you can't step in the shadows

8:41pm: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."


?

10:16pm: My Schedule

11:27pm: Park




Because there is so much beauty in one small place it makes you marvel at how it is possible that this tiny place on our great earth can carry so much wonder. And it shakes you to the awe at how much more beautiful the world can get and how much it really matters because you don’t have to look further than a walk down your own street.

10:48pm: Just a Thought
It's going to be a sad day when Kyra doesn't want to go to the park with me and Dye anymore.

It's going to be a sad day when she doesn't jump up and down outside and in for the thought of wet grass and a multi-colored jungle gym.