Posted 8/13/2008




August 5th, 2008 10:16 am Hawaii time--time of sent voicemail.

Time voicemail was listened to: August 13th, 2008, 5:11pm

I thought that it was just one of those corny prank recordings of some kind of lame catch phrase starting off with a piano riff.

But as I started listening to it, the more and more it felt like I needed to listen to it. Like it was something that I just needed to hear, needed to feel. 

I sat there, dumbfounded on the lounge chair gazing out into the Bethesda city life, listening to the piano piece someone recorded as a voicemail message on my phone.

Thank you.

Even if it was just a prank, or some accident.

But if you are out there reading this and have left me the message, please, feel free to leave me another message like this. I am also so very sorry I checked my messages late.

Who are you?


Tell me.

Posted 10/20/2008




Patricia: I'm talking to my best friiiiend from home. (:

Me: hahah cool!

Me: tell him I said hi and that I'm having his babies whether he likes it or not

Patricia: ....

Me: :]

Me: babbbbbby maek tymeeeee

Patricia: Nu.

Me: yuusshhhh

Me: BAEBAE MAEK TYME NAOOOOOO

Patricia: o.o

Patricia: I'm sorry, the vagina you've dialed has been disconnected or is out of service. Please check the location and try again.

Me: D:

How exactly do you define "college life"?

A period of time of absolute promiscuity?

A period of time of intense intellectual depth and realization?

A period of freedom?

I try very hard not to label and/or define the experiences that I have not yet to take part in. Despite that, however, I can't help but always expect something. Does that make sense? 

I don't know exactly what it is I'm hoping to expect, it's just this feeling in the back of my mind when I'm out with my friends, when I'm at a party, or any large "liberal" social event. 

Should I let her flirt with me?

Should I let him make a move?

I find myself in situations where my morals are constantly tested--and man, it sucks. 

Is it wrong to indulge?

Is it right to let the opportunity pass by?

Every situation differs, of course, but the uncertainty still remains.

I keep telling myself, "Whatever. Whatever happens, happens. I'll just take things as they come--unexpected, unpredicted." 

--and then I get excited.

I also get scared.

What is it, exactly?--What scares me?


I don't know.

So, my sleep cycle's kind of reversed, haha. It's great--sleeping in 12 hours a day--all I do is eat, cook, workout, study chinese, and sleep. For the past two weeks I've been waking up after 2 pm, and I'm fine with that. 

Early one morning I happened to walk into my kitchen during the sunrise, and I just fell in love with how the sun lit it up. Don't get me wrong, I mean, I've walked into my kitchen many times during the sunrise, I guess it's different this time because I actually took the time to notice just how beautiful it really is. 

It also made me feel like a kid again: getting ready for school on an early, eager day, falling asleep in the middle of the hallway in the late afternoon, watching the sunlight shift its position on the carpet as it settled in the west, and getting up early enough to witness just how serene the world really is. 

I love it.

Posted 8/24/2009




It's the best, the smell of frying garlic and olive oil. I'm home alone for about a week, and the house is entirely empty--except for me, just me. The two guitars that I have been abusing for two months, and then some, have been tended to, played, heard and sung. Old friends have been treated with China tea and in-depth conversation, and my parents have amazingly not argued with me.

Home alone I have so much time to myself; to play whatever music I want throughout the entire house. It's amazing. And cooking is better than ever.

Pulling ingredients out of the cupboards and refrigerator on a lonely Saturday night, a familiar, welcoming sound catches me off guard: Rain. "下雨了“, I whisper to myself as I chop vegetables and defrost some kind of healthy-low-fat-ground-turkey.

As I heat up the pan and pour a bit of olive oil, my mother's voice fills my head: "Never be afraid in the Kitchen, David." I add the garlic first, and begin to start my experimental concoction. Next, as I add the chopped onion, some of the olive oil splashes up and lands on my wrist. I don't flinch. That's already happened to me many times, and I've grown used to the feeling of hot oil on skin.

While sweating the onions, and prepping to add the rest of my ingredients, the rain gets harder. The shuffle track on my macbook pro, as if to comfort me, conveniently chooses to play "Anthems of a Seventeen Year Old Girl" by Broken Social Scene. And the scene is complete. Nothing can get any better than the sounds of Broken Social Scene and rain, accompanying you through a moment of reflection, recollection, solitude, and cooking.

It's that moment when you feel your world is at peace, almost to the point where your heart breaks a little--because it comes to terms with the way the world really is, and what will never come to be. But it's soft, and light--enough room for a smile, and apparently a Photo Booth Picture.






It's the best, the smell of frying garlic and olive oil.


Dubby

My post to spotted at Brown about something I wrote on the whiteboard during the last few days of the semester at the Rock floor A:

I spotted the response you wrote to my question on the white board of the A floor on the Rock. It was during the last few days of finals last semester: I wrote in Chinese: Can you differentiate between reality and non-reality? You replied with an honest, beautiful response-- I can't fully remember, but this was the ending of your reply in Chinese: "I'm actually dreaming". I want to meet you. Pleasefindthis. 


And your supposed reply on spotted at Brown:

I spotted you here, wanting to meet me. I spotted the Chinese characters you wrote on the whiteboard in the Rock last semester. You asked, "Can you differentiate between reality and non-reality?" and I responded with an adaption from the poet Xu Zhi Mo, "I do not know which way the wind blows, for I am actually dreaming." Perhaps we will meet on that whiteboard again, for I am still here dreaming.


If this is some cruel asshole poking fun at me (which it most likely is), fuck you. But if it isn't, I don't care who you are, your elegant words struck me. I just want to meet you and thank you for making the last few days of finals (especially when writing a 31 page essay on suicide) bearable. It was nice, melancholic and sweet in a subtle way. 


I hope we keep talking. 

I will post another response in Chinese on the WhiteBoard soon. 


Dubby

Posted 3/13/2010




I look at you, and I
remember how I used to be.

An experience that has defined my life at Brown so far was one that completely re-wired my perspective on relationships: Sex Power God. It’s okay. Laugh about it a bit—I don’t blame you. It sounds silly, given its reputation and all. But from what I can gather, most (if not all) of the people that I know to be in an existing relationship, or have had previous ones, haven’t had the moment I have been fortunate to encounter: an instant, gratifying sensation of having no fear, no insecurities—allow me to elaborate. 

I remember it clearly. The flashing of lights, the pounding of the bass. My body was like fire, and the music: gasoline. 

And there he was—that guy from my afternoon class. I didn’t really remember his name, but I figured what the hell, so I signal for him to come by. We start dancing. Stopped. Started dancing again. Stopped. 

Then something happened. We caught each other’s eyes, and for once in my worrying, complicated, disorganized mind, there was silence. I didn’t care what would happen the next day, whether we would be together, whether we wouldn’t, if we could be friends, etc. I wasn’t thinking about anything, and before I knew it, our lips touched. 

Usually in situations involving making the “1st move” in a relationship, a kind of overwhelming tension exists: What if when I execute action A, they’ll reject me and there would be awkwardness? How do I know if they want it, too? And before anything is done, this push pull anxiety floods our heads. Sometimes we get lucky, and the risks we take are met with mutual gratification. And sometimes, we don’t; nothing happens, and we act like everything’s just how it should be, despite that body language obviously says otherwise. 

But everything in that moment unexpectedly clicked. We didn’t even say a word. It was almost as if I could tangibly feel that he wanted the exact same thing as I did (and vice versa), and it was amazing. 
Afterwards we became friends, and we have no negative feelings towards the event. 

It then occurred to me that things don’t have to be as planned and carefully thought out as most think it should be. 

I look at you—people like you, and I
remember how I used to be:

structured and rigid—my perspectives on relationships followed the stereotypical “friends first, see what happens later” guideline. I thought that if I followed those principles of conduct, it would be pretty simple to get into a relationship. After all, they always say that best friends can make the best lovers. 

But having a kind of strict guideline or perspective on how to meet other people can actually limit the kinds of encounters most hope for in the first place. 

If we enter a setting with a preconceived notion of how we want things to happen, when another opportunity presents itself, it could be overlooked. 

This concept is pretty obvious for most of us, but why is it still so hard to take a chance with someone new? Furthermore, I’m sure we’ve all heard of what can occur if we remain open—without expectation—in a social setting:

“We met unexpectedly at a party, started talking, seemed nice—before I knew it we were meeting weekly for coffee on Thayer, and now we’re in a relationship.”

It sounds simple. Disappointingly enough, however, it’s an arduous task that requires great effort. 

In a world full of disorder and limitless knowledge, information, possibilities, etc. one of the ways we keep ourselves grounded in this reality is that we reduce the scope of our focus and efforts: we choose specific, small dimensions in which to exert our time and energy towards. This can be seen in the close group of friends that we spend with 90% of the time throughout the year, range of extracurricular activities, and even down to our very own concentration of study. We specifically choose aspects of this world to be passionate about—even lovers. 

This can account for the reduced likelihood of meeting someone new, or encountering a new social situation for it to occur. Dimensions of relationships takes into account various sociological factors in determining the difficulty of maintaining a relationship with another ranging from beliefs, social class, culture, occupation, etc. But one of the very basic, difficult factors involves that of daily time spent with each other. And the very things that we have chosen to focus on in this world—our close group of friends, extracurriculars, can easily get in the way. 


It doesn’t make it impossible, it just makes it harder. 

It’s so easy to stay within the comforts of what you know, that before you realize it, you very rarely get acquainted with and meet new people throughout the year because of these very factors. 

It makes me sad. 

Because everyone you walk by on your way to class—the unexpected meeting of eyes, the accidental bump-in when walking around, or the very people that just so happen to be sitting next to you—anyone and everyone around us has that potential to change our lives, and vice versa. 

And yet.

There are over six thousand people on campus, and chances are that we’ll only get to meet and become acquainted with a little under four hundred of them by the time we graduate. 

I’m not trying to sound unreasonable, I’m just trying to realize the absurdity of the situation. With the right effort, a chance encounter could be an amazing friendship—or even more. But why does it rarely happen?

“We’re all scared,” says my friend Yun. 

I guess it’s true. It’s natural for everyone to fear rejection, I suppose. 

“Sometimes, people get so emotionally invested in a possibility, that they end up getting too scared to do anything,” says Amed. 

A lot of people just make it so complicated—and I’m also one to be guilty of that. 
Sometimes, when we actually do run into someone that we would like to get to know, we go too far in imagining the possibilities. We build up our hopes, our plans, 

our expectations.

And as a result we get scared to take risks—because the expectations we’ve built for the situation are too high, and if they aren’t met, we experience anxiety. And no one wants that.

I look at you—people like you, and I
remember how I used to be.

Or so I thought. 

Since then, I’ve been trying to live my life free from expectation. To live without a preconceived notion of how I want things to go—and it was nice, just having that mindset of “anything can happen, and if it doesn’t, that’s okay”. You remain open to the possibilities. And if you meet someone new, you don’t end up getting emotionally invested in the situation: “Oh, I really hope they like me and we end up in a relationship,” etc. But rather, it ends up being, “They seem really nice. Maybe we’ll end up in a relationship, maybe we’ll just be friends—that’s okay. Whatever happens, happens, and that’s that.” 

See the difference? I hope I made it clear. 

Furthermore, I feel with this new mindset—due to the absence of high expectation—that there is no “right” or “wrong” way to get into a relationship. 

Sometimes it starts off at a slow pace, you get to know each other bit by bit, and then if things work out alright, you’ll be in a relationship. 

But it can also work backwards: Maybe you two end up meeting one night, sparks fly, and you end up having sex. Then you end up in relationship afterwards, and it’s awesome. 

I know a couple like that, and they are one of the cutest, fun-loving couples that I know to date. 

The point of this is, is that there is no linear, directional mode of procedure, remaining open without expectation involves the absence of this kind of mindset. Things happen, mostly by accident, and if you’re fortunate enough it could end up resulting in a rewarding experience.

Granted, however, one method seems to be more acceptable than the other.
But I don’t like labeling things as “right” or “wrong”. As influenced by my Sociology professor, it reflects an objective societal bias, or a subjective, personal bias. It would be wiser to label things as “healthy” or “unhealthy”. Deciding to have sex with someone you’ve just met isn’t wrong; it’s just that this method, compared to others, is rather unhealthy in the sense that it could bring about a complicated, messy situation. 

No one method is “right”, or “wrong”. Many things can lead to a relationship. 

Lately, however, I’ve been finding that I’m losing this mindset of no expectation. I’ve been regressing back towards the unnecessary, emotional investing.

I guess it’s because it’s easy.

It’s nice, knowing how you want things to happen, how you hope the situation would turn out. Because when it actually does go according to plan, it feels amazing. And I feel that’s what everyone kind of hopes for: for things to go the way you want them to. I guess it’s because it allows us to feel like we have more control in this world. 

But imagine how much easier dating would be if we didn’t have such heavy emotional investment; such high expectations for the situation. 

I find it terribly ironic that an institution characterized by liberal thinking has such a poor dating life. 

You’d figure otherwise, right?

Me too.

Maybe I could be wrong about all of this, and it’s just me. 
Maybe I have this perspective because I’m not considered “generally attractive”. 
Or maybe I’m just a hypocrite. 

All I know is that I try so hard to just wait for the world to put something in my hands that I forget to extend my arms and reach out for it. 

But does it work? 



Maybe one day, you can tell me.
Maybe you won’t ever be able to. 

Maybe one day, I’ll figure this out for myself. 




Maybe I never will.





Cheers, 

Dubby

I remember being a kid, sitting down in front of the huge CRT television late at night. 



I was supposed to be at bed. But I couldn't sleep. 


Khristina (my eldest sister) was doing more coffee experiments on me or something. I guess she was beginning to learn why parents don't give their children too much sugar--or caffeine for that matter. 



It was 1995, and I remember watching this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOG3eus4ZSo 


I remember thinking that it was the greatest. That it was magical--a way that only a five year old could think it would be. 




I still think it is.

Don't freak out or anything--seriously, don't. 

But for quite some time I've been thinking about death. Or rather, what happens after wards. 

A part of me believes that when the time comes, we will simply cease to exist. And that's it. But another part of me also doesn't want to believe that--and I'm not saying that I want to believe in some kind of fate that depends on how many good deeds you've done in this world, either. 

I want to believe in something else, but I'm not sure what. 


Transduction in the nervous system is defined as, "the conversion of a stimulus from one form to another." More specifically, it refers to the conversion of energy from the external environment to action potentials which are then transmitted along axons towards the central nervous system, where it is integrated. 

From this, we can transform energy from the external environment, attach our subjective meanings to it, and have it stored in memory. 

This runs parallel with Physics' basic law of conservation of mass: Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only be transformed from one state to another. 

If this is true, then all of the energy stored in our brains--our minds, our consciousness--when we die they can't just "disappear". It can't just sit there and rot along with the degradation of our physical body. It needs go somewhere , or be converted into something else--but what ? And how?--or where?


All of our senses act to convert the energy of the external environment:

touch: mechanical, tactile stimuli 
hearing: auditory, fluctuations in air pressure
taste: gustation 
smell: olfactory
sight: electromagnetic energy

All of this energy is stored (or rather, the ones that are most subjectively relevant to us), and I want to believe that it doesn't just disappear when we die. 



Okay, I'll put an end to my silly intellect now. 



Dubby

So I'm back home. 

On a tiny piece of land in the largest ocean on Earth. In a small town of idle ocean scenery, broken rain clouds, wild orchids growing here and there (I love them) and smiles full of "aloha". Being back in this place is always something quiet for me, and I like that. Things are also very simple here, and I think it's something that everyone kind of needs at some point in their lives. 

I've been dying to take constellation pictures since I've gotten back, but it's been raining on and off for over a week, and the sky hasn't been clear at all. 

My days mostly consist of cooking, sleep, pictures, Chinese, and dealing with my energetic new dog, Kappa. He's grown a lot the last time I saw him during Winter, but he's still small--which is a bummer because I miss having a big, lovable pet to put my arms around. Kokoa's still an old, grumpy fatty. I love teasing him. 

I've also been listening to a lot of 方大同 (Khalil Fong). Specifically, I've been listening to his remake of "Moon River", that of which I fell in love with immediately upon first listening. I'm not a big fan of the old version, and I really like his interpretation. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NL-0RurzyII&feature=related

I'm still trying to figure out--put a name on the feelings that it brings up in me, but as far as I can tell, it's sort of made me realize something: When it comes down to it, everyone's the same. We all want the same thing. 

We just want to experience that feeling of content when finally finding whatever it is we've been looking for. 


Some still don't even know what they want, but they can still feel some kind of deficit, they can still feel as though something's lacking, missing. 

And this is what drives us: to put a stop to the leak as best we can. 






To feel whole and complete, 




or whatever that means. 






Cheers, 


Dubby