Ezra's Life in Song, Inaugural Post: Vanessa Carlton - "A Thousand Miles"

Youtube: the song (and music video).

I remember exactly where I was when I first heard this song, a full five years after its original release. I was sitting on a couch in Wendy's living room while largely not helping with post-party cleanup, on February 12, 2006.

That day, I'd raced home after church to get ready to attend her birthday party. It was a wet day, and I was driving a tad too fast down Hobson. I skidded into the guard rail at the intersection of Hobson and Washington, which smashed my right front lights and damaged the bumper. Luckily, the damage was not severe, but I knew I was going to be in deep shit with my dad. I made it the rest of the way home without incident.

Upon reaching home, I told my dad about hitting the guard rail, and of course, he forbade me to leave the house. But after a while, he magically changed his mind, with but a single condition-- he said I had to drive the marred car to the party. That was a whole lot better than nothing, so I took it. I wouldn't know until later why he'd let me go.

I arrived somewhat late, and the party had already begun. After a while, Tim Tsu came up to me with and asked an odd question, in an odd tone: "Hey, Ezra... wanna go with me to pick out a movie?" Another friend would be joining us. My logical side prompted me to immediately ask, "Does it take three people to pick out a movie?" "Oh, uhh... yeah, we need a variety of opinions. Let's go pick out a movie!"

We went to the nearest rental, browsed about for close to half an hour, and failed to reach a consensus on what movie we should watch. Tim received a phone call, then came over to inform us that "somebody else had actually brought a movie." That, or "they don't want to watch a movie anymore." We got back to Wendy's house, and I knew something was up the moment I got inside, because it was all dark. I seem to recall a crowd of peers crammed into the stairwell like sardines, giggling like the schoolgirls they largely consisted of. In the living room, Wendy stood in the dimness, wearing a white dress, within a large heart-shaped formation of lit candles.

I just kind of stood there and looked at her. She beckoned me over, into the center. "Will you go to Turnabout with me?" "Well, of course." Upon which, everybody cheered. Somebody put on music, I think, and she asked me to dance with her there, within the heart of lit candles. I dithered, objected on the grounds that I was a poor dancer. But, of course, I couldn't very well refuse her, in front of everybody there. So we danced awkwardly, within that heart of lit candles, in the dimness of her living room. After enough footage had been obtained of us, the pitiful spectacle was finally put to an end.

The lights were turned back on, and we started to clean up. That was when the song came on; it must have been playing from one of her mixes. I felt like a boss after getting asked to Turnabout, and we were quite a sappy pair, so this song was perfect for the moment. It was at that time that I found out that Wendy had managed to call my father, tell him about her plans, and thus spring me from house arrest. What a day. This was one of several high points in our (pseudo) relationship, and I shall cherish it forever, even though we didn't work out.

Why this song fits the "Ezra's Life in Song" project: recalls a significant emotional milestone; recalls a significant person; lyrics' writer also speaks of remembering.

Falling Without Style

During my senior year in high school, I met a girl through a mutual friend. For the sake of this story, let’s just call her “Mal.” She went to another high school in the same town, and we bonded primarily over the hardships of schoolwork, which at times included joint study sessions, and shared culture. Our conversations, both online and in person, were often playful. We teased and bantered-- flirted, almost. Independently from the old saying, we developed this farewell we used exclusively between us: “Good night, sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite!” That was part of our display of affection. We were more just confidantes than ever truly interested in each other, but we were real-- or so I thought.

I had been a proponent of honesty, during my younger years. Even when responding to such trivial questions as, “How are you?” I had often answered with, “tired,” “depressed,” or “shitty.” It was this foundation, an honesty which demanded intent when presenting such basic queries, upon which our friendship stood. I had no idea, then, that this foundation was set upon sand.

I enrolled at Washington University in St. Louis as a biomedical engineering major, my freshman year of college. In those days, WashU was among the top 10 universities in the nation, as ranked by U.S. News. As an Asian-American student that had totally bought into the Model Minority stereotype, to be there was absolutely wonderful. However, I was unprepared for the independence of life far from home and the responsibility of learning in that type of environment. Before long, I was shell-shocked by a string of personal disappointments and academic failures. The mounting pressure that resulted from the growing incongruity between my expectations and reality caused me eventually to drop out during my second semester. My community witnessed me return home in defeat.

My basis for self-worth was yanked like a rug from under me; I stumbled and had my nose bloodied before a watching world.

Less than a year later, I gained acceptance to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, in spite of my unresolved psychological issues. I’d gotten in touch with Mal again, who’d been there for a year, by then. She’d offered to walk me around campus a bit, answer any questions I had-- serve as a welcoming party, of sorts. I accepted. We met for lunch one day, and she greeted me with, “How are you?” I don’t even remember what I said, only that it was something along the lines of, “I’m alright.” My answer would have been fine, except that I had not yet perfected my mask, my façade of strength.

I still sported a splotch of crimson, spreading from my nose. I had not yet learned to lie with my face, thus make the lie complete.

She asked again, for confirmation, and my repeated reply gave it. Upon seeing the incongruity between my words and my face, her own face fell. The light in her eyes dimmed in response to the darkness in my own. The rest of our lunch and subsequent time together could not be saved.

I had needed understanding. I realize now that Mal would have tried to give it, and that effort would have been enough for me. It would have been better for both of us if I had said something-- anything-- but I did not even know to ask. I would rather have sweat and cried inside of my mask than let her attempt to help me breathe by taking it off. My next breath would have been the one needed for our friendship to live. When I think of her, I am confronted by a nagging sense of loss that consists of unrealized possibilities and un-lived futures.

Mal is not alone in the place to which I exiled her. Within the hollowness behind my mask, whispers escape my lips and echo with the names of a dozen lost friends.

A Link to My (More) Conventional Blog

More accessible/less cryptic updates on my life here: http://aboutcbt.blogspot.com/. Get some!

Bigger, Truer Love

I love her more than ever before. After all this time, I find myself praying for her, not about her. Freed of the shackles of romance, I now love her more truly.

Fragments: Rejection

Rejection isn't limited to somebody refusing to choose you. It is also when any one person in the world chooses any other person. When a person chooses another, he or she prefers that one over all the others in the world. Over you. That person is deemed to be of more worth to the chooser than you. The chooser may not even know you. But already, you have been written off. It just doesn't mean much to you, because you don't care about that person either, in return. But rejection is painful when you do care.

What makes rejection painful is not only that your worth isn't recognized by the other person, but that you have misjudged that person's judgment. You don't know this person as well as you thought you did, because you believed she saw you in a certain way. And that certain way you thought she saw you was the same way you saw her. Thus, the relationship is not one of intimacy, but its opposite, alienation. She doesn't know you, and you don't know her.

Fragments: Old Spice Parody

Look at yourself.  Back to Jesus.  Back to yourself.  Now back to Jesus. Sadly, you aren't Jesus. But if you died to your old self and started living for Jesus, you could be more LIKE Jesus. Look down, back up, where are you? You're on your knees, worshipping the Jesus you could be more like.  What's in your hand?  Back at Jesus.  What He has is your hand in His. Look again, His hand has holes that should have been in yours!

Anything is possible when you live for Jesus and not yourself.

Christ is on the throne.

Fragments: Random Musings 5

I am beginning to think, after all this time spent searching for intimacy, that it is not to be found.  My ideal companion does not exist in the form of another fallen person.  I'm looking for a love only God can provide.  Not that I can't take enjoyment from being with others, only that I have been pinning unfair expectations on everybody I meet and all those I am surrounded by.  I expect divinity of them.

Fragments: Random Musings 4

I seem to hold off posting in hopes that my thoughts will somehow coalesce into some sort of novel.
--

I want to be with people, but I feel like I simultaneously push them away.
--

I put existence under Occam's Razor and disappeared.

Fragments: Old Wounds 2

I'm well aware that it is in Christ that my identity is rooted. My worth as a human being is intrinsic, yet... why do people feel uneasy, and visibly so, when I unveil the turns my life has taken? They show their hand. They reveal their values whenever they deem my path "regrettable." That leaves me and God alone to recognize my worth. Some will say, "That is enough." This is like the rich saying, "All I need is food and shelter," while living in opulence. It is something we know cognitively, but few understand. Until we do, I am a church of one. That is what is truly regrettable-- that I walk this path alone.

Fragments: Confession to All Old Flames

An open letter to all the girls I have ever loved

There are too many of you who have held my interest in the past, some more than others, to name; but let it suffice that I have revisited those moments in times past and seen the good in them.  I hope good comes to you wherever you may be.  If you have found men better than the boy I once was, or quite possibly better than the individual I am now, I wish you happiness.  If you have not yet, I wish you the best of luck, and pray that you don't settle.

For me to love now is different than what it once was.  For many, love has the meaning of possession.  But I have learned to accept that such may never be my lot, and thus the art of loving with an open heart.

Fragments: Random Musings 3

I heard, through the wall, a girl screaming, like she was getting raped.  Is that bad?

What's worse, that a girl could have been getting raped, or that I am so casually making light of it?

Last night, I dreamt that I was in a relationship with Lindsay Lohan.  She is psychotic, and can't drive.

And yes, I had sex with her.  And no, I don't find her attractive.

I really dreamt that last night.  Not!  As in "not lying."

Life's a bitch, and then you die.  Nas told me that.

Life's really a bitch right now... can I get to the dying part?

Wait, not yet!  ... Ok, now I'm ready.  I had to comb my hair.

See you all on the flip side!

Conversation About Platonic Relationships and "The One"

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V (2:21:41 PM): haha thanks for your comment on xanga
Me (2:22:12 PM): lol
V (2:22:01 PM): my friend is writing a paper on platonic relationships and i was doing a lot of thinking about it
V (2:22:05 PM): so you do think it's possible?
Me (2:22:38 PM): i do think it's possible, but
Me (2:22:41 PM): to put it bluntly
Me (2:22:47 PM): guys are very horny
Me (2:22:50 PM): :P
V (2:22:36 PM): they think down there instead of up there
V (2:22:39 PM): yes
V (2:22:40 PM): haha
Me (2:23:06 PM): yes
Me (2:23:15 PM): it's like we can only run one at a time
V (2:22:56 PM): haha
V (2:23:11 PM): but my friend who is writing the paper made a point - she says that platonic relationships can work out if both parties are involved with other people
V (2:23:19 PM): do you think that's the only exception?
Me (2:24:50 PM): nothing is guaranteed
Me (2:25:19 PM): no, i don't think it's the only exception
Me (2:25:38 PM): but at this point in our lives, it's hard to imagine otherwise
V (2:25:46 PM): i'm just kind of confused on the topic
V (2:25:56 PM): because i feel like society stresses that platonic relationships don't exist
V (2:26:04 PM): but at the same time, three of my best friends are guys and we're strictly friends
V (2:26:48 PM): i just feel like society is trying to tell us that this is an impossible situation
V (2:26:59 PM): but at the same time - it's occurring in my life, so what makes it impossible?
Me (2:27:36 PM): it's not impossible, just not likely
Me (2:27:50 PM): i'd say you're the exception, not the rule
V (2:27:32 PM): ok
V (2:28:02 PM): but what about things like attraction? like in the quote i found from the movie - once the attraction thing is out there, the friendship isn't quite a friendship anymore
V (2:28:28 PM): it doesn't matter if you act on that impulse of being attracted to the other person - it's just the idea of being attracted that crosses the boundary from being "just" friends into possibly something else
Me (2:29:06 PM): very true
Me (2:29:22 PM): i have crossed that line many times
V (2:29:08 PM): haha thank you for your honesty
V (2:29:10 PM): i'm sure i have to
V (2:29:11 PM): too'
V (2:29:19 PM): just thinking about it but not even acting on it
Me (2:30:10 PM): there's the thought of, "so what if..."
Me (2:30:46 PM): and then, if it goes on to the conclusion of, "hey, that'd be amazing!"
Me (2:31:08 PM): then there are apt to be changes in the way you relate to that person
V (2:30:58 PM): which is what changes the boundaries of the friendship, i think
Me (2:31:33 PM): well, unilaterally
V (2:31:14 PM): true
Me (2:32:06 PM): on my part, many of my relationships are really, "open to a relationship if you want it"
Me (2:32:16 PM): well, were
Me (2:32:25 PM): i decided to be more selective :P
V (2:32:15 PM): but in the Bible, God says that man and woman are created to be together - without a doubt - but surely that can't mean that every girl you meet has to have potential to be the one?
Me (2:32:48 PM): i don't believe in the one
V (2:32:27 PM): or that every boy i meet has potential to be a future husband?
V (2:32:33 PM): so what do you believe in?
Me (2:33:24 PM): well, i can say why i don't believe in "the one"
V (2:33:14 PM): go ahead
V (2:33:15 PM): i want to hear this
Me (2:33:57 PM): where its definition is, someone for whom God prepared for you since before time began
Me (2:34:41 PM): meaning that, ever since time did begin, it was written in the stars, YOU WILL MARRY HARRY OR MARY, OR WHOEVER I HAVE ORDAINED
Me (2:34:45 PM): lol
V (2:34:40 PM): haha
V (2:35:16 PM): well i think that God's will for us is everchanging - because after God gave us free will, there's no way we can ever make all the right decisions according to a set plan that God has for us, right?
Me (2:35:45 PM): i think the fact that God lets us remarry just throws the whole thing out the window
V (2:35:27 PM): how so?
Me (2:36:11 PM): because you marry someone, he's the one, then he dies, and then you marry someone else
Me (2:36:18 PM): he can't possibly also be THE one
V (2:35:56 PM): that's true
V (2:36:03 PM): i was actually thinking about that earlier last week
V (2:36:07 PM): except in terms of true love
V (2:36:19 PM): and if there really is a such thing as "one true love", then how can you remarry?
V (2:36:27 PM): it'd be like you were settling for less or settling for the next best thing
Me (2:36:54 PM): he's just the one at the current time
Me (2:38:16 PM): how to put it best...
Me (2:39:35 PM): this is so hard, lol
Me (2:39:52 PM): alright, here goes
V (2:39:37 PM): haha ok
Me (2:42:37 PM): ah, dammit
V (2:42:21 PM): too hard to explain?
Me (2:42:56 PM): maybe i should try through different examples
V (2:42:37 PM): ok
Me (2:43:31 PM): i believe that humans choose, at every moment, which path they will go on through life
Me (2:43:47 PM): there are millions of possibilities at any given moment for where your life will go
Me (2:44:35 PM): and for one possibility, you may meet person A, who God deems will be best for you
Me (2:44:44 PM): but on the other path, you may meet person B
Me (2:45:30 PM): or maybe, after going on the first path, you may take yet another path, and person C is the one who will best help your life reflect God's glory
Me (2:46:00 PM): so to say that there was, is, and will ever be only one person for any other
Me (2:46:18 PM): denies the validity of human choices
Me (2:46:22 PM): at least in my mind
Me (2:46:37 PM): and remarriage seems to support that
Me (2:48:20 PM): so in short, God has divine providence in store at every possibility of your existence
V (2:48:11 PM): so you think that God has a best option for you depending on which path yo utake?
Me (2:48:55 PM): yep, and that best option is "the one"
Me (2:49:08 PM): but... one of many potentialities
V (2:48:47 PM): but do you think there's an ultimate BEST option?
V (2:48:48 PM): like
V (2:48:52 PM): as impossible as this sounds
V (2:49:09 PM): you take all the correct choices (like a create your own story novel) that God wants you to take
V (2:49:15 PM): instead of taking some right, some wrong
V (2:50:01 PM): and after you take all the correct roads
V (2:50:09 PM): God gives you the ultimately best option
V (2:50:21 PM): instead of the other ones that are probably semi-best
Me (2:50:47 PM): of course
Me (2:52:06 PM): but i think God works with what He has to make your life more glorifying to Him... so He can make even the bad things work for the good
V (2:52:12 PM): but then wouldn't you still be settling for someone who's best for you at the time - instead of aiming for someone who's ultimately the best for you?
Me (2:53:58 PM): you could... but when you choose one path in life, you could be locking out the best option available to you at the beginning, so it's a non-factor
V (2:53:41 PM): that's true
Me (2:54:49 PM): i don't doubt lots of people out there are spending their lives with people who are less than what they might have gotten had they made different choices
Me (2:55:15 PM): but that's human existence, and God redeems it
Me (2:56:08 PM): so even someone who was horrible before can become an epitome of life in Christ
V (2:55:57 PM): hang on i'll brb
V (2:55:59 PM): keep talking
Me (2:56:23 PM): and what could be better than that?
Me (2:57:10 PM): the whole point of "the one" is someone who joins his life with yours to help your life better reflect His work in you
Me (2:58:07 PM): so even if person A isn't the best of all possible choices, his redemption can make him "the one" for the path you've taken in life
Me (2:59:58 PM): so bottom line, marriage isn't about two people coming together because they won't have any problems, but two people who, together in Christ, overcome the problems they encounter
Me (3:00:12 PM): that is the picture of God's redemptive work
Me (3:02:01 PM): of course, that's not to say you shouldn't try to make, with the help of God, the wisest choice possible and go marry a trashy bum or whore
Me (3:03:18 PM): that would be flat out dishonoring to God

Fragments: A Message to My Brother After Sending Him Off to College

It's only been a few hours, but I am already missing you. I know you'll probably find this hard to believe, but it's true. We didn't interact much on a daily basis, but already many things remind me of your absence, such as when I drive your car and listen to the music in it. As I was driving home from small group, I couldn't help but cry out of a combination of a bit of loneliness and a great deal of pride. Because I'm proud of you. So, so proud of you.

I'm proud that you've figured out what you're all about, and that it's a life in service to God.

Fragments: Random Musings 2

I think I am beginning to realize that, if I am to move forward, I must do so without "a room of my own."  Io sono cercando per un posto che non esiste.  I keep trying to claim for myself a tiny nook in time and space, whether it be the desire for intimacy, proficiency in a video game, or achievement in academics.  I am to be in this world, but not of it, an alien in a country not my own.
--

I honestly hope you are disturbed by my words.  I spit a truth that does not become any less true when it rocks your world and robs you of security.
--

I was eating Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds, and one of the almond bits stabbed me in the throat from within while I was swallowing.
--

Because my abilities are not being utilized to serve the LORD, it is only fitting that they are disappearing.

Fragments: Random Musings 1

The price to be paid for any truly great flavor (in food) is your breath.  There are few exceptions, if any, to this rule.

--

The moment I make it my goal to spend less money, situations arise that necessitate spending more.  Much of this involves spending time with friends and people I would like to develop friendship with.  As with food, there is a price, and as with anything, nothing free is truly worth having.

--

If I, myself, were the government, I would abolish marriage.  There should be no benefit provided by the government for those married; the benefits of marriage should in themselves be enough for the married.  That way, gay marriage wouldn't be such an issue.

--

If you're to pick just one character at random out of any movie, let's say The Bourne Ultimatum, the chances of actually picking the main character, Jason Bourne, is very slim.  More often we're the civilians that witness just a part of the street chase he has with Paz; at best we're Pam Landy, or at worst Noah Vosen.  The human struggle is to make some sort of significance of our own lives, as peripheral as they may be to the main attraction.

--

Oh!  How I hate that I want to be God! I look within and see the desire to be your first and best friend and lover. At its root is an almost incomprehensibly inflated view of myself.

--

Il mondo va.  Non vado.

Fragments: What I'd Like In A Spouse

I think the best metaphor I can give to describe women is pants. Women are like pants. Some pants fit closely but treat you like you don't have a penis. Other pants are so loose as to treat all of you like you're not there, tending toward sagging to the floor. This is where the metaphor falls apart: the baggy pants give your penis the proper treatment, but you need to tie them to you with the belt of marriage.


The best kind of pants are sweatpants... they are baggy, yet the elastic waistband makes it "fit." Sweatpants are also the most "homey"-feeling. I want a spouse like sweatpants.

Sports Superstitions

I've had my own sports superstitions over the years. One of the most recent was that I had to cheer for teams I wanted to lose, because God was always out to strike down my idols. Thus, I cheered for all teams playing against the Bulls. I've particularly cheered for the Lakers, Celtics, Heat, and Mavs. Most recently, I've cheered for the Pacers. Yes, I'm well aware that God knows my heart's true desires, but I'm silly like that.

Recently, me and a friend of mine came up with a theory that declares we cannot watch sports games together for which we are cheering for the same team. Of course, this is because we've watched sports together decently often enough to record many losses.

Unmentioned are the wins. We were definitely watching together when the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup. The losses just stick out, because we care so much. And that's why tonight, as the Blackhawks are playing either to go on or go home, and the Bulls try to finish out the series, my friend and I were not planning to watch them at an event hosted by another brother of ours for members of our fellowship.

Our superstitions essentially consist of little practices that we have which we think will somehow make the powers that be allow our team to win. Essentially, it means we aren't at peace with whatever God might bring about, and idolize our desires (team victory). For those that claim, "It's not for me, it's for the team/city/people!" To them I say that you have place some measure of self-worth in those identifications. Perhaps, God has His designs within even athletic competition, including the times when we lose. When prioritized over Christian fellowship, the sin of superstition becomes even more grave. We must not give up meeting together and we must give up the self-idolatrous practices of superstition.

I decided, finally, to throw off the yoke of superstition. I am going to Justin's house.

Fragments: Old Wounds 1

Sometimes, I feel like I've dropped into this world from the sky, or maybe like the paralytic, down through the roof. And this world is middle-class, Chinese Christian evangelical church. But unlike Jesus' reaction to the paralytic, his church has not welcomed me and healed my wounds. Instead, they would like me to knock and be ushered in from the front door.

Fragments: Self-Analysis 1

I wish I was even more ready to move on. I am half-way there, at the moment. I see my parents' life, and it is that future I fear. I want no part of it, but fear as well the uncertainty of finding my own way. I find myself stuck here in the middle, as always. As usual, I am consigned to the fringes, the in-between places, the margins. I just can't seem to write between the lines. I once said that I was the page that spit back the ink printed on it. But now I realize that my true position is that of the words that fail to make it to the page. I am the unpublished novel, the unperformed concerto, the unrevealed painting. I am the unspoken "I love you," "I do," and "Goodbye," all rolled into one. I am a Christ still unresurrected on the fourth day.

Fragments: Confession to a Beloved

God forbid your heart be given to me. My hands, too indelicate in grasping your heart, will break it so. I cannot catch a heart thrown thus... it will slip bleeding from my grasp.

You are lovely, lovelier than I can stand. I hold you close to hear your heartbeat sing my praises. You are an ornament on my arm, an accessory that accentuates my aura. My vanity, assuaged, will drown us all in unhappiness and dissatisfaction.

Nonsensical Rambling: Wierd Dream 1 (From a while back)

starcraft-based dream

earthquake owned the nation

everybody who had been north of the fault line turned into zombies

jerry chen and alan were in the dream

alan was on a praise team

religion had become meaningless

we were trying to get to the northwest

good amount of still-healthy people

people turned to pleasure in that grim time

we pondered the meaninglessness of pleasure

Bible was very heavy; handles attached to covers, weighed me down

one obstacle was a very long, narrow house

it was a creepy, decrepit maze

we saw through the lie, and i used superhuman strength to just charge through the walls

military were mutant zealots (zombies)

their friendliness was fickle

Final Rant About The Girl I Love

She is: smart, funny, capable, independent, cute, hot, hard-working, and fun-loving.  She takes her faith seriously.  She is not a sister to me.  She is my ideal woman.  She makes me smile when I look at her, but frown because she's not mine.  For what has literally been years, I have been content to have her happy, even if that happiness is not with or because of me.  But I feel my star rising again.  The time will soon come when I will see myself as worthy-- her best possible option.  Given all this, I fear that I admire her wrongly.

Those qualities I listed about her are not bad; they are indeed admirable.  Rather, my attraction to her is suspect precisely because I like her for fulfilling my ideal.  If I'm honest, I have to admit that I don't know her.  I don't.  I really don't.  I don't know most of her likes and dislikes.  I don't know most of her tendencies and preferences.  I don't know exactly her life's calling or even her tentative plans.  I don't know at all what day her period comes.

Suddenly, her place in my memory becomes clear, and all I really know of her is from moments in the past.  Our relationship is most accurately described as people that are acquaintances but, for whatever reason, interact like old friends.  Suddenly, I am afraid that our shared upbringing counts for nothing, and even more that we are truly strangers and fated to remain so.

I absolutely hate unrequited love-- I believe it foolish.  I remain open to any other possibility, but I find myself comparing every other girl to her.  This situation is so unjust to those individuals; I find myself unable to ignore the fact that, no matter what other exceptional qualities they may exhibit, not one of them is her.

This is the image that prompted a 20-ish post thread on Google Buzz amongst my connections on there.  We started with frown emoticons, moping (somewhat in jest) about the matter.  At some point, a friend of mine posted, "I think the lesson here is that we're all doomed."  I responded to her statement with, "Better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all?  Thank God for singular intersections!  You can't say you're doomed to lovelessness until you're single and literally at the end of the line... What are we again?  23?"  The original poster, an acquaintance of mine, responded with: "Wait... we were talking about relationships?"  To which I replied, "That's what I contextualized it to, as all my other relationships have been (relatively) ossum."

To that statement, there are several likely responses. A: "Well, we know what's on Ezra's mind."  B: "Well, lucky you."  C: "Why do you say that?"  I will answer the person that asks Option C.

Romance has been the only context  in which I've experienced relationships as once or never, and not as forever.  Not in friendship have I lost people through such finality as the burned bridges between me and my old flames.  That's why my friendships are so much better-- I've never perceived them as straight lines that precluded rekindling.  The lines have always been intertwined along jagged, looped, and twisted paths.

Even so, reconciliation is not out of the question, even for those painful people from my past.  By God's grace, we'll be good again.

Asians Have the Darndest Surnames

I have a friend named Tiffany Sun. If she married a guy with the last name "Moon," she would be Tiffany Sun Moon, under Western conventions. If a girl existed named Annie Ching and she married a boy with the surname "Chong"...? In this post, I seek an examination of our multi-cultural identities through the treatment of our surnames as (imperfect) signifiers of what goes on within and around us.

I feel ambivalently about the Romanization of our surnames. It simultaneously represents the subjugation of Asian identities to Western conventions, but also the transformation of Asian identities into something else, an Asian-whatever (Korean-American, Vietnamese-Canadian, Japanese-British, Chinese-Australian, etc) identity that straddles oceans. Already, we are not completely what our forebears were. What are our parents, if not unreal, for insisting on an impossible cultural purity? However, neither are we yet completely assimilated.

There are several questions to answer. What does it mean to stay true to our heritage? Is it sufficient that we have retained our surnames, but Romanized? Other groups, to avoid persecution, changed their surnames altogether, some by translation. If my surname were translated from "Chang /Cheung /Zhang /Chiong," it would be "Chapter." I would be "Ezra Chapter." Should we campaign for the right to change our legal surnames to Chinese characters? That course of action doesn't seem prudent. Even if imperfectly, the Westerners are able to attempt to utter our sacred surnames through their Romanizations. Perhaps we ought to ask ourselves a more important question: Is it even necessary or important enough of a matter, to remain true to our heritage?

There are more issues to consider, if language use is to be considered a representation of cultural imperialism or hegemony. The use of Chinese characters was once part and parcel of Chinese domination in all spheres of life in much of East Asia. The Vietnamese, Japanese, and Koreans all used Chinese characters in the past. The Japanese altered their script. The Koreans created an alphabetic script. The Viets threw off one master only to receive another, and their entire language was standardized to a Romanization. Fittingly, when Chinese people go by their Romanized surnames, they get a taste of their own medicine.

Perhaps, language-- as a tool of power-- is only effective if there is something of value to demolish. If we hold our cultural heritage loosely, it won't hurt when we inevitably lose it through generations of living in the West. It only matters that we hold ethnic culture so tightly if we believe it to be superior to others' and integral to living, yes? Perhaps what really matters is living a meaningful life in view of God, which may not necessitate clinging tightly to heritage. Could it be, that culture is not more important than life itself?

This post really has no conclusions, but merely presents the shortcomings of particular, more traditional perspectives. I have no illusions as to my ability to convince everybody to rediscover their respective heritages, or to let go of them. Neither are those the only options. You can have both the old and the new, or neither! Truly, as Asian-Americans, there is no right way to deal with heritage; I only hope that each of us has peace with it.

I just hope not to see people walking around with names like Jon, Jeff, Peter, or Joy Yellow.

No, I'm not interested in talking to your father.

Mimetic Desire is the millstone that sinks many. The most tempting thing to a 22-29 year olds? Domesticity. Really... is that your highest aspiration? I am disappointed in you.

The Effect of Racism on National Integrity

Warning: Rant incoming.

"I don't care what country they're from, they should respect (something or other)."

When white people even so much as insinuate that I'm from a different country, it turns me off to this "great" US of A. Before you said what you said, I was ready to go work my ass off and donate half my lifetime's wages to the government, get my ass blown off in a war for this place. But now...?

When you assume I'm from some place else, you do yourself a disservice. I was in fact born here, raised here, and haven't left the country in over a decade. Sure, my family came from elsewhere, but with the exception of the oppressed indigenous population, whose didn't? The implication you make by dismissing the one possibility that in truth is actuality is that I'm not "from" here, and I'm not welcome. In that sense of unwelcome, my contributions have been discarded.

We, as a demographic, have contributed, are contributing, and will contribute (if you'll have us). I dare you to refuse to let us contribute; take away our contributions, I guarantee this country will be lesser for it. It is because we are invested in helping this nation work that it hurts to be judged by our appearances. What is it about my eyes and complexion that makes me automatically less socially or culturally legitimate as an American?

Perhaps your concept of "American" is too small, your narrative to narrow to incorporate ours, your hypocritical lies to weak to bear the weight of our existence. That's how you do disservice to yourself by judging. By closing yourself to what else "American" might possibly mean, you limit the strengths other traditions might contribute, outside of your own European heritage. Believe it or not, the "American" perspective of culture has its blind spots, of which we are discussing one. By closing yourself to full acceptance of people of other colors and cultures, you undermine the very ideals you claim to champion.

What happens in the aftermath of racism is that those at whom the racism is directed at feel rejected. Feeling rejected actually does make some of us disengage a bit. Your racism does, in some cases, create a self-fulfilling prophecy. If enough people disengage from a belief in the American nation, the scores of years this house has left to stand will be limited. Racism causes our will to fracture, our unity to unravel.

I dare you to win me and people as disillusioned as myself back over, white America; allow yourself to be joined by others' Americas. If you love America, accept us as your own.

On Northwestern's Live Sex Demonstration

As some of you may have heard, a live sex demonstration occured after a class session for a human sexuality class at Northwestern. A girl shed her clothing and her boyfriend used a sex tool to penetrate her and bring her to orgasm.

Here's the Christian principle on sex: Sex is good... within marriage. The question here is, "What is the meaning of 'within marriage?'" Does it mean that sex should be kept out of sight from the public sphere? But another question would be... "Wouldn't good sex be better (within marriage), and better sex be awesome?" How does a couple make sex better? Are they to rely only on experimentation? Is the dissemination of knowledge about how to please your spouse better an illicit transfer of knowledge?

One issue often brought up is that, more often than not, the sufferers in the event of low quality sex are more often the females. Females have been long-suffering in the traditional marriage, sexually in addition to the myriad number of other ways.

Scenario: A dude is a premature ejaculator. There is no possible way he is gonna please his wife with his penis before he finishes. Is it ok for him to go to say, a book or a sex therapist, to get ideas or advice on other methods to please his wife? What ways of learning this information cross the line into sin?

I am all for females orgasming. I am all for better sex. I just don't think a demonstration is necessary to learn the information to make orgasms happen. I assume throughout this post that the demonstration is carried out with the best of intentions. But... is intent enough to separate this demonstration from any other sexual presentation (including porn)? I don't think so.

Now, what is so different about a live demonstration (as opposed to a book or a therapist)? Why is this not different from porn or a performance at a strip club? One can argue that, since this event was a performance, that the entire audience was invited into what should have been reserved for just a husband and his wife. Why should the fact that this demonstration happened for the sake of knowledge (as opposed to pleasure) make it exempt from the same judgment that a lapdance or stripping routine receives?

In my humble opinion, the educational value of such a demonstration is dubious, at best. It doesn't take much skill to stick a power tool into your partner. Does that point to more sleazy intentions? Not necessarily, although I do believe that the mixed reactions to the demonstration, even on my own part, shows how deadened we are... not just to the sin that occured, but to the very wonder that sex should be. Such reactions are the aggregate result of all the other influences in our culture. I write my arguments out of a purely logical approach to what Scripture has to say about sex, but my heart is unmoved.

Le Cose Vorrei Scrivere Di

In no particular order,

- The NBA CBA and revenue sharing

- Carmelo's trade situation

- The Holy Spirit's conviction about jokes I make in bad taste

- Psychoanalysis of myself through examination of past relationships

- The girl I have wanted to love for the past four years, and why I may or may not actually love her

Thoughts on Kindle

It is very thin and lightweight with high resolution.  The 3G is excellent and free but I would not use it for anything more than cursory checking of social networing services.  Mobile versions of Twitter Gmail and Facebook are optimal.  Typing is a pain due to keys... punctuation is also a pain.  I could develop a new writing style from typing on this device by eschewing the use of puncuation other than periods and ellipses.

Reading on this device is comfortable.  Annotations made are naturally brief in nature.  I am currently reading Ulysses.  I downloaded a free Bible from the Kindle store and a free copy of Ulysses from Project Gutenberg.  Free books are for the win.  I would recommend the Kindle 3 for reading purposes only. I use the browser frequently only because I have internet curfew.  Yes.  At age 23.

One last note.  Many books can be obtained for free that have entered the public domain.  Keep in mind that quality remains an issue.  Hopefully I have addressed the most salient of concerns you would raise concerning the purchase of this product.  If you have any further questions do not hesitate to post them below.

New Fragments Emerge

This class, English 2261, confronts me with a babushka doll.  On one level, I am confronting more directly the possibility of becoming a writer.  I can either give it my all, or pull back, doing instead something safe.  I am driven to write more, yet paralyzed by the pressure to give up.  At the root of this tension is the real issue with being a writer: is that incarnation of me worthy enough to come alive again for?  Or will this increasingly crippling depression consume hope for a fulfilling life?  And within even those questions is the more important issue of my faith.  I will either become stronger because of it or in spite of it.