I love feeling the rush of endorphins -- okay, okay, in simpler terms, I like deriving pleasure from things I like. Just this past minute, I felt a rush of endorphins (and that's why I wrote that) when I wanted a song on repeat, but wasn't sure if I set it up right... sidetrack::this is a song I could fall asleep to tonight::... and as it ended, it looped back around, and a wave of pleasure washed over me.

Of course, we're more than chemicals inside our brain (this is philosophically and morally debatable) -- aren't we?

I don't want to consider that again (as circa earlier 2006's Xanga musings).

I just want to ruminate in a "I'm sleepy but want to write" way, and see where that takes me. I didn't expect studying abroad would be the way it has been. This is not to say I had too high expectations; I had expected there would be difficulty, but if I could do it again, I might do a few things differently.

For example, I would have thrown my expectations out the window because expectations rarely match reality, especially since I'd never been to Hong Kong before -how could I know what it's like from a few photos and skimming Lonely Planet?

I would have been more confident; the past years in Santa Barbara must have worn down my inner New Yorker because I move at a distinctly slower pace that is out of sync with the locals (this has not prevented people from mistaking me for a local--they must have seen me while I was standing still at the bus stop, and not while I was playing an awkward game of sidestep). Being a new face in a new place can be confusing, but I would face it with gusto.

If I were me in August 2008, I would have come to Hong Kong knowing what exactly (being specific here) I wanted to accomplish, what places I planned to visit, and what "Must-Do's" I had in mind to do before returning, a.k.a. the Game Plan. Flexibility is key, of course.

One thing I have done right (except when I did it wrong, see next) is to take full responsibility of my own actions and decisions, even when my decision was inaction.

What I did wrong was becoming too comfortable in inaction. If I were me at 3 months ago, I'd keep in mind that I might as well resist inertia, being in a new place and all..

This point doesn't apply to me as much because I certainly do not harbor delusions that "Hong Kong" and "its people" are to blame for any of my grief during my experience at CUHK. However, to keep the pointer finger of blame in check, I remind myself that anywhere students study abroad, the country does not owe us anything. Happy memories are not guaranteed. I heard an international student in an unlucky situation cried as she was told she might need surgery to treat her possibly broken foot, after waiting eight hours in the hospital to see a doctor. Three days into the semester and a loading ramp had landed on her! Yikes! (Fortunately, her foot wasn't broken, but badly swollen.)

By studying abroad, I have broadened my understanding of the world and its peoples. I'm taking an Anthropology course on Southeast Asia Culture and People which was helpful in that regard, but it was also accomplished through my interactions with all the people from diverse backgrounds who are in Hong Kong.

I recently read an op-ed piece in my school newspaper from home in which the author said that he made a lot of friends in college because of convenience. I believe convenience factors heavily into "who knows who." For example, we often befriend people who are members of the same club and whom we see on a consistent basis. This also means we easily confine ourselves to the same friends. I may forget that my personal world is miniscule compared to the world as a whole. How many people all over the world are chatting, laughing, working, shopping, thinking; different people doing different things, all at the same time.. I live locally but we are connected globally.

I fail to surmount this myopia when all I can think of is my own pain, which occurs when I am in a depressed or suicidal mood. Then, thoughts of all the people and their lives this world holds; of possibility; are far, far away from mind. Childhood is where my self-esteem issues surfaced. It was like a burning rock lodged in me, irremovable, causing harm if I tried to touch it. It wasn't until the latter half of my high school years did I overcome the deep-seated unhappiness my childhood interactions caused. It was like wrapping plastic tarp around the burning rock. It was moving to California, going to college in Santa Barbara, that extinguished the flames. The rock stayed. See, human beings are smart. We follow established scripts to get through our day. We're programmed to automatically know how to brush our teeth.. we don't try every day to brush our teeth, we learned it when young. I learned certain scripts in my childhood that set off and automatically start playing when I perceive I'm facing a similar situation. Where it is supposed to be helpful, it is not. I tense up, my senses are heightened, I try to read people so I know how to respond, I feel people passing judgment on me. Those are the scripts that roll when activated; those are the ones my childhood established. When I got to Santa Barbara, some of these same scripts were activated, but to my surprise! the results did not play out the same way. "C" follows "B" follows "A"--that's what I thought. Instead, I found D follows 3.9 follows A. With this change, my scripts were no longer reliable. Whenever one was activated, it was likely to be disconfirmed and things turn out differently from what was written. Those scripts that were not activated meant new scripts had to be written. You can see how the flames were extinguished.

But the rock stayed.. And in Hong Kong, some embers caught spark. My lowest points were my suicidal moments in the evening and into the night, where I desperately wanted to die quick as a snap of the finger, because I didn't want to face my life anymore. Having known a time when the rock had gone cold and no longer burned me, however, I AM a different person. I can see the sun coming over the horizon and I think I can say with confidence I will be okay again.

It's amazing how resilient (not me, per se) people are.

In Hong Kong, tote bags are sold at supermarket counters to promote environmentally friendly practices.  Hong Kong IKEA has "No Plastic Bag Day" on Tuesday.

I think targeting consumers' checkbooks is effective in implementing change, so I support charging a 6-cent fee for plastic bags.

Here is the link: Link
Here's a YouTube video related to the issue: Link

Is a 6-cent fee for a plastic bag reasonable?

Things to do/places to visit before I leave:
.watch a free movie at UA theater
.eat dim sum
.visit tai koo and quarry bay park (maybe)
.visit tai o fishing village (maybe)
.visit macau
.go to shenzhen (maybe)
.shop at festival walk
.take pictures of cityu

"path toward the parking lot"

            Is it possible that people live in memories?  I mean, I don’t think I live only in memories… I live in the present, to be sure, but I am often travelling through life in memories.  For the past three days, it’s been colder here, I think it’s due to a monsoon somewhere else, and that by Friday it will pass and we will return to 20something degrees Celsius.  Nevertheless, the cold weather has been a nice change.  It hasn’t been brisk, the way November in New York (City) would be; it hasn’t been freezing, the kind that causes your toes to turn cold, even when covered in socks, like—surprisingly—home in Northridge during winter can be.  It’s the lightest touch of cold, just so, to mark the waking of winter temperatures and frosty air.

            It’s during these days where the cold that hints at winter brings back memories I have not remembered for a long time.  (In California for the past three years, even the supposed “winter chill” does not have the bite of New York winters.)  I was at New Asia College when I stopped by the small ampitheatre like area by the bus stop, and sat down on the large granite steps.  To my delight, the steps were hotter than warm.  It had just soaked up the sun and was slow in letting the heat leave—which made for a delightful discovery on my part.  I sat near the top of the ampitheatre, gazing around and down, like a schoolgirl during after school hours sitting at the top of the bleachers, as the wind whipped her hair around.  I saw Canada from the top of the pine trees, to the mountains in the distance.  I saw New York on a winter afternoon from the way the sunlight beamed at a distance, as its rays of light filtered through the thick mass of tree branches.

As I sat there, the stone slab warming me from the bottom up, and through my palms, which I had placed on the step as well, it occurred to me the utility of capturing solar energy.  Imagine if all the CUHK students walking around feeling cold had access to this warmth !  It would be amazing, now wouldn’t it be?  Perhaps my future calling involves alternative energy sources.

As I walked down the steps to I-House, I was prompted of another good memory.  That of coming home—I can’t remember how old I was until I stopped running this errand, even if it was only the occasional trip or so—and having my mom take my bookbag at the door, while I received the mailbox key from her to walk the ten paces to the mailbox marked “1E” and check for mail, but sometimes, receiving not only her keys but the rent envelope for the month as well.  Then I might have pouted a bit, if I thought it a long walk, or I might have been OK with it, I can’t remember how I felt.  Then I would head out *smash* the locked lobby door made and *kalung* the front door opened and *put put put* I’d walk down the front steps, and make it to the large bush at the end of the path, turn right, keep going until I reached the path toward the parking lot, keep walking, maybe see a squirrel or two, if they were still out, and head to the Office.  I’d open the door, drop the envelope in the slot, oh, and sometimes, I would request to add more money to the laundry card.  I’d exit, then meander my way back, my mom probably watching me from the living room window, smiling and waving if I caught her eye.

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Open your browser and go to "nytimes.com."  Scroll down until you see the videos.  Watch the first one, about a day in court with a public defender.

this wasn't supposed to happen.  i think my eyes could have moistened when my groupmates and i were saying goodbye today.  we had just worked on a 15 page group paper.  at a canteen (aka cafeteria).  at a different university.  and i still had tons of reading (still do, matter of fact) to do after coming home.  but as we waved bye, standing less than two feet apart from each other, i felt a taste of bittersweet goodbye.

this wasn't supposed to happen.

I just flipped through an issue of the The New York Review of Books.  Interesting stuff.

There was a review by Bill McKibben on Thomas L. Friedman's latest book, the one about a Green Revolution.  I'm currently reading Friedman's book on his time as a journalist in the Middle East--a little dated, but absorbing and informative.

There was also a review by Kwame Anthony Appiah on God’s Crucible: Islam and the Making of Modern Europe, by David L. Lewis.  I read the intro snippet of the article.  The premise of the book is how modern European identity as a collective people has been shaped by two forces; the first was Charlemagne in the creation of the Holy Roman Empire, and the second was the development of Muslim culture in the Iberian peninsula (the "great Other" that led to filling out of the European Self).

I am afraid of not having legitimacy.  I am unhappy these days... even if I have moments where I seem okay, I'm in a funk.  I never thought I'd be back here again -- miserable.  It's different this time around, of course, but it's gray skies overhead nonetheless.

Pry loose my slipping fingers and
set me free

The windshield is flooding
Close your eyes darling
And melt into me

I'm happy when I think of the two shirts I bought online yesterday LOL

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"Opus" the comic strip has ended.  The creator, Berkeley Breathed, wanted to keep the comic strip free from a future negative political climate.  He ran a contest to see who could guess Opus' fate.  The answer is here: Link.

The last panel (revealed Nov. 2nd) may be viewed here: Link

Why I decided to blog about this is because Mr. Breathed lives in Santa Barbara.  It removes a bit of the sting of finality..