Building Painting   16 photos Photos are from  haha.nu 19 Aug 06.

Body Painting   15 photos Photos are from  haha.nu btwn  03 Jun 05 & 02 Jul 06.

Go here for: Strange Statues around the World

In California, there’s a famous city, Santa Monica. It has a street with its name, Santa Monica Boulevard.  On its crossed street, 3rd, every Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, musicians would play outside, under the starry sky.

All my Dreams? Is to take his hands, dance in the middle of the street with strangers passing by. We would leave the world behind to enter the realm of our very own. We would dance to the music that is playing in our hearts.

Will he dance with me? I don’t know. But there is Hope and certainly, the Desire for it is always burning…

But until I can take his hand and walking down the street named Santa Monica Boulevard, I can always be in my room with my eyes closed, listening to the music playing in my heart, and imagining asking him:

…dance with me?

dance with me by Orleans

I’m as guilty as the next convict. Sometimes I look at the clock and be thinking about three hour time zone ahead. I know I shouldn’t. My boyfriend lives two time-zones away and not three. Then I realized. It must be D. He used to live in New York. He used to call me when he got off work, everyday. He used to come to CA every two weeks to hang out with his friends and would stop by to see me everyday while he was here.

I was 14 when we first met. As a person who lived in the States less than 2 years then, you could imaging how my English was. He, who was born in Vietnam, came to the France when he was 2 months old and to the States when he was 2 but speaks French and English his entire life. He stayed in France with this grandparents during summers and in the States for school year. We used to call my English and his Vietnamese “Com Tam” because they were so broken. I, sometimes, still wonder how we can conversate with one another. By words, by signs, or by hearts?

Poor as we were, my family and I lived in a ghetto appartment just a couple of blocks from the ocean in Long Beach after moving from New Orleans. He, who lived in upscale New York, visited his “ghetto” friends who lived in my appartment complex. I never paid much attention to those who live surround me because I rarely, almost none, talked to them. But I remember: I was cleaning my glasses outside in the drive-way. He came forth, looked at me, and smiled. He spoke in strange language–it was English alright; but for a person who could only sing the first 2 verses of the Purple Dinosaur Barney’s “I Love You” song, every word that was coming out of his mouth was like French to me. I had my eyes wide open, starred at him and was well wondering what that guy was saying and why he was smiling.

He was 17 then but finished High School the year before. His father was a successful Vietnamese business man, who married a French woman, his mother. D has a look of European touched Asian. He was gorgeous. Heavenly like. Warm, charming, and bright. We started talking, seeing each other on the playground. I learned my English from him, he started speaking Vietnamese with me. It was fun, innocence, and magical. We grew up with each other, learnt from each other, and bonded with one another but never a relationship.

He asked me to marry him once every two years. When I was 18, 20, and the last was 22. Each time, I pushed him away. I shut him out of my life. Completely. I asked him to go back to France to be with his family since he was by himself in the States. In tears, he told me that I am the only family he has after his father passed away. All he know was me. I was greatly touched. I saw the engagement ring he bought for me years back the last time I saw him. He was wearing it as a pendant for his necklace. Beautiful ring. Beautiful person he is. But I guess ignition for a romantic relationship between he and I never sparked, at least on my end. Through those eight years, we hugged, held each other and gentle kisses on the forehead from him to me. For eight years, he had never done wrong but respect and a great friend. I miss him sometimes.

It’s amazing to know how someone’s come and gone in your life but never left your heart. They touch your heart deeply because they care for you like no others do. If you do find one, hold on to them. They might be one of the greatest relationships you’ve ever known in your life, be it romantic, platonic, or just friends.

Most relationship started by a simple “Hello.” In my case, it was all started by him saying: “So, you wear glasses. I do too.”

I woke up in the middle of the night, through the dim light on my desk, I saw my mother holding Lilo and gently stroking her fur. For the first time in two weeks, I saw Lilo stayed quite when being held, being petted, being touched. She fell asleep in my mom’s hands. Gentle. Peaceful. Calm.

Seeing my mom sitting on the floor and petting Lilo touched my heart. I have never seen that softer side of her. Caring. Loving. Warm.

I wonder if one day I have children, will I be gentle and loving like my mother?

I found myself wake up 2 in the morning and again at 4 just to put a blanket on her so she could stay warm. When she calls me in the middle of the night beside my bed, I would be up, hold her and play with her for a bit then put her back to her crate. I found myself care for her food and water and make sure that she eats. I would sit next to her watching her eating her meals, because if I got up and leave, she would follow me and ignore her meal.

Everyone in the family says that Lilo loves me, but little do they know, she also loves teething, especially with my fingers. My hands and arms got scratched but I don’t mind. I love playing with Lilo, running around the house with her, petting her, combing her fur, and playing tug war.

I wonder if one day I have children, will I be good to them? Will I be gentle? Will I take care of them as good as a mother should? I don’t know.

Too many uncertainties in the future. Too much worrying for the uncertainties. Right now: One step at a time.

I’d been wandering around the dark corners of xanga.com into wrong blogrings and found xangans who ‘intake’ less than 300 calories per day and to them, it’s gross. That’s just unhealthy and…sick? 

I don’t understand how people practice anorexia and bulimia and seeing nothing wrong with it. They are quite proud and often being offended if someone saying telling them it’s unhealthy to do so. Don’t they know that they probably have a very low self-esteem and self-worth? Don’t they know that they need to work inside out to be and feel beautiful?

I have to admit there was one time in my life that I was under the weight I wanted to be. It’s not by choice that my weight dropped more than 10 pounds in one week. Things happened, illness did strike. That was 3 years ago. At that time, I was discovered by a model agency and they had the audacity to tell me that my weight is ok but I needed to tone down. I was 95 lbs at 5 feet 3. My BMI was 16.5. What’s there to tone? I was already underweight! If I loose any more pounds and/or tone my bones down like they wanted me to, then now, it would be third year anniversary of my death. (Now for those who’s wondering how can a 5 feet 3 be discovered by model agency; well, they wanted my face and my face belongs to my head which attached to my body. That was how.) 

Being able to consume food is a blessing. Being able to intake them is even a greater blessing. Many many people in the world are unable to purchase food and face starvation everyday. There are people who have to limit their choice on food/dish because of the illness they have. To me, food is beyond blessing. Take me for an example: I was ill since I was 11 days old. I was rushed, stayed, and called hospital my home until I was 4. Up to the age of 10, I was set, cared for, and provided with food. I was not allowed to eat junk foods and fruits. My meals were monitored. I know it was no life but I was introduced to plenty of healthy and tasty meals.  I was healthy. I weighted normal. Not once in my life, I cut down my intake just because I think I’m fat. If I think I weight more than I should, I would exercise more and divided my plate into 3 sections: meat, veggie, and carb. I watch what I eat. I eat quite often through out the day, in small chunks once every 2 or 3 hours. Oh and I eat a lot for my main courses.

I don’t know much about models nor agencies due the the fact that I was there 3 times for 3 different agencies just to learn the process of modeling, but I do know that sexiness is not from clothing, it’s a state of being. Beauty is not skin deep but how your body holds it by using your mind, your knowledge . Being Fabulous is the attitude one chose to carry it out. Holding Gorgeousness is your smile, as long as you’re smiling, you’re attractive and drawing people in. Twenty, thirty years from now, you would not have the pretty young face you have now so don’t go on brushing on how you look. Health is important. It is a building process, not an overnight thing. Food is one of the greatest things you can have in this life that can help you going through life. So use it, take advantage of it. Consume it. Work it for your good. Look fades, only health stays.