I could of been mad about it. I have had this shirt from the Gap for years. Instead, I embraced the stain, the memories that are with the shirt, how great I felt in it when I wore it with the right combo.
Then I let the shirt go because I would not be able to relive it like that again with that stain.
26 March, 2013
06 March, 2013
Going to take myself less seriously,
after my strange bout of sadness for the last few days. Just need to laugh, make jokes out of my life mishappenings, and move on with it.
01 March, 2013
Exit Fremont.
The other day I exited Fremont Ave. off the 10 freeway. This exit seemed really familiar to me and I wasn't sure why. I had my meeting and afterwards needed to drive to a high school for another meeting. I went back onto Fremont and made a left onto Mission Ave.
Then I saw it. The storage unit place to the left, the brick buildings to the left and right, the black fences and the cement walls that covered the L.A. River. I knew where I was. At that intersection if I had made a left, I would find my aunt's former sewing factory. It was a place that I frequented, not really understanding what it meant. I knew if I had arrived at the factory I could run into her office pass the people doing something meticulous with their hands, probably placing tags on finished clothing. I would stare at the sign that said "No one under 18 allowed by law" and wondered if I had broken some rule. I knew that if I ran around through the big boxes, piles of clothes yet assembled, the smell of plastic and clothes unworn hovered around the desire to support a family - that new smell. That smell was so distinctive that if I were to dive into one of those bags I would get a huge wiff of it. I thought it was fun to do, sorta like a ball pit, but different. I stare at the bag and see another warning about suffocation. So many rules and warnings that I felt did not apply to me. So many things that I felt did not apply to this little Vietnamese Chinese girl who happened to be born in America.
Down Mission Blvd. I went...
---
The other day I had a conversation with a very talkative former CEO of a community organization. He said that sometimes you have to share your background, talk about yourself, which is something I grapple with daily.
I suppose this is the process of being human, sharing your life with others, your experiences. I've always disliked and liked talkative people. Lately, I've become nervous sharing about myself to others. It's like I went to go hide in my shell to apply for grad school and not deal with the fact that L.A. is a new place for me where I have limited support.
Then I saw it. The storage unit place to the left, the brick buildings to the left and right, the black fences and the cement walls that covered the L.A. River. I knew where I was. At that intersection if I had made a left, I would find my aunt's former sewing factory. It was a place that I frequented, not really understanding what it meant. I knew if I had arrived at the factory I could run into her office pass the people doing something meticulous with their hands, probably placing tags on finished clothing. I would stare at the sign that said "No one under 18 allowed by law" and wondered if I had broken some rule. I knew that if I ran around through the big boxes, piles of clothes yet assembled, the smell of plastic and clothes unworn hovered around the desire to support a family - that new smell. That smell was so distinctive that if I were to dive into one of those bags I would get a huge wiff of it. I thought it was fun to do, sorta like a ball pit, but different. I stare at the bag and see another warning about suffocation. So many rules and warnings that I felt did not apply to me. So many things that I felt did not apply to this little Vietnamese Chinese girl who happened to be born in America.
Down Mission Blvd. I went...
---
The other day I had a conversation with a very talkative former CEO of a community organization. He said that sometimes you have to share your background, talk about yourself, which is something I grapple with daily.
I suppose this is the process of being human, sharing your life with others, your experiences. I've always disliked and liked talkative people. Lately, I've become nervous sharing about myself to others. It's like I went to go hide in my shell to apply for grad school and not deal with the fact that L.A. is a new place for me where I have limited support.
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