Stages

The VSA Culture Show is coming up in a few weeks: April 19th at 5 PM At Zellerbach. The title of this show is called "Monsoons". I play the nameless "Warrior" who tries to save a village from starvation and a drought. He journeys into the jungle to find the sacred spring that can save the village. Ironically, in the end, he causes the unleashing of an evil spirit worsening the problem. It is supposed to allegorically reflect the history many Vietnamese Americans came out of: The Viet Nam War and its many paradoxes in revolution, nationalism, heroism, change, oppression, and displacement. Woo, so many key words!

I've never given actors much credit for their talents. Acting is pretty hard I must say. I know it's all psychological. I have to be in the mind of the character, not just the body; I'm still waiting for my costume. Hopefully, by then, I can get into character more. If I had been given an insane, funny but meaningful, or villainous role I think I would have fitted those better. Besides the stress and anxiety of memorizing these darn lines, I am pretty excited to be on stage acting for the first time ever. Come see me! SUNDAY, APRIL 19th, ZELLERBACH, 5 PM, $13 presale, $15 at the door.

I've been down lately. Another stage.... My taste buds don't work as well anymore so food doesn't taste as great. My stomach is constantly aching, So does my mind. My nose is always congested because of the weather--it's so nice out, too bad I could never enjoy sniffing the flowers like how it is in cartoons when depicting spring and its beauty. Music doesn't sound as good anymore either. It feels like my speakers are dying or is it my ears, or is it the pleasure I take from listening to music?

I can't sleep sometimes. I constantly think about things I shouldn't even be thinking about. Circles. Reoccuring shapes and scenes and faces.

I sit with my face down to a ground I used to walk on when I was a Freshman, unfamiliar and unaware of my placement. I hear the doors closing like an orchestra of secrets. Behind those closed doors, I wonder what happens. The knobs lock, why should I bother busting the door open? Knock. Knock. My face still to the ground reliving what I could've, should've, would've been through. We are placed at certain times, just like music--right and exact--about perfect--no, it must be perfect. They suddenly stop. Gone. It's dark. Night Time. Behind the same closed doors, laying down next to you, secrets are revealed we both become vulnerable in darkness where our shadows do not linger. Safe again? really?

I am here. Again. And I wonder why I keep on coming back.