The End of Another Semester

It's almost 8 AM and I'm still up because my sleeping pattern is out of wack! Well actually, throughout the whole semester I usually slept around 5-6 AM and wake up around 12 PM. Ah. I really don't know if this is exactly healthy for my body, but I hope to regain a normal sleeping schedule (11-2) this break.

Reflection of this semester, Fall 2009

it's been quite interesting living at DA HEIGHTZ in Rochdale, the well-renown, or rather notorious spot for parties that hold over its maximum capacity of 30 -- we've had 200-300 people come in and out at our parties. While it kind of sucks to have the downstairs room, the experience living here is quite indelibly memorable. Aside from cheap rent, cheap landry, I am really loving the community aspect of co-op living. I am really going to miss my roommates and this atmosphere when I leave for Viet Nam next year in the Fall. Of course I won't miss the dirtiness of the apartment though. hah!

I declared American Studies as my second major this semester and after taking two of the courses offered under the department, I can say I really like what I am learning and I feel the topics discussed and the different theories really correspond to my own fascinations, curiosity, and questions about American life, or even the questions surrounding the definition of America, being an American, and American culture. Very interesting! Because I'm double majoring now, I'm hoping to graduate by Spring 2011, or Summer 2011 at the latest.

I think one of the most important aspects of this semester for me is the new type of consciousness--or different sets of question in regards to my life here, in San Jose, and elsehwere--that deals with my position being a student here at CAL, an elitist university and how I've realized how alienated and detached I've become.

To tell you the truth, it's quite depressing thinking about how just by being here, by being a Cal student, by having that attached to your name and people's perception of you, it can be quite condescending to other people who do not go to this prestigious university--just by you being you, or what ever/how ever you want to define it.

My birthday is also coming up, December 25, Christmas day. I remember growing up my parents would celebrate Christmas because of me--they did it because they did not want me to feel left out from all the other children at school who would talk about their Christmas day, waking up bright and early in the morning, running to the Christmas tree with their parents close by opening up presents under the shining light the Christmas tree star, and how they got the newest toy that they had always wanted and or the newest video game, or pair of shoes, or skateboard. My parents wanted me to feel like I was a part of America.

I wish I could show more gratitude to them now, but it's hard because emoting has never been an easy thing for especially when I am at home. I don't know if that type of tendency is part of my psyche or habits or whatever, but it's very hard to express how I really feel at home. You can say it's cultural, but there can always be a change. Perhaps I'm just not used to being expressive at home because lyrical or verbal love is not emphasized in my family; love is rather a form of sacrifice, and it's usually silent. Hmm..

I don't want to drag on for too long. It'll be dull. Until next time. I really have to get back to sleep. I'll be sure to get on this more since it's quite therapeutic.

After the Fall

After the fall, a new season blossoms. Pollen of ships scatter across oceans. Geography becomes modified once again. Liberation at last! Fists in the air as the sound of helicopters fade out. Those damn colonizers are gone! The Vietnamese people are now independent. They are no longer subordinates to the French or Americans or Chinese! At Last! At Last!

At least, more people did not lose their homes. At least, more people were not killed in this war for liberation, for democracy, for independence or whatever. At least, the little boy with bowl cut hair sipping on his bowl of chao got the luxury to watch Scooby Doo on such a big tv in such a big suburban neighborhood in such a big city like San Jose. What is this fall you call?

I never learned of "Black" April until I got to college. I had thought Sai Gon and Ho Chi Minh City were two different cities. When a few of my friends used Ho Chi Minh City instead of Sai Gon, I was puzzled. What did each connote? I recall a time when we had some sort of heritage day in kindergarten on the the grass field, there were flags of so many nations. I remember seeing the flag of Viet Nam which my teacher had to point out for me. I did not know "my own flag"? Red body with a yellow star in a middle. I never knew? I had always thought it was yellow with three blood red stripes. Or maybe, the red, white, and blue flag. I am an American after all. What flag do I raise? Why do I have to raise a flag period?

Knowing that I come out of this history, I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for the war, for the Fall of Saigon. My parents were privileged to had lived in an urban area where war did not take place in. They did not feel the war until the Fall of Saigon on April 30, 1975 when troops marched into their city (can't remember the city at the moment). They were not seeking for opportunities like other immigrant groups in the past, they were seeking a new home. I am not too sure whether they've found it yet either. Little Saigons, Lion Plazas, and Grand Centuries scream out a Viet Nam of the past, before the war, before this Fall. Even the blood-lined flag we use to represent ourselves is all of rebuilding a nostalgic, romanticized past. You see it in Paris by Night. You hear it in the voices of Vietnamese karaoke'ers--the rural sorrow, the industrial happiness.

I can mourn for all who have died because of war or the boat experience, but I do not know if I can mourn for the loss of a nation. If I were then I would be mourning the exodus for my existence and the foundation of my identity.