Juliet using today’s technology


My new favorite app

Hey guys,

I just got myself an iPad and downloaded this app, recommended by my cool Mom-librarian, and it’s pretty amazing. If you like old movies or flashbacks to another time period, you can hop in the “Video Time Machine” app and take a trip through time. The first movie they have archived is from 1878 and the “First sound ever recorded” is from 1860. I’ll probably have my iPad with me the rest of the week if you want to check it out. Just a fun, inspirational tool I thought I’d share!


I do not believe racism will ever disappear because many people cannot get along with other ethnicities. For example, if you are walking down an alley and you see a group of young African Americans smoking weed, many people are afraid to head that direction because they think that they will be attacked or robbed. According to http://www.buzzle.com/articles/americas-most-dangerous-cities.html, many young African Americans are viewed as the reason that crime is rising in St. Louis, Mississippi, Alabama and etc. Racism exists everywhere—school, work, grocery store, government and etc. I have experienced many cases at SFSU; in which there has been an incident between a student and a professor, a professor and another professor and etc. I believe the government is trying to keep the minorities down, because they prefer Caucasian people to be in control.

I showed this video in one of my Ethnic Studies classes as part of a presentation about how the media views Asian Americans. When KevJumba says, “If an Asian would have a starring role, no one would go and watch their show or their movie. Is this true?” And yes, Jackie Chan starred in Rush Hour but what was his role? The stereotypical kung-fu, karate fighter. In the movie, Romeo Must Die, Jet Li had a starring role and it seemed like he had a romantic connection with Aaliyah’s character. The end of the movie was supposed to be with him kissing her instead of him hugging her. They changed the ending because when the director showed the movie to an urban audience, they said they didn’t like seeing Jet Li kissing Aaliyah, therefore they changed it. But the media has been doing slightly better with changing Asian American stereotypes with Harold And Kumar… but still! Can I, for once, see an Asian American actor get some action? Other than kung fu fighting?

“I wanna try counting the ways I love her then, lose count in the middle just so I could start all over again…” This is my favorite line from this piece.

When I watched Sophia’s spoken word video post, I immediately thought of this piece, called Love Like performed by Shihan (shee-hon). My friend showed me this video a couple of years ago and I don’t know how many times I’ve repeatedly played it after my first time watching it. To me, it’s not just another poet reciting his or her piece in front of people. I could feel that he meant the words he was saying and he had soul. I even got goosebumps the first time I watched it. A couple of years ago, I was trying to get over an ex-boyfriend who cheated on me so I was hopeless, and watching that video made me believe that I would eventually find someone who would love me the way Shihan describes his love for his wife. I am now with someone who makes me feel loved and happy. 🙂


I saw these videos about a year ago. They are graphic videos showing the effects of a new street drug called krokidil (crocodile) in Russia. It melts the flesh off of human bones. People take it because it is cheap to make, but has huge consequences. I couldn’t watch it all the way through when I first saw it because it looked too gross. The second one was the worst for me to watch personally.


I just wanted to share this with everyone. This movie is coming out soon and the voice of the bear is the voice of the dad in Family Guy. This youtube video is red band meaning only people with accounts can view it.

A Dangerous Game

A Dangerous Game

My oh my

What a dangerous game we play

That strings us along

Day by day

My love for you grows

And shows

Upon my face I cannot hide

How I just want you by my side

Careful I am so you do not see

How far I have fallen

For you and you only

You make me feel not so lonely

Back and forth we go

Together one day, the next is a no

I know we will pull through

Five months will make me miss you

In the army you will be

Fighting for our country

I’ll put you first you had said

I’ll never leave you, even if I’m dead

I count down the days till you return

My heart and soul wait

I love you, but that’s all I can say

O what a dangerous game we play

I have been in a relationship with my boyfriend for about 6 months. We got together after dating for awhile and met in college. I am from NorCal and he is from SoCal, so this summer is already a start to it being hard for me to see him. Three days after making it official, he told me he had joined the army. I was taken by surprise, and I didn’t know what to do except be supportive. I am scared for him because I do not know what lies ahead. I try not to show all the time how much I care so that he doesn’t feel bad for leaving and can focus on his work in the army. My boyfriend and I have a strong relationship so far, so whenever I feel sad or not strong about us lasting through him being away for the first time, I listen to “Love Song” by Adele. It helps me remember it is possible for us to last even with him being away. I feel the game of love is dangerous because it is toying with my emotions and I can end up getting hurt. I am optimistic about my relationship and hope it turns out good in the end.



Secrets we take to the grave

These secrets go with me
when I’m on death’s bed
words left unspoken
things left unsaid

I buried these long ago
wrapped in a shroud
things you’ll never know
never spoken aloud

Clutching my secrets tight
like Lilies in my hands
deep and dark, never seeing the light
you will never understand

Silent and still as stone
lips sealed by death’s kiss
bound by skin and bone
sinking into the abyss

The casket drops into the ground
loose earth silences me
my secrets have been drowned
under these six feet

You never really knew me
never really knew at all
secrets kept for eternity
forever under this pall


Falling to Pieces: What Comes Naturally


I. She paced around her studio apartment on the ninth floor–the top of the building–closest to God. She wore all white. She couldn’t sleep; she couldn’t eat. Her bones poked through her skin, her clothes. I could see her shoulder blades push through like small wings, the coccyx like the beginning of a tail. There are cameras here. They are recording me. They watch me all the time. Who? She couldn’t tell me. The devil was there and we had to leave. Inside her bathroom she locked the door and read the bible aloud. I waited on the couch. She didn’t sleep. I didn’t sleep. The holes in the wall she covered with tape. This is how they know what we do. The man at the Catholic bookstore in Wicker Park gave her prayers to read, candles to burn, told her to get rid of all of her dark clothes. During a seance he saw the evil spirits leave her. It’s black body escaping from her mouth–choking her like smoke. I feel better now. I feel good. She doesn’t eat; she doesn’t sleep. I follow her to the roof, afraid she will try and jump. I am afraid she is leaving. She is gone. 


II. Three years gone, vanished. He must’ve cheated on me 10 times probably many more than that. He brought the girl from New York back to our bedroom. Fucked her on our bed. Didn’t even change the sheets. I found her business card in his coat pocket; I could smell her perfume on the pillow. I ignored it. I let it happen. I thought if I let him do this he would love me more–he would be able to see that I loved him no matter what. But, it tore him apart more than me. He couldn’t stand himself and I could tell. He could barely look in the mirror. He couldn’t even touch me. He made himself sick and he drank everything. Stoli. Macallan. Taaka. I hope the straight liquor burned his throat. I imagine it was the only way he could quiet his mind–the only way he could sleep at night. His made him liquid, made him transparent, he disappeared. He was insatiable. Not enough liquor and not enough women. Not enough. Not enough in any room, in any bar, in any night. And then he crashed. Crashed his car on a freeway off ramp. Drove it right into the San Elijo Lagoon. The 1998 Toyota Camry filled with water and mud. He swam back to the shore and walked home soaking wet. I was the car. I was full of mud and stuck. I had been that way for three years. 1095 days of liquid dirt. 26280 hours. 1,576,800 minutes lost. I left the next day.


III. Jake collected old motorcycles and fixed them up–made them go faster than they were built to. The first day of summer he took me out on an old Triumph, all black and stripped of anything that could weigh it down. I touched the sides of semi-trucks with my palm of my hand. I imagined the ground warm beneath us. He got the bike up to ninety-five and I closed my eyes. The world would make whatever it wanted of me. I was a piece of driftwood out in the Pacific; a stray cat prowling the night; a weather ballon floating off into the atmosphere. That afternoon Jake proposed. He was drunk and feeling good and I was drunk too. It was a Thursday and we both had the day off. Something had happened at the factory; a woman caught her hand in a machine and lost two fingers. They closed for the day. I had called restaurant–35 on the books–I wasn’t needed. We drank beer all afternoon it the small backyard where I planted crook-necked squash and heirloom tomatoes. I watched the bees kiss the flowers and move on. One flower to the next. Taking their nectar away. It was five o’clock and I said yes. He pulled me inside and lifted my shirt over my head. Unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down but, not off. We made love on the kitchen counter and I was his. I was his again and again, and I would be his for the idea of forever.





This was inspired by the idea of momento mori and the painting that we looked at in class a week ago. I also was inspired by a dance performance by the choreographer Joe Goode. This idea that everything will eventually fall apart–the idea that nothing lasts is both scary and exhilarating. I hope that these ideas come through in these three very short stories.