I ♥ Ice Cream

There are few worldly pleasures that rival the experience of eating ice cream. Whether in a dish, or a cone smothered in jimmies, or a sundae with all the fixings, the most god-worthy of all desserts is ice cream. Envision the banana split in all its glory and magnificence--three scoops, of rich chocolate, creamy vanilla, and smooth strawberry, cradled between the halves of a tender banana, blanketed in sweet, sticky syrups, beneath a towering mound of whipped cream. What a sugary, sinful delight to dig in and slowly let each tasty spoonful linger on your tongue as it melts in your mouth, bringing a rush of flavorful pleasure. The different flavors melt into each other like two lovers enmeshed in a passionate embrace. To feel this wondrous sensation, to taste these complementary flavors intertwined in a dance of sweet, savory completion--how magical! And as the experience ends, you attempt to prolong that very last bite, enjoying the final delicious moment while you can. And deep inside, you feel the satisfaction wash over you gently, and pulsate through your entire being. Now, who's up for some ice cream?

Letters from Jail

Years ago, when I was a college student, I hosted a weekly heavy metal radio show. It was such great fun, back in the early 90's, at the peak of the Death Metal movement, to bring metal to the masses. But I knew I had achieved the pinnacle of success when I started getting fan-mail from a nearby prison:



Rick continued to send in requests and he got a kick out of being mentioned on the air. Even though he was a murderer, I kinda liked the guy.

My First Taste of Racism

Even though I am only half-Asian, I am very conscious of how race affects my social interactions. One painful lesson about the harsh reality of racism I learned on the playground of my elementary school. On an unremarkable autumn day, my friends and I were playing football, like we did every morning. A controversial play led to a dispute between me and Richie. Although I can't remember the details, a shouting match ensued, and persisted even after the bell rang signalling the start of the schoolday. As we argued, it became clear that neither of us would relent. The heated argument ended with Richie firing a last parting shot: "You stupid chink!" Some friend he was!

I was familiar with this word, and knew that it was an insult. But this time, it cut deeper than ever before, as I fully grasped the depth of its meaning. I felt so small and so powerless. In that instant, it all became clear to me: in Richie's mind, I would always be beneath him. No matter how many touchdowns or runs I scored, no matter how fast I was, how smart I was, how strong I was, or how right I was--none of it mattered. With a single word, he could invalidate my entire existence, and dismiss me as irrelevant. I knew that was bullshit. (It wasn't until I was a teenager that my sense of self-worth started to nose-dive.) But it was reality for him, and I knew it would be impossible to convince him otherwise. And so I stood there, feeling belittled, betrayed, and powerless.

The anger within me exploded at the injustice of it all. Even though I wasn't very big, I was a hot-headed 11-year-old kid, and quite competent in the art of schoolyard fighting. Suffice it to say, punches were thrown, and I left Richie lying on the field as I headed off to class. That was the last fight in my life that involved physical violence. But I knew I lost the bigger fight. And to this day, I hate that feeling of powerlessness and inevitable failure that comes when you confront an injustice that no amount of effort can correct.

The Virtual Wink ;)

I am physiologically unable to wink. My eye muscles simply do not work independently, so when one eye closes, the other must close also. The closest thing I can do to a wink requires a forced effort of my cheek and forehead muscles, so it looks like I am tightly clenching my eyes shut, while attempting to force one of them open, barely getting it to a squint. Such a strained and labored look is hardly playful or flirtatious!

I remember as a child attending a day camp during summer vacation, and playing a game called 'Killer'. We would all sit in a circle, and the killer, secretly chosen by a counselor, would try to wink at people without being noticed. If you were winked at, you 'died' and were out of the game. If you saw the killer wink at someone else, you could turn him in, and you won. Of course, one day I was chosen as the killer. The game began, and minutes passed without anyone being killed. Everyone was losing their patience, as I sat quietly, feeling hopelessly inadequate. Finally, I brought out my pitiful excuse for wink, and it must have misfired, because the kid I winked at didn't even realize it was a wink! Luckily, someone saw my sorry attempt, and turned me in, bringing a merciful end to the game, and to my embarrassing failure as a killer.

So every time I send a virtual wink ;) I feel a tinge of falsity. But at the same time, it is quite liberating, because in the world of ascii-text, I can wink as well as anyone else. But I do envy those who can wink casually and effortlessly in real life. How much fun it must be! Sigh...

Love and Delusion

Have you ever fallen in love with one of your friends, and had it all end in disaster? When I was in college, I met a woman who became one of my best friends. She was a wonderful person, with a vibrant imagination, and a creative and eloquent talent for self-expression. She was a tall, slender, small-breasted, English-major, and a freaky goth-chick. She had sparkling blue eyes, surrounded by dark and heavy eyeliner, which contrasted beautifully with her fair skin. Her insights were always clever and thoughtful, and her heart was warm, sensitive and embracing. For several years after we graduated, we maintained a written correspondence, exchanging hand-written letters as she travelled across the world. We shared all sorts of stories of our daily activity as well as the intimate details of our inner lives. I learned so much more about her even though there was so much distance between us. It was quite romantic.

Well, I fell hopelessly in love with her, ridiculous fool that I am, but never told her. Until one day, after she had settled in Spain, when she mentioned in a letter that she was contemplating marriage with her boyfriend, who she had been living with for several months. This news was quite a shock. I replied with a letter explaining all of my feelings for her, which, of course, was not well received, seeing as we were "only friends". I trembled with anxiety as I descended into sadness, nursing the most broken of hearts. But after several weeks of reflection, I realized how I had fallen in love with an illusion, with an idea of girl rather than the real thing. I had let my imagination amplify the intimacy of our correspondence into the realm of the unreal. But I also realized something very important: what I wanted more than anything else for this wonderful person was happiness, even if I wasn't the one to provide it. If you really love someone, it's no time to be selfish. I wrote to tell her of the lesson I had learned, and it mended our friendship. But as time passed, we haven't kept in touch, and I haven't written to her in years now. So that is my story of the closest thing to a hot-crazy-mad-love I have ever felt.

Mistrust: Driving Force of the Introvert

It's difficult to expose yourself, to reveal what you're really all about. How many people wouldn't hesitate to use this intimate knowledge against you, to embarrass or humiliate you? To make you feel small or weak or foolish? Somehow this habit of mistrust has been with me since childhood, like a wall surrounding me. Is it a fortress to protect me, or a prison to isolate me? Either way, I've become comfortable with it, perhaps too comfortable. Even as a grownup in a grownup world, mistrust seems like an appropriate reaction to most of the people I know (and avoid). But the grip of this habit never slackens. Even here in the relative anonymity of the blogosphere, I feel myself holding back from expressing the things I need to express. This was the whole reason why I started this blog, although you'd never guess it from the bullshit I've posted so far. Well, I haven't been in a very creative mood lately, so maybe it is just as well. For now, anyway.