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Looking forward to.

Daniel Day-Lewis playing Abraham Lincoln.


Solipsism II

Sparks that drawn me towards him:

He was handsome-resembled someone that has strange yet empty ties to me.

He was quiet.

He knew how to talk to me and understood my quirkiness.

He was arrogant, yet easily injured and sensitive.

He is cultured and intelligent.

He bikes.

He has a look that he’s hurt that urges me wanting to act silly.  When he smiles, his whole face lits up.


I miss him. I miss him not.

I miss him a lot.


So I dated him for a month.

During this period of time, we had dinner, watched movies, went to the park, and held hands together.  On the last two times, we slept together.

On the first date, which was on a summer raining night, I was running terribly late and hopped between two subways and walked briskly to the little Japanese bar, where he has been waiting for almost forty minutes.

I remember pasting him coming out of the door to meet me as I was rustling in, and in that parallel moment as I saw his face, I was swiped away off my feet, like a flower petal floating down the river after a thunderstorm, every inch of me was inexplicitly drawn to him.

He looked dashingly handsome in an unaware subtle manner.

He felt like an old familial friend.

Throughout the next few weeks, we texted and saw each other.  On the second ad third date, I remember how his eyes lit up as he saw me, and feeling his desire as he hugged and kissed me on the cheek.  As I stayed over that night, I remember touching his face, and imitating him wearing his glasses, and him hugging me tightly.  It was fun.  And he was happy.

My favorite moments were when we talked on the phone.  In that summer night, as I meandered around the neighborhood, stepping on leaves freshly knocked off by rain, picking out vegetables and fruits from an outdoor grocery store, and walking back to the apartment in a quiet night, he was on the phone, chatting with me in Chinese, and telling me about his unfinished working of the day.  And I in return, asked him to tell me small events in that day that made him happy, and described excitedly in detail the ingredients that I was using as I cooked.  As usual, I love staying up late.  In the night hours while everyone is sleeping, stars have quietly appeared, and even the wind became softer and mellower, I love dancing and briskly moving around, doing errands, grocery shopping, cooking, writing, and reading.  The whole world was asleep and I am the nocturnal creature, free and alive.  And when I spoke to him on the phone, I shared that with him.

He said he missed me.

And he said he returned to the city.

He said I was over dramatic.

And he couldn’t rescue me.

And he said it would be nice to be friends, but don’t think it will work out.

I asked doesn’t he miss my silliness.

And I shared my dreams with him.

I know why he backed off.

But he didn’t understand it was only temporary, or it seemed for the singular event.

In reality, of course, he didn’t really know me.

Yet in an explainable way, he felt old an old familial friend to me.

Public Speaking and Summer Night

Being invited for talks is like lady luck dressed in a floating dress quietly knocking on the door during a crispy summer night.  At the footstep of the door, I love and feel a spring of desire rustling through my body while simultaneously feel a pang of mild paralysis.  This upcoming talk is no exception.  The chance to share cool science, or what I consider to be cool with an audience of experts is both daunting and challenging.  Fortunately, the desire triggered by a good challenge is at momentum in this moment.  After spending almost a whole day of preparing slides for the talk, I am almost at the point where I can start to practice deliver the talk.

And on another music note.  The long and exhausting day was cherried by a “disastrous” bell event.  I wanted to talk and acted “dramatic”, once again.  And in my characteristic self, sent messages that I wish to travel through dust to retract.  I will be very surprised if he contacts me again.


He did contact me.


Presentation went with flying colors.  Received range of compliments from “very impressed” to  “your talk was the best”, to recruitment from companies.


Contemplating whether to be a “beauty” that leisurely enjoy time and the company of varying men.  

A ‘beauty” with a “Ph.D”, maybe it is not so common and therefore, either highly acceptable or threatening.


Reblog from Ryan O’Connell

To my New Yorker magazines-reblog from Brian Donovan.