Xanga mortua est.
I leave for Governor's School for the International Studies (GSIS... pronounced "Jesus") on Sunday. I'm excited, of course (I get excited about everything), but at the same time I can't help but think... I'm going to miss Nashville so much. Seriously, I like Nashville. It may be full of hicks and summer heat, but... well, whatever.

Orthodonitcs and Orthodoxy?!

Braced

“You have beautiful teeth,

like pearls,” she said

as she set to work,

tightening the wires binding my teeth

so that they may one day be

coveted not only for their texture,

but also but their conventional alignment.

She seemed friendly enough,

sanitary mostly,

with crinkly eyes and

latex-enveloped fingers.

“And what would you like to be

when you grow up?”

she asked as cords were pulled

taut through (what I liked to

Think were) nerdily charming

brackets.

She paused a moment so that

I could give what would

hopefully be a generic answer

to a generic question.

“I want to be a journalist,”

I replied, loose wire flailing

like metallic worms over my

chapped lower lip.

“Hah! Just don’t go to Iraq…”

And then it hit me.

I couldn’t become one of those writers.

I couldn’t become part of that

Media Machine

that makes people think that

there really are strictly

Good people or

Bad people,

that certain

Places, Things, Ideas, or Humans

are either Worthy or

Unworthy

of attention or mention.

No,

I would lose myself in that

Mechanism,

Much like a Pearl bound in
Braces.

The war started three years ago today. And for what? For two thousand over soldiers and countless civilians to die? For billions of dollars to be spent on killing rather than education and health care? For a diminishing oil supply that will only lead to pollution, suffocating the earth? For America to prove some kind of egotistic point? And while I'm sure my peers (and my English class) are tired of hearing me rant, but you really have to ask yourselves: why war?

Past, present, and future tense.

Movement

Some days,

when the sun’s rays warm the tar

and the world is quiet,

I walk along the street

where I still live

and we used to walk.

I follow the path we

always took

with its familiar shadows,

brotherly lampposts,

the dogwoods in the spring,

the peach tree in the summer,

the maples in the fall,

and the naked branches in the winter,

baring themselves before the wind,

pregnant with promises.

Elderly, well-groomed couples

slowly waltz by,

the words, only wind passing through

white, coiled capillaries:

“Where is he? Where has he gone?”

I tell them only a fraction of the truth:

“He is sick.”

I tell them that much,

but I don’t tell them

how I could smell disease

with every arduous fluctuation

of your decaying lungs;

how I could see your flinching

at every attempt to stroke

the red-gold hair many admired,

radiant in the light;

how I could see nebulas

in your eyes,

dusty clouds looming over the iris,

eclipsing the pupil;

or

how I could hear nothing

but a raspy cough

and a resigned silence.

I say nothing of these things

as the sun, the wind,

the trees, the shadows,

the lampposts, the pavement,

the age-bleached wisps in the breeze

whisper a pregnant secret:

Keep moving.

Update! Oh boy! [Note: those with short attention spans may be better served just scrolling to the end for pictures.]

It all forms a giant blur. I've probably forgotten the best parts from lack of absorption time. But just to break it down like A Tale of Two Cities Sparknotes (which have become increasingly prevalent amongst my peers):
+ "Touching Clouds" went well, albeit my small "wardrobe malfunction" (now before you get all in a tiz, I'll have you know that nothing obscene was seen. My tassle-y belt just fell down).
+ My first martial arts tournament (and first non-latin/math/chess/academics related competition)!!! The Southern Appalachian Chinese Martial Arts Tournament (that's a doozy) in Asheville, NC, was amazing. I miss competing, watching, cheering, hugging (and, consequently, being lifted off the ground like the bag of flour I am), eating (mmm... my first calzone...), and not sleeping due to excitement (but that is easily remedied with Cocoa Puffs and tea). I won a silver medal in junior advanced division empty hand form and a gold  (egads, I love emoticons... they say what words simply cannot) in junior division weapon form. AND I was mentioned on the www.kungfumagazine.com forum!
"While he [my teacher] has many outstanding people in his group, everyone was particularly taken with one of his young ladie's [nameless, but still exciting!]  performance of Tong Long Chuei and a fan form."
Ah, but the greatest honor of all is the opportunity with which I have been presented to train among such excellent company (many of whom swept the competition). Pong Lai clearly rules (although this was a small competition, so I shouldn't inflate my ego to too great a proportion). The Anniconder rules, too.
+ Latin Midstate: Big D Geo Stud is my hero.

Get krunk, D.

That about does it. I probably forgot a lot of stuff (but not Prianka's/Xun's/S.O.'s birthdays, no siree).

This felt good. Please excuse my gigantore ego. It will deflate in time. But for now, hang in there, chums.

January 13:
A Caveat:
I am getting braces on MLK Day. On the holiday on which we get to miss school and honor the man who encouraged us to free ourselves from the shackles of prejudice...
I get to have my bottom teeth bound with wires into some appalling, ape-ish atrocity.
Excellent.
So, enjoy the pretty (or considerably less pouty-ness) now; it will be gone by Monday.

Although I must admit... I kind of have the feeling that braces will rule.
That and it gives me a valid excuse to eat Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fruit snacks like it's going out of style.

Edit:
Does anybody else find this advertisement slightly racist?

I am Asian, and I do not appreciate being depicted as chubby-cheeked, kimono-esque attire-wrapped, and yellow with a bubbly bun and receding hairline. Darn you, corporate America. Darn you and your stereotypes and your Chinese take-out box font.

This thing is just becoming a hotbed for my tirades.

Despite the death of Xanga, I thought I'd advertise the upcoming Chinese Arts Alliance of Nashville production. I'm in it and I'm totally on the poster twice. I'm the little spinny red person in the top right and the headless butch person in the background of the bottom left.

It's a tad pricey, but if enough people are interested, I can try getting you a group discount.

Please and thank you.