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Showing posts from February, 2008

The Preface

Empty Suitcase:
Falling Love with Someone or Something

It was the busiest weekend ever. I attended local events such as a modern music and poetry reading at the greenhouse across from IUSB with hundreds of lit candles and another music event in a romantic bar in downtown South Bend. I realized how many artists are hiding and waiting for showing their fascination at those events!

I shook hands, hugged, and had greeting kisses with the artists but in the end of the weekend, I hardly remembered who played the drum or saxophone, who said the most powerful phrase, or who in the audience supported all those artists. I just remembered my writer’s heart beating like the first love—feeling the passion of the artists— I wanted to know more about them and their creations.

I would say that I easily fall in love with someone; perhaps, I exclusively obsess with something between kookiness and beauty. I believe that not only those events represent creativity but also art from everyday life— somebody’s…

The Preface

Empty Suitcase
Twizzleristic Experiment

For the very first time in my life, I had a Twizzler— bright red as an oil painting paste and flexible, plastic, chewy, eatable substance—I could even make bows with it. It looks not like food but it is one of the most famous snacks in American society. In one of my English classes, a student brought a pound of Twizzlers—heavy and sticky like a giant red eraser, I thought from a distance—everyone was surprised at me who had never had a Twizzler. Even the professor said, “You’re kidding!” As an excuse, I am an international student from across the Pacific Ocean.

I tasted it. I was not sure what it is made of; obviously not natural flavors as tofu cookies but it was fantastically delicious.

On that day, the Twizzler opened up for me a new creative world—I admitted that I could not concentrate the rest of class—the feeling was similar when I learned how to do Origami in kindergarten. The simple ways of eating are twisting, stretching, tying, waving, ta…

The Preface

Empty Suitcase: February Flu

I had been horribly sick last week—Everyone is getting this!—Horribly sick is defined as high fever, some joint pain, nonstop coughing and sneezing for 48 hours, and I could not drive to buy rum raisin ice-cream from the store because of dizziness. Some of my friends said that I had Bird Flu. I am from Asia…it does not mean I have one.

With a runny nose and high temperature, I suddenly wanted to eat ice cream and crunchy cereal with strawberry frost. It was two o’clock in the morning. I had been dizzy. I groveled to the kitchen like Spiderman. I really understood how Spiderman uses his finger muscles. I was exhausted in front of the refrigerator. But it was completely empty as usual even though I traveled downstairs from my bed. Every time I opened the refrigerator, nothing changed. Tofu and some oranges were beautifully lined up but no other food.

I decided to call my friends to pick up ice cream and cereal. I am not big fun of eating cereal in the morning …

The Preface

Empty Suitcase: Wanted: a Locker Room
For this February, I decided to be a girl who looks beautiful with rose petals because maybe I am ready for another broken heart from an early spring crush. So I changed my pajamas. I used to wear a blue shirt, a yellow track suit, a bright orange Indiana University fleece hoodie, and green socks with little frogs—how romantic!—when I went to bed. After midnight, if I were the sleeping beauty, the prince charming would say, “I only see a dwarf. Where is the beauty?”

Becoming one of the rosy girls, I needed to throw away all of my old pajamas, socks, shirts, etc. Only fine lacy clothes are allowed for those girls and they smell like carnations, not like domestic laundry detergent. I do not wear any perfume because it is very hard to find one from millions of them. In addition, I may not be ready for smelling the same perfume to use up the entire bottle.

All I needed was the nightgown when I went shopping. I realized how incoherent my old pajamas were…