Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from March, 2008

The Preface

Empty Suitcase:
A Handkerchief on Knees

Taking classes for four hours; perhaps thirty minutes, I often do not know how my legs stay fixed— tapping a toe, closing legs, and sitting cross-legged— I cannot calmly sit down on the chair like a Miss Universe; smiling, waving, and showing her long legs: her knees and ankles parallel together. My legs sometimes do not reach the floor so I even want to sit or lie down on the floor. During the classes, my brain is properly busy listening to professors and students. Even though my brain works, the nervous system seems to forget controlling my legs, which is my excuse for my legs’ behavior, and of course not because the professors are boring and not because the semester is almost over.

Once my legs start getting out of control, I really start wanting to play with my pencil. I only use a long pencil because it is easy to turn between fingers. When I can spin twice between my fingers— it needs a technique with a non-slippery pencil and I often…

The Preface

Empty Suitcase:
Letters and Resolutions
In the beginning of this year, I wrote about my new year resolutions— cook more often, flirt a little bit more, wash my jeans, collect State Quarters, and keep in touch with my family— so far, I am following my resolutions fantastically. I have only eaten Chinese food twice, my diary-like movie script is full of male extras, I washed my jeans last week, I found some quarters, and I call my family once a week…but nobody picks up their phones!

So I decided to write letters— writing letters are more one-way than sending emails or talking on the phone— It is convenient just to tell what I really study with poetry and how I have felt recently. I post the letters, it takes more than a week to deliver them to my family, but it is like a pop-up gift in the mailbox and it moved their hearts when they read “I miss you” in my handwriting. Writing letters is a more selfish communication than anything else; in addition, I received a bumper-sticker-like repu…

The Preface

Empty Suitcase:
“Bird Flu, Bare Shoulder, and Burning Skirt”
Every night before I am going to board airplanes, I dream a prediction of my death—the dream is not that the airplane crashes—more like showing symbolical meaning; my elevator falls from the 28th floor or the building shakes by an earthquake. The night before the long flight, I cannot sleep not because the death prediction but because how I am going to cancel my cellular phone bill, car insurance, and email accounts…how about my foreign bank accounts…how about my order of secret pleasures from online? Moreover, how I am going to hide my love diary, notes of sensuality, beautiful moments for my writing, and self-improving books?

Of course, those love notes and cancellations do not matter because I am going to die anyway, so who cares about leaving behind those secret objects— my family may care— they may pick up all my junk and realize what I really do in this life.

My family believes that I have extreme fun in America being…