I don't understand what there is to like about the following:

egg nog.
matzoh ball soup.
enormous oysters.
and in my opinion nothing spoils a good cup of joe like adding almond milk.
Chuck Bass, again and always. My confusion about his appeal persists.

I am not

"I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.
And I will not be afraid
of your scars.
...whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.

— Clementine von Radics

Chloe in March

We were somewhere in Brooklyn. She was sporting her new green bow from her Auntie Fans.

Font of choice

My all-time favorite font is Times New Roman, size 11.

Second is Calibri, but not in black. In dark blue. Size 11 also.

I used to love Trebuchet in size 10, grey, but not as much. I associate it with my MSN and Xanga days. It's also the font for this blog.

Once in a while, I like Courier New (11).

I hate:
--Lucinda Handwriting
--Comic Sans
--and Jokerman. I mean, have you ever seen that font? Looks like something you'd put on the front of a lame print-at-home invitation, with pixelated emoticons, smiley faces under cone hats, pictures of pinatas and mini tacos, printed on a card folded from an A-4 piece of paper. And just to be clear, I have nothing against cards folded from A-4s; I have made plenty of those in my bright creative days. But I at least drew my own 5 tier birthday cakes, colored in the candle flame, and most importantly, wrote the greeting in my own hand. The worst handwriting would still beat Jokerman.

Chloe in recovery

Chloe was very sick last week but she's getting better now. This weekend we drove by seven lakes and saw lots of lovely Fall leaves. Here she is, not yet fully awake from a nap. She wasn't in the mood for pictures either, and the only real consolation she had was in stuffing her hands in her pockets. She's taken a real liking to walking around with her hands in her pockets, and I think it's partly because it means she doesn't have to hold our hands. She's always loved being an independent little roamer.

But sometimes, and rarely, when she's sitting in her stroller, she'll look at one of us and say, "Hole my han." With this big smile. And I always ask her to say it again, because I love hearing it -- hearing my daughter telling me to hold her hand.

Signs of stress

1. Cravings for crunchy snacks (goldfish crackers and Hale and Hearty oyster soup crackers).
2. The urge to shop (for Chloe and myself. previously it was for the apartment. and for Drew?--not really, but possibly in the works).
3. Breaking out. The only upside is that I earn sympathy points from Chloe, who will gingerly point at a red pimple and say, "Mommy hurt" with a tender, genuinely concerned little frown.
4. Nonstop daydreams of early, cushiony retirement.

Chloe painting

Chloe was painting a wooden toy car. She used the colors green, white, yellow, red, blue, and black. And she poured some red glitter on it to finish.
(photo cred. Jin Yu)

Waiting for the bus home after a long day out

I'm so content. Can you tell?

Sigrid Agren

It's unfortunate, but there it is

"'We don't run much to looks in my family, you know, all knuckles and cheekbones and beaky noses,' he said. 'Maybe that's why I tend to equate physical beauty with qualities with which it has absolutely nothing to do. I see a pretty mouth or a moody pair of eyes and imagine all sorts of deep affinities, private kinships.'"

--Francis in The Secret History by Donna Tart

Cormac Mccarthy, Suttree

"Remember her hair in the morning before it was pinned, black, rampant, savage with loveliness. As if she slept in perpetual storm."

Good morning to you, too

This was a few months back when Chloe was rummaging through a clothes pile on the floor of our bedroom. She unearthed this soft white hat and seemed totally content going about her business with it on her head, bumbling from one end of our room to the other, discovering more treasures, occasionally toddling in front of our mirror to check herself.

Sometimes I miss

This was when we lived in Battery Park. This bed was in our living room right up against an expansive window from which I'd often look out at the apartment building across from us, glimpsing the residents and their furniture. I spotted large mirrors and heavy bookshelves, potted plants, beautiful bouquets and there was always at least one balloon in the scene. There were several stay-at-home moms and that made feel like I fit in.

Except when, around 5:45, I'd rush out on the street with my bouncing backpack and make for the subway to NYU, where I'd be in class until 9, back home by 9:30--often to a still wide-awake Chloe but sometimes, sleeping. Mouth squished between her cheeks, a ball of a chin underneath.

How do I de-stress, you ask

This helps. My happy place.

Chloe made a butterfly today

It was just Chloe and me today and it will always be one of the best August 24ths in my life.

We rode the crosstown bus to the Children's Museum of Manhattan. A whole new wonderland-- markers, sand, colors everywhere, yah-yah's, boats, fishing rods and oversized smocks, her butterfly and bubbles--and then later, asleep. Waking up in Central Park, toddling barefoot on satiny grass, running toward me, green-markered fingertip touching my nose-- "Mama!"
Then touching her own nose-- "Oh-ee!"

Throughout the day, "Mama-- Daddy?"
"Daddy'll be home soon."

Lights off in her bedroom, her cheek on my stomach. "Mama... Daddy... Mama... Daddy...Ee-yah-ee-yah-yo."

Ordinary things like grocery shopping

are made all the more fun with this litto bear in tow. "Moooore? Pleasssse?" "One!"

So long, sugar

I'm excited to say that this Jolly Rancher-loving, lollipop hoarding, See's Candies addict is finally ready to give up sugar!!!!!

Well, aside from dried mangoes, which do count more as candy 'cause they're so sweet. Especially the Thai ones I like, which are also infused with, yes, sugar. But I don't think I'll ever be ready to give them up, so a girl is allowed to have one exception.

Speck in the universe

My mind often wanders around 10 pm. I would daydream about certain people being a bigger part of my everyday life, and certain people being gone completely. I'd picture being the kind of person who could be courteous no matter the circumstance, and just overall, generally likeable--who wouldn't give the slightest hint of my discomfort or awkwardness. You know that feeling when you can hear your own voice, the fake lilt, the nervous swearing? And despite your best effort, you only come halfway, because everyone knows that you don't actually care to be there? You wish you wanted to be there.

You know you've failed because when it's time to say goodbye, you face an abrupt, cool dismissal. You hated having to pander, to begin the conversation in the first place with people who distrust you (because they can feel it, you fraud). Resent the fact that you even had to think about it, to put such excruciating effort in something that comes so easily for other people. Annoyed that you're in this situation at all.

I know at the end of the day that the problem lies in my perspective. And that's also where the solution is. If I could just change my perspective, talk myself out of feeling what I feel. Except--why should I deny it: how I am, how my mind works, my impulses and reactions and fury? If I deny all this, then wouldn't I feel more stuck than ever? Wouldn't I end up resenting myself, too?

Nothing bores me more

than fancy/cute/cool iPhone cases.

Goal

Need to watch Korean dramas again. Life is so much dreamier that way.

Listening to JGS's "I Will Promise You" while working on a manuscript about exercise and the brain. Oh, let me forget about my earthly day-to-day duties and just float away into JGS's arms~~~

Old Westbury Gardens

I made avocado gouda pasta tonight

with roasted asparagus and peppercorn--

and Drew wolfed it all up! Little else makes me feel as accomplished on a weekday night.

Oh no, nah nah nah

The following is an email from my mom after she read my earlier post about what a mess I've made of our bedroom.

"Dear xiao mei,

So you are busy all the times so you do not have time to clean your room?!

Are you sure Drew is ok with you?  Drew is such a nice husband!!

How I wish I can fly there to clean for you! 

Someday you will be able to make a lot of money to hire a cleaning lady!"

To this I would like to say--although the damage has already been done as my mother is obviously alarmed--that I am an EXCELLENT toilet scrubber. I also spend every night wiping our bathroom floor. And the kitchen trashcan is PRISTINE. I wipe down and disinfect the lid and sides like nobody's business. It's probably the cleanest trashcan in all of Manhattan.

A good day

After work, I met Drew and Chloe in front of Gourmet Garage, where the litto bear was clutching an empty coconut water bottle. She kept sticking her tongue in the bottle neck, hoping to catch the last little droplets--even when there were none left. Without her notice, I slipped onto the bench in front of her, and she was so busy with that water bottle that it took a minute until she looked up and noticed I was even there. She was quiet for a moment and almost expressionless as if trying to comprehend how I had materialized. Then she had this big, happy smile and said, "Ma ma!"

After she fell asleep at 7:30, Drew and I started our DIY Shabu/Hot Pot dinner. IT WAS THE BEST. Rib-eye, shrimp, daikon, Chinese cabbage, tofu, corn, carrots, etc. etc. So simple! And delicious! We had our feast while watching Grey's Anatomy.

By 11 pm, I was fast asleep.

Work life

Toni Morrison

"There is a loneliness that can be rocked. Arms crossed, knees drawn up; holding, holding on, this motion, unlike a ship’s, smooths and contains the rocker.  It’s an inside kind—wrapped tight like skin. Then there is a loneliness that roams.  No rocking can hold it down. It is alive, on its own." --Toni Morrison [Chloe Anthony Wofford]

Rug, better w/o tassels

 The uncertainty of where we'll be at the year's end, or in two to three years' time makes me reluctant  to commit to our current place. I like where we live. Our apartment is the best one I've lived in since moving to New York. But as was the case at 10N in Battery Park, which was our home for a mere 8 months,  I can't help thinking of 2A as temporary. I know that Chloe's bedroom looks nothing like the nursery she deserves. And that our hallway has so much more potential to be some kind of gallery walk-through area, which is what I had envisioned when we first moved in. And I know that neither Drew nor I really like spending time in our own bedroom, because:

1) I still have not unpacked my suitcase from 6 months ago.
2) There's no evidence of our personalities anywhere, and despite having discussed all the ways we could adorn our walls with artfully arranged prints, we don't have anything up aside from two sheets of paper that Chloe has colored and pasted stickers on.
3) Our desk is forever unused, because the entire surface is covered with my postcards and candy wrappers, envelopes and binder clips, catalogs and toys, and manuscripts upon manuscripts upon manuscripts.
4) We each have our respective clothes piles (mine is a million times worse), consisting of work clothes that we shed on the floor as soon as we come home, which we seldom ever hang back up or deposit in the laundry basket (which is usually overflowing).

I realize I'm not presenting myself in the best light here, describing how I am basically a slob. Which isn't exactly news to anyone who knows or loves me, anyway. But I guess this all folds into the realization that for a long time now, I haven't liked where I am at, what I'm not doing, and the who-I-am that has pushed the envelope of people's tolerance. It really translates into my inability to make 2A a proper, respectable-looking living space. One that our little family deserves. And above all, a place that feels permanent--whether or not it is.

Lalala

Do you like to swim? Yes, it's the only sport that doesn't make me sweat. 

Do you need to return anyone's phone call? I don't think so. Most people now know that it's usually fruitless to call me. 

What is the closest orange object to you? A book about how exercise improves the brain.

What did you last eat? Black bean soup mixed with Tuscan sausage soup.

Who is your favorite teacher of all time? My mom and grandpa. In school, it was Mrs. Chase.

Name one of your goals for this year? Maintain a clutter-free bedroom. Stop eating so much goldfish (probably not going to happen.).

Did you cry because Michael Jackson died? I did.

What does your 9th message on your phone say? "If you have taken the birthcontrols Yaz, Ocella, or Yasmin and suffered negative health effects you could be eligible for compensation." Good thing I have not.

Look to your left. What's there? Manuscript transmittal checklist.

Ever pop someone else's pimple? Yes. I have to say it could be thrilling if the person's name is Andrew.

How long does it take you to fall asleep? Almost no time at all. I have to stop myself from falling asleep all the time.

Are you scared about the end of the world? It's not a pressing fear.

What are you looking forward to? It's always the same: Going home. And retirement.

What comes to your mind when I say red? Clifford.

Do you crack your neck often? I don't know how.

Do you usually hold your pee for a long time? Sometimes when I'm sleeping.Then I have grotesque dreams of the nastiest bathrooms imaginable. 

Is it possible to lick your elbow? Not mine.

Worst feeling in the world? Guilt or resentment.

Name something you think is pointless? Doing work on a Friday afternoon when your belly is full 'n warm.

Favorite fast food restaurant? SHAKE SHACK.

Have you ever been in a fist fight? No, people.

Do you wish at 11:11? If I catch it, yes.

What's your favorite color gummy bear? I like green or clear.

What is the sexiest part of the opposite sex's body? Muscular arms.

Have you ever made up/sang a song for someone you cared about? For Chloe.

Where do you sing the most, in the car, the shower or other? I sing the most when I'm with Chloe, wherever we are. And nowadays I always sing when I put on her shoes.

What is your favorite thing that is green? Evergreens.

What do you smell like? Probably like soup.

Ever hurt yourself playing Wii? I don't engage in Wii.

Do you have freckles? Yes.

What's the last movie you saw in the theater? The Hobbit with my sister in Taiwan. I was there more for the popcorn. 

Ever jumped/fallen/been pushed in a pool with your clothes on? Yes, pushed. I fought like a dog but lost.

Name a song that you know all the words to: Insy Binsy Spider. It's currently Chloe's favorite.

Are you in love with someone right now? Oh yes.

What can you hear right now? Fleet Foxes.

Did you feel better or worse or the same yesterday? Better.

What are your plans for today? Going to a David Sedaris reading with Jess Chia! 

What was your favorite childhood show? Arthur the anteater.

Do you sleep well at night? Soo well.

If there's anything I'd like

It's this goose sweater.

Swimsuit season

Carl Jung

"Loneliness does not come from being alone, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important."

We keep what we hide

You call me all the right words but the right words sound so wrong
You say that I'm changing
I guess I will before too long
Will you give me a way out or a past to live down?

It's the simplest of things we want.

Listen here

Green in bed

I like having clean hair while eating kale salad in bed.

Small

chloe and i went to central park today. we stood under a big, blooming tree, and i took my eyes off her for a bit to observe a crew of models in a photo shoot. they wore such nice clothes. fur, leather, red soles, lots of shine, such long thin legs. 

when i reverted my gaze to chloe, there she was lying on her back, on the grass, smiling up at the tree and its delicate flowers. i was surprised -- a minute ago she had been standing. i guess she had figured out the best way to make herself comfortable. when i laid down next to her, she turned to me and smiled. "There you are," i said. "Look, tree."  

"dee."

i said Sky, and she pointed at the blue. 

Chronic

I am so tired. All day every day.

The best part of every day is with Chloe. Watching her read books.

Christian Bale

You might not know it, but I have always reserved a spot in my Top 5 for Christian Bale. I think it began when I saw him as Laurie in Little Women. That, coupled with my admiration for Winona Ryder, explains why I've never been able to get over the fact that bratty AMY (aka Kirsten D.) stole Laurie from Jo. And perhaps this is because from my first viewing of Little Women, I identified with Jo, and in an alternative universe, I believed that Laurie was meant for me. I have replayed the scene above so many times--always slowing down when they kissed, despite the formation of a long, glistening string of saliva between their lips as they pulled away... (I tried to find a still of it, but couldn't. Alas.).

Anyway, all that is beside the point. What I really wanted to share was my latest discovery: The best Facebook fan page ever. See here.

Draft No. 4 and still searching

"You are working on a first draft and small wonder you’re unhappy. If you lack confidence in setting one word after another and sense that you are stuck in a place from which you will never be set free, if you feel sure that you will never make it and were not cut out to do this, if your prose seems stillborn and you completely lack confidence, you must be a writer. If you say you see things differently and describe your efforts positively, if you tell people that you “just love to write,” you may be delusional. How could anyone ever know that something is good before it exists? And unless you can identify what is not succeeding—unless you can see those dark clunky spots that are giving you such a low opinion of your prose as it develops—how are you going to be able to tone it up and make it work?"

--John McPhee

Cookie Monster's real name

is Jenny.

Penang Wall Painting

Painting fits the real bike perfectly. I love their faces, and can relate so well.
Which happy childhood doesn't have a bike in it somewhere? 

More or less

It's the most beautiful Saturday, actually Spring-like, and I'm sitting here eating a microwaved hot dog after a two hour nap in our empty apartment. It's past 3 in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas. Drew took Chloe to hang out with his brother, etc., and they're all at the Short Hills mall in Jersey now.  I told him last night that I wanted to sleep in, so he said he'd take Chloe out, and I was grateful. He's sent me pictures of her napping in the car and "shopping" at the mall. Meanwhile I'm wondering why I thought they'd be back after lunch.

But I guess I should be using this time to edit that manuscript I've barely even started on. And I feel bad, slightly, that I haven't done any housework. The rugs needs to be vacuumed, our bedroom is in disarray, the laundry needs to be done, our shower curtain smells mildewy, and there are the remains of Chloe's breakfast on our dining table -- yellow, dried up pieces of a scrambled egg.

I hear footsteps up the stairs, wonder if it's them. I hear keys clinking, and think it's got to be Drew about to open the door. And then I realize that it's just our neighbors.

Earlier today, I watched UP. That cartoon of the old man with a square jaw and fingers and glasses and his house carried by balloons, and that rotund boy with all the wild explorer badges. I sat on our big gray couch and laughed and laughed. And wondered why I didn't watch cartoons more often.

Wonder why I don't do a lot of things more often.

Chloe's eyebrows are my love

Yuna sings

Thinkin Bout You (Frank Ocean cover)

George Saunders

What's the best piece of advice you have ever received?
 

"When I was in my 20s, I had this big plan to go down to El Salvador and write about the war. Never mind that I had never written anything and didn’t speak Spanish. I ran into the father of a friend of mine, and told him about my plan. I kind of expected him to shoot me down but he didn’t. Instead, he thought about it a bit, then said, 'Well, if that’s your dream, you’ve got to do it. Because you know who you’re going to blame if you don’t, right?'

"I thought about this, and was pretty sure I knew where he was going. 'Yes,' I said, 'I’ll blame myself.'

"'Bullshit!' he said. 'You’ll blame your wife and kids, when you get them."

"Somehow this has stayed with me all of these years; this idea that, one reason to try and do the things you want to do (especially artistically) is that, if you don’t at least try, you’ll be discontent, and may take this discontent out on those closest to you. Or, to put it more positively: If you at least try to do the things that excite you, it will make you a more expansive and present person — you’ll feel, at the end of your life, that at least you took the shot."

Pre-working days with C.

Cat's Cradle

"Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder, 'Why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand."

--Kurt Vonnegut

Breakfast

Chloe fed herself some Wheatabix, the majority of which ended up everywhere...except in her mouf!

Eyelet sandals

Tory Burch

Now, now

On his deathbed, Voltaire responded to the priest asking him if he renounced Satan for his Last Rites, he responded,"Now, now my good man, this is no time to be making enemies."

Bake or sleep

Last night I baked brownies from scratch and Drew took some to work and I got mucho praise. Naturally I've been savoring this all day and will continue to feed off this gem for the next two months, as I am apt to do whenever I get any sort of positive feedback for producing something that's not ONLY edible but genuinely enjoyed. And so of course I was like, well tonight I'm going to bake more!!! Peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies, mmm. SO AMPED.

Except it's 8.52 pm now and I, in my satiated state after finishing Chloe's leftover baby yogurt, and ready to go to bed. At the end of the day, sleeping is more my forte than baking ever will be.

Hypothetical situation between Drew & 18 year old Chloe

Stepping it up

I admit that my blog has been pretty barren as of late, and it's been gnawing at me. So a top priority action item is to update more!

How sweet

A paaaasha thought

Valentine's Day is like watching a really in-shape couple running together and talking about what fabric drapes they want to put in the guest room.

So keenly

I am homesick, all of the time.

Chinese New Year

Chloe in her New Year outfit

Before the party people arrived, it was just us. <3

Tut, tut, Pablo

Picasso once read a poem he had written aloud at a gathering at Gertrude Stein's house, saying that if he applied his energies to writing as he did to painting, he could become a great poet. After he had finished reading, he awaited Stein's response. After a pause, she said, "Pablo, go home and paint."

Extraordinary mind

Click picture to enlarge. Via

Day is Done

While sifting through a hundred poems, I came across this. It is my favorite so far. If I were still at NYU, attending poetry workshops, I would bring this to class. It's by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

The day is done, and the darkness

   Falls from the wings of Night,  

As a feather is wafted downward

   From an eagle in his flight.          

I see the lights of the village

   Gleam through the rain and the mist,  

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,

   That my soul cannot resist:     

  

A feeling of sadness and longing,

   That is not akin to pain,             

And resembles sorrow only

   As the mist resembles the rain.

  

Come, read to me some poem,

   Some simple and heartfelt lay,

That shall soothe this restless feeling,

   And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,

   Not from the bards sublime,

Whose distant footsteps echo

   Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,

   Their mighty thoughts suggest

Life's endless toil and endeavor;

   And to-night I long for rest.

  

Read from some humbler poet,

   Whose songs gushed from his heart,

As showers from the clouds of summer,

   Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,

   And nights devoid of ease,

Still heard in his soul the music

   Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet

   The restless pulse of care,

And come like the benediction

   That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume

   The poem of thy choice,

And lend to the rhyme of the poet

   The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music

   And the cares that infest the day,

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,

   And as silently steal away.