Poetry and jazz

When my friend Sandra offered poetry classes, I was eager to join because: a) She’s a wonderful poet, b) I’ve been enamored with poetry since high school and c) I knew it would be good for me.

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When I started to read and write (part 2)

I’m thankful I grew up in a household where reading took place. My mom didn’t read bedtime stories to Larry and me though. We didn’t grow up with a house filled with children’s picture books or visit the library together or anything like that. Any picture book we acquired was from my grandma who gave…

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Why I write

4/17/07 Why I Write To avoid therapy To create my own reality To dream big dreams To emote, laugh, cry To self reflect Because I believe in the powers of words To express what I’ve learned Because I can’t draw *** Why do you write?

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Memoirs’ bad reputation (and breaking in).

I wonder if memoirs are like crying babies, unless it’s yours, you don’t want to hear it… Ever since I decided I want to be a big recognized writer, I have stumbled upon the misfortune that falls upon memoirs. I’ve learned that memoirists are by far the greatest types of writers at conferences trying to…

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Hair (not the musical)

When I first heard Lady Gaga’s Hair, I thought it was brilliant because women strongly identify with their hair. All you have to do is watch any America’s Next Top Model makeover episode and you’ll see terribly attractive ingénues weeping for pity’s sake over their cherished locks being cut.

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Why do (expat) bloggers blog?

Expat bloggers: self indulgent or service-oriented people? It has come to my attention recently that some folks see writing as an act of self-indulgence. I am feeding myself chocolate. Yes. I am now rubbing the chocolate all over my body and it is melting because of my body heat. Yes. I am recording myself and…

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Celebrating similarities

Celebrating diversity similarities Post TEDxDoiSuthep, my friends and I were discussing the overused bumper sticker of a phrase: Celebrate Diversity. And then it was brought up, Why don’t we celebrate similarities? Afterall, the news already does a nausating job of pointing out cultural differences and all the valid reasons why we have wars and conflicts.…

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Ode to influences

It seems appropriate to follow my first Wordless Wednesday post with the important influences of my life. I had originally shelved this post, thinking of archiving it in my scribbles folder but now I think the time is right to post it. Two of my fellow Thailand bloggers wrote about books that have influenced them…

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Thailand is a poem

It’s the sound of motorbike engines.Broken glass, barbed wire fences and roosterville roosterstinkling wind chimes and jackhammer constructionsIt’s the canvas where the straight line is free to roam.a whiff of colorful without being overwhelming or too powerfulthe smell of love, sex, tourists and something bad rotting in the heatIt’s resistance, resilience and relaxed.A tonal Technicolor…

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Who am i?

Being back in Thailand means a lot of things. It means I’m eating amazing food again and seeing my friends that I missed when I was in Ecuador, and now missing my friends who are in Ecuador. It means putting Spanish on the shelf and taking down pasa Thai, dusting it off and playing with…

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Oh, don’t be such a pad thai

As an Asian woman I’m pretty much expected to be a good cook, kind of like how Asian men are suppose to be a mathematical geek or Bruce Lee. I loathe the stereotype and relish it at the same time. The kitchen was my mother’s domain. And while I should have followed, could have followed,…

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Phases of an expat

I listen and watch expats, fellow friends describe how they feel – the phases they are going through and I think, “I wonder if I’ll ever feel that way.” Sometimes I think, “How sad, I’ll never go through that.” And then I go through it and realize I’m not that special and I was wrong.

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An Expat in Gratitude

The flavor of gratitude tastes stronger here. And I savor every bite of kindness. At first I thought when you pull yourself out of your passport country and decide to live abroad that you’d experience life differently. I couldn’t imagine how you wouldn’t. But then I realized, it doesn’t matter where you put people or…

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A fist full of chickens

I was living at an adventure camp in Colorado where for a few years the owners experimented with raising farm animals. A counselor was on dinner duty and I tagged along. We fed the pigs with the kitchen slop and now were entering the shadowy cage of the chicken coop. Like a coward I followed…

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