On Facebook (or rather, off it)

Birthdays have become a bigger deal for me these past few years, a built-in time to look back on the year past and think about what I want the next year to be. Last month, I decided that I finally wanted to address my facebook addiction: I often turned on my laptop and signed on while I was brushing my teeth, I would automatically pop open a window and open up facebook in between my work, I would lose whole hours at a time just endlessly and mindlessly scrolling and clicking through. And I cared about it more than I wanted to admit: I didn't want to be someone who posted all the time, but I also wanted every post of mine to be extremely well-crafted. Humorous or thoughtful, whatever. I thought in facebook statuses more than I like to admit.

My first couple days of this "off of facebook" time were eye-opening, to say the least. I took off the shortcut from my bookmarks bar and turned on Chrome Nanny to block the site. I quickly realized how embarrassingly automatic it was to be on facebook. I found my cursor searching for the icon that was no longer there, I hit a quick sequence of "Ctrl + T" (new tab), "f" (to make facebook.com pop up in the bar), down arrow, enter. No wonder I lost so much time: I opened facebook so often without even thinking about it. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough self control to block in completely. So even though my usage dropped, I still "cheated" and signed on with a firefox browser for that first weekend. Then I told Darrell I was horrible at it and that he should change my password, so he did.

Here are some of the things I'm learning from my time off facebook:

• Sometimes, vegging is necessary. I might not be on facebook, but I've watched more WongFu videos and even partial episodes of Jimmy Kimmel and Jimmy Fallon. Sometimes, your brain really is tired and needs to not think. 
• If you want to be distracted, you will find ways. Last Sunday, I was trying to find something to do with my evening, so I re-discovered Escape Room games. The following Monday, I was highly unmotivated and so found more escape rooms to play. A few days later, I actually looked up a version of Angry Birds...I just really wanted something to "do". I imagine this is where some simple games could come in handy, or any other hobbies, I suppose (though hobbies are kinda in a different category than pure distraction).  
• When I need a break from work, there are sometimes great ways to do it. Sometimes I am too tired for work but just in the mood to do the dishes or clean my closet. Sometimes I need a break from work, but the perfect break is reading. Unfortunately, I don't actually know what I want to read. Aka, don't have books-on-hand, forget what blogs I'm interested in because I don't see any social shares, or...
• I have no idea how to read the news. I fully admit that all the news I got was via facebook, whether someone posted about an event and I looked it up, or I straight up clicked so many links/posts/blogs and read from there. When I decided I wanted to read the news, I didn't know where to start. I still don't. Currently I'm bouncing between Google News (which seems like a random aggregation of whatever is important enough...), Sac Bee (local is always a good idea right), and BBC (someone told me that's reliable enough). 
• But that's news-news. What about other news? Fun tech updates, the most viral youtube thing at the moment, or even a plagiarism scandal in the Christian world? Nope. In fact, I only heard of the last item because I signed on twitter and saw a tweet. If I'm going to continue to limit my facebook use, I need to find other ways to keep updated. But most importantly, I need to stop reading only what everyone else is reading. Even though my diversity of friends lends some options to things, and even if these other sources get me to the same place anyway. 
• Ideas: Gizmodo (tech), Angry Asian Man (AAM news), Christianity Today, NPR...aside from personal blogs
• Regarding the first three bullet points: being off facebook is helping me recognize the difference between all of them. With facebook, it was always the default (to the point of being distracted when I had good intentions of working). Now, I have a better feel for where I'm at: if it's a watch-a-show type of break, if I feel like reading content and news, or if I want to get up and away from my computer. I think a lot less about it. 
• It's nice not to care. Okay confession: I do like to see how many people like my statuses, shares, photos. But for this month, it's nice to not even think about it! Not to think about if you will share a link or not, how you want to word a clever status, or if it's too soon to post another photo.
• On the flip side, I am probably missing out. I knew in theory social media and the internet is the majority of our interactions. Full conversations and interactions take place on a thread. Your response in comments or likes combine for a presence...that won't replace your actual being, sure, but still let's people know you are there. Facebook is where funny stories and memories get posted through statuses, photos, references, and links. And when you're not on it, it's a little bit like being left out of the crowd. 
• facebook is super self-centered. This is a "duh", but it is even more obvious when I'm away from it! Everything you post is about you, or something you care about. 
• A lot of communication does happen on it. I met a friend's dad at church on Sunday, and he quickly messaged me later that day (easy to find a facebook account, harder to find an email). I have a couple old acquaintances I was considering contacting, but I don't have an email or a number. And while we lament the superficial-ness of facebook, it is really helpful that have such an ultra-casual interaction over a shared link or photo! Many of those make it less awkward to call them up later and actually for real hang out. 

I also know a lot less about people's lives, can't stalk what's happening with my friends in other states, don't know the weather on the East Coast (sometimes I hear about it when people post about snow!), and have no idea if there are any good picture of me posted from the Frisbee tournament last weekend. Oh yes, that's another thing: my joys, laughter, and sadness only gets shared to the people who are close enough (physically or relationally). I tend not to post a whole lot, but here are some things that could have made it:

• Kai and me danced enough to get on the jumbotron at the Thunder game (I almost-definitely-would have posted about this!)
• D had his car accident and survived. I am so grateful. 
• I ate a lot of Malaysian food over Thanksgiving break (there would have been pictures). The family, including my new brother-in-law, also was together for the first time since the wedding (also would have been photos)
• I had the best week on campus ever after being there four days in a row
• God is opening incredible doors in raising support for ministry

Well, facebook, you do manage to turn yourself into a good memory-keeper, as long as you can find it in the mess of everything else that gets shared. On the flip side, much happened in my community (our church lost a beloved member and leader) and world (e.g., Mandela's passing), and I have no idea what people are sharing or saying. 

Also, this has been an incredibly long post. But the thoughts have been brewing for the past week or so, and it just seemed like a good night to get it all out--the not-vegging but not-working type of night, you know? Bottom line is, I was way more addicted to facebook than I realized, and signing off of it has been a most wonderful idea. It will be nice to be back on in 10 days, but I think I'll have a better idea on how not to end up as addicted. And I will keep reading the news. 

starting over (on campus)

bringing leftover birthday cake to campus to give to strangers
sitting down with people you don't know (with the excuse of using the outlet)
baking extra cookies for people you meet
choosing to sit with students for an hour -- no worry about "next steps" just yet, loose purpose for getting together, just enjoying relationship and loving

remembering that going to campus is always a good idea. even if you don't know how you're going to use your time there.

Something Beautiful

I close my eyes and breathe the fall air coming into my window. I am thankful for two lives: one that is two days over 25 years, one that was one seat belt away from last breath. I can't decide how much thought to give to possibility that last night was so close to my worst nightmare. I am grateful for the sturdiness of a Honda CRV and to the faithfulness of our God. But in an exasperated moment I can't help but say, He can't ever get a break.

I watch him moving, walking. No one will know he has slept two hours last night (or this morning, rather), or that he has been so, so tired. He buttons up his shirt, he ties a firm knot in his tie. He is sharp, he is gentle, he is strong. I watch his steps, grateful that he is alive. I love his resilience - that in our past five years together, I have seen him pick himself up over and over again. From failure, from the unexpected, from trauma, from relationships. Does he know not everyone can do this? He sighs, closes his eyes, breathes, gathers up whatever it is sitting around inside of him, and moves forward. Even on two hours of sleep.

We were going to celebrate my birthday. A little nagging thought imagines how horrible that second day of 25 could have been if things went different last night. Today we'll celebrate life, two lives, two lives intertwined and woven and grateful. These past two weeks, I've loved you as I've stayed up later than my bedtime to keep you company while you work through assignments. Last night, I stayed up to stay close to you on a couch in your friend's home. You poked me as I made references to the movie we were supposed to watch together today, irreverently humorous in a night that went horribly wrong. I told you to count prime numbers to get your mind to slow down.

You'll make it - you always do, it seems. You'll replay scenes and memories, I'll piece together imagination from your descriptions. We'll be okay.

I thought I saw a light shine. 

Choosing

For the first time in years I switch my birthday on facebook to public after briefly recognizing that my resistance the past few years is rooted in a bit of pride. I don't want to be like everyone else who gets hundreds of HBD's on their birthday and I told myself that I don't need everyone's well-wishes, just the genuine ones from those who will remember my one day out of 365.

But today, I choose to receive. I choose to smile knowing that I love others and others love me and that brief wishes on a birthday can be meaningful. I receive the memories and laughs and gratitude of those in my life. I like to take the time to appreciate others, and I can't pretend that I'm too good for it myself. I'll choose this little act of letting people know it's my date of birth to remind myself that I can't walk a one-way road and pretend I don't need others. I choose to accept: accept love, accept friendship, and accept that I need both. I accept that I need friends to thrive, and that words are gifts that have life. And I choose to recognize that social media can have depth, if we let it. I let meaning and authenticity onto my wall and I let go of the cynicism that nothing on facebook matters.

And even as I sit in Panera starting my 26th year of life with just my writing, a chocolate croissant, and a cup of coffee, I ask for wisdom to balance the secrecy and the solitude of intimacy with my Father on one hand, while recognizing and receiving the blessing of community and relationship on the other.

albums of love

This past year my photos have hit a few new groups of friends who don't quite know the energy or aren't used to the quantity, quality, and captions of my facebook albums. Their delight and surprise make me happy, and while some may never know it, these pictures are how I love:

Pulling myself away from the crowd to snap a shot of it
Weaving my way into the groups to capture the intimacy of interactions
Missing parts of the scene and show because I'm watching it through my lens
Swapping lens, swiveling my external flash, climbing atop chairs
Curating photos, deleting the bad and okay to leave the best
Cropping the ones shot too wide
And adding an extra hour or two to caption, tag, and order

And as the the red flags show up and people laugh and enjoy, I know that the hours put into this craft, hobby, and creation is worth it. Because treating them to documented memories, helping them to remember times well spent and laughter made together is my gift to my friends and colleagues around me. Even if to some it's just another thing on the newsfeed, just another quick album to browse through, the short-term happiness is worth it. This is how I love, this is what I offer: I am a friend who loves relationships and a photographer with enough talent and skill, and these two intersect with a bit of energy and time to give you just another album of photos.

On Sisterhood

Last Friday, I decided it was time for a change and went to Target and bought my own tweezers. Then, for the first time in my almost-25 years of life, I plucked my eyebrows. I always wanted to have nice eyebrows, but in all honesty, mine are pretty thin and you can't do much with them. But I did always have some stray random ones that made them into a kinda-funny shape. I never wanted to pluck them because it hurt. But I'm maid of honor in my sister's wedding, so what better time than now?

My sister is the only one I've ever talked to about eyebrows. The last time we were in Malaysia, we noticed that dad's mom had the same eyebrows as I did. We joked that they were nearly nonexistent because they were thinly spread out, just like mine. I've remarked several times that sis's eyebrows are nice, but that I couldn't stand the pain of plucking them. And she's always laughed a bit that hers were better than mine.

Sis (as all the siblings call her) and I aren't particularly close, but as her days as a single women slowly dwindle down, I'm more aware of how much we do share. I don't talk about her all too much: she keeps to herself often, and my brothers do enough crazy things to fill my stories. Still, there's always been a special place for her. She did end up blazing the trail for us in many ways, and, when we were young, it always seemed she could do anything she wanted, it seemed: play flute (two years before she started, I wanted to be a flautist but never saved enough money for it...), skateboard, pick up drums, shoot hoops, join a volleyball team, tour with the school a cappella group (why did I never watch her shows?), and beat us all at Nintendo even though she never practiced.

As I started thinking through the speech I get to make at her wedding, I remember that, in the middle of the arguments, different paths, distances, and sporadic texts, there's more we share than I realize. That in some ways, I was a typical younger sister. There has always been something from her closet I envied and couldn't wait to be passed down to me: the yellow thermal hoodie, the plaid button shirts, the light blue skort, her MVA sweater (though in hindsight, they were probably less cool by the time they got to me). I still raid her closet for the too-girly tops she doesn't like, though I like to think it's made up for by the 20 times she's worn my purple dress. When I was taking piano lessons, there was always something special when we got to a song that I knew my sister had played and practiced: it felt like hitting another level and getting the chance to accomplish what she had done. Rondo alla turca, Moonlight Sonata (though I never finished that one), and a couple church solo's. When she got to go through Colonial Day in fifth grade, I imagined myself wearing her same red flannel dress in four more years, though in the end, Anthony and I missed it because we left school year to go to Malaysia that year. The Keepsake Box I have now of all random memorabilia, firsts, notes, and souvenirs got started because of an assignment she had to do in sixth grade.

She and I share a love for the Olympics, including screaming at the TV during the 2008 4x100 men's freestyle with Jason Lezak's amazing leg. We'd watch anything those summers and winters when we were both home, while the rest of the family only came out for gymnastics, ice skating, or the other big events. I'd dream up ideas on how to get into the Olympics and automatically assume she'd be my partner: we'd do some amazing humanitarian work and be invited to the Opening ceremonies, or maybe find a random sport that can't exactly be too hard...like the luge or bobsled, right? And when I coxed a varsity crew team, I joked with her: hey, maybe that'll be my in. They need small people for those teams.

I haven't been home for an Olympic season since 2008. Her bachelorette earlier this month was the most extended time I've had with her for years. But still, I feel a bit of sadness with the upcoming marriage. There's a nostalgia for the love of all my siblings together, just the four of us. Aaron's kind, he's nice, but he doesn't have the 24 years (okay, 18 for Alan) of life that we have. I will miss it. I will miss that anything can be hilarious when it's me and the siblings...that no one is safe from our mimicking and mocking, or from our songs and dance. Our bursts of laughter and our stories from our young days. I'm fiercely protective of our family time, notorious for persuading my family members out of other commitments or hangouts so we can have just a few hours when all six of us are together. All six: that's all I really want from any weekend home, for any celebration or holiday. All six of us. And I don't quite know how to welcome in a seventh....yet.

Jook

I felt it again today. An ache, a missing.

I guess I've been feeling it for awhile. This is Year Three of ministry, and the past two have been marked by long discussions of race, multi-ethnicity, humility, power-dynamics, and more. As some events in the evangelical world have eventually led to this letter (which surely deserves another post), I've been mulling thoughts about this Racial Journey in this racialized world. After two years, I know that this conversation is not easy. And yet still I walk into Year Three asking, how do I do this when I'm tired? How will I see your faithfulness when I am faithless? How do I continue to lay down my life but also find my voice again, and again, and again.

I am tired. I am the Chinese Girl living with two white housemates. Kind and fun, but definitely white women. Explaining mooncakes and rice porridge and feeling like every other day there's something new to share. Being asked if the snacks I got home are for sharing (I didn't offer, so, no). In the past, there was a joy to this, but there was also a long relationship what was being built with my then-roommate and good friend. These roommates do not quite feel like friends yet, so I just feel like the interesting girl who has things to talk about all the time. Sometimes it's fun but I'm feeling a little tired.

Sidenote - I am so grateful to be at my Chinese church, so unspeakably glad to have friends to go to dim sum with after church. Dear CAT friends, you have no idea how good and restful it is for my soul. To talk about stir fry and how little shrimp is in the chang fun (long noodles). To have my tea cup refilled, just like my soul is. To have two of you in six short months initiate wanting to support my ministry. And then to take a deep breath, and return to the day to day of loving and serving students who don't look like you.

I drove out to Wing Wah Supermarket today. I am getting over a cough and was making good ol' jook, but didn't have ginger, green onions, or cilantro. What the heck--I'm feeling good and I need to get out of the house, so I drove the 10 minutes to get to the closet Chinese supermarket (I'm glad it's not further). It's a small supermarket, significantly smaller than Ranch 99 or SF Market another 5-10 minutes away, and a little more expensive. But again I found myself wanting to walk up and down the aisles, listening to the familiar sounds of Mandarin and Cantonese filling my ears. This is as close to home as I'll get, I think cynically. This is what I do when I'm homesick: spend too long at Chinese supermarkets so the smells, tastes, sounds, and sights remind me that I belong somewhere.

At night I eat two bowls of jook. I smile to myself that my chicken jook is made with rotisserie chicken from Food Source, but hey, the best flavor is from the bones either way, right? I think that the ginger is totally worth it. I'm glad I know that plain jook may be rice and water, but add some ginger, green onions, and cilantro and it's soothing effect and delicious taste is exponentially increased. The sweetness of the ginger mixed in with the soft, watery rice porridge is comforting both to my throat and my heart.

I thought Sacramento was starting to feel like home, but I guess I'll have to give it even more time.