I remember my father telling me that with high education and life experience, comes class. Here we are not talking about the class that separate humans into different categories based on their social/economical status, we are talking about the glamor, articulation, and respect that one carries along with her/his position as a role model or leader. My father told me this to remind me that one has to watch out for what she/he is doing, especially in public. In order to be a respectful person, one has to act respectful. Subtle things like the usage of vocabulary, manners, or simply the way one dresses, are indications of one’s class.

With that said, I have to say, I was very disappointed in a public figure after listening to her presentation/interview. She has no class or whatsoever and it is a shame, especially when she is the representative of a respected corporation.

Oh well, I was able to witness what happens when one fails my father’s “summon”…

Hula Hoop

Finally, I have to admit that the only thing about not having anything to do between finishing up one school and waiting for another one to start is that it gives you time to revisit some of the things you have forgotten along the way. For example, I totally forgot how much I loved hula hoop until I accidentally saw the pink little thing hanging on the wall in the door way. I brought it to the back yard and started playing with it. I was as natural as I was when I was 8 with the yellow one. It never had left me. One thing led to another, I started thinking about my childhood, those kids I played with, the simple games I excelled, such as hula hoop, and eventually, I thought about Grandma. Sigh, life would never be the same if I keep looking back to that one…

Dancing with Ourselves

It was an unexpected event. The original plan was to have a quick lunch with Jonathan who is leaving for India tomorrow. But sometimes, plans do not work out well. Jonathan is always a cheerful person. We have so much in common to talk about, even though he is 35 years older than me. My four years at Duke would be a different experience without his presence as a mentor and father figure. I know I should not have told him the horrible truth, but oh well, what is a better way to wrap up Duke?

That is why my plan to go home right after lunch with Jonathan did not work out. Liz had to go to a dance event and she was running late. So instead of driving me home, she drove me to the mental hospital-ish place (I need to find out where I danced today, seriously!). The room was full of people, with various age, race, and gender. I noticed their dance moves rather to be forced and rigid, and wondered why they were dancing like that. From observation, I realized that I was dancing with a group of mentally ill patients who are enjoying the simple modern dance moves accompanied by a handsome guitar player.

One lady came over to me and held my hand and pulled me out of the audience. She wanted to dance with me. I felt very much appreciated, so I danced along with her. Another lady came over and grabbed my hand, she wanted to dance with me as well. I look across the room, I would honestly admit that no professional dancer would call what we were doing “dance”, but the smiles and the energy that everyone puts in, makes the experience unique.

So it is perfectly OK to be dancing with ourselves.



I try to understand, try to put myself in your shoes, however, no matter how hard I try to understand or put myself in your shoes, I cannot convince myself that I am happy. Maybe when life turns itself into a hectic point, people become more concerned about the life that they are having and less connected to the people they consider important.

I know it is a battle that I have to fight alone, like always. That moment, the moment you said that sometimes I do not have to fight alone, my heart bled. I have been waiting for so long to hear such words, words that make one feel free of burden, full of joy. But they were just words. The fight is personal, and the only people who truly care about this fight, you are not a member of.

Sometimes I wonder, where did life lose its color…


President Broadhead evicted the Class of 2011 of Duke University officially, “the door to home is closed” says him, and I was one of the evicted. It feels great to have the door behind after all these years of hard work. I deserve this! Happy Graduation from Duke! I have proven to those who humiliated me for my existence and those who have cherished and encouraged my strength. The end, accompanied by a smile from the bottom of my heart.