virginialoh

Perfect Women

2005-11-14T22:43:00.000-08:00

I just saw a French film entitled, "Toto the Hero." One particular line struck me: "It takes years for women to be perfect and when they are, they fly away."

Perfection is a state of mind.
Look back at your life but move forward by seeking a different path.
Love the wrinkles on your brow and hands as they are the maps of your past.
Follow your laughlines and your crow's feet as they are the maps of your future.
Unlock the chains and shackles of the external world.
Break free from the self-imposed walls and love yourself so that others can love you.
Lift your own damn feet off the ground.
Spread your wings and feel the wind that whispers in your ear; "You are good enough. You are ready." Want but do not need.
Depend on no-one.
And fly your own course.
You are Destiny's child.

virginialoh

2005-11-07T23:34:00.000-08:00

sometimes I really hate being a girl. i hate falling in love too quickly. i hate getting sucked in by kind gestures and flattering words. i hate forgetting why i was so mad in the first place until i remember and then it's too late. i hate not being able to treat intimacy with nonchalance and frivolity. i hate finding amusement in dumb jokes and laughing eyes. i hate overanalyzing every little ridiculous detail over and over again. i hate crying and feeling sad when expectations are not met. i hate sweet kisses and strong hugs when all i want to do is be pissed. i hate focusing on the good times when i should be nurturing evil thoughts. i hate giving too much for very little in return. i hate waiting.....i hate it when he calls me baby because i love it. i hate boys. But, I mostly hate that i don't really hate them.

When the surf hits the sand...

2005-11-01T19:29:00.000-08:00

I sit in my hotel room and watch the waves crash upon the sand and listen to its music, its rhythm as the water drums against the sand. Surfers paddling out, rising up and down, ebbing and flowing with the tide. Waves curling and folding into white foam and then dissipating before pulling back. A gentle yet powerful movement, a dance of earth and water. The ocean sighs and whispers sweet nothings into the sand, heard only by the wind, the guarder of secrets.

Walking Thoughts

2005-11-01T19:25:00.000-08:00

My friend, Emily, and I like to go on long-distance walks via Sunset Cliffs. Over the past several months, we have wandered, meandered, explored, and conquered. We have names for all our different paths. Pedophile Trails is behind an elementary school. It goes up a hill and down through fields of gold and dead brush, winding into an empty drain ditch. Once, I found a single, worn-out, red shoe flailed by its strings and lying on its side. That single image was enough for a name (as well as cause for concern). House-Lust Way is paved with green envy; my footprints being the darkest shade. Big, beautiful Jeffersonian columns, Spanish-style patios, Japanese gardens, bay windows, cape cod shutters and white, picket fences. Rectangles housing partitions, floors, ceilings and stories--lots of stories, both told and untold. Kids laughing. Adults drinking wine and families eating dinner around a wooden table. Is it the life in those houses or the actual houses that I lust? Phantom-Tomato-House Hike was a pleasant discovery that turned out to be a mirage. Vines of red, ripe tomatoes draping over the fence, flowing into the pedestrian walkway. We tasted the sweet, red nectar and coveted more. Emily and I pilfered from this garden of Tomato-Eden for a couple of days, devouring our sins. After a little hiatus, we decided to re-trace our steps in hopes of returning to the Tomato House; but, our efforts were in vain: A figment of our imagination, a shared tomato-eating dream. Liquid Amber Lane named after the tree that brings forth memories of an east coast Fall. Tall star-shaped leaves that are ostentatious by nature, waiting, no, expecting to be complimented. Green, mysteriously changing to amber. Like the transient chilly breeze, marking the subtle changing of the seasons. Such a tree with stars for leaves like heaven on earth. Strong trunk. Strong wood. A symbol of strength and power with a name that conjures up water and fire, Liquid Amber. The paths that we travel in this life beg to be named...Finally, I leave my thoughts by going off the beaten path. There is one particular corner of this world that warrants special mention: Hummingbird Corner. This is a stopping place. A place that demands careful attention for it can be easily passed by. Perfectly trimmed and landscaped hedges with flowers in blues, purples, yellows and pinks, lined against a wrought iron fence. Pausing, one can hear the gentle whirring of a hummingbird's wings. And, then another. And another. Like fairies dancing and laughing to one another, telling inside jokes of which we are not privy. As mere mortals, we can only stand in awe and be thankful of the glimpse they have allowed us. The slender beak, tiny torso and the quick blinking of wings. I felt lucky to be amongst such company, to have stopped my life for just a moment to notice this corner, a corner that I must have walked by a thousand times. I was sprinkled in pixie dust that day. That day Hummingbird corner was discovered. That day when I discovered the meaning of life in a fairy's wings. Oh, life can be a blur if we don't stop and notice it. As I continue to walk through this life, I plan on stopping at corners and listening for the humming of birds.

Moments of Genius

2005-11-01T19:24:00.000-08:00

I believe in moments of genius like when that person decided to put the words corn and nuts together to describe a snack. Like when I realized, while watching a west coast sunset, that I never saw the sun set over the ocean living on the east coast. Like when Hawaii married spam and rice and made it cool for me to eat in front of my mainland friends. Like when Rudolph found his purpose in life leading Santa's sleigh on that famous foggy day. Like when you decide that a guy is not into women because he is not into you. Like that moment when you realize that you are happy and the rest of the world fades in the distance. And it's just you. Standing. Alone. And, you're okay...Now, that's genius.

Hanging on tightly in life and love

2005-10-11T23:32:00.000-07:00

I would be the last person on earth to think that motorcycles are sexy. I see them as big, loud contraptions that take up valuable parking spaces. As a happy driver of a four-wheeled automobile, I get annoyed at bikers who weave in and out of the lanes. I also get terribly irritated at having to turn my radio up in order for it to be heard over the bikes’ rumblings.
I have never been interested in riding them either as falling on pavement is not exactly appealing to me. Furthermore, “Harley-Davidson” conjures up images of handle-bar mustaches, tattoos, and lots of leather. None of which I find attractive.

But I have recently been cast under a spell, both by a boy and his bike. Who knew that motorcycles could be an aphrodisiac and that once you rode one, you’d never be the same again?
As everyone knows, one of the major rules of dating is to try the things that your partner likes to do. So, I happen to like this boy and he likes riding motorcycles. Thus, I was forced to “cowboy up” and mount that bad beast.

My fear of being road kill was overcome by my need to appear cool and easy-going. (The psychotic side of my nature need not come out too early in the game.) I braved the wind and stomached my nervousness in order to impress him and, more importantly, to preserve my reputation as a “hip chic.”

I was given two instructions: never touch the ground with my feet and hang on tightly. As I was preoccupied with protecting my life, I really didn’t have time to think about much except for the literal translations of the instructions. As we drove up the coast, I began to loosen up and fell in love with the experience. (I also gained a better appreciation for “American Chopper,” one of my favorite TV shows that I hate to admit I like.)

But upon closer introspection, it was not just about having fun and enjoying the scenery. There was much more in operation. First, in an age in which chivalry is hard to find, a knight on a white horse, or in this case, a Harley-Davidson, is very enticing. There’s something very powerful and sexy about metal and chrome. It made me want to go see a man about a horse, intrigued by the idea of a modern-day cowboy.

Why is it that strong, professional women continue to fall for things that our intellect tells us are stupid? A disclaimer: I believe in equality among the sexes and appreciate the benefits of the women’s movement, etc. But, honestly, I am just a girl who likes a boy and I really, really do like men who are men.

Second, in regards to motorcycle rides (at least for this biker girl), it’s the hanging on tightly bit that is so very sexy. The outfits and especially the helmets, although necessary for protection, are definitely not cute. In fact, I felt like a total dork in all the gear.

Once we get past the fashion suicide, there is something very nice about leaning on another person for strength and support. I placed my safety and well-being in the driver’s hands. I let down my guard and trusted him (and my helmet) as there really was nothing else for me to do. I basically gave up control. And once I let go of my fears and anxieties, I really began to enjoy the ride. So I ask: Why can’t we let go in love? I wish that dating could be like a motorcycle ride. Relationships would be so much easier (and much more fun) if we could just release our doubts and suspicions and simply learn how to “hang on tightly.”

Marathon

2005-10-06T00:45:00.000-07:00

I just saw the best movie ever at the San Diego Asian Film Festival. The film is entitled "Marathon" and it is about the trials and tribulations of raising an autistic child. It documents the triumphs of an autistic boy, who is no different from other people when he runs. More importantly, it documents the triumphs of his mother, who struggles with her son's destiny. This film moved me. I cried from beginning to end. It was funny, heart-wrenching and gorgeous.

Apathy in Education

2005-10-04T00:20:00.000-07:00

"In any moment of decision the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing."
--Teddy Roosevelt

There is no room for apathy in education. As educators, we are responsible for changing the world for the better. As doctoral students and candidates, we are responsible for leading the institution of education toward this change. As members of society, we are responsible for laying down the groundwork for the future. Doing nothing is not an option.

As the Founder and current President of the Doctoral Student Council in Education (DSCE) for the San Diego State University-affiliated doctoral programs, I hope to become a part of something great. I hope to help in the building of a community of change agents and the creation of a space for transformation and liberation. In sharing knowledge, we develop as professionals and grow as people.

It is so very exciting to be an educator at this time. Paradigms are shifting toward a more multicultural-centered framework. Research and evidence are playing more important roles in curriculum and instruction. Policies and reform movements are breaking down the school-gates. Change is all around us. We have two choices: to be a part of it or to be passed by.

In pursuing a doctoral degree, one has already made a pivotal step toward effecting change. As a former K-12 practitioner and school leader, I can attest for the changes in perspective that my doctoral work has offered me. There is power in doctoral students organizing. The Doctoral Student Council in Education was established to harness that power. I am thrilled to be working with such a talented, passionate Board. We come to you with a myriad of experiences and a great deal of enthusiasm. I encourage all of you to take part in our journey.
http://www-rohan.sdsu.edu/~sdsudsce/