I’d just like to shout out to my student organization that I Chair this year. I’m coming to a close of my final year in grad school, and my participation in this student organization, and it has made all the difference in making my graduate experience amazing. We are blessed with some amazing students who are involved in so many ways on campus, but also personally in each others lives. I am so grateful for this experience, and want to thank everyone on SUSDA for making it a great year.

If you’re thinking about going into student development/student affairs, I’d like to offer you Seattle University’s graduate program in Student Development Administration. Through the lens of social justice, and through the institution’s mission of empowering leaders for a just and humane world, this program enables you to do the work interpersonally as well as academically as you learn to become an ethical practitioner in higher education. Here’s some links for you all to go to:

www.seattleu.edu

www.seattleu.edu/coe/sda

http://susda.wordpress.com

www.twitter.com/SU_susda

we have fun too!  http://gallery.me.com/deanneliu/10003

I don’t think it ever really dawned on me how dire the circumstance was when his health started to deteriorate. My dad was a fighter, and he was hoping for the chemo therapy to kick in, which it never did. We spent the months between December and February going to the hospital at Stanford. The nurses there got to know us well. It was around this time, that I was learning how to drive. One of the last things my dad did before he died was teach me how to drive a stick shift car in the parking lot of the Mormon Church. I drove home from Stanford the night after he passed away and I remember thinking, “I wish he could see me now.”

For the last 14 years, I’ve spent a good lot of it angry with the way babba (dad in taiwanese – well, my spelling of it anyway) led his life. I spent it angry with how his decisions altered my life, who I trust, who I love, and how it has affected my future. I’ve been so engrossed in this anger that it has dictated my life, and hidden the times when I’ve been most happy. I’ve forgotten that I loved my dad. I’ve forgotten that I loved him so much, that it surprised me when I was overcome with emotion when I saw his smiling face again beaming back at me from this photo. (I wish I had a copy of that photo to post here, so you all could see what I mean… ) I quickly hid my surprise so I wouldn’t worry my very sweet mother. (I’ll post a pic of her here so you can see what I mean) As the months have turned to years since his departure from us on this earth, I am remembering now, what it meant for him to say to me after I made our Christmas meal, “I can leave now knowing you can take care of yourself” (of course in Taiwanese, but you get the gist). I’ve never had a happy Christmas since this time. My heart swells, and I remember – there were good times, too.

In this season of hope… I am wondering where my hope is. Somewhere in this quarter I pushed everyone away that I needed to help me get through this year. And I’m feeling a lost and lonely. I am wishing, more than anything else, that someone will wake up and call me. I don’t know where to begin, I don’t know what I’ll say, and I don’t know what I expect. But I know I want to remember that I am not alone.

Earlier this year, after living over 3 years in Seattle, I was finally introduced to the music of the Blue Scholars. It was an epic experience, one that I wasn’t expecting at all. I had heard about them through various sources, seattle-born friends, SU folk, etc. Since going to a Jesuit institution and being so enmeshed in the culture of social justice and reflection, I came to really appreciate what the Blue Scholars were saying. They were writing music and lyrics that spoke to my heart. Being two minority kids out of UW and making music that respects women, pays homage to their own journeys in American life, and call people towards advocacy and social justice was more than I had imagined music could be about. Every time I see them live, I am blown away. I know I’m too old to be a fan girl, but its hard not to be with these dudes. The two of these men are living proof that socially minded men are out there, and they are smart, witty, funny, and talented. I have hope once again.

Tonight they performed at the Capitol Hill Block Party and then again at the Cafe Vita lounge for KEXP. It is the first time I have seen them without my beloved Jessica, whom I have so many conversations about love, social justice, and the Blue Scholars. We discovered them together, and have gone to see every show of theirs that we are able to see until now. I miss her a lot. We have yet to fight over DJ Sabzi, but the day may come! We love that dude in all of his awkward glory. I’m attaching a video from today’s performance at the KEXP lounge. This is a new song from their upcoming album Cinemetropolis (I think that title is going to stick) and shouts out to all the Seattle neighborhoods. If you watch closely, you can see sabzi almost eat it after trying to climb on an amp. lol (caution: this video is loud – you may want to turn down your speakers)

For those of you who haven’t heard of Blue Scholars, here’s a link to their blog, with the free EP on the right side.

I went to Canada today. I left the country this evening taking the wrong turn after being grilled by my unfriendly U.S. border patrolman because I saw a sign that read, “return to Canada”. I quickly turned the other direction only to be stopped by another border patrolman (much nicer this time). I told him what happened and how I freaked out and said, “hell no, I’m not going back there!” He chuckled, greeted my dogs, and pointed to the sign underneath “return to Canada” that said something to the effect of “Freedom!” (not really). My car crossed the border, and my spirit was just a little bit lighter. I was never happier to be a citizen of the U.S.A.

It’s nothing against Canada or Canadians. They give us the best comedians and actors from that country. I like Canada in some respects. It’s just that lately, I can’t help but associate it with bad mojo. It’s not Canada’s fault.

I don’t usually look forward to Christmas. I haven’t since I was about 13. I am still getting used to the idea that gifts don’t have to be opened on Christmas day, and that family is a definition that can be redefined as I grow older. But this day, this Christmas day, I spent a month planning. I was nervous, my hands were clammy, I was anxious, and wary. Today, I would get to see my brother’s four kids whom we haven’t been able to see in 2.5 years. The last time I saw these kids was August of ’07 before their parents split up. They had three kids back then, and now they have four. The oldest is now seven years old, and the baby, who I finally got to meet for the first time is one and a half.

All my nieces and nephews are special. There are twelve of them. But the memories of these four are really special because they are few and far between. Their residence in Canada has made it difficult for me to see them consistently, and this terrible kink in their parents relationship has made it extremely difficult for us to see one another. Yet somehow, the oldest two remember me. It’s amazing how smart they are. I am in awe of the resilience that children have in the midst of such turmoil around them. They are growing up to be really and truly amazing – and sometimes I think it might just be because they are learning to cope with the disappointments of life earlier rather than later. Sad, right?

We had an epic 7 hours today with them. A landmark amount of time for my brother. My mom and I drove to Canada together, and we tried to give them all our love as much as possible. It was cool how they let us hold them, play with them, and enjoy them and dare I say… they enjoyed us. Though time has kept us a part, they will always be with me. And as I lay my head down tonight, I hear their little voices speaking to me in mandarin, english, and baby-talk. Their images are ingrained in my memory forever, and I hope they remember today as well.

Don’t get me wrong – today was not without its dramatic effects. The pick up and drop off the children was difficult. Their mother has not shown her face in months, and we are left with video taping each other’s every move for court purposes. Every brush of the hand can be construed as malice, and every word can be conveyed as a threat. Every instance can be found on video tape from both perspectives. It was ugly. I think the worst part of it, was driving home with my mom as she cried for a good 10 minutes, exclaiming between her gasps for air that her heart aches. Mine does too.

And in the midst of the season of hope – I wonder, can there ever be reconciliation when we can not even forgive each other? If forgiveness can not be found between us, as humans, as Christians (so we claim), as sinners, and as family, then can there ever be hope for peace? I’m sure this is what Jesus came to earth for. I am sure I follow Jesus because I am a sinner and because I want reconciliation. I won’t stop praying for this, and maybe one day in the future, the tears that my mom and I cry ,will one day be of joy.

Until then…

There’s some S(*&t going down at Zondervan over one of their bible study guides that is pretty insensitive and racist towards AsiAms.

My friend has just left a Christian Counseling grad school where she felt completely unaccepted as a person of color, not only by her classmates, but also by the administration. (sad) <sigh>

There’s a great class at SU that I took last summer that is being re-taught this Fall by a professor who I’ve heard isn’t helping students learn about the issues presented on race.

My church is hosting  a Faith and Race conversation this month and ending with a little conference next Saturday, and i am coming to a harsh reality that it is easier to talk about race relations within our own ethnic group than it is with others present.

all that to say… there’s a lot. It is now a moot point whether it is good or bad, IT IS ONLY IMPORTANT THAT IT IS MOVEMENT. A chance at an important conversation. A time for us to be honest with each other and unravel the smelly onion. I am learning to EMBRACE THE STRUGGLE… and to give you a chance to see my heart broken so that I too can be broken by you. verstehen

I’ve been in-between hair dressers for about a year now. I had the worst hair cut for about 4 months, and got it fixed – but the fix cost me about one pair of Gap blue jeans. Now I’m letting my hair grow out again, and I’m hoping that I can get a decent trim that won’t cost me a ton of money. One problem: I have that straight, very thick “Asian” hair. It’s a pain, and if you don’t cut it right, it can be a bad situation and say bad things about yourself (similar to a mullet).

So I got thinking about what it takes to look your best – or what it communicates about you to other people. I listened to an episode of This American Life (on podcast) awhile ago, and there was a story about this couple who were in just the beginnings of their relationship (the puppy dog stage). She wore these horrendous pants that she thought made her look hot. But every time this guy would see her, he would wonder why she was wearing those ugly pants. She would plan on wearing the pants whenever she’d see him, and she even wore them on her first date.

Now I have a theory about these pants. Similar to the way I think my wet hair makes me look cuter, more tousled, more laid back, more whatever – maybe even attractive – these pants made her feel confident in a way that might have actually attracted her future husband. Last week I went to the mall, in search of – what might be my “magic” pants. I didn’t know then that was what I was looking for, but I think that’s what I was in search of. In fact, I think that’s what girls do when we go to the mall, we don’t just look for that one item, but we search for the ensemble, the whole piece that makes you feel za-za-zing. Its that confidence that you feel when you’ve got those magical clothes, hair, shoes on that we are looking for. It’s that feeling that communicates to who you are with that you are special, because you feel special.

This elusive feeling, of course, can take on a materialism that women are often accused of. So maybe what we’re really trying to attain, when we are subdued by “cute” new outfits is really the feeling of confidence that can seem so unattainable. I’m in my later twenties, and now more than ever, I feel more insecure about myself. It’s like junior high part deux. All I can do from falling apart and liking myself less is maybe give myself or my wardrobe a make-over. Maybe this is why Sephora has such a hold on me. And sadly, it’s not like I have a budget to be doing this often.

I’m not a big fan of using Christian language to express my feelings, but I as I continue to meditate about how God thinks about me (at the suggestion of my therapist) I sort of liken how I imagine how he feels about me into this elusive confidence that it builds. I mean, what is it to really KNOW that you are LOVED. I think I would act a little bit differently. My life would be focused differently. I don’t know, but I think there’s something to this feeling that you get when you think you look sassy (notice how this is emphasized on your own perception) and the knowing that you are LOVABLE. I think the common denominator is confidence. Both these gives off an aura of confidence. And for someone like me, that’s as good as gold.

Nods to this nonprofit: http://www.dressforsuccess.org/