Rants and Rambles

  Shanghai Bund by the Huangpu River, flowing endlessly and carrying a piece of my heart

Dawn in Hong Kong, photographed by two sleep-derived travellers  "Delete 879 items from all of your devices?" A black line of text appeared on the screen. The second I hit the button on the Pad image gallery to delete the enormous bulk of screenshots from my lectures and assignments from second year, it still hadn't dawned on me that I was two months into summer. My backpack sat near the staircase, with the haphazardly arranged folder still placed inside, waiting for me to pick up and sprint to the bus every weekday morning. Now that I wouldn't be taking summer courses this year, the passage of time was felt in every bit of my presence. Winter mornings rushing to catch the bus at the crack of dawn have been replaced with waking up to the warm sunshine creeping outside the window, the laughter of playful kids from my neighbourhood elementary school lighting up the day. A cup of lukewarm milk coffee on the rocking bus to get me through the first half of 9:30 AM lectures...

  What a beautiful world we live in (until that one Chem final worth 60% of your total grade) "The sun is out!" The student sitting at the table next to me exclaimed as the first rays of sunlight flooded the upper floor of the Science Student Centre, where dozens of students were toiling for their endless rounds of midterms and assignments. I looked outside the large window facing the Nest, mesmerized by the ashen clouds parting to reveal the deep blue sky. My laptop monitor was glaring, so I quickly adjusted the light setting down to continue my frenzied pace on reviewing Anki flashcards. The sun could wait later, but suddenly one sight caught my eye: a BeaverTails food truck. It must have just arrived, with the staff setting up the area and preparing the cash box. Sure enough, within two minutes, I finished wrapping up my study and belongings and dashed out to the truck before the massive crowds of students trickled out of lecture halls around noon. The tantalizing buttery ...

Long time no see! Regions divided by folds, undulating like waves in a river Flowing past ancient kingdoms. There holds the brain. Crisscrossing neurons ignite Electrifying fireworks along the river’s edge! Cargos of neurotransmitters spark Docking on synapses, ferrying signals To the most infinitesimal corner of the kingdom. The river of mind knows only one direction. No beginning. No end. As the river ebbs and flows Memories form, dissolve, return A first kiss, a glimmer of sunlight, twinkling eyes Emotions surge beyond the surface Riding the tide of time. And when the time comes, all things will fade, The last sparks tremble Nightfall. A silent explosion of stars. The final ship drifts onto the shore, Sinking into the deep. Thumbnail photo : Crossing the Fraser River by the Canada Line on a sunny morning. This is a poem I wrote to perform at UBC Science Coffee House, where I got to meet the Dean and Associate Dean and other amazing artists and poets in my faculty! We performed music...

 Viewing the Northern lights from the southernmost tip of Richmond The last time I clicked the "Published" button on this blog, I was sitting in a scorching hot room, with the sky still crispy blue outside. Now here I am, typing these words on a dark rainy night in December, where the closest I could see outside of my bedroom window was the white Christmas lights dangling in my neighbour's garage. The past four months have been an absolute whirlwind, sweeping away nothing but every bit of my breathe. In retrospect, thinking that I would have time to ramble here in the past four months was just an item on a list of naive thoughts I had at the start of second year - and there seems to be no sign that the list will end anytime soon... September started with a whirlwind - from Imagine Day (my school's grand orientation and clubs day) to new classes, I could never survive a weekday without sipping iced coffee on the 49 every morning. I spent one of the few last days before...

Ke Ga Point, Binh Thuan Province, with the iconic 127 year-old lighthouse built by the French. As a little kid, I was too scared to even climb up its stairs to see the panoramic view of the sea. Sadly, the lighthouse was closed when I got old enough to conquer my acrophobia. As the raindrops trickling turned into a full march sweeping on my rooftop garden in Saigon, I lazily opened my eye after a heavy noon nap. The first few weeks back home felt like an eternity, with the oppressive sun rays blanketing the city from dawn till dusk, dragging the day into an endless trial of extreme heat and humidity. When not engulfed in the thundering afternoon rains that bring a brief cool wisp of air, it seemed impossible to do anything but moving from another air-conditioned room to the next. The heat came silently, marking itself on the wilting rose leaves, the lack of midday coos of the spotted doves prying chili peppers on the rooftop, and my dog Nest's water bowl finished within ten seconds...