Rants and Rambles

A small delight on a red-eye flight from Tokyo to Vancouver - whoever knows that a paper cup of ice cream can teach you life lessons? There are many reasons that people can't sleep on a flight: One, the mere reason that we are floating in the middle of nowhere inside a gigantic metallic vestibule thrusting everywhere clinging onto nothing. Two, the overloading of the senses: the whizzes and hums from the engines the flickering on and off of the halo reading light from that insomniac passenger the intermittent cracking of the pilot's voice over the intercom the air prickling under your skin the arid bitter clump in your throat the potpourri of stale bread, clothes, and perfume all churning into a thick blanket suffocating you to the very core. Three, you toss and turn in your juice-stained hoodie, hoping to have a nanosecond of rest but all was in vain and you think how draining it is  to be packed more than in a sardine can, up ten thousand feet  while down the gentle ground, ...

  So long, summer "Row, row, row your boat/ Gently down the stream..." The words from the cheery tune I would always chant as a kid now echo back in my mind, now that I am an ocean away from those carefree days. As I wander around the boardwalk undulating the rocky shores of Lulu Island, a few kilometers away from my home, the vast stretch of the sea glimmering in a fall twilight seems to stretch further than ever. The last rays of sunlight from the peach-tinted skies radiate faintly behind the snow-capped mountains, painting the tranquil riverbank in a vivid palette of azure and gold. The carefree days of summer have receded, trailing behind booth photographs, strawberry jam, and chlorine-streaked curls as a reminder of the fondest of memories an ocean away.  Then, fall came, as lightly as the russet maple falling on the moss-covered roof. While typing these words, I could hear the soothing rhythm of the raindrops falling on the maple-shaded roof and the wind rustling throug...

 Originally published in  Pluvia Literary Magazine , Issue IV (October 2022) In the strawberry field, no one is worried. The sky is crisp azure, as if nothing could stop it from being so. The stretching beds embrace the horizons with their sweet kisses of tender strawberries Their after-kiss fragrance lingers in the air, filled the chickadee’s jubilant songs to harken the advent of summer.   In the strawberry field, no one is worried. Little kids run around barefoot, their plump fingers clutched with a bucketful of crimson sweetness while their parents, tucked in crisp denim and flowing floral dresses, gaze adoringly at their exuberant enfants. The flashes from cameras overshine the sun, glittering the sparks of asphalt on the country road.   In the strawberry field, no one is worried. Alas, I wish I could be so! Summer has come, yet my thoughts do not have wings to soar out of the reality entrenched deep into my soul, about wh...

A wild sunflower in the afternoon Grows under the crisp blue skies Two colors, azure and gold Dazzlingly intertwine. Afar, bronze oak leaves crumble  Scattering sun-streaked blades of grass That flutter as the wind rustles Through the laden apple tree. I pack my bag and head Towards the blackberry vines Near the railroad watershed  Where the cobalt ducks wallow. A duck waddles on the mud Passing the shady reeds Raspily asks me if I should Continue on my path. To which I replied by A ripe plump blackberry  With a wide beaming smile, "How far is the end?" --- En la tarde, un girasol Crece debajo de los cielos azules Los dos colores, azul y oro Se entrelazan espectacularmente. Allá, las hojas de roble se desmoronan Despersando el pasto  Que se agitan mientras el viento cruje Por el manzano cargado. Empaco mi maleta  Hacia las vides de mora Cerca la vía férrea donde Holgazanean los patos cobaltos .  Un pato camina en el barro Pasando los juncos sombreados Me pr...

Mid-afternoon street in Saigon August comes as prickly as it could, in the form of torrential pre-typhoon downpours. As a relief from the dog days in July, the first hints of monsoon season have already lingered around Saigon. Many the afternoons lately, I have been turning on the lights above my desk to better see the words amid the darkening clouds outside and the naughty mosquitoes lingering near the bookshelf, while the strong breezes dangle the fragile petunias baskets on the balcony. Saigon downpours are noted for their spontaneity: one second, you are perspiring profusely under the blinding sun and the other second, your ears are filled in the rumbles of thunder beyond the resin trees. If you happen to ride on a moped, then be prepared to find an eave as a shelter to put on your poncho along with many other riders huddling close by. The sight of colorful ponchos flapping by the sidewalk always reminds me of an aquatic carnival, where processions of motorcycles, trucks, and ricks...

My best work of art so far: A rudimentary diagram of a neuron I did for Bio 12 Yes, I do have a scientific side! Here are some of my literature reviews and a presentation, which is quite modest compared to many of my peers with much stronger scientific backgrounds. I chiefly focus on global health, as it lies at the intersection between science and humanities. At the time of writing this blog (August 2022), I am working on an international project concerning mental health education during COVID-19 and a viewpoint paper on spinal cord injury. Thank you for having a glimpse of another of my (nerdy) sides, and see you at the next blog! Scientific Publications Food Safety: Do You Really Know What’s For Dinner?   The Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review at Johns Hopkins University, March 22, 2021.  Eye Disorders in Hindsight: The Rising Concerns of Myopia during COVID-19   The Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review at Johns Hopkins University, August 17, 2021.  https://doi.or...

A bustling Granville Island on Canada Day, as seen from a sizzling hot dog To compensate for the idle summer in 2021, when I spent most of my waking hours gazing at the laksa leaves on my rooftop garden, this July has been a fairly eventful month. The month rolled in with a festive Canada Day celebration, accompanied by frequent trips around the Lower Mainland. After numerous failed attempts of finding a parking spot at the Steveston Salmon Festival at the sleepy-turned-vibrant Steveston Village, I hopped on Canada Line and practiced my bus-hopping skills to reach Granville Island. Although I've visited the island quite a few times, I couldn't help being immediately transported to a whole different world. The chill Granville Island I visited during drizzling days in Vancouver was miles away from the breathtaking pier I came to on a clement morning. Downtown Vancouver was shimmering in its glory, fully awake after two years of hibernation: groups of radiant tourists chitchatted ...