once through so many semesters of theatre rice, it's hard to remember or recognize what theatre rice is anymore.

without a doubt, we, the members of past and present, are theatre rice. we is the body, constantly moving, our artistic direction is always on the grow. we dare to collaborate for change, "to meet, develop, and perform showcases that reflect a modern Asian-American theatre."

and we make choices, some are radical, some are conservative, but all relentlessly shape the direction theatre rice goes in. our committee, representatives elected by the theatre rice constituency of the precious semester, is ultimately responsible for these choices.

last night, our committee chose to keep our mid-semester show to the dual combination of a comedy troupe and improv, and to not allow a play to appear in addition to it. i do not argue with this decision. but i am frightened by it.

before i talk my fears, i would like to say first and foremost that i do agree that certain submissions must meet certain levels of quality before gaining acceptance into our shows. the debate about the quality of this piece may be limitless but is of not much concern to what i want to bring up (but on a side-note: "regret," "flight of the penguins," and "story time with joyce" all needed to be developed but were nonetheless admitted into their respective showcases.)

this piece didn't lose because the committee had serious issues with the quality of the piece (some really did, some really didn't, but to each their own.)

the reason why the piece didn't get in is much more simple and, to me, much more frightening: the committee didn't want to put a highly political and serious play alongside comedy troupe and improv. the juxtaposition of seriousness and comedy would apparently be too strange for our audience.

i go into a few questions to address this:
- doesn't this thought process imply that comedy troupe is not capable of serious issues in their skits, that a skit can not be of comedy but still be of quality?
- is it resourceful to have a short mid-semester show (which will run for three days) while trying to cram in all of our submissions into our showcase (which will run for two days)?
- doesn't all comedy in our mid-semester show create the expectation for more shows like those - an expectation that may be responsible for an audience backlash in the face of anything non-comedy? isn't theatre rice stereotyped to being simply funny? that may not be a bad thing, but isn't that against our purpose of being? is asian american theatre only made of comedy? are our stories only told through caricatures, exaggerations, and satires?

i'm afraid that we, the committee, might not be able to step up to change when change calls. this is a beautiful time to be in theatre rice. it's an incredibly creative time marked by a dramatic rise of the number of creative projects individual members are pushing forth on their own. our submissions are going to grow and more and more. we are faced with the possibilty of evolving with this growth naturally, or restrict it to what we know and what we think can do (opposed to what we really can do.)

no matter how sensational the privilege of our education promises, it promises nothing in the realm of theatre, film, and performing arts for not only asian americans, but all ethnic groups. for a tremendous amount of people, theatre rice is the sole venue for artists to realize their dreams. dreams that we, as committee members, must always respect and consider, which is why we must always real all submissions that we receive (i'm afraid that not all of us actually read the mid-semester submission.) when we don't read our submissions, we not only wrong the artists who submit, we also wrong the theatre rice who chose us as representatives and weavers of our growing artistic thread.

i do not share because i want us to re-consider last night's decision. i share this because i am disheartened and truly worried. i share this because i trust theatre rice, who has always been of the open nature, to always share and listen with our own. this is not an attack on anyone but simply a loved criticism. please, do not be offended.

i would like to end this with words from the author of the mid-semester show submission. we typically always read out loud every submission author's "reasons why..." before deciding on their vote, but we failed to do so at last night meeting. here is a part of it.

"explain why you think this should be a theatre rice production"

"because theatre rice all too often dwells on abstract asian american identity politics when there are urgent issues concerning real Asian Americans in the present.
because no one knows about it.
because NOW is always the time that theatre rice is ready to tackle ANY issue affecting Asian Americans.
because Theatre Rice needs to be respected as a THEATRE group and needs to break away from it�s popular perception as a comedy group.
because the mid semester show sets the tone on how Theatre Rice is viewed in the public eye, especially since it�s free.
because the term �Asian American� is a political term.
because art is about revision.
because an art piece is never ever finished."

we are never finished. i understand that theatre rice is never anything concrete, never like a bird but rather like its shadow, always a blur, a changing beauty, never to be grasped or held down. this is the beginning of a new year. let's see what fire and freshness awaits us all.

ps: the fact of the matter is: i'm fucking pissed and i'll use all my pretty bird, blur, beauty metaphors to express it, thank you very much.

regret is a broken guitar, and when you shake it upside down, unfinished songs rain gently out, drifting slowly, over and over, side to side, before becoming nothing but soft stains on the ground. a soldier on a battlefield somewhere puts his gun down, closes his eyes, and dreams of white lilies. somewhere else, in calcutta, a man sighs at how in america, the richest country in the world, citizenship still does not guarantee home-owning as a right (not a privilege.) in iraq, a man offers this advice to a lightless notheast america: "don't trust the americans to fix your electricity grid, because they will most certainly short circuit and, worst of all, they will blame someone else for it." in berkeley, in one day, i spend 60 dollars on books, 7 dollars on pho, 14 dollars on new speakers, and only 1 dollar on the old woman on the street with no where to sleep. mars is at the closest its ever been to earth in forever and the berkeley sky is red with clouds. my apartment is full of (whether we realize it or not) some of the most educated people in the world, but there is still so much that we don't know: 1 of us can't fry an egg over-easy, 2 of us has never heard of proposition 54, 2 of us can't clean the bathroom when we're supposed to, 1 one of us does not know what a clit-stimulator is, 3 of us can't write and sing a song for someone, and none of us can fix our own ride. but let's focus on what we do know: how to blog. life is full of close-escapes, this isn't one of them, whether we're escaping or we're trapped is only a matter of perspective. this is really a cliche but you are loved.

a teacher's guide on bowlingforcolumbine.com is a wonderful read. go through the "library," it has a small fortune of information. are online colleges really the future?

ps: take the skinheads bowling, take them bowling.

my schedule is in shambles, sorta. re-arranging everything around, i regret dropping architecture 100b actually, it sounds like magic but i'm afraid that i won't be able to honestly uphold my other commitments this semester if i undergo such a passion-taxing (although sometimes passion-fueling) class. it's a big gamble and i don't have the crazy eights for it. first impressions of my other classes:

third world cinema: eye-opening for a first lecture. exploration of the "voiceless" (a tired term but that resonates painfully true in the movies of this class.) the professor is surprisingly young, says "yalls" a lot, and is an anti-establishment "hegemony" fanatic. very fuck hollywood (and not in the superficial "the matrix" way.)
intro to photography: guilty pleasure. i should have gone to my computer 3d modeling class (less fun, but more crucial, especially in this revolutionary time when 3d technology and the internet will have unimaginable effects on the environment, or on our perception of the environment, real or otherwise.) sounds cool, but a hobby's a hobby, and my unit delegation is spare. gonna drop it.
urbanization of developing countries: i feel like crying in lecture. incredibly moving and intelligent. the professor drops all sorts of knowledge from all sorts of spectrums. the reading is immense but it's the stuff that i read for fun anyways. beautiful. i pray that i get past the waitlist.
visual autobiography: never trust a class that has comic sans mas as its official syllabus font. full of fluffy art and snobby hipsters: i spot 4 black rimmed weezer glasses, 5 mop tops (including me, i suppose), and 6 kids adorned in bright colored ironic t-shirts. my politeness made me stay (it will be the death of me) but now i will drop it.
poetry for the people: a whole lot of dirty poets. my kind of people.

i will now shop around for 2 new classes... potentially a digital film editing class (called the "digital video: architecture of time"... the words "video" and "architecture" in the same course title, is this fate, my love?), a landscape drawing class (because my sketch drawings are messy like david choe, but the beauty through ugliness thing ain't coming through, it's just ugly), or that 3d modeling class.

me talking about all my new classes and shit, did i just bore you, or what?

it's that time of month again when we re-evaluate dreams. i felt like a shadow yesterday, like i had forgotten how to love. maybe it's because i had the flu, but let's not point fingers at anyone. this a reconstruction period. i'm not where i want to be yet. i'm almost there though. so close. this semester will be a semester of preparation. i need to get ready. something is coming.

i'm stuck in traffic today. for a butt long time. so i go through my cd case, pull out songs, and assemble a mixtape. err, mix-cd (i christen it "what's that in your cd case? vol I") i burn it at this hour because i am currently unable to sleep (i will regret my postponment of sleep tomorrow morning.)

james brown - superbad
rjd2 - bus stop bitties
captain funkaho - my 2600
lovage - stroker ace
joyo velarde - people like me
dj shadow and latyrx - storm warning
blackalicious - sky is falling
jorge ben - comanche
atmosphere - god's bathroom floor
blk sonshine (ft. masauko chipembere) - building
talib kweli (ft. mos def) - joy
michael franti and spearhead - sometimes
typical cats - what you thought hops
binary star - slang blade
j-live - yes
cunninlynguists - linguistics
latyrx - lady don't tek no
cody chesnutt - look good in leather

ahh, funkay... getchoo soul on, buh, buh.

i was supposed to write poems today. i was supposed to call contacts for the concert/poetry event today. i was supposed to wash the dog today. i was supposed to watch "family guy" with jeremy today. i was supposed to, i was supposed to, i was supposed to, blah, blah, blah.

"wonder boys" beautiful dope movie (and witty, don't you love witty things?) essential watching for anyone who wants to be a writer. "adaptation" too.

i also picked up a gilberto gil/jorge ben cd today. awesome listen! straight up fun and funky all the way from brasil. great music to write to. that and peanut butter wolf's "jukebox 45" joint.

wow. i just bumrushed out a short film script. i think i did a decently dope job, if i may be so cocky, not too bad for a first draft. i still think i could push it even further. i'm adapting one of the most beautiful short stories i've ever read into a potential short film. a love story that deals with the imaginary and the "what ifs" we always get hung up on.

quick life updates:

- home is full of good food. jeremy's hair is crazy long. mom is smiling. dad wears a wig to a barmitzvah. i am blackmailed into wearing a tuxedo. we have a dog named rufio ("small legs, BIG DONG!" says my brother.)
- "regret" will be screened (so far) at the san diego asian film festival and the san francisco korean media arts film festival. we never knew that we would get this far with a project that we almost gave up on (the moral: never give up on your shit, no matter how ugly it looks.) extremely exciting.
- theatre rice is tight, jason and i anticipate some good designing fun. i want to get out of acting, it's just not my thing right now.
- my thing right now: poetry. i will be a student teacher poet for june jordan's poetry 4 the people class. how frigging dope is that!
- my other thing: fuck crecno. trying to organize a concert/poetry to raise awareness about prop 54.
- missing moon: children book will be illustrated by jean, who can make magic happen with the pen. it's going to be unbelievable.
- architecture: i exploded, wanted to give up, sacrificed sleep, cash, and parties, posted sad aim away messages (chris chen: "dude. what's with the 'fuck everything' away messages?"), but still had some serious fun along the whole damn way. rockin' the creativity until i cry...
- school: hey, i dropped cognitive science. alright!
- books: reading the howard zinn reader and "almost transparent blue" by ryu murakami. insane shit.
- politics: can you say "howard dean in 2004?"
- food: had thit kho for dinner.
- rsf: i WILL work out more.
- room: a total mess.
- sara: beautiful.

please, don't let me be a dreamer, let me be a lifer. dreams are kisses we chase, born with a sweet-smell in the morning but soon to grow ancient (maybe it's too late, our dreams have gone to hide beneath the falling pink sky.) a life is the fight that's worth the sorrow. too many people are afraid of the sorrow. let's hold each other accountable. if you catch me dreaming but not doing i'll blush red like a tomato, not knowing how to face you after writing such a brutal blog entry.

september is on its way.

one day, i would like to wake up like a gust of wind, overflowing with mapel leaves and freshness. i would like to dare people to tattoo poems all over my skin (who has the courage to pronounce something permanent?) i would like to sing a song to someone as i wash their hair. i would like to fill a hollow space in my palm with sunflower seeds. i would like to fight for my life, we are trapped in a corner, there is no water and food left, and the sun is going down and "they only come out at night." i would like to dance with you on the thin edge between days and draw it out for as long as possible.

there i go dreaming again.