And before I go, here's another tidbit from [lyd]: This is [a news story] about Chinese diver Fu Mingxia who wore pants with sexist and obscene English words to a Coca-Cola-Sprite sponsored press conference. While I think it is ironically funny that something so simple could trouble the corporate image, one that also deals in a "common sense" about corporate sponsorship of Olympic (and other) athletes, the story also raises the issue of global, transnational corporations' reach. What is the effect of a giant like Coca-Cola doing press conferences in China with an Olympic star? Is the lingua franca of international exchange really the language of economics and images/marketing?

Ok, so let's foreground some cultural baggage for a sec. I seldom talk about how race impacts me or how others' perceptions of race might influence how they see me. I think a big reason for this is because there's a lot of unresolved guilt and anger still there. Just reading [lyd's post] about his father's exhortations reminded me of the uneasiness I have with familial relations that translates into cultural ideology. And it's difficult for me to think about because I know a lot of people (both Chinese and not) will claim that I am being ethnocentric in a Western kind of way to decry my dad's hope that I am not gay. It's quite a burden.

And so here is the problem (again): what is a culture? What is representation? What is stereotyping? Is how lyd presents the "broken English" of his father's letter (purportedly transcribed faithfully) a racist thing? Is it even if lyd seems steeped in the particular "Asian Pride" milieu of California (as far as I know)? What does it mean to be "Asian American"? This last question in particular is one I haven't been able to puzzle out. On the one hand, there is the superficial argument (meaning the argument about appearances, biological phenotypes, etc.) that I am already wholly determined by my race in interpersonal relations. And yes, I can perhaps mess with those understandings, manipulate them, but that is still the basis of racial knowledge. On another hand (there may be more than two here), there are the cultural trappings of being Asian -- ethnically specific traditions, mannerisms, decorations. But where do I stand in that case? I am only slightly more attached to the culture of my parents than someone like Joe is, though having grown up in their household. And it's not that I reject their "culture" or ways of doing things, but that I do not do things exactly as they do (which is not to say I do things exactly as a "white Westerner" would).

The complexities of these questions is what unnerves me and makes me not think about being Asian American. And still, being faced with simplistic renderings of the experience of race can be profoundly troubling. Here again is that issue of representation in the public eye, particularly in entertainment media like movies and television shows. Why are the only consistent representations of Asians or Asian Americans rooted so much in the comic value of stilted accents, outrageous and/or peasant clothing, an exoticism (often complete with silk robes, incense, the non-diatonic music of Chinese instruments)?

Times like these I wonder how I would be, what my understandings of race would be, if I had gone to UC Berkeley where I would not have been the random Asian American amongst students of other races. Would I have been a member of many Asian American organizations? Would I be more politically active? More socially active? How would I relate to other people, both of Asian descent and not?

And all of this is not even to begin touching on the ideology of "Asian American" as opposed to "Taiwanese American" or even "Chinese American." Nor does it address the problematics of thinking diaspora -- what about Taiwanese in Canada or Australia? Elsewhere? In Taiwan? What is my relationship to people there? The conflict between mainland China and Taiwan?

I was glad to have lived last year with J in Brooklyn. His family was also from Taiwan, but of a different "class" (not necesssarily in the economic sense -- his family left China during the Cultural Revolution as part of the wave of Nationalists who took control of Taiwan under Chiang Kai-shek -- part of the group of people who terrorized other Taiwanese like my family, instituting a reign of violence, terror, and political repression). The interesting thing is that J is very much invested in holding on to a Taiwanese identity and a solidarity with people of color in the United States. I would love to talk to him about how he came to such a political and social perspective (he did grow up in Berkeley, CA).

I never thought I would be in this situation. Not the one in which I pick up and move for my lover, but the one in which doing so would be difficult because I actually have stakes in staying. Last year when I moved from New York to North Carolina, I was sad to be leaving the City and my best friend from college, but the thought of reuniting with Joe was far more important than anything else. And perhaps this situation is a little different, too, because I have been with him now this past year. But I think the feeling of emptiness is because on the one hand, I'd be separated from Joe (if I stayed and he went), on the other, I'd be torn away from the studies in which I'd finally become invested (if I left the program to go with him).

So we talked yesterday and now we have a plan of action that is slightly less frightening than the stark alternatives above. The school had suggested to Joe that he could start next spring semester instead of this fall. If that is indeed possible, he could stay here through the end of December. I could try to finish my master's degree by the end of December (or at least have all but the thesis itself done, with the possibility of completing the thesis long-distance). Then, we could move together in January and not have to be apart at all. The two things I think we both realize we have to work with is 1) Joe taking the job and 2) me finishing my degree. There's just too much crap that Joe has gone through in applying for these jobs and also with his current job for him to forgo this opportunity. And I, too, have put too much into my program simply to abandon it now.

One other thing I'm hoping for is that I can take time off officially from my program, even after I finish the master's, so that I can return to the doctorate. If I decide after a semester off that I really want to continue on with the doctorate, I can jump back in the following semester and still be on par with my class (not that it would make such a big difference at that point since we'd all be taking classes at our own pace, working on our exams separately, etc. -- but the people I know would still be around and I wouldn't need to feel left behind or left out, something that can easily plague me).

So that's the plan for now. It'll be a lot of work, but I think it's worth it. It'll still be hard thinking that I won't be here next spring while facing my classmates and professors this coming year. But maybe I will just end up staying here through the full two-years of work. In any case, I'm feeling less paralyzed and scared now. Seems like these happenings are more positive, filled more with new opportunities than missed ones.

And when I move to MO, I'll continue to do the work with literature and theory that I've started here. I have shelves and shelves of books I need to read anyways. But I will also be able to focus a bit on creative writing since Joe has said he will support me for the most part. I will probably take at least a part time job to give my life some structure but also to save up money to start paying back those loans or to make coming back to graduate school easier financially. (It's so strange that I'm thinking so far ahead now. I forget how deeply mired I am in the work of this semester, how much I have left to do for all my classes.)

I don't know why I become so mentally paralyzed at times. It's as if my mind just doesn't want to deal with some things, so it shuts off completely. I can't read. I can't think at all.

I don't want to imagine what things are going to be like next year. Where will I be? What will I do? It's likely that Joe will be moving to another state for a teaching job. And I'm very happy for him that he got the job. But that leaves me with this strange empty feeling. Like the ground has dropped out from under me and I'm falling, falling endlessly. The little bit of ground I was struggling towards in regards to what I am doing in graduate school has disappeared, too. Is any of it important enough for me to pursue if it means I have to be away from him?

What defines me? Would it be best for me to move with Joe to MO? What would I do there? How about all that I've worked for here in NC these past nine months or so? The people, the courses, the relationships, the thinking . . .

I don't know what to do with my life anymore.

Ok. So I just got up from a 12-hour, uninterrupted (except by strange dreams) block of sleep. I was feeling dizzy, queasy, head-achy, and generally off yesterday. It probably was largely due to lack of sleep and a disruption in my sleep pattern. I'd been going to sleep, then getting up for a few hours, then sleeping a few more until it was time to get up. And still, I think I'm so much a psychosomatic. Maybe that's why I'm so fascinated by the material / the body and how thinking, feeling, etc. relates to it.

Hmmm . . . I'm a [New Aquarian]. I particularly agree with these Words to Live By: "There is no being, only becoming." (Personality survey via [this post].)

Went to a reading by [Randall Kenan] this afternoon. He read from his novel-in-progress about two men who were kidnapped as boys. I read his A Visitation of Spirits. I'm not sure if it's because his novel is hard to grasp or if I was in a haze when I read it, but I can't remember much what it was like. I liked what he said about teaching creative writing today, though. He said teaching makes him articulate what he knows and believes about writing. Otherwise, how he writes would remain more intuitive.

I think the main goal/process of my life will always be a continual search and struggle to articulate myself, feelings, ideas, etc. It's strange that I just don't feel as if I am ever articulate. A large impediment is the difficulty I have communicating with people orally. Class discussions are incredibly hard for me to enter because I rarely make my thoughts intelligible to others. Last week in J's class, for example, I was part of a group of students who were to steer the day's discussion. Everyone in the group put in their say, with at least some feedback from other class members. Then it came my turn. I tried to say something about Austen's obsession with the mechanisms of actions and how that related to his discussions of performatives. But all I got was silence. Blank stares. Frustration. But Monday when we met again for this class, the professor came up to me to say that he was going to let me start of class, to give me another chance to articulate my thoughts without the burden of having to "stimulate" conversation. And so I babbled for about a minute, and he managed to excavate from my words the ideas I was trying to bring up.

Anyhow, am trying to think of a paper I could give at a [student conference] here in April. The topic of the conference is open. I would like to do something about why I/we study literature. And a lot of such a paper would focus on why I think it's an important question for all English majors to consider. But I'm afraid it would come across as too "personal."

I keep seeing these notices in the library, "THIS BUILDING MONITORED BY CLOSED-CIRCUIT CAMERAS." Seems so insistent. I guess they're trying to warn away thieves and assailants, but is there something more? Are they admonishing "inappropriate" behavior in the more secluded areas of the library? I know university libraries and stacks particularly are notorious sites for naughty encounters . . .

Argh. Lost the tinted clip-ons for my glasses. When I put them down on a folding surface at the laundromat, I knew I would forget to pick them up on my way out. But I didn't want to bend, scratch, or break them in my pockets. Anyhow, I realized after I had returned home and set out again for the grocery store that I had left them behind. But when I went back, there was no sign of them. And the people working in the laundromat claimed not to have seen them.

So much time spent on errands today. But I've been putting off simple things like grocery shopping and laundry. If I just do the work every week . . .

Talked to J today about some possible paper topics for class. I'm thinking of looking either at speech acts and their relation to other acts (such as violent ones), especially in the context of the law (i.e. anti-discrimination laws, hate speech issues, etc.). The other thing I've been thinking about is the visual work of language. How does written language differ from spoken in its construction of meaning? Specifically, this project would be a comparative one -- looking at ways languages are constructed, whether words are based on phonetic alphabets or other symbol systems.

Thinking also about how my dad can be fun to talk to sometimes. I called home on Sunday evening to see how my parents were and how their trip to Thailand and Taiwan went. As long as my dad isn't trying to impose his views on me, offer unsolicited advice, or decrying decisions I've made in my life, he seems actually happy to talk to me and even supportive at times . . .

Have you heard the news about the House Education Committee? Republicans back in early February decided to move oversight of historically black and Hispanic colleges to a subcommittee on "Select" education that would also oversee juvenile delinquency, child abuse, and other social programs. Other colleges and universities would fall under the aegis of a subcommittee on "21st Century Competitiveness" that would also oversee science and technology issues.

Now, this is just an alarming move on the part of a party that insists education is a priority for everyone. We talked about this news in my class last evening. As usual, the others were incredibly smart in trying to figure out what this splitting of historically black and Hispanic colleges away from other colleges would mean in terms of funding, etc. And the picture is not pretty. BUT, did anyone mention anything about what might or should be done? Noooooooooooooo. And I felt too intimadated to say anything because everyone was so (melodramatically) lamenting the state of the US under W. One person mentioned that the article we read concerning this news indicated that Democrats were going to boycott the committee assignments. But is that really going to make a difference? I'm a bit hazy on how House committees work. While self-silencing can be a protest tactic, is it really the best way to go about challenging this move by Republicans to separate off HBC/HHCs?

In any case, I was so tired last night, too, or else I would've made more of an effort to interject my concerns into the discussion. As usual, the class tired me out even more than I already was because everyone talked incessantly about minutiae without considering larger issues addressed by the writers we read. I went to sleep early. Zzzzz.

I must be avoiding sleep. I'm sitting here in a warm apartment. The radiators above me are pounding out a slightly jerky rhythm. Thump. Thump. Clank. Thump. Clunk. Sometimes more muted, sometimes more stridently metallic. Thump. Clunk. Thump. Thump. It vibrates through the floor and walls. Feel it pulsing under my feet . . .

Hmmm....late nights, do you look at porn on the web, or do you [read] about it?

Been meaning to mention that this Wednesday afternoon past I joined some graduate students and faculty on a march to deliver a petition for teaching fellow pay raises to the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. The petition contained an analysis of graduate student expenses put together by [AGES] and signatures from students of numerous departments on campus requesting a raise in teaching fellowship remuneration to approach a living wage. As it is, graduate students must spend an inordinate amount of time on extra jobs or take out costly loans to get through degree programs.

In any case, the march was organized by the nascent teaching fellows and adjunct faculty [union] at [UNC Chapel Hill]. It was a strange march, actually. We marched silently across campus to the administrative offices. Then we requested an audience with the dean to deliver the petition. We quietly filed into her office. Three representations presented the petition and concerns of graduate students. The dean assured us that she was sympathetic to the financial difficulties and needs of graduate students, but could offer no institutional support without consulting the provost first. Then we left. All in all, a very different kind of march/protest than what I've experienced before. But I guess this was a first-encounter with the administration. Still, there was some sketchy move on the part of the administration to institute a meager pay-raise over winter break -- when students and faculty were not around to negotiate or discuss the raise -- when students had been assured that such discussions would not occur until January or February. I guess we'll see what happens.

Saw Hal Hartley's [The Book of Life] Friday evening with some friends. Strange little film. Was a little disturbed by P's mimicking of [Miho Nikaido's] accent after the movie. He said he loved the way she said simple things. Is this exoticization? I don't know. I'm troubled by representations and stereotypes. Where is the line between individual characterization and stereotyping? Reviewer [Dennis Lim] writes,

As Jesus— a world-weary, moody, thoughtful type, not to mention a softy at heart— agonizes over the fate of mankind, Satan (Thomas Jay Ryan, none other than Henry Fool) is amusing himself a few blocks away by convincing a compulsive gambler (Dave Simonds) to surrender his girlfriend's soul in exchange for a winning lottery ticket. Further simplifying this already crude parable, the woman in question (Miho Nikaido) is "terminally good"— she decides to spend her newfound millions dispensing soup to the homeless.

Where does the "idea" of a terminally good WOMAN end and the portrayal of a complex figure begin? Or is that not the tension involved? Grrr . . .

Jumping around these ideas, I've been thinking lately about hate speech and discrimination, hate crimes and violence. My class on the philosophy of language has steered me to these thoughts because of the sticky relationship between words and actions. The current controversy around Eminem is only the most recent example of the debates that arise from this conflict. Groups like [GLAAD] have protested Eminem's albums and his nominations for awards at the [Grammys] because they believe his profanity-laden invectives, often against women and gay men, should be stopped before it incites impressionable youths to violence. [Richard Kim] at [The Nation] has pointed out in ["Eminem--Bad Rap?"], however, that "Because the lines between critique and censorship, dissent and criminality, are so porous and unpredictable, attacking Eminem for promoting "antisocial" activity is a tricky game."

Just now looking up the Kim article, I came across another piece he wrote: ["Eminem: Grammy's Homecoming Queen?"]. Reminded me of the awful [speech] by the president/CEO of the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences. The call for toleration of provocative lyrics was so simplistic, as if the right of white suburban teenagers to expressions of their supposed-emasculation were the defining right of all people. . .

So where do I stand in all of this? It's hard to say. The work of groups like GLAAD I can't help but feel is important. I think there is a lot of truth to the idea that words can wound, that representations are violent. But when does incitement stop being the driving force of crimes? How much can you say without being responsible for what people take from your words?