Third Times the Charm

I've moved back to Texas and am living with my big brother in an apartment near the Galleria mall. It's not my ideal environment. Too much concrete and cars. Although we share a car, we try to get around as much as possible by bike. We have lot's of fun here and I am blessed to have such a wonderful sibling in my life. Portland was great but I longed for the familiarity of family too much while I was there so I didn't make the most of it. Well, we live and we learn :) Don't you agree? This is my third time living in Houston and I think it will fair much better than the first two.



The video is my brother, Ken, who is rollerblading while I ride his bicycle and film him. He's quite a character and I'm almost sure you would enjoy his company. He's 4 years older than me but doesn't look it and definitely doesn't act it. I love him. The streets of houston are not friendly, but we sometimes give each other piggy back rides on the bicycle and think of it as bringing joy and individuality to the urban landscape.

Portland Photos

people first, then place

it took two times for me to realize, great weather means nothing if I'm depressed and holed up in my room all day. social environment is very important. Why to San Fran and Denver running away from pain. I want to stop that behavioral pattern. Running away from the weather. But also, the negativity I felt the last few days before I left are not positive.

Gustavo's Taco Shack

There's a taco shack by the library i frequent that's great. It's run by a couple of hispanic guys in a mobile unit, you know the big white box-like van with the crazy sounding horn except thy're staionary by a mini-mart. I gaterh they have some type of arrangement with the store owners. I don't know their names but if I did one would be called Gustavo and his sidekick "Pedro".

Today, Gustavo's 12-year old daughter is tending the cash register. What a cutie. I order three tacos in spanish, "dos de carne asada y uno de pollo...para aqui". She asks me where I come from and I jokingly replied, "the library". "No, where are you originally from?" I giggled and said, "I know, I was only kidding. I am from Viet Nam". "Oh, cool" she says, "I have a friend from Vietnam and I can speak a little vietnamese." She says, "Ban que khong?" which is an endearing way to say "how are you". I am smitten. The tacos are always terrific and I enjoy them by the small outdoor patio they have set up and wonder how I can help them with their lives here. Everyone is working to survive and be happy. I hope that little girl and her family get everything they want out of the American Dream.

Longing to Belonging

I've been longing for a feeling of belonging. I am sitting at an Asian supermarket here in Portland at one of the tables they set out for someone to eat at if they bought something from the store and want to enjoy it here. I haven't bought anything from the store yet but i have pretty much learned to freeload any and everything i can in life.

I am writing out of a feeling of disassociation, in terms of the need to belong to someone or some group. My roommate has a hawt girlfriend and they are always laughing and enjoying each other...awww, how sweet...barf! I don't want to see that! Sometimes I hear them giggle behind closed doors and that's when i imagine myself barging in and throwing hot water on them. I dunno if that would take the pain of not belonging to someone away. Would I enjoy it? probably.

So what is it like for a person to uproot himself and be in a place he is not from? Who does he belong to? I guess you could say I still belong to my family, mother father sisters and brothers. More frequent visitation would instill a stronger sense of belonging. I found a subculture of cyclists here in Portland. It basically resembles an audience at a sex pistols or any other punk 80's band concert. I feel a sense of belonging with them.

Went dumpster diving yesterday. Couldn't find any food. My friend, Ryan had done it the day previous and scored 5 bags of sweet rolls. Not 2 or 3, but five. The only thing i got for my troubles was an accidental poke in the finger by a hypodermic needle who knows where it's been (joking).

Sometimes when i go to a new city I always try to find the Asian part of town and go to a Pho restaurant. Always helps to remind me of my mom and home cooking. I remember being in Denver and frequenting the one and only Vietnamese buffet that I have ever encountered. I wonder why they don't do it more often. It was pretty good. You could make bowls and bowls of prepare-it-yourself Pho and bun bo hue. Not bad I would say.

Those are the small gems I enjoy being away from friends and family. But it's also important to not feel like I don't belong. I try to mitigate this pain by writing to friends, text messaging, instant messaging, etc. There is a lonely looking lady eating all by herself across the store from me I can spot her from where I am. Then what appears to be an acquaintance of hers approaches and makes small talk, even pats her on the shoulder and they exchange pleasantries and these gestures make me feel warm inside.

The Vietnamese are so cute with their public displays of affection. Rarely is there hugging or kissing. It's smiles and love taps on the shoulder. Cute. Note to self: try to involve yourself in more love tapping. *ahem*