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Sunday, December 28, 2003 C'est ma vie? Continuing the trend of creative snippets, here's a piece of a story I abandoned but am planning to start working on again (though I just realized that I stole a few sections from it for another story I've been rewriting--is it valid to put the same paragraph in two separate short stories?). Yes, it's fiction, though this chunk is rather autobiographical (no, I'm 22 now, not 19): My life. Born in Singapore, relocated at five, trapped in suburbia, in Redford (Deadford), Michigan. Chinese-American girl, nineteen years old, practically white (in skin tone and in action), to the amusement of my white friends and the horror of the Chinese. Not that I ever spend much time with the Asian kids--they池e so different from me. I completely avoided all of the APA groups on campus, and part of me wonders why. Why am I so scared to join them? Why do I try so hard to disassociate myself from all the stereotypes? I cringe mentally, just a little, when I知 in class and realize I知 surrounded by Asians--the studies say that ethnicities tend to group together in social settings and I知 determined not to fall into that trap, determined not to be another statistic proving how the university needs more integration. I知 desperate to break out of my type. To that end, I知 a theatre performance major, more-than-slightly-obsessed with England, with Europe in general. Funny, I never vocalized my neuroses until I got to college. Funny what those race/ethnicity classes will do to you. Funny how conscious you become of things hidden beneath the surface, things I long suppressed to voice. But none of that mattered in that moment, and I couldn稚 find the language to describe all the thoughts I hide, hide from everyone. Right then, only a phone call mattered, a phone call awaiting an answer. I told Kristin about a call that morning from my mom. ^ Top | 11:40 PM | | | 
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