Chasing Dreams

I used to think that if you dreamed hard enough and fought all odds to pursue it, you'd be contented once you attained it.

There comes a point when having a dream or an ambition isn't enough.

Dreams aren't everything, guys. Yes, dreams may steer you in a certain direction, but they're not everything. Don't be discouraged if you don't end up where you wanted to be. Don't feel like you've failed yourself if you tried hard and things didn't work out.

Because at the end of the day, it's not the dream that really matters, but the journey.

I love road trips, not just for the crazy singing friends and the endless amount of snacks that come with them, but for the ride. The longer the journey, the better. I went on a 12-hour drive to Chicago one time and my butt hurt after sitting for so long that I actually had to get out and walk a little bit. But my favorite part about road trips is the view. I love staring out at the flashing landscapes as they dance past my window. During that trip to Chicago, we passed through Missouri and half of Illinois. Although most of the scenery consisted of endless fields that stretched into the horizon, I was glad I saw them anyway, because I saw more of the South/Midwest than I ever did and would.

Sometimes, the journey gets mundane and you start to wish you were at your destination. Journeys like these actually help you appreciate your destination even better.

Often, we get so caught up chasing our ambitions that we forget to live. We forget that life itself is one huge blessing.

There's gotta be more to life than chasing dreams. It's through cherishing every aspect of the journey and cultivating healthy relationships that we learn what it truly means to live.

The Price of New York

Hello. I've lived in New York for three months now. Contrary to popular belief, New York isn't just a big city; it's a world that dances to its own rhythm, a twisted cacophony punctuated by blaring sirens.

It's a concrete jungle crafted for the strongest individuals. For most people, every day is a selfish race for survival. I'm saddened by the escalating amount of homeless and crazy people in this city. New York is densely overpopulated and many are getting laid off due to the dip in economy. Some of them force themselves to rise up and try again, while others turn to the streets and put their lives at mercy of strangers' feet. And the worst part? People have seen too much, they actually find comfort in turning a blind eye to the misery that revolves around them. So they avoid it altogether like a disease.

In a city that functions on a meticulous schedule, time is extremely precious. Every minute counts. People zip through crowds and race down flights of stairs just so they can catch the 6PM train because the next train will cost them 5 more minutes of mindless waiting. Missing one train means missing the next bus or the next train, and it's usually a problem when you're riding on someone else's time. It's a domino effect.

It still feels like yesterday when I blogged about moving to this city. I remember the anxiety that lingered for weeks when I moved here. Despite shifting into my new cozy apartment in Queens and settling into the neighborhood, I didn't feel totally at ease until mid-March. I guess you could say I was homesick for quite a while.

Transitioning to a new city isn't the same as transferring to a new school, like when I arrived in America two and a half years ago as a foreign transfer student and I was automatically enrolled in classes that kept me busy. Needless to say, student life was much easier. Despite my frequent complaints regarding deadlines, intense workloads and noisy neighbors, my main goal was pretty easy: study hard, ace my classes and graduate.

My goal in New York was different. I was no longer a student at a university, but a fresh graduate with minimal experience in my field (only a few internships riding on my back) trying to break into one of the most competitive industries in the country. The main reason I came to New York was to score a job or an internship that aligned with the requirements of my work visa. (lots of legal properties to consider when you're an international student here)

The comfortable carpet was pulled from beneath my feet, and I found myself in a foreign city that seemed so much bigger and scarier. I thought going to a foreign country for school was a step into the real world. Well, technically it was, since I was brushing new grounds with fresh feet that hadn't traveled this far. Soon I began to understand what it meant to be in the "real world."

They say that in the real world, people are mean, money doesn't come easy and you have to fend for yourself because no one is going to watch your back for you. New York is the real world. It was here that I learned to tap into the real essence of independence.

I didn't have an adviser to sit down with me and give me advice on what to do and how to get there, unlike in college. On the bright side, God was good. He sent people I could turn to for help when needed, but for the most part, I was pretty much on my own in this new journey as I struggled to establish my balance in the buzz of this big city.

Speaking to several people in New York, I noticed a pattern rising through their stories. Each of them was drawn to this city for the energy and enthusiasm that New York had to offer. Everyone wanted a taste of the Big Apple. I saw a little bit of myself in them, and a little bit of them in me. Although we had different career priorities, we weren't very much different at all. At the end of the day, we came to New York for similar reasons: we were soaked up with the perks of this city before we even moved here. We brought fresh determinism to the table, thinking our willpower was strong enough to get us through the toughest times.

But living in New York comes at a price, and it's not just the expensive rent and living expenses.

Chelsea* was a model from Seattle who moved to New York three weeks ago because she scored a deal with a modeling agency here. She was housed in a models' apartment, and based on the way she described it (six girls in a one-bedroom apartment), it didn't seem very exciting. Unless you're hooked up with the right connections, modeling isn't as glamorous as the media paints it to be, especially when you're a new model trying to break into the NYC scene. You're up against, say, a million other girls as good as you, all vying for the same dream.

Weri* came about three years ago, but still struggles in the friendship department. Nobody really has the time to chat. Nobody really wants to. You go to a cafe, you get your coffee and isolate yourself in a corner. You could try to start a conversation on a crowded subway, but it'd be tough finding someone who cares. Everyone's a skeptic and will judge you for being too friendly. So when it comes to mingling, you have to choose the right place, time and person for that. And frankly, not everyone has the time to cultivate a friendship while riding on a subway. It's funny how you can be in one of the most populated cities in the world, and still feel all alone. That being said, New York is a society structured on individualism.

They tasted the Big Apple and realized it wasn't as sweet as they'd hoped it would be. It was more bitter than they imagined. The only reason they haven't moved elsewhere is because they like the lifestyle and the liberty that New York accentuates. It's the reason they came, and it's the reason they stayed.

New York is easily admired for everything the movies and novels depict it to be - a vibrant world of swirling colors, built on high culture and high fashion, polished with an endless array of shops and restaurants and exploding with so much talent and creativity. To a large extent, yes, it's fair to say that New York fits the profile of a great metropolis.

But it's not perfect. The way I see it, New York is shaped by its imperfections. Grungy subways. Impatient New Yorkers. Competitive minds. Rude (and I mean, really rude) vendors. Nowhere is ever perfect - every gorgeous city comes with a price and sometimes that price may be heftier than you think. For Weri, it came at the cost of a social life. For Chelsea, it nicked at her self-esteem.

But there is no place like New York, and that's what this city prides itself on. Dreams are fashioned long before the dreamers set foot in New York, and this boom town is the machine that churns most dreams into reality. You just have to let it happen.

Stanley* has lived here for more than a year, and he shared some of his experiences with me two weeks ago. I'll never forget what he said:

 "You might reach a point when you feel like everything's just falling apart and you're hitting rock bottom. It's okay, this city does that to people. It makes you feel like crap sometimes, and you start to question what you're doing here and whether you should stay. At that point, you might even be tempted to pack up and leave. Many people give up and just leave because it's so much easier that way. But if you just learn to hang in there, it'll get better. Things will pick up, and before you know it, the rough patch will smooth out. You'll have a new sense of love and appreciation for the city, more than you did when you first started out."

He's right.

My perception of New York hasn't changed too much. I still think it's a wonderful city bursting at the seams with so much life and culture. It's a fascinating place to be in. It's one of a kind.

I'll admit there are days when I feel trapped in this crazy cycle and I worry if I made the right choice coming here. I love the city, but I have to commute 45 minutes to work, and when I get out of the office I'm exhausted and just ready to go home. It's a routine that repeats itself every single day (except Wednesdays, that's when I'm off). I just feel physically and emotionally drained half the time. I wish there was an instant remedy for that.

If you asked me whether my move to New York was worth it, I'd still say yes. I'm gaining a deeper sense of independence each day, a trait I'm actually proud of because my timid self never thought I'd make it on my own. I'm trying to grow through the tough times and I'm cherishing the good ones. After all, nothing comes easy. And the only way to grow is through experience and time.

If I could go back in time and change the course of things, I'd still choose to come here. There are a lot of things I regret in life, but moving to New York (as outlandish as it seemed back then) certainly isn't one of them. It's the one crazy thing I'm glad I did!

Growth

Growth stems from personal experiences. The best way to grow is to put yourself out there and learn. Make mistakes and learn from them. Encourage yourself to pursue new things. Do them, even if they scare you at first.

Staying in one position doesn't benefit in the long run. It's comfortable and convenient but not constructive. Your leg may be on the gas pedal, but you won't move forward if you don't push down on it. 

Lately, I'm trying to coax myself out of my comfort zone. IIt might take a while for me to adapt to my new surroundings, but if I don't put myself out there and embrace this new world, I'm simply denying myself the chance of excelling in a new environment.

Fortunate to Fly

I had the privilege to travel the west coast with my family. In December, they flew to the States for my graduation and the day after my graduation, we hopped on the plane to Los Angeles and stayed there for 4 days before moving on to San Francisco. From San Francisco, we made a quick trip to Las Vegas. In Vegas, we boarded a tour bus to the Grand Canyon in Arizona, then headed back to Vegas, and the next evening, flew back to San Francisco. Our long, adventure-filled family holiday came to an end yesterday. They're currently on their way home to Malaysia as I'm writing this. I came back to Arkansas last night and am thankful to be staying with the Neals, my second family.

 It wasn't easy saying goodbye to my family, after all the great times we'd shared together throughout those fun-filled weeks of traveling. The last time I'd seen them was in the summer of 2011, when I flew back to Malaysia for three months before returning to Arkansas to finish my final year of college. The first time I flew to the States was 2010, and that was really hard for me because I didn't want to say goodbye to them. I'd grown up under the shelter of my parents' wings for a long time. I depended on them for strength and wisdom. They were my mentors; they nurtured me and guided me through every moment in life.

So leaving my home and my family behind was a terribly painful thing to do - not only was I afraid, I was uncertain that I'd be fine on my own. They were concerned for me too. Of course, the first few months by myself in a foreign country wasn't totally easy, but as time went by, I got accustomed to the new culture and learned to adapt to my surroundings. I also learned to step out of my shell and embrace the unknown. I still depended on my parents for support, but I soon realized I was able to make big decisions on my own and rely on my judgment. I was able to handle important matters concerning myself without relying too much on my parents. 

I was becoming more independent, and I was proud of myself for this. The environment coaxed me out of my shell. I didn't think I was capable of it, but time proved me wrong. 

When I saw my family again in December, I was overwhelmed. I hadn't seen them in over a year. It was an emotional moment for all of us as we huddled together in a tight embrace, each of us trying to stifle our tears. I was able to feel the warmth of their hugs and smell their familiar scents on their shoulders. I didn't have to go home to feel at home - home had come to me.

 I remember hugging my mom at the airport, thinking how lucky I was to be able to hold her in my arms again and how I wish I didn't have to let go. I knew time was running out because in a couple of weeks, they'd be on the plane back to Malaysia and I'd be on my own again. 

During the trip, while they depended on me for navigating and organizing the trip, I depended on them for comfort and strength. Once again, I felt like that scared girl at the brink of leaving her home. I'd forgotten what it was like to trust my parents with the tough decisions. It was nice having them around as familiar pillars of strength.

 So when they left, I was hit with that same void of fear. Not knowing what my future would be like. Not knowing if I'd make the right decisions concerning my employment and living situation. Not knowing if I'd make it in the real world. Suddenly I wanted my parents to help me with the big decisions so I wouldn't have to make them myself. 

But I knew there was only so much they could do. The rest of it was up to me. It was my future, and I had to call the shots. Before they left, my dad told me, "No matter what happens. We will always support you."

Just two days ago, we were having breakfast together as a family at a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco. We joked around and talked about the rest of the plans for our final day in the city. And yesterday, I hugged them goodbye before watching them fade into the line of people at the security checkpoint. The moment I turned and walked away, I knew I was on my own again. I'm not sure when I'll see them again. It could be 6 months or longer. Maybe even a year.

I'm really grateful that my parents chose to support my decision to study in America. They released me into the realms of this country, one so far and different from the one I grew up in. By doing so, they allowed me to find my own wings. I'd been living under the comfort of their loving wings for so long that I never had to use my own. This discovery led to a fresh sense of determination and courage that fueled a lot of my decisions.

I was fine on my own and I will continue to be. I've graduated and now a whole new world awaits me. I haven't found a job yet, but I'll keep looking. I don't know where this new journey will take me, but I'll have to keep going to find out. 

It's time to lift those wings again and fly.

Happiness

Recently, my friend tweeted me saying:

"You're such a happy go lucky person, aren't you? How I wish I'm half of you!"

Gosh! :)  It's the coolest thing anyone's said to me all week. I'm really glad some people still see optimism in me. That tweet caught me by surprise, because honestly, optimism was the last thing on my mind when I struggled the last few weeks just to remain sane.

I was under so much stress - mostly self-imposed stress - that I was slipping away day by day until I became a shell without a soul, just a husk of who I used to be.

I wasn't sleeping well, and I had so many deadlines to meet all at once. On top of that, I was stressed about my job search and apartment hunting, and I was just feeling overwhelmed with everything that was going on. I also struggled with concentrating and remembering things.

People would ask me, "So what did you do today?" and instead of responding right away like a normal person, I would actually have to comb through my thoughts for 10 seconds to remember what I did, because half the time, I couldn't remember what I did. I was so distracted.

I didn't feel like myself. I lost the interest to communicate. I moved like a zombie. I became apathetic. I stopped caring. There were brief moments when I couldn't see the point in trying.

I was able to meet all my deadlines and perform well in classes, but I wasn't happy. I worked like a machine - I'd pour all my energy into my assignments, sacrificing sleep and free time, and whenever I had a couple hours to relax, guilt would creep into my conscience for watching TV or just "chilling." At the back of my mind, I still had a long list of things to do, and I kept telling myself I was wasting precious time on pointless activities. I had a chat with my mom yesterday and she told me I was pushing myself too hard. She wasn't the first to say it. See, I didn't understand why people were always telling me that. But now I do.

Everything was taking a toll on me physically, emotionally and socially. Happiness slowly became an illusion. I immersed myself in TV shows, food, shopping because they made me forget about my problems for a while, but that was what they were: temporary.

Thankfully, one morning I woke up and realized that happiness - true happiness - can't be chased. It has to be created. And we're capable of creating our own happiness because all of us have it in ourselves, we just need to discover it.  Sometimes, we forget about it when things get rough. We forget what it feels like to be genuinely happy, to laugh without holding back and to dance in the rain.

If not for the constant support of my loved ones and His grace in my life, I would still be stuck in that dark hole. I began to see that it doesn't take much to be really happy. Happiness is a choice. As cheesy as it sounds, it's true. It's all about counting your blessings.

When life gets hard, count your blessings. Think of all the people who have your back. Think of all the things that made you smile this week - even little things. Think of where you were 5 years ago and how you have grown. Think of how far you've come in life, think of all the people you've met, think of all the opportunities you've been given.

Listen to the slow rhythm of your breathing, and rejoice in the truth that you've been given another day to cherish and live the one life you were blessed with.

Travels Throughout The Summer

Summer was fun and exhilarating, every month provided a new adventure lurking around the corner, just waiting to be experienced.

I spent all of May and most of June in Arkansas, where I rested, spent quality time with some of my favorite people, and started an online internship with Lusso Bags (an anti-human trafficking organization based in San Diego, CA). The internship granted me the opportunity to work with Nicole, the founder of the organization, and she was such a wonderful person. I also got to interview some really inspirational figures and write about them, including film producer Jenny Schweitzer on her upcoming film, Phu Nguyen on his story and inspiration behind his jewelry, Malia Everette on her passion for the human condition and her decision to work with Global Exchange, and finally, Holly Austin Smith, a survivor of child trafficking.

You can read the articles by clicking on the links above. :)

I turned 22 on June 13 and as a birthday treat, my cousin and her husband took me on a little weekend getaway to New Orleans, Louisiana.

There, I found myself indulged in a very different environment as I opened my heart and mind to Cajun demeanor and delicacies. I lived in the French Quarter (the heart of tourism in New Orleans), a very convenient location to all the hot spots. At night, I strolled down Bourbon Street for the first time, taking in the clash of jazz music against house music blasting from night clubs, the smell of grime and alcohol, the jangling of plastic beads around people's necks as they weaved their way through the slow-moving crowd.

Summer days in New Orleans were blistering hot, but I was lucky to be there on a weekend where it'd rained a few days prior to my visit, so the afternoon that I spent walking there was accompanied by a light breeze. I doubt there's ever a place quite like New Orleans, where the historical French influence enriches the lifestyle and mannerisms of its environment and people. You see it in the architecture, you taste it in the gumbo, and you hear it in the locals' conversations.

For more pictures of New Orleans, visit: www.carissagan.blogspot.com

A few weeks before my birthday, I couraged up and bought myself a return ticket to New York. I'd been toying over that thought for a long time, and the timing finally seemed perfect. I was looking forward to this trip, until two weeks before my flight. That was when everyone around me started throwing me warnings about New York. "New York is really dangerous. People get robbed in daylight. Don't take the subway by yourself after 9PM, don't acknowledge strangers who start random conversations with you, don't stay out at night, etc." And the worst was, "If someone attacks you, remember to aim for the soft spots."

All these negative images were running through my head. I mean, I know nowhere on earth is safe. Crime doesn't elude even the most tranquil place on earth. Small towns have their fair share of crime too. But New York, with its huge influx of people and history in escalating deaths and mishaps, suddenly ranked #1 on the danger list. In the meantime, I was doing research and writing articles on human trafficking for my internship, so hearing all these things just made me a lot more nervous about being in New York by myself. Although I would be staying with friends, I would be traveling by myself (mostly). And I'd never traveled alone in a foreign city. The thought of having to take the subway alone scared me, since I'd heard too many horror stories of the subway.

But well, New York was an eye-opening adventure. My perspectives changed after living there for a few days.

I gained a fresh sense of independence from taking the subway almost daily, and realized I actually enjoyed traveling alone. I did spend an entire day to myself, where I viewed exhibits in the MOMA, ate the infamous chicken rice at the side of the road, walked several blocks to Fifth Avenue and then Bryant Park, where I basked in the coolness of the evening. I spent 90% of my time in New York hanging out with people and meeting friends I hadn't seen in ages. The family that I lived with was generous enough to accommodate me the entire month, and I'm still entirely grateful for their hospitality. They took care of me and even introduced me to their friends.

New York was a fresh change from Arkansas. It was like entering a whole new world. I loved being surrounded by the skyscrapers, I didn't mind the terrible traffic (in fact, after leaving New York, I missed the incessant sound of sirens and honks), I liked the different cultural convergences, I liked almost everything about the big city. I grew up in a busy city myself, so the hurried frenzy that New Yorkers acknowledged as their lifestyle did not throw me off; in fact, it only fueled my love for the city.

I have so much to say about New York, but each time I sit down to write about it, the words get knotted up in my head. Too many strings of thoughts, all pushing their way to the front, until the mind can no longer comprehend what to say first.

So one day when I've worked through my awful writer's block, you'll see a post about New York here, detailing everything that I want to say about the city.

My last stop of the summer before school started was Texas. Texas was something I'd talked about with Jeremy way before summer even began. He'd suggested the idea of touring the major cities in Texas and I happily agreed. I'd always wanted to visit Texas, having heard so much of its diversity and population. Oh, and how could you ever say no to Southwest's amazing flight deals? Also, I saw it as a good chance to catch up with Jeremy Foo. I hadn't seen him since we both went back to Malaysia last summer. So about two weeks after returning from New York, I packed my bags again and embarked on a short flight to Dallas, where I was picked up at the airport by Jeremy and three of his friends from college.

Emily, Mai, Jessica and Jeremy 

The Texas trip was exactly how I'd envisioned it to be - and better. We were on the road every day, going to new places and trying new food. In Dallas, we visited the large aquarium. In Houston, we went to the Museum of Fine Arts, NASA Space Center and the Museum of Natural Science. In San Antonio, we went to Max Lucado's church, the Alamo and Sea World. Apart from all the traveling and sightseeing, I met so many amazing, passionate Christians on that trip who inspired me to pursue God wholeheartedly once again.

I'd fallen out of my walk with God a long time ago, way before summer started. It was hard to keep my faith up when the waves were rough. The people I met and the things we did in Texas really changed my perspectives and made me realize how much I'd missed having that close, intimate relationship with God. My life once revolved around Him, but when hard times came, I failed. But He reached out to me again and reminded me how loved I am, and that was all it took for me to leave the meaningless life I'd been living, and pursue one that was richly rooted in Christ.

On the road from Dallas to Houston

It was spiritually refreshing - that was what it was. So by the end of the trip, I had collected a large album of memories. I came back to Arkansas with a surge of excitement for the new semester, feeling more recharged than I'd ever been.


Looking back, I feel so blessed to have been able to visit so many different places all in one summer. God has been soooo good. :)

I would love to blog about Texas right now, but I have assignments to get to. It's Sunday, the last day of the weekend, and I hate how homework always piles up until the night before school. :P It's also my final semester because I'm graduating in December. Oh, how quickly time flies. Just two years ago, I'd arrived in USA, all jittery and excited about beginning my first semester in the States with two full years ahead of me. And now, I'm actually going through my last semester as an undergraduate student. I don't know if I'll pursue grad school, but even if I do, it's not going to be any time soon. I'm planning to get a job after graduation and maybe a couple years later when I've earned a decent living, I'll be able to afford grad school. :) But I'd hate to stop learning, because learning keeps me going. Being a student is such a beautiful experience. I don't think I'll ever be ready to give that up.

I used to envy my friends who were graduating at the end of the semester, and they'd tell me how nervous they were about graduating. "If I could stay in school one extra semester, I would," they'd told me. And I thought they were nuts for saying that. "If I could graduate at the end of this semester, I'd gladly do so!" I'd told them. The weight of those words hadn't sunk in yet at that point, until recently.

I don't have all the time in the world. In a few months, I'll be clad in a black graduation gown and cap and crossing the stage in a crowded hall to receive my certificate. When that moment arrives, I want to feel totally proud of my accomplishments, not just because I've completed my degree, but because I've made every second my college years count.

And that moment starts now.

Be The Change

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

Start with the person in the mirror.

The Good Life

Basking in the sun by the cool waters. Drowning out the numerous conversations circulating the deck with music in my ears. Snacking on cajun peanuts and sipping on cold beverage. Letting time pass slowly and peacefully, without a care in the world.

Life is good. Too good.

And I'm starting to think I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to relax, to watch Desperate Housewives all day, to eat to my heart's content, to sleep until noon, to enjoy the freedom and relaxation that comes with this long summer break.

When I was drowning in assignments last semester, I yearned for this break. Summer was all I really wanted. I didn't have any major plans yet, but I knew for sure that I'd be free of crazy assignments. For once, I'd be able to sit back and catch up on all the movies, TV shows and books I'd missed. I'd be able to catch up on all the sleep I'd sacrificed too.

But after a few weeks of tasting freedom at its best, the laid-back lifestyle is stirring some guilt in me. I find myself looking for things to worry about, such as my summer plans. I don't have everything sorted out yet, but I'm sure I'll figure them out somehow, one way or the other. The anticipation makes me nervous.

And then I worry that I'm taking my summer for granted. I fear I'm just wasting the days away with mindless activities. If I strive for productivity, I may disappoint myself.

But everyone else is telling me to just enjoy the moment.

"It's okay to bum around and just chill out. You've had a long semester and this is your break. You deserve it. Do what you want. Have a lazy day." That's what they say.

I think I've had enough lazy days. I mean, I enjoy bumming. But I don't think I could do it continuously for the next few months. However, maybe I need to loosen up just a little and learn to appreciate the freedom and bliss before they fade away, like all moments do.

Strength

I thought being strong meant being able to face the journey ahead.

I thought it was the ability to conceal your cracks with a smile so the world couldn't peek into your despair.

But I was wrong.

Strength is so much more than holding yourself together while everything else falls apart.

Over the years, I learned that strength is the ability to humbly confess your weaknesses and to learn to accept the help offered by people who care about you.

It's about letting others in, not shutting them out.

It's about letting go of pride to accept your imperfections not as flaws, but as platforms for growth.

It's not always measured by how tightly you can hold on, but rather in the courage it takes to let go.

Maybe it's not about fighting the situation, but embracing the lessons that come with it.

And most importantly, it's about staying rooted to your faith even when the world tries to tear you down.

Being strong isn't just about being able to face the journey ahead. It also means having faith that the journey ahead will make you stronger.

Endurance

Watching the world swirl around you in a flurry of colors, flashing and dancing before your very eyes. 

But you remain motionless, emotionless.

You're waiting for an answer... an answer that may never come. Your future depends on it.

And then the waves crash upon you, sweeping you off your feet, into a limitless ocean with no beginning and no end, just a middle. The middle of nowhere.

How do you move on from here?

At the end of the day, it's all about endurance.

No matter how crazy  things may seem, there's really nothing left to do but to wait. 

Reflection

My mother's face filled the screen as we Skyped yesterday. Her short black curls have gained several inches since I hugged her goodbye at the airport last year and now they grazed her shoulders. She wore the same square black-framed glasses that perched on the bridge of her nose and no makeup. But she looked great, as always.

"So, how is life over there?" she asked, adding, "Now that you've been in the States for over a year, is there anything you would change about your experience, any regrets about going there?"

That was a a pretty philosophical question coming from my mother, who usually showers me with advice on building a healthy relationship with God and with my food.

"Life is good," I replied after a moment. "I've learned so much here, and no, I have no regrets. None at all."

That's the truth.

***

I came to America in 2010, with a very fresh, innocent perspective of the country and its culture. My perception of America was shaped by the movies I watched growing up, the books I read, and the stories I heard from friends who'd been here.

All that certainly framed my idea of this grand country, but none of them were my original perspectives.
I think in order to form a real perspective of a place, one has to truly experience it on his or her own.

Before I came, some of my friends who were already studying in the States advised me not to hold my hopes too high, because it would only lead to disappointment. I frowned, wondering what that really meant. I promised myself I wouldn't have high expectations of my campus or the people and the culture, but it was hard not to. On the plane ride here, I couldn't prevent little nuggets of excitement from rousing my anticipation of the place.

How could I ignore the warm rush of excitement as I stepped onto the smooth white floor of Chicago O'Hare's international airport? I'd always longed to visit America, and now I was finally here. Years of waiting and wishful thinking had finally earned me a dream opportunity to study in the States. From here, I would board my next plane to Arkansas, which would be my home for the next 2 years.

The first few days in America were fun because I lived with Rob and Dina, my first American family. They were great hosts and took me around Little Rock, the capital of Arkansas. I sampled various Southern meals, which were mostly deep fried or heavily salted. The portions were way bigger than I was accustomed to, but I didn't mind. I learned the art of boxing leftovers of my platter home, which meant packing the rest of the unfinished food into a styrofoam box, and then having it for another meal.

They also brought me to Walmart to get my groceries and necessities for dorm life, because I would be moving into my dorm in a few days. Walmart welcomed me with its high ceilings, cream-colored tiled floors and wide selection of goods. I fell in love with the store right away. Where else could you get a huge box of cereal for $2? Or a stack of 4 plastic plates for $1?

When I moved into my dorm for the first time, I hugged Rob and Dina farewell and carried my belongings into the wide lobby of Baridon Hall, the dorm I was going to be living in for the next two semesters. I'd signed up for dorm life because I wanted to experience it. Despite several negative comments about dorm life, I was eager to form my own perceptions of it. 

So, I moved into my unit (it was called a suite, but not the grand penthouse suite its name invokes, unfortunately) which consisted of a plain living room with a couple of dull brown sofas, a shared bathroom with two sinks and a toilet and a shower cube, and two bedrooms. There were supposed to be 4 of us living in the suite, so that meant I was going to have a roommate. I was so nervous about meeting her. I'd never had a roommate and a huge part of me wondered if we were going to get along.

That night, I unpacked my bags and filled my wooden drawers with all the clothes I'd brought, stacked a small corner of the sink with the few toiletries I had, and dressed the naked mattress with the yellow and brown bedspread my mother had forced me to take along from Malaysia.

Taken the first night I moved in

I had arrived a week before the actual move-in day, so 3/4 of the dorm was empty apart from the RAs and a couple of students who'd moved in early, like myself. I was all alone in my suite, and for the first time in my life, I felt completely alone and maybe even a little terrified of the silence.

I lay on the spongy mattress which would be my bed for the next 9 months or so, and stared solemnly at the low ceiling. I wondered how many other people had slept on this mattress, and what activities had taken place on this mattress. And then I immediately cringed. Okay, maybe I don't want to know. 


Even though I'd covered every inch of the mattress with the cheerful bed spread, which my mother washed at home before I folded it into my suitcase, there was nothing homey about this bed, and definitely nothing cheerful about this place.  That was the moment nostalgia decided to launch its delayed attack.

I longed for someone to talk to, but there was no internet for me to send emails on my iPhone, and the only phone I had was a little phone I'd purchased from Walmart, which only consisted of a $20 credit. It was to substitute the remaining weeks before I signed up with AT&T. But for now, I couldn't text or call internationally, and I had to preserve my credit (aka minutes over here) because my credit would be deducted each time I received a call or text. Things just worked so differently here.

Suddenly I craved for the comfort of my home. I closed my eyes and tried to picture myself back in my bed, surrounded by the aquamarine walls of my little bedroom and the mixture of floral and fruity scents from my perfume collection on the shelf near my bed.

I tried to imagine my brother, surfing the internet across the room like he always did, and then my mom's cooking wafting through the slit beneath the door. I saw my entire family sitting at our dining table, eating breakfast together. It would be morning in Malaysia now. I could see our apartment, the one I grew up in, and the truth sank in, deeper than before. Like a knife, it stabbed into the pit of my stomach, until I started sobbing into my pillow.

I was over 9,500 miles from everything and everyone I cared about. They were just too far away. How was I supposed to get through the next few days without being able to talk to them? It was a horrible feeling, being trapped in a foreign place with no life support, apart from Rob and Dina who lived 45 minutes away, and God. I was forced to adapt quickly.

As the days went by, that awful feeling of homesick only worsened. I missed my mother's cooking. I wasn't thrilled about the greasy pizzas they served at the cafeteria, or that weird creamy goo they called "broccoli cheese soup." Back home, these were things I'd avoid at all cost. But here, they were daily supplements. People ate french fries for breakfast if they wanted to. They drank coke like water. They substituted their dinners for microwaved pasta and Doritos. All this exposition astonished me.

My ability to communicate in English was a bonus, because it made everything way easier. The Southern accent still sounded foreign to my ears. It was so rich, just like the gravy they covered their biscuits with. People seemed surprised that I could speak good English. They seemed to have a perceived notion that international students struggle with English. I thought it was unfair to assume that all international students didn't speak English.

And then, the actual move-in day arrived. I was thrilled to meet my roommate. I could only hope she felt the same way. She turned out to be everything I'd prayed she wouldn't be. Not only was she sort of an anti-social, she was extremely messy, unhygienic and also a twisted person down to the core. She stole some of my tops and pretended she didn't know about them. She even stole two of my underwear (I didn't ask her about this because it was just awkward and really, really gross) and she fabricated facts against me, putting me in danger with the housing committee.

I could only question God why he'd allowed my first roommate experience to be a horrible one. But it turned out to be a real challenge to keep my Christian values in check. Maybe it was a test, after all. I didn't blow up in her face, nor did I steal her tops and flaunt them around the room beneath a black jacket. It took so much strength to grit my teeth and stay calm, and to ignore the wreck of a roommate I had. She hogged the living room with her clothes strewn all over the place, while she sprawled lazily on the couch, all 5'10 of her, and lived off Coke and fast food while watching the Jersey Shore religiously.

When she finally moved out, I actually lifted my head to the ceiling and thanked God. The moment she left, the atmosphere in our suite shifted. It was as though someone had drawn the blinds and allowed fresh sunlight in. My other suitemates seemed happier, less grouchy. There wasn't tension in the suite anymore. They made use of the two desks in the living room, which once served as my roommate's TV table and her junk table (it was always covered in half-eaten bags of chips, stale soft drinks and her homework.) and transformed them into study desks for themselves.

When classes started, I noticed that college life here differed greatly from the Malaysian college life I'd been used to. Each lecture was usually kept to a minimum of 50 minutes, and professors greatly encouraged student participation. Even the quiet students had opinions to offer. I just shrank back in my seat and hoped nobody would notice that I hadn't spoken a word, because I never knew what to say. I was afraid of speaking out in classes, in offering opinions on a particular topic they were discussing. Maybe it was because I never had to speak out in classes all my life. I was comfortable just going for classes, sitting silently through lectures, taking notes and leaving when the period was over.

But here, not only was your voice encouraged, it also mattered. My heart used to beat so wildly in my chest whenever I was required to speak. It wouldn't have been so bad if it was just me and my professor, but with 25 other classmates listening to your little voice on that little opinion you had? Suddenly I was pressured to say something smart. Or at least something that sounded smart. But with every eye focused on me and every ear trained on my words, I would blush and sometimes, go blank.

And then there was the whole part of making friends, which of course mattered significantly to my college experience. I've always been pretty shy, but when I got here, I forced myself to ignite conversations with strangers. That boy who sat behind me in class, or the girl who was standing in line in front of me for a sandwich. Over here, it didn't seem like a strange thing to do. People talked to strangers like it was something they did everyday, and strangers responded casually, like they'd done this a million times before.

I'd be walking to class and the people walking the opposite direction would smile at me and sometimes mutter, "Hey, how's it going?"

Instinctively, I'd smile back and reply, "Great, and you?"

"I'm good," they'd say. "Have a nice day."

"You too." And we'd carry on walking.

Who was that? I don't know. Just another friendly college student. I thought about how people in Malaysia rarely smiled at strangers on the street, unless they were trying to hit on them. And it definitely wasn't natural to say, "Hi, how are you?" to a stranger back home. It didn't matter where you were, but you basically avoided talking to strangers unless you were trying to make a new friend. It wasn't a law, but it certainly felt like a social conduct. Being too friendly in Malaysia might cross the ethical boundaries and make people wary of you.

I made some really wonderful, cherishable friends as the semester progressed. They broadened my view of the culture and the country and helped me to perceive most Americans as friendly and warm. I've heard people in the north are a little more uptight, but I think it varies on location. In Arkansas, people are extra nice. While I understand this varies among the individuals, I've noticed the Southern culture has an influence on its people, and courtesy is often a rule of thumb here.

Almost every American that I talked to seemed to have some kind of humor at the back of his or her tongue. Be it sarcastic humor or slapstick humor, humor is a natural slang in daily conversations. Sarcasm is another common one too. My friend, Taylor, is full of sarcasm.

One time I was sitting in her living room and hadn't bothered to turn the light on because I could read the text on my phone perfectly fine. She walked in, flicked the light switch and calmly said, "We do have electricity, you know."

Another time, I overheard my housemate talking to her friend about Star Wars. My housemate is a HUGE fan of Star Wars - she even has Star Wars cookie cutters. Her friend asked, "What is Star Wars?" to which my housemate replied, "It's a punch on the nose if you're not careful."

I was working on a paper and hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but their voices echoed through the thin plaster walls of our apartment and I couldn't help it; I laughed.

There's something about this laidback Southern culture that puts me at ease. I know this isn't my home, but I like it here. I figured that since I've come such a long way from home, I'm already out of my comfort zone. Might as well just embrace it and live it to the fullest.

I've grown to enjoy microwaved meals. In fact, I think my new best friend in the house is the microwave. I don't think I could live in a house without a microwave. I also learned that broccoli cheese soup isn't as gross as it sounds, but it's very rich and creamy... not to mention, it goes straight to the thighs, so I try to hold back from having it often. I've started speaking up more often in classes. I'm not the most talkative person in my classes, but I do contribute my opinions voluntarily a couple of times during each lecture, and I don't blush or lose my train of thought when I speak in front of everyone.

I've also learned to embrace the unknown.

I used to be terrified of the future because I couldn't see it. I needed to see it. I needed to have a clue about where I was going, just so I could prepare myself. But growing up, my future has always been a vortex of mystery. Over the past few months, I tried to ignore the urge to know everything, and just tried to be content with the unknown, knowing that all this will be revealed in time. And trusting God to prepare me for the journey ahead.

Going back to what my friends said about having little expectations when approaching a new adventure, I understand where they were coming from. I really think it's impossible to quell the desires of anticipation. Expectations provide a sense of hope. While it's not encouraged to have NO expectations at all, it's also unhealthy to have exceedingly high expectations. We all know that the higher you aim, the harder you fall. It's the blatant truth.

But it's alright to have realistic expectations and to keep an open mind. Understand that sometimes, things happen for various reasons beyond our comprehension. Sometimes, the people or the place may fail you. Nothing is ever going to be quite as easy as you hoped it would be. So when reality comes smashing in, all those expectations you were cradling now start crashing to the floor. It's hard to wrap our minds around things we can never control, things we know we have very limited influence on. But really, it's the realism of everything that nurses us back together. Accepting the harsh reality, as hard as it may be for some of us, eventually leads to a clearer understanding of a place, or culture. And whenever someone lets you down, it's wrong to perceive that everyone else of that culture will.


I think America sparks the hope that dreams do come true. Opportunities linger everywhere, just waiting to be accepted. Plus, it's hard not to be overwhelmed by the vastness of this country, where road trips are a common and enjoyed form of traveling, and each state varies from the other in personality and flavor.

So, having an open mind really helps. It keeps your sanity in check. It makes you embrace a new culture and to experience the full richness of it.

***

I look back at the 20-year-old I was when I first arrived in the realms of America, and I think of how circumstances have changed me. Sometimes, I still lie awake in my bed and stare at the ceiling and think of my home and everyone else who matter to me, tucked somewhere far away I can't reach. I miss them terribly. I see them everywhere; in the beautiful flowers blossoming across campus, in the clear blue skies on sunny days, in that stray ray of afternoon sunlight. I see them in all things beautiful. I wish they were here, so they could see how beautiful spring is.

Then I think of the sacrifices my parents made, which puts me at where I am today. And in the stillness of the night, I silently vow that I will strive to work my hardest, to try my best, and to embrace every bit of this journey I've been blessed to endure.

This is a platform that welcomes growth. I've stepped on it, uncertain of the rest, but only certain of one thing: I'm here to face my fears, to accomplish things I never thought I was capable of doing.

Why exactly is this so important to me?


My family gave me one of the greatest gifts that I ride on today - their faith in me.

Now it's my turn to ensure their faith is worth it, and that time will make them proud of me.

Moments

"It is the sense in every moment, that excitements fade, that everything moves on, that even the epiphanies and discoveries that seemed so exhilarating yesterday will soon be forgotten as the world flows on. You can't hold on to anything." -Peter Matthiessen, author of The Snow Leopard-

Memories are moments, moments are fragments of time, and time is fleeting.

The joy you experience today may decline into a strange sense of void the next day. It's really hard to hang on to the best moments in life. Even pictures and videos - the most powerful tools to capture special moments - fail to bring back the exact emotions you felt at the time the photo/video was taken. You may experience a slight tinge of happiness or nostalgia, but you won't feel the excitement from blowing off the candles on your 12th birthday, or the adrenaline rush when you passed your driver's test.

This is exactly why people say, "Cherish the good times." It's like a tape on replay; reminding you to constantly live in the present and enjoy the good moments because "good moments are hard to come by."

But no matter how hard we try to hold on to a good moment, it always manages to slip right out of our grip as time passes. Just as quickly as it happened, the moment fades into a memory, pocketed in our mind to be retrieved for future flashbacks.

Maybe it's true that we can't really hold on to anything. And maybe it's true that excitements fade as we endure new things. But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy life to its fullest. It doesn't reduce us the ability to be happy, to be proud of ourselves, to honestly announce that we've lived a productive, blessed life. And if you think about it, time carries the weight of a new adventure beneath its wings, just waiting to be experienced.
So when one moment passes, another one is on its way. :)

Be ready.

Journalism

I like being a journalism student. I wear this badge with pride. Yes, I may complain about the workload, I may stress out several times a week. But I enjoy what I do. I'm learning so much about writing, reporting, researching and interviewing. Journalism has opened my eyes about the world. I'm grateful for this opportunity. To be able expand my knowledge, push my writing beyond bounds and challenge myself constantly is a true learning process.

This is an upbeat major, always requiring a story two days from now, always demanding that proper research be done before an interview or writing a story. Facts are severely important in journalism. Journalists are expected to deliver the truth to the public. So the slightest error reflects poorly on the journalist. A journalist's credibility is walking on a tight rope here, which is why journalism students are drilled about fact-checking.

It's not all cherries and sunshine in journalism. Sour grapes, bitter bananas and other unpleasant factors leave a bad taste in the mouths and minds of both journalists and readers. If you don't push yourself to reach new limits, the workload will.

This is a world where chasing deadlines becomes a routine and happiness is found at the end of a good article. This is a no-nonsense world, a world where you are constantly challenged to write and think critically while leaving your opinion out of the paper. After all, this is a paper for the public and they want to see the paper's opinion, not yours. Unless you're a columnist or something.

At the end of the day, it's about what you've learned and whether you were able to apply the essence of reporting, fact-checking and strong writing to your future careers. I don't intend on being a news reporter. In fact, I might disengage myself from newspapers or news outlets once I'm done with college.

I'm not contradicting myself here. I like journalism, but I know what I want to pursue after college. I want to go into magazines. I want to explore my creativity through feature stories, photography and traveling. I'll use everything I've learned in journalism to help me get there. Journalism is a useful skill, it's an important and effective way of storytelling. It may be more rigid as opposed to feature writing, but nevertheless, it has shaped me to be the writer I am, and I hope it will continue shaping me into the writer I want to be.

I used to dislike the rigidness of journalism when I first joined its league. I rolled the idea of switching majors in my mind. I thought about Creative Writing and took several classes in it. I'm still in Creative writing but I've made it a minor.

I often get the "Oh gosh, you must be swamped with writing assignments!" gasp when I tell people I'm a journalism major and creative writing minor. I'll just nod, smile and sigh, "Yeah. That's absolutely true."

There's no way around the assignments. Writing is a huge part of my degree. The workload is often heavy, but it's not that bad. I've coped so far and I'm sure I'll make it through this semester and the next. :)

Don't let anyone tell you that journalism is a boring field, because it's not. It may not appeal to you if you dislike writing, but nothing really stays the same in journalism. Each class differs from the rest. Yes, there may be some dull prerequisites (Media Law and Ethics was one, but I only had to take it once, so that's fine) but once you write for the student papers, you're exposed to various events on campus. You start going for events you normally wouldn't go, like a pageant show or a standup comedy act. And you meet various people along the way, people you never would have met if you hadn't worked on the assignment.

Journalism has plenty to offer, but it also requires dedication and determination. If you're going to do something, finish it.

I don't know if I'll end up as a journalist. But I do know that I don't regret entering it.

Cherish

Yesterday was beautiful. It was freezing, but the afternoon managed to retain its beauty in the sun.

Took this as I was walking to class

On days like this, I'd say the sun seems to be frozen behind a layer of ice which is the sky, because you can clearly see its golden rays enlightening the world around you, but you can't feel its warmth.

Altogether, it was a pleasant reminder that His grace never fails. :) The fact that I was able to walk through the chilly afternoon, taste the icy air and feel the wind teasing my hair with each step brought joy, despite shivering beneath my thin jacket.

Someday, I'll be leaving this America. And when that day draws near, I'm going to miss everything about this country; the food, the people, the culture, the four seasons, the accent, the clear blue sky, the majestic sunsets, the travels, the university I spent my 2 years at. I'll miss everything, I'm sure.

You know, it's really easy to forget your blessings when you've found them. It's easy to miss out on the little moments that steal your breath away, because you were paying attention to all the wrong things. Little moments like that are everywhere. If you looked and listened hard enough, you will find these snippets of joy.

Say, in a mug of hot chocolate while it's snowing outside, or in the crinkling eyes of your loved one when you've made him smile, or in the pages of a great book, or on a warm afternoon at the park.

I like to take slow, long walks on campus sometimes (when the weather is tolerable) to soak in the beauty of it. UCA may not be a big university, but it's big enough to me. It's certainly pretty enough. The flowers blossom in March, a cacophony of vibrant colors all over campus. The birds soar across the grand blue horizon, singing songs of freedom. Everything is just beautiful here.

So before I graduate, I'm going to cherish every minute of the day here because it's truly a blessing that I'm where I am now. I am here because God made it possible. And I'm so grateful for this amazing opportunity. Studying in America has been a childhood dream, and it still awes me that I actually made it here. Because there came a point when I didn't think I was able to be here. But God turned that around and worked miracles. :)

When I finally return to Malaysia, I don't want to leave this place with regrets.
I want to leave with beautiful, lifelong memories of my blessed two years in America.

What do you want to cherish? :)

Fear

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel sure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

-Marianne Williamson-

I'm setting new goals for myself this year.

Some of these goals are intimidating. Some of these goals are things I never considered myself capable of doing. But I want to do them anyway, because I believe I've been sitting in the shadows for far too long, waiting for a change that only I'm capable of constructing.

For so long, I've allowed my fears to bind my strengths and confidence. I've submitted myself to doubts, to complacency, to perfectionism.

I've finally realized that I can't hide from my fears anymore; and there's going to be a time this year when I'll have to really challenge myself to take that leap of faith and step out of my comfort zone.

The thought of it scares me so much right now because I'm still unprepared for such a big challenge. But if I succeed, it will be one of the most remarkable accomplishments in my life.

Right now, I need God more than ever. I need His grace and guidance to bolster me as this intimidating future continues to unravel. In just a few months, my life will be transformed. I'm not ready for such a big transition yet, but hopefully that when the time comes, I'll be fully prepared.

Thank you

Photo credit: weheartit.com

I love mornings like this. Beautiful mornings with prisms of sunlight streaming in through the blinds, bathing my bedroom in golden glory. As I sat up in my cozy bed of various blankets, soft toys and pillows, I closed my eyes and prayed, thanking God for another day filled with grace.

It's been two days since I came back to my quiet apartment in Conway. My roomies are still enjoying their winter break elsewhere, and one of them is returning tonight. Yesterday, I spent all afternoon unpacking my bags and spring cleaning my bedroom. As I went through the contents of my drawers, I found handwritten  cards and letters from my loved ones and I sat on the floor for a good hour or so, reading each and every letter and card written months and years ago.

I love handwritten cards and letters because they are tangible evidence that no matter the distance, love and friendship will always find a way.

Emails and Facebook messages are sweet too, but I personally prefer writing someone a postcard or letter so they can physically hold it in their hands and feel the way I feel when I receive a letter or card in the mail. That joyous feeling when you hold an envelope addressed to you from someone you care about. Yeah, I'm old school like that ;)

So, to the various people who've taken the time to send me postcards, cards, letters and lovely little notes over the years, I want you to know that I'm keeping all of them in my little black box :) I look at them from time to time and I can't keep myself from smiling, thanks to you. Your sweet notes of encouragement, your gentle words of kindness and your loving thoughts never fail to amaze me.

This one goes out to all of you who've kept me going, be it through letters, notes, cards, texts or emails.

THANK YOU.

You cheered me on every time, reminding me that I'd always have your back. 
You laughed along with me even though I'd just cracked the lamest joke on the planet.
You supported me and gave me the confidence I needed to make some of the toughest decisions in my life.
You were there to listen, to understand, to be there as a friend.
You loved me for who I am, even when at times when I couldn't love myself.
You showed me the power of love and friendship, and I knew I was truly blessed.
How could I ask for more, when I have some of the finest friends anyone could ask for?


So, thank you for your time, for your faith in me, and for loving me all the same. 

I love you all and I'm so blessed to have you in my life. :)

Sincerely,
Carissa.

Goodbye, 2011

2011 is coming to an end in less than 24 hours! I know it's already 2012 in various parts of the world, but here in USA, it's still the 31st of December 2011.

So before 2011 screeches to a halt, I would like to say that this year has been another fabulous year for me. I've been truly blessed with so many amazing people and opportunities in my life. It hasn't been an easy year, but every challenge made me stronger and willed me to try harder. I know I gave my best and I'm proud of my accomplishments.

Here are some of the highlights of my year :)


SAN FRANCISCO
Ushered in 2011 in San Francisco with Dana and Ming! I was in San Francisco for a week and I fell in love with the city upon arrival.

The view of San Francisco before landing

Ming and I arrived early in the morning and we were extremely tired because we'd stayed up all night packing for our San Francisco trip. We barely caught much sleep. I remember us waiting almost an hour at the airport for our shuttle to arrive.

My favorite dude 

San Francisco was as awesome as I imagined it to be. I was never bored. Not once. We were always on our feet, hopping on and trams and touring new destinations. There was so much to do and see. 

We went to Fisherman's Wharf...

                          

                          

There were many touristy shops selling candy, goodies, souvenirs and more.

Me filling a glass bottle with colored aromatic sand

...Chinatown...

Had my first dim sum platter in months.

... Alcatraz Island... 

 

 ... Golden Gate Bridge ...

Ming and I taking a very windy picture while trying not to freeze

... Japanese Tea Garden...

Pagoda

And when it was time to leave, I caught a glimpse of the gorgeous sunrise as we were hovering above San Francisco.

 We flew through Las Vegas and I saw snow AND desert for the first time. No kidding.

Snow-sprinkled sand dunes in Nevada.

GOT INVITED TO ALPHA CHI, A NATIONAL COLLEGE HONOR SCHOLARSHIP SOCIETY

All that because I scored straight A's and made a 4.0 :) I even got a cert and badge! Tee hee. 

EXPERIENCED SNOW FOR THE FIRST TIME

Malaysia doesn't have four seasons, but America does. I was really excited to see, touch, and TASTE snow. About a month after it started snowing, the snow got heavier and classes were cancelled for a week!

                               

The view from my dorm in Baridon Hall

SAW THE COUNTRYSIDE

CELEBRATED EASTER WITH THE NEALS

I've only dyed easter eggs twice in my whole life. Once when I was in kindergarten, and once this year during Easter! Lol. 

                            

MINI PHOTO SHOOTS WITH FRIENDS

I started experimenting with photography on a deeper level this year, trying out new angles and colors to discover my style. I quickly learned that I favored retro/vintage photography and high-contrast shots :)

Winter Wonderland: (with Dana)

more here.

The Holga series:

more here.

                            

Latoya Marshall:

more here.

                                             

Summer Love: (with Katrina, Taylor and Kaitlin)

 Gray Sky Morning: (with Taylor in her backyard)

more here.

Weekend in Greenbrier:

                              

Blessings: (with Holly, Andrea and Dana)

more here.

EXPERIENCED SPRING FOR THE FIRST TIME.

more here.

                                    

MET AN AWESOME BUNCH OF D-GROUP GIRLS.

I miss them all.

WENT FOR THE TOADSUCK DAZE CARNIVAL 

more here.

This was an annual carnival that Conway holds yearly. 

Got my first "henna" tattoo.

WENT TO MY FIRST ESTATE SALE!

Estate sales are pretty common over here. They are similar to yard sales, except estate sales usually occur when nearly everything in the house goes on sale because the owner is moving to a new place, etc.

Found a whole collection of Beanie Babies! 

VISITED MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE.

WENT BACK TO MALAYSIA OVER SUMMER.

I was really thrilled to be home after about 9 months of not seeing my friends and family. 

Met both of my best friends' boyfriends.

                                

Tim and Vivian

Guan Lim and June

Celebrated my 21st birthday with my best friends and Tim at Serai, a fancy Malaysian restaurant. 

My birthday pavlova

Also had a pre-birthday gathering with my Subang cell group :) Sarah Ann baked this yummy thing for me!

AND I GOT MY VERY FIRST FEDORA FOR MY BIRTHDAY! :) :) :)

*I'd wanted one for MONTHS*

 Met up with lots of people whom I'm very fond of. There are too many, so I'm just posting several pictures.

Astrid

Deb and Anusha

My besties!

Spent quality time with my dearest parents and brother. 

(This was taken at the airport before I returned to Arkansas, with the Malaysian flag in the background)

Did LOTS of eating, of course. Malaysia is a food central.

                                         

Had my first macarons on my birthday :) Fell in love with them ever since.

In fact, I'm craving them right now.

Salmon mentai at Sushi Zanmai :)

Dumpling soup 

Fried pork

Fried cantonese noodles

Did a little photo shoot for my best friends and their boyfriends :)

VISITED MY RELATIVES IN SINGAPORE


My cousin Calvin took me around Orchard Road one sunny day and we met up with our other cousin, Sabrina. Also got to spend time with my other relatives, whom I greatly treasure.

 

 

FLEW TO MELBOURNE FOR A MONTH.

Ming is an amazing person and I'm so glad I got to see him one last time before flying back to USA.

                                       

    I miss you, boyfriend. <3

A very happy me at dinner time. I'm always happy at dinner time.

Maggi goreng!

Did more eating :)

Delicious xiao long paus

See all the macarons on top? I bought all of them.

Nah, just kidding. I wish I'd bought all of them.

Took a roadtrip to Healesville Sanctuary with Ming and his family. 

I liked the countryside

Took another roadtrip to Phillip Island, this time with Ming's friends and my best friend Vivian who'd joined us in Melbourne for a few days.

Stopped for breakfast on a farm

 Lambs are really cute until they start chewing on your clothes

Had a lovely time when Vi was there. Of course, we took a lot of pictures. 

                                                  

I miss strolling in the park with the boyfriend under the sun with the breeze blowing gently (and sometimes harshly) in our faces.

I MISS MELBOURNE. 

BOUGHT MY FIRST DSLR AND NAMED IT KYLE.

I was taking a photography class last semester and I needed a good camera for my assignments.                      

One of the first pictures I took with Kyle

This class also granted me the opportunity to shoot various types of pictures, ranging from portraits and features to sports and news worthy shots.

A feature photograph of a student at Starbucks

Volleyball

Football

Crowning of Miss UCA 2012

Mexican Folklore Ballet 

The county fair parade

For my final project of the semester, I had to choose a feature assignment to do about so I picked Pitza 4 2. Someday, I'll blog about how awesome and dedicated this pitza place is. I got the chance to interview the owners of the restaurant and they shared their inspiring story of how the restaurant came about.

                                       

                                      

I'm really glad I took that photography class because I've learned so much about photography

and cameras in just a couple of months! 

Plus, I had a cool lecturer and he was one of my favorites.

VISITED TUNICA, MISSISSIPPI.

more here.

                                               

Put up in a casino for the weekend

Won $100 on 3-card poker the first day, lost $70 the next. Well, luck doesn't always stay in the same pot.

VISITED CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.

more here and here.

       

The Field Museum

FELL IN LOVE WITH FALL ALL OVER AGAIN.

Taken on campus

Fall is my favorite season of the year. There's so much beauty vested in the colors of the leaves.

DRESSED UP FOR HALLOWEEN

more here.

                                  

         

It was fun! Everyone came in costumes - one of my friends came as Dumbledore. And she's a girl. She went to all that trouble to wear a fluffy white beard, large purple cloak and a pointed hat too big for her head. People really make the effort to dress up here. I've never dressed up for Halloween, simply because it's not a celebrated event in Malaysia.

LIVED TO SEE MANY GLORIOUS SUNSETS.

FOUND OUT THAT CERTAIN ALCOHOLIC DRINKS DON'T TASTE TOO BAD.

I was never a fan of alcohol. Always gagged at the bitter taste while my friends mused over cocktails and margaritas. Even when I had sweet cocktails, I still cringed at the bitterness. Then I had a strawberry daiquiri several months back. It wasn't bad at all. It quickly became my favorite drink. It tasted a lot like a strawberry smoothie with a hint of rum that was barely noticeable beneath the layers of strawberry, whipped cream and sugar.

Strawberry daiquiri

The Mudslide

The mudslide at Red Lobster tasted like a chocolate milkshake. I could barely taste the alcohol at all! It was sweet :) 

DEALT WITH GUNS.

Guns are illegal in Malaysia, so it isn't common for people to have guns stashed in their homes or cars. However, the rules are different in Arkansas. Nearly every Arkansan family owns a gun because hunting is a common sport here. And guns are legal.

That's me in Taylor's garage, holding up one of her dad's unloaded rifles.

The man has NUMEROUS guns.

They took me to a shooting range the next day and I fired my first revolver :)

CELEBRATED CHRISTMAS WITH MY AMERICAN FAMILY.

more here.

I spent Christmas with the Neals and they treated me like their own. They bought me presents, took me to visit their relatives and made my Christmas a memorable and enjoyable one in every way.

I had a lovely 2011. I couldn't have asked for a better year, because I had one of the best years of my life. 

May 2012 be another great, memorable year filled with His blessings! :) Cheers.