sometimes....

+ I wish I could drop out of college and move to the city, and just make art in a dark grungy studio all hours of the night
+ I want to move to SE Asia with my family over there, and live the simple life in my cousin's bamboo house in Guimaras (farm and eat mangoes all day. suh-weet. but satisfying...?)
+ I feel confined, defined, restricted, and bound in a box of stereotypes and mediocrity - she a designer, she's ENFP, she's asian, too small, too young, she always has her head in the clouds...
+ I wish I was 6 years old, and often times, I act like it
+ I live solely to benefit myself (so selfish, i know) and let my feelings and emotions rule over reason and sometimes even principle
+ I let people walk all over me
+ I feel strong and beautiful and funny and of worth
+ I don't want anyone to look at me
+ I put on my headphones and feel like I'm in a whole 'nother world
+ I am mean and hurtful to people who care about me
+ I dance down the street when people are looking
+ I make up silly songs on my guitar and sing them for my best friends
+ I'm overwhelmed with the love from my family and friends
+ I cry (I can't say I don't cry, but inbetween I laugh)
+ I break, but my maker sustains me, and restores and justifies me because He loves me
+ I dance to my own drum, waltz to my own tune, and am content in doing so...

all the trees of the field will clap their hands

As I write, I'm in the maclab, and my advisor and past professor Linda Nelson just walked up behind me with the guest speaker David Klein for today's class in the CTC ampitheater, titled : "Design in the Real World" -- the classroom was cluttered with all design majors: industrial designers, new media imaging, graphic design, and a decent amount of engineers (whatever kind jason and richman are). He spoke of product design, mostly industrial - but Linda later (now) was giving him a tour of the maclab upstairs, and she passed by my computer, and I took off my headphones, that filled the silence with Joanna Newsom, just as she looked me in the eye. She introduced me to David:

"Now this here is Trina Yeo, she was thinking about being a design major, but wait, tell him what you are again?"
.......
"Oh. okay. pre-occupational therapy"
......
"Well the thing is, she's very talented, very bright, very driven. But I guess she can do whatever she wants with her life. She's capable of anything, really, but she really has the eye for design, so it's a shame and a waste really."
.....uh....?
"I'm just still trying to twist her arm."

Sometimes things like that make you smile, that somebody believes in your talent, and singles out your potential. Esp. someone legitimate. This isn't the first time she's approached me or said such things. Most of the time its mildly manipulative -- like the time she pulled me into her office and lined up all the class projects and critiqued them right in front of me -- not only the students artwork, but their own abilities, noting some as inferior (which I thought was a little rude and unprofessional. but whatev, especially because art is so subjective). But this only adds to the whirlwind of indecision. But I consider myself only mediocre at art in just about every medium (which is merely only a hobby to dabble in), but none of my friends (grew up in a small town and small school) shared the same interest, so it sort of set me apart, made me unique, but did not prove that I was extraordinarily gifted. It was an unnerving fear that if I were to try and make something real of it, like attend art school, that I would only have people laugh me in the face : what are you doing here? So that is why it's incredibly nice to have someone legitimate seemingly be so supportive of your work, even more so than your fellow students. Even if that is a little insecure and very selfish.

I was watching an interview of Bono though -- and they asked him what was more gratifying, winning an award for his outreach programs for aids in Africa, or winning a grammy for his music. He answered: music will always be my first love.

I used to feel aggravated and confined that everyone would assume that design is my only dream, and I'm somehow giving up my passions to study other subjects. I have other passions - do they not matter? Dreams can change, as well.... I used to want to be an olympic gymnast, or an investigative journalist. Dreams can always change, and a lot of times they do. People are always growing, always searching. But then there are those underlying desires, those things that you unconsciously love and fulfill by being who you are. Then it hit me, when Bono said that: design in my first love.


Does everyone realize that but me? And is that why they won't shut up?

btw leo (aka skeemer), i completely changed the content of this blog since after you commented (everything except the graphic). thank you for that though. i miss you. you're in my prayers ♥

I am searching for truth and freedom

"And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." [john8:32]
so truth and freedom come hand-in-hand.
But they were descendants of Abraham, they said, "We have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean, 'You will be set free?'
Jesus replied, "I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. A slave is a not a permanent member of the family, but a son is part of the family forever. So if the Son sets you free, you are truly free.

and how do we obtain truth, how do we gain this knowledge and understanding?
The Benefits of Wisdom [from proverbs2:4-10]
cry out for insight, and ask for understanding.
search for them as you would for silver, seek them like hidden treasures.
then you will understand what it means to fear the Lord,
and you will gain knowledge of God.
from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.
He grants a treasure of common sense to the honest.
He is a shield to those who walk with integrity.
He guards the paths of the just and protects those who are faithful to Him.
Then you will understand what is right, just, and fair
and you will find the right way to go.

but. TRUST in the LORD.[proverbs3:5-7]
with all your heart, do not depend on your own understanding, seek His will in all you do, and he will show you the path to take. Do not be impressed with your own wisdom. Instead fear the Lord and turn away from evil. Then you will have healing for you body and strength for you bones.

so...i went to seattle this weekend. it was fun! a story or two might come later. but for now, i'm lazy, so here are some pictures i took instead. enjoy.

the motive for our adventure

and there they are. glorious!

abby and i feeling a little sleepy on the bus

wonderful, beautiful, meaningful street art. rad, huh?

downtown at pike place market. lots of fruit and smelly fish.

put music to our troubles and we'll dance them away

The 14th of February has now come and gone, 1 hour and 22 minutes passed the mark of Valentine's day. Even with lackage of a significant other (societies definition of being loved), I do feel and know my life inhabited with much love - be it storge or phileo, from friends and family, agape from my maker, I'm lucky and honored to have much love, enough and more to pay it forward! Amen. He blesses.

Tonight I went to Electric Love Fest, a small show at a coffee shop called The Verve, followed by a Zoolander-esque Walk-Off and other silly fun (pictures and video down below). Two bands played, both students of WWC, the first band was called The Hereticals. They did a Beck cover from Midnite Vultures ("sexx laws" - such a fun, energetic album!) and even though the sound wasn't top notch (lots of feedback), it was fun to hear (I mean, beck hansen, c'mon!). And the second was some synth-rock, electronica band, fully equipped with pre-programmed beats, keyboard riffs, and quirky lyrics with their own sort of charm. A little goofy, but towards the end of their set, they sort of reminded me of a mellow-er TV on the Radio (err. maybe not). God bless Tunde Adebimpe, his wild voice, and his awesome fro! So the singer of this band wasn't the same. More nasally. Still enjoyed it though. Long live the indie rock persuasion! Even if it did ruin my hearing at a young age.







video features the smooth moves of cody lonning and charlie graves.
you know you wanna press play


ps. bias of the day = everything just looks and feels better on a mac, i use both everyday

my favorite time of day

awake at 2:45 am - listening to this: friendswithmicrophones.com.



aleigh is watching SNL and every now and then bursts into loud fits of laughter. and according to my wellness for living class, i'm soon going to feel depressed from my abnormal circadium rhythm. maybe i should get a light box. damn the fact that i don't have class til' 10am, and i'm probably going to be asleep until 15 minutes before then, and Pedrito is leaving for Jamaica in the morning - and I asked him today if he'd fill out a recommendation for me to be a student missionary next year, which revealed that I'm not going to be able to work for him next year - he frowned and said he'd fill one out, but he'd give me a lousy one, so i'd have to stay at wwc, but I told him I'd miss him, and that I loved him and he grabbed me and hugged me, and it was my favorite part of the day - because Ellie and Emily laughed so loud, kept whacking the graying in his beard, saying they've never seen him have such a serious face. He calls me his daughter and every now and then, says some cheesy comment like: he can't start his day without my smile. Sometimes work can just be another thing on the long list of obligations. Some days...I love my job, the things that i do, and the people that work alongside me, + the person I do it all for. He says i'm going to come back from Africa and become a minister. I just want to work with the children, and make a few real connections. I'm a behind the scenes kind of girl. But I think that it carries just as much weight. we've all been given gifts, that are real and different and useful in their own way.

life just means so much! thank you jacob, for texting me this message this weekend. and thank you, for local organizations, like lifewater, one truth - who help me realize that life is so much bigger than myself - and that who knows what God has in store for me. life is an adventure. I want to be willing to let God take me to the ends of the earth if in His plan.

sorry for the lack of substance in recent posts. i can't guarantee it'll get much better.

a yeo family holiday favorite (p.s. an apology in advance)

I have some loathing, abhorrence, revulsion, aversion to uncleanliness, most specifically the bodily fluids/solids and wastes excreted from the human body. I even gave a speech on it in high school. Nuff' said. But jokes in the Yeo/Mabaquiao (meaning my mom's side. thank you dad) family involving poop and pee never get old. And after literally cringing at the amazing capabilities of girls to be absolutely disgusting in our hall bathroom (aka it happened again. an enormous floater with an authoritative stench - giant poop not flushed), I thought immediately of close to my favorite David Sedaris essay (Aleigh has pretty much read every book I own by him in the last week), one I read aloud to my family at Christmas time, and most everyone, ranging from ages 7 to 45 were practically bawling their eyes out from laughter and lack of breathing (this essay is rooted deeply in ridiculous, disgusting, childish yeo/mab fam humor) So, I thought this moment special, special enough to share it:

Big Boy
by David Sedaris
(excerpt from Me Talk Pretty One Day)

It was Easter Sunday in Chicago, and my sister Amy and I were attending an afternoon dinner at the home of our friend John. The weather was nice, and he'd set up a table in the backyard so that we might sit in the sun. Everyone had taken their places, when I excused myself to visit the bathroom, and there, in the toilet, was the absolute biggest turd I have ever seen in my life - no toilet paper or anything, just this long and coiled specimen, as thick as a burrito.

I flushed the toilet, and the big turd trembled. It shifted position, but that was it. This thing wasn't going anywhere. I thought briefly of leaving it behind for someone else to take care of, but it was too late for that. Too late, because before getting up from the table, I'd stupidly told everyone where I was going. "I'll be back in a minute," I'd said. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom." My whereabouts were public knowledge. I should have said I was going to make a phone call. I'd planned to urinate and maybe run a little water over my face, but now I had this to deal with.

The tank refilled, and I made a silent promise. The deal was that if this thing would go away, I'd repay the world by performing some unexpected act of kindness. I flushed the toilet a second time, and the big turd spun a lazy circle. "Go on," I whispered. "Scoot! Shoo!" I turned away, ready to perform my good deed, but when I looked back down, there it was, bobbing to the surface in a fresh pool of water.

Just then someone knocked on the door, and I stated to panic.

"Just a minute."

At an early age my mother sat me down and explained that everyone has bowel movements. "Everyone," she'd said. "Even the president and his wife." She'd mentioned our neighbors, the priest, and several of the actors we saw each week on television. I'd gotten the overall picture, but natural or not, there was no way I was going to take responsibility for this one.

"Just a minute."

I seriously considered lifting this turd out of the toilet and tossing it out the window. It honestly crossed my mind, but john lived on the ground floor and a dozen people were seated at a picnic table ten feet away. They'd see the window open and notice something dropping to the ground. And these were people who would surely gather round and investigate. Then there I'd be with my unspeakably filthy hands, trying to explain that it wasn't mine. But why bother throwing it out the window if it wasn't mine? No one would have believed me except the person who had left it in the first place, and chances were pretty slim that the freak in question would suddenly step forward and own up to it. I was trapped.

"I'll be out in a second!"

I scrambled for a plunger and used the handle to break the turd into manageable pieces, all the while thinking that it wasn't fair, that this was technically not my job. Another flush and it still didn't go down. Come on, pal. Let's move it. While waiting for the tank to refill, I thought maybe I should wash my hair. It wasn't dirty, but I needed some excuse to cover the amount of time I was spending in the bathroom. Quick, I thought. Do something. By now the other guests were probably thinking I was the type of person who uses dinner parties as an opportunity to defecate and catch up on my reading.

"Here I come. I'm just washing up."

One more flush and it was all over. The thing was gone and out of my life. I opened the door, to find my friend Janet, who said, "Well, it's about time." And I was left thinking that the person who'd abandoned the huge turd had no problem with it, so why did I? Why the big deal? Had it been left there to teach me a lesson? Had a lesson been learned? Did it have anything to do with Easter? I resolved to put it all behind me, and then I stepped outside to begin examining the suspects.

i ask for silence

This is a poem (referring to title) I read over and over by Pablo Neruda and wonder when I'll empathize. I rarely do. This, here and now, being an exception. I have my thoughts to keep my company, thoughts I rarely get to hear, and am grateful for once, for a lonely weekend. It's 2:00 am, and I'm eating toast and tea, jewish rye I wish I had never bought and hibiscus and rose hips tea, thinking it'd be nice with a little honey. Sorting and searching through my itunes music collection - I love the hype machine music blog, I've been listening to Beirut and Belle and Sebastian, I like M.Ward from time to time, but if the song is king like Jon Foreman says, "Post-War" gets crown. Also, Beirut's song "Mount Wroclai (idle days)" has an intro that's exactly like the end credits of Amelie. It makes me happy. I realized today, sitting in the maclab, stoked at the simplicity of the mac plain white, less is more, Jonathon Ive is the most successful industrial designer as of now, and taste is taste, with no strings of snobbery attached, style is not consumerism, not materialism, does not have to be gluttonous, and should not be denied. I love language and music and fashion and aesthetics and expression. I love the city and the diversity, movies, films, memoirs, clothes, colors, fabric, and culture. Epstein says it's always the same new thing, some sickening new trend as transient as the last, but I love progression and innovation more than anything. It also brings me much joy to catch the allusions in writing based on pop culture of the past.

Today I went to the bookstore downtown by myself, looked for e.e. cummings, but they didn't have it, flipped through philosophy by marcus aurelius and chuck pahlaniuk novels, picked up some groceries, and sat by Aric at vespers, whom I seldom see so it was nice.

I went to coffee with Brian, Eddie, Thomas, and Josh, watched a movie with Jess P, and now plan to read Klosterman til' I fall asleep. I'm also sort of smitten. But we'll get to that a long time later. Bono interview at the Awakening tomorrow. Maybe I'll read "Geek Love" instead, my mom bought it for me for Christmas and I haven't even cracked the bright orange cover. She says she wants to read it when I'm done, but at this rate, I might not even have read it by spring break when I go home again. Got things to do. G'night.