"Noodle Street"

It was one of those rare streets covered with dirt instead of cement. In the few steps that it took to walk down the street, I would encounter many puddles and pebbles would find their way inside my shoes. Houses stacked on top of noisy restaurants and stores lined the dirt road. Broken air conditioners and blankets curtained the windows and the aroma of noodles filled every corner with happy souls. But you could hear the painful wheezing of an old man’s breath in the humid air and see an old lady bend over her near empty purse looking at the few worthless coins. How lucky it is to live in such a wonderful place without dust flying around and dirt roads. How lucky it is to live in a place like this and not “Noodle Street”.

For a twelve year old girl born and raised in towns and cities, dirt roads were only seen in movies. Compared to other places walking down “Noodle Street” was walking down the main street in a ghost town – forgotten in the mist of modern troubles. I could walk across the street without waiting for my streetlight to flash green and only encounter a few bikes, while if I had done that in downtown Beijing I could have been killed. Although “Noodle Street” was less populated than other streets it was defiantly livelier. Every store sold something different and had different signs hugging the windows. Some stores wore flashing neon lights that stood out despite the fact that the sun was present. Some stores put lucky cats dressed like glistening butterflies at their doors that rang a chorus of hellos when someone passed by. Each store also seemed to represent the people working in it. A sold out concert with screaming fans, each with their own chant. A small store dressed in yellow ribbons that wrote out squiggly characters sold make up and other accessories. The shop next to it was a bit dimmer in light and had heavy purple curtains pulled back so that customers could see some expensive silk placed behind the windows; the workers in this shop were older in age and talked as if they had been frozen in time. It was hard to see how people could be possibly happy while living in a place like this.

The restaurants were no different. Waitresses floated across wooden floors like lilies on water. Chefs cooked while singing to songs. Customers filled every seat in the small-one-roomed restaurants, each telling ancients jokes to the rhythm of clapping bowls and chopsticks. Waitresses laughed at every joke – even though the customers all tell the same one. These restaurants were very popular, although the only thing they sold was different types of noodles. Customers would come everyday and never get tired of the noodles. I couldn’t understand how these people could eat noodles everyday and look forward to it; how they smelled the aroma of noodles everyday and not throw up. I couldn’t understand how “Noodle Street”, a dirt street, could house so many happy souls. The people living there didn’t seem to worry about taxes, they didn’t seem to worry about what to wear tomorrow or even if they could keep their soon-to-be-laid-off jobs. How the people living here could be happier than most of the people I’ve known have ever been. I couldn’t understand how “Noodle Street” was just a few steps from a busy highway yet looked like as if I was living in the early 1900’s. How can this be?

For a twelve year old girl born and raised in towns and cities, dirt roads were only seen in movies. Perhaps it’s the fact that I take everything I have for granted or that I was too busy in my own little worries that I couldn’t stop to enjoy what I have. Seeing the people on “Noodle Street” made me realize how much I really have and how much I should appreciate my belongings. How lucky it is to live a life with such ease and not so many hardships.

Sound of Perfection

I lifted my body slightly off of the black wooden bench – the beads of sweat on my thighs were making me feel disgusting. I was going crazy; it felt like that at any moment I could jump up from adrenaline and do something harmful to myself. But I held back that feeling with all my might and breathed in and out listening to the silent shuffle of a hidden audience. I placed my fingers on the pure white keys and felt them contaminate the keys with sweat. Everything was a blur to me – the glistening keys, the rush of emotions, the muddle thoughts that were pouring into my mind.

“This is it,” I thought, “This is my chance to make it to the top. One mistake – one note too short – and I could lose everything I spent a year working for…” I began to play, at first the white and black notes all became a mixture to me. They all felt the same, slippery and heavy. After a minute I could finally tell which note was which – it’s amazing that I didn’t mess up yet. I played through the piece, with every part of my body sweating along. “This is the end. Just one last –

Wrong Note.”

The entire audience sat a little straighter. The evil wrong note that had to last for four measures. My hands trembled until it was over – as though they were trying to slide up and down a violin’s string to find the right note. I could already feel tears well up in my eyes. I could already imagine my parent’s response. I could already hear the Song of Perfection fading away.

He

He’s the dog you see in someone’s backyard,

Trapped behind a fence,

Looking at you,

With uninterruptable black eyes.

You can’t tell if he’s telling you to run,

Or begging for your help,

Or if he’s just plain hungry.

And when you walk by him he starts to bark,

But you don’t understand his words.

He might be saying “I love you”,

He might be warning you,

He might just want kill you.

But you won’t know until it’s too late.

He has your picture in his notebook,

Glued in securely,

So that he can never rip it off,

So that everyone can see.

You have his picture in your notebook,

And from time to time you lose it.

You’ve never even shown your friends,

Because there’s a possible rejection.

He’s the one,

Who leaves roses at your feet,

When you’re looking for a banner,

Hanging in the sky.

He secretly takes your blame for everything,

But you just think you’re lucky.

He follows you around to make sure,

That you’re eyes don’t get puffy.

He feels so bad,

Seeing you so lost.

So he decides to help you,

Until he pays a cost.

And when you think you finally catch on,

You ask him to confess.

And on his face,

His answer is drawn.

No need for words,

You’ve misunderstand.

He’ll take you around the world,

Like as if you are a trophy.

But you don’t seem to mind,

Because you think that he’s worthy.

Then one day he’ll be gone,

Faster than the wind can blow,

He’s found another medal,

And then you finally know.

You act like the world is ending,

You stop eating and thinking.

You stop pretending like you care,

And those pills you have under the bed,

Start screaming for you.

He came like the wind,

And he left the same way.

You were tricked by the mastermind,

And he left you astray.

He’s the one,

Who stands in front of you,

When you suddenly turn around.

He’s the one,

Who pulls you away,

When you follow the wrong crowd.

Yet he’s the one,

Who leaves you,

When he’s played enough.

He can be so many different things,

Who can you trust?

Gourmet Pasta

Some people call it a plate of happiness, some people can't care enough. Some people just eat it like it's nothing, some marvel its beauty. Those lactose intolerant throw up if they eat it. Those poor will treasure it. Those rich can eat it often. But no matter who has it, it is looked highly upon in today's society. A plate of gourmet pasta.

It’s more than just something you can buy and place in the microwave. A plate of gourmet pasta needs to be made with care and treasured. (LOL) Making pasta is harder than it seems. You need to put just the right amount of olive oil in it that it tastes good and sticks together – while not making the pasta seem greasy. You need to cook the pasta until it’s just right – not too soft yet not to chewy. The pasta shouldn’t fall or melt away once it touches your mouth and shouldn’t make the eater’s jaw ache because it’s too chewy. The pasta also needs to be able to maintain its taste and structure for a long time – even when it goes cold. Rich people (in my opinion) take way more time than necessary to eat one bite of food, because they talk and laugh and whatnot then calm themselves before eating. (It’s kind of like a habit they have) So if their pasta happens to go cold, it can’t get soggy and the olive oil can’t all leak out making the pasta look disgusting. It’s difficult to make pasta.

Not only is it hard to make it but it’s hard to decorate it too. When you see all of that pasta placed on a huge plate ten times its size well… you have to do something about it! You can make a sauce and draw a design on the pasta, but make sure that the color is good and that the taste of the sauce also enhances the taste of the pasta. You can place some of those green herb leaves on the pasta – but be patient and hold your hand steady! You’re plate of pasta needs to be appealing to others AND taste good. Not so easy to make gourmet pasta anymore is it?

Some people call it a place of happiness, but to me it’s just another math problem that I need to solve. There can be many different answers, but which one is the best? Which solution best fits the problem?

Of Course

Standing in the only open space in a filled parking lot, admiring what we are living under. Pointing up at the stars and airplanes floating above us, with heads arched back.

“Do you see that?” he asks, gesturing at a tiny light in the mist of the dark sky, I nod. Of course I can see it; I always look in your direction. “That’s Jupiter,” he whispers as his round eyes reflect the lights around us like fireflies in a jar. I continue gazing up at the planet, amazed at how he could’ve known that.

“Really?!” I ask childishly, he nods.

“Can you see how it’s rounder than the stars around it?” I nod. Of course, no matter what you say, I’ll always believe you. Our perfect moment is interrupted as others join us, but he doesn’t mind. He takes time to tell every newcomer everything he had already told me. I stand by his side the whole time listening along. Of course, I’ll never grow tired of your voice – even if you whisper the same line a thousand times over and over again. We walk back into the crowded restaurant and glance at some people walk by celebrating, while others are mourning. Even though there are so many people to talk to he still seems so lonely. I bring him to a row of toy vending machines and watch him read the instructions on an unlit machine. “Li – line up – arrow – with – st – star…” he stutters, eyebrows furring. I point at the yellow words on blue surface and read.

“You have to line up the arrow with each star twice to get a prize.” I explain, but he stares at me blankly so I translate the instructions into Chinese. Of course, even if we sometimes can’t understand each other – I’ll always try my hardest to translate and comprehend you. Suddenly a little girl runs up and grips me tightly around my stomach. I brush her hair from her face and kneel down beside her. She asks me for two quarters but I don’t have any so I ask him, “do you have 50 cents?” Instantly he whips out his wallet and places two quarters into my hand. I give the coins to the little girl and as she’s about to spend the money, he holds out his hand and stops her.

“Wait! That’s a state quarter!” he shouts, pulling the Maryland quarter from the coin slot. He dumps out every coin from his wallet and finds a normal quarter. He places the new quarter into the slot and the girl turns the knob. She opens the cover of the machine with excited eyes, reaching for her prize. But there is nothing there, her smile drops and she crosses her arms. Quickly he tries to find two more quarters but she runs away to complain to her dad, leaving us to a loud silence.

Yet even thou there is silence between us, our minds are filled with unsaid words that speak louder than the people around us. Of course I love you.

My Super Star

Sometimes I feel just like a gerbil running around and around on this wheel. My treasure lies before me but no matter how fast I run – I’m can never reach it. He’s always one step ahead, I can’t catch up.

I remember the day we met – I’ve been searching for him everywhere, I’ve been waiting for him – he was nothing like I imagined but half of what I hoped for. He shows an insensitive and uncaring face but deep down inside his heart I can see the most caring person in the world. He’s always there to listen and is very quiet but I know that he’s always trying to tell me something. When awkward moments come between us he always knows the perfect joke to say and gets me talking again. His hair is just the perfect shade of black; his face is pale for an Asian. His eyes are round and are have a beautiful creamy chocolate color to them, yet they show his innocent heart. He didn’t have many friends, just a few in a distant land. I wondered why no one ever wanted to talk to him but then again he had just moved here, so I hung around him more. I found out that the more I hung around him the more I tried looking for him everywhere I turned. I’ve never thought about a guy so much before, I’ve never couldn’t stop thinking about a guy… until I met him.

I remember the time I took him to his first amusement park. He didn’t like roller coasters and neither do I. So we rode the carousel around and around until I almost fell of my jumping plastic horse and he almost did too. I can still see our silly smiles shining with happiness in front of a flying background. I can still see the sweat on our foreheads from laughing so hard at nothing in particular. My heart still remembers the pangs of sadness when he told me that he wanted to take a break and go to the bathroom. I remember my heart aching as I watched him walked off the carousel and told me to wait for him. I remember those long lonely minutes where my loud heartbeat replaced our laughing. But he came back – sweating more than before. I can still feel the smile of relief on my face when he came back. He held out a purple box with laced edges in front of my eyes and opened it to reveal…

A glistening necklace with a star charm.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the necklace. I can still feel him lean closer to me like he always does. He whispered in my ear,

“Thanks for lighting up my darkness, my super star.”

Prologue

Sophia sits cross legged at her desk tapping her foot along with her iPod. She runs her fingers through her hair and clips in a heart-shaped pin. Sophia pulls out a ripped and crumpled piece of paper with words on it and reads it over like she does every morning. Sophia looks across to the empty desk beside her and wonders how he is doing. Mike sits at his new desk in his new school and looks around. He turns up the volume to his music as all the desks around him begin to fill. Unconsciously, he wonders how she was doing.

Once school ends, Sophia sets out on the street they always took. She looks at the posters hugging the glistening windows of colorful barber shops and longs for a haircut. But she restrains herself, she has to keep her hair the same way he likes it… just in case they were to meet again. Sophia stops in front of an ice cream store and pauses to count her money. She never bought anything unless she could pay for him too – in case he was there. As she walks in her broken heart remembers the trouble he went through to bring her here. Sophia orders a vanilla ice cream cone and looks around hoping to see him, but he isn’t there. “Will he ever come back?”

One block away Mike is getting his hair cut so that she wouldn’t see his bone-skinny body and dying heart. He run his fingers across his short-short hair and proceeds to go home. After a few steps an ice cream shop catches Mike’s attention. He looks at the menu and is about to order a vanilla like how they always did but got a chocolate instead. Mike looks around for a brown haired girl eating a vanilla ice cream cone. “Will she ever be back?”

As Sophia finishes her ice cream she looks up one last time for him but saw no one. Felling sad, she walks down the street to notice a clothing store they had once visited. She searches for a long time until she found the exact outfit she is wearing on a skinny tall mannequin. She pushes past the many moms buying the same outfit and manages to brag all the clothing in the right size. Sophia spends the rest of her money and buys the outfit; hoping that if she should miss him in the streets, at least he would notice her.

Mike really hates the chocolate ice cream and endes up throwing it out before he finishes it. He strolls down the street and enters a clothing store that she hates. Unwillingly, he buys the worst looking outfit he could find. And as he left his eyes slyly flutters around for a skinny girl wearing a cute blue t-shirt with a white heart design and white short jeans.

Sophia stands at the bus stop at the end of her street. A boy wearing a green shirt, neon yellow pants and a red cap walks next to her. Cringing, she manages to follow him onto the bus. Mike looks at the girl following him on the bus and his heart stops. Restraining himself from saying anything, he finds two empty seats on the bus. Sophia looks around the bus and notices that the only available seat is next to the eccentrically dressed boy. She hesitantly sits down next to him and they simultaneously take out their iPods. The conversation between the two ends there and Sophia decides to turn around so that she doesn’t face him. Mike couldn’t help to notice that the white cupid arrow, which was attached to her heart-shaped pin, is now gone. Sophia feels that he is watching her so she suddenly turns to face him. Mike’s heart quakes as his eyes catch a glimpse of her caramel brown ones; quickly he hides his face in the shadows of his cap. Ignoring this, Sophia gets off the bus at the next stop and he follows her.

As Sophia walks to a small villa building, the sky cries like the first night she spent with him. She rings for room 331 but no one answers. Slowly, Sophia takes out her phone and dials a number that she knows by heart. After a few seconds she realizes that the number is no longer available. Heartbroken, she turns around to walk home as the heavens cry in misery… as if they can read her heart.

Mike trudges through the pouring rain as he follows her to his old apartment. Mike smiles as he watches her trying to contact him. When she turns around, Mike accidentally startles her and hands her a note. Confused, she takes the note. Mike slowly goes his separate way with a heart broken like shattered glass.

As soon as he leaves, Sophia reads the two sided note. In the dim street lights she can make out, “Even thought I love you, I can’t love you. Even thought I hate you, I can’t forget you. Even though you broke my heart, I still want you back. The only thing that leaves me now is tears and stupid actions. I can’t live without you.” She flips over the note and finds the other half of her crumpled piece of paper. Her heart pounds against her chest as she drops her umbrella in shock and runs after him.

Mike sits on a wet bench waiting for the rain to wash away his troubles; waiting for the sky’s falling tears to hide his. As he got up to leave, she comes running to him.

Sophia stops a few feet behind him to catch her breath. Her scared heart shouts unsaid words at him. As he begins to walk out of her life a second time, Sophia’s lips can’t take it anymore. Sophia calls out Mike’s name, “I’m sorry, let’s start again!"

CD Memories

Jay placed a CD into the CD player but as soon as he pressed play, the CD flew back out at him. He rubbed his head which made Jen laugh happily. She picks out another CD for him and holds it out, gently she puts the CD in and a soft tune plays. They lean back on a white sofa and think about the time they’ve spent together.

Jen remembers the first time they met in that bright little dance studio. Jay was dancing a funny-cheap looking dance that made her laugh. He moon-walked next to her and her friends and leaned into her, he took a sniff of her warm vanilla aroma and smiled. “Hi, you smell good” was their first exchange in words. Jen had laughed even louder and took out some lotion; she walked by him while he was still dancing and wiped some lotion on his face. Feeling a bit alarmed Jay didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t want to embarrass her so he rubbed the lotion towards his nose and inhaled loudly. “Ah… thanks. What’s your name?” The music had stopped by now and Jen smiled, “Jen, Jen Kim. You are?” Jay bowed formally and Jen tried to hide her laughter with her hand, Jay stood up again and held out his hand for hers, “My name is Jay Lee dear lady. And might I say that today is a fine day isn’t it?” Jen giggled and took his hand; they danced through the night… even when their friends had left, even when the lights had turned out, even as the sun was rising. They danced until they couldn’t breathe anymore, and when they weren’t dancing they were trying to talk. They danced until Jen fell asleep from exhaustion. Jen remembered looking at the video the security camera had caught of Jay fixing her hair and putting her head against his shoulder. She smiled at the thought and her memories trailed to their first date.

Their first date had appeared by accident. Jen and Jay had been on their way to the dance studio when all of the sudden it started pouring. Jay pulled Jen into a green house as lightning began to light to sky. They ended up spending a night there. Jay showed Jen his funny way of watering flowers and Jen showed him the correct way, they played tag and made rainbows with the sprays of water and dim light; they ended up eating dinner there and once they had enough to play they began dancing again. If only they could relive that night, if only they could dance under the shelter of a green house again. Tearing up, Jen moved to the next memory.

After the rain shower, Jay had invited Jen to his house. She remembered following him though the fresh smelling dew and slipping on the grass, but instead of going to his home he took a detour and took her to a coffee shop. This was where their first official date began; Jay had ordered her coffee and his eyes never left hers. They had been so nervous that morning, Jen almost threw up her coffee because she absent mindedly put too many cubes of sugar in it. Jay on the other hand had forgotten to put sugar in it, so they mixed the two drinks and made wonderful coffee. Jen’s hand moved along with her memories as she poured her coffee into a big cup and he did too.

The taste of the successful cup of coffee lasted until Jay pulled her into his bathroom and set her on a stool. Curious she watched him rush around getting ready for something. When he finished he stood up with his hands behind his back and asked Jen to open her mouth. Smiling, she opened her mouth and looked innocently at him. He smiled back at her and began brushing her teeth. Surprised, she closed her mouth on the toothbrush and looked at him confused. He prompted her to open her mouth again and she did; he continues to brush her teeth and in the end helped her rinse too. He imitated how someone should rinse and gargle water but Jen had drunk too much water to do that so she swallowed it. Jay looked alarmed at first but laughed with her when she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Jay smiled lovingly and ruffled her hair with a white towel. Jen smiled reached up and touched his hand; outside of her memories, the song she played was about to end and she reached up to touch her hair. The song ended and the whole room became silent. Jen slowly opened her red, puffy eyes and looked beside her. Jay who is sitting next to her slowly disappears as Jen tries to touch him. Crying harder she grabs a piece of parchment colored paper and rereads Jay’s death certificate. If only they had more time.