my little talks: February 2023

2/21/23

It started with a dragon

Dear me,

I didn't mean to, but I bought more books. One of which was a book that finally made my brain click and realize that hey reading actually is fun. True, it was for school, but it worked to my teacher's advantage. She got people to enjoy reading.

Anyway, backtracking a few steps. It started in 6th grade. My teacher made everyone do a reading bingo. Each square was a different genre. If you filled out every single spot then you got a pretty nice reward, like some kind of food. I love food so that was enough incentive for me to read. It was a bit of a chore, reading random books and filling out a paper on each book, and I often kind of dreaded it. However, that all changed when I read Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke. It truly helped me escape my reality and before you knew it, I was done. I may not remember much about it, but I was hooked.

Before I fully grasped it myself, it led me to a spiral of fantasy and young adult books and then (almost) anything else that was under the sun. Like sure I still had to write a paper on it, but at that point, I didn't mind. It wasn't a book that was forced onto me. It wasn't something that constantly reminded me of how "gifted" I was or how "advanced" I was. The best part, I didn't have to take a test on it for AR (accelerated reader) club. I just let the story take me away without having to worry about the mechanics of it. The other best part was that I got a snack from it.

Anyway, I just wrote all of this down to hopefully show others that no matter how "late" you are to read in life, it doesn't matter. You don't have to start from inside the womb, you just need to start somewhere. Even if it requires a bit of a push and maybe some food.

Now that I think about it, that probably explains why I read while eating my meals nowadays.

And now the weather:

mad at disney by salem ilese

~ Stacy N.

I'm still searching for my piece of home

Photo by Flo Dahm from Pexels

Dear me,

While reading Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner, I couldn't help but naturally seek a part of me in her story. That was of course found through food and HMart. Except I didn't grow up with H Mart because there simply wasn't one in Utah. Instead, I grew up in the small Vietnamese markets hearing Vietnamese words float by my ears; picking up my favorite Asian snacks like Yeo's soy milk, yan yan, and the multiflavored gum packs where the gum came in tiny balls, and whose flavors were quickly lost as I tried to chew through a big glob trying to see how big I can make this bubble. It wasn't ever a big bubble.

I found a comfort in seeing chè in the fridge alongside the Vietnamese yogurt, bánh mì that can be quickly made to order, and some bánh xèo and gỏi cuốn that you can just pick up. The bánh rán and bánh tét and chả lụa I later learned you just can never find in an H Mart just because it's distinctly Vietnamese. It took me many months and stumbling before I was able to find them here in Washington state. The Vietnamese language floating around me, the aisles distinctly tiny, and me towering a bit over everyone. (I am barely taller than an average Vietnamese person from what I have observed, post-puberty.)

It's not quite home, but it eases my homesickness and my hungry stomach. And it helps to know that for a moment I'm not alone in my ever wandering place in this world.

And now the weather:

Đi Về Nhà by Đen và JustaTee

~ Stacy N.