...oh Mai Love...

Hello Lovelies! I'm Mai--a writer, a romantic, an adventurer, and everything in between! Born in a Refugee Camp and immigrated to the United States at the age of 2, I am the favorite daughter with 4 brothers. I enjoy the proximity of my family, the essence of the close-knit Hmong community, the variations of authentic cuisine, the march of flip flops under the yearlong sun, and the places where the ocean waves meets the sky. Most importantly, I love taking naps to rejuvenate the mind. A recent graduate with a BA in International Studies with a double minor in Literature of the World and Chinese Studies. Therefore, I know Mandarin Chinese, can talk politics, and analyze fascinating novels. In addition, I enjoy intelligent, heartfelt, pleasant conversations while sipping on well-aged wine with nostalgic Hmong music playing in the background. The dream job is to be a United States Diplomat and save the world. If I was to describe myself in one word, it'll be "cosmopolitan"---Not the alcoholic beverage or the women magazine--but a World Citizen. Life is too short so plunge deep into the depth of the world and live it to the extreme.

[ohmailove-blog]

tshuav muaj koj xwb

lub neej tseem tshuav ntev ntev

tabsis yog  hais tias tseem muaj koj

ces txhua yam kuv yeej tsis ntshai

[tylerknott]

[ohmailove-blog]

Silently, the last petal falls...

A simple "hello", A simple "good bye"

Though I am filled with emotions, the heart is swaying between the salutations and farewells.

A thousand unspoken words dies at the lips as the sorrows of separation sinks deep beneath my heart. 

Today we part, will we meet again?  Another sigh, when I think of the distance.

A blissful encounter, or ill-fated chance? 

Another sigh, as I watch the last petal falls. Just because I dare not to say "love you."

[ohmailove-blog]

Orion, babysitting you today was truly a pleasure. Love you with tons of kisses and hugs. 💝

[ohmailove-blog]

I miss you. 

[ohmailove-blog]

Writing Hmong Literature

Towards the end of my 4th year, I was beginning to question the validity of my aspirations and the potentials of future endeavors. By then, I was well ahead and deep into my studies (Chinese Studies and Literature of the World) when I realized that there was a something drastic missing from completing myself. I remembered sitting in my History of Traditional Chinese Society, analyzing and discussing prominent literary prose of such love poems, obituaries, letter correspondences, and just about everything from all the greater imperial dynasties when it finally hit me--Hmong people don't even have ancient artifacts such as literatures that's been preserve from centuries ago for future posterities to study. 

From taking so many Literature of the World classes, I've came to realized that in every great civilizations sprout great literatures. Hence, despite the downfall of civilizations, the only perseverance were the books that were left behind. Thus, that's why we study books. 

Definitely a major aspect about my undergraduate career was the realization that there is very little "Hmong literature." Although many would argued that the Hmong civilizations have always relied on oral traditions to transcend much of its relatively large repertoire, it's evident that it has become a dying practice where leads to much of these prose to be near-extinct. 

Recently, I've experimented with writing sentimental Hmong literary--Something that is definitely out of my comfort zone. Fusing with my knowledge of Chinese traditional love poems, I've taken quite inspirations in crafting this poem: 

ntuj yuas txiv leej tub, cas cua tuaj ntxuj ntxiag es tshav ntuj niaj ci ntsa iab   xyoo no txiv leej tub tiav nraug lawm tiag yam li lub paj nyuaj qhua ntshawv tshiab puas tau muaj npauj los tsaws hnia ntxhiab ntuj os txiv leej tub,  xyoo no yog muaj siab tiag rhais ncua lub paj tsw qab rov cog hauv nruab siab

[ohmailove-blog]

xav kom toj roob hauv pes no muaj sia  nyob tshiab khi li no txhua niaj  txhua xyoo rau wb tuaj zaum ntsia.  kheev lam kom lub hnub txhob txawj poob,  es cia kuv tuav lub sij hawm no mus ib txhis.  xav kom tej huab tej cua tsis txawj hloov  es cia kuv zaum ntawm koj ib sab sov so mus tag ib sim.

[ohmailove-blog]

#fscottfitzgerald is probably the only man to truly understand my heart.

[ohmailove-blog]

So I tore a piece of my heart, and threw it into the ocean. Only to have it washed ashore a few days later. Maybe it's telling me that somethings can't be easily given up or forgotten.

[ohmailove-blog]

Someday you will stare out the window in whatever office you are working in and wonder how life would be like if you had took that leap of faith and took the risk of doing what you had always dreamed of…you are going to look back at the computer screen that you had spend countless hours  on and fantasized about the backpack trip to Europe that never happened, or the street foods throughout Southeast Asia that you never got to experienced. In that precise moment, you are going to wished that if you knew all that you know now, you would have told yourself you only got one life to live, packed your bags, and booked the next flight out of this country. Don’t wait because life is not waiting for you. 

[ohmailove-blog]

Matchmaking

Maybe our constellations were not aligned. Maybe our fate were not intertwined. Maybe our lives were not destined. Our union was not written among the stars. Across the milky way is where you stand, The distance between us is as wide as the universe.

[ohmailove-blog]

For nights, I had recurring dreams of you. Dreams of us. Visions of a happily ever after clouded my thoughts and filled my head with a delusional falsified love story. Dreams that pulled at my heartstrings and I felt like I was falling, crashing into webs of thoughtless dreams of us together, happy as a family. I jerk awake to only be drown in my own disappointment.

[ohmailove-blog]

Even within these four corners, it no longer provides a safe haven. I can feel a sense of disarray as I roam the streets of this city. Even with the wind flapping through my hair, it feels surreal that I am here and not there. So far out from my comfort zone, away from what I thought I will never leave. Negativity pokes at my nerves, and confusion begins to blur my vision. I paused and remind myself that I am where I suppose to be. I take a deep breath and its those reassuring moments that save me from drowning in my own thoughts. I have come so far on this journey, the thought of turning back terrifies me. Back there doesn't exist anymore. This is a new home. This is where I shall build myself again. 

[ohmailove-blog]

Give me a reason to believe that this will be fine. Give me a reason to believe that everything will be fine. Convinced me that this is all worth it. Show me that this piercing heartache, this sleepless night, these swollen eyes are worth it. Tell me that this heart of mine won't go breaking.

[ohmailove-blog]

Samson and Delilah

Samson knew Delilah was wicked. Yet he believed that if he kept Delilah close to him, his pure goodness will cleanse her of sins. He believed that if he loved Delilah, she will love him too. Yet at the end, love was his downfall. His own poison that wounded his heart. His love for Delilah was his own destruction. Even then, he still loved her wholeheartedly. One day, we’ll know why Samson loved Delilah.

[ohmailove-blog]

Someday I'll Know

Even as I lay in my bed trying to count sleeps, a thousand thoughts filters through my mind. I've been foolishly running around the same circle and tending to an old wound that I thought I stitched up centuries ago. I can't continue living the rest of my with such bitterness and sadness. Everything that had happened in the last months was so perfectly synchronized that I wasn't even able to dodge it or even prepare myself to face it. Reminding myself that I am better off by myself no longer sufficed. I must be emotionally and mentally strong enough to surpass this.  Loneliness, hopelessness, abandonment, and disappointments allude my thoughts of empty promises. How do you sleep at night? Does it warm your heart? Do you ever stop and feel remorseful? Quite honestly, I still wonder. I am still haunted.  The "What if" questions renders into my head as if it was the closing credit to my novice movie. All the thoughts that I've been pondering for the last few years, months, days, and weeks boils down to this momentum: I deserve an explanation.  Maybe not now. But maybe someday we'll know. One day, I'll know why. 

[ohmailove-blog]