WORDS

Language.

The medium of life.

Sounds and words and phrases combined into sentences and speeches and books.

Our spoken words.

The written word.

They carry more than the physical. They're spiritual power.

We speak and write to create.

They're patterns and formulas without which we can't express who we are.

It's prayer, direction, request, information, clarity, expression, love, laughter, meaning, communication, but it's also curses, hate, mockery, debasing, and regrets. We can't take them back. They're forever imprinted on memory chips, forgotten but not lost.

It's words of hope we hold onto the most. Like a student who gave up, admitting weakness and giving in to despair. A student who desperately needs prophetic words. Words filled with choice. Words filled with hope. Continue pursuing that love for language you have. You are a joy to all you share your words with.

Don't give up, but press on.

It's a student too comfortable in their environment, speaking incoherent empty words absent of power. Words of rebuke may be heard or the deafening from their own communication may drown out other streams of communication.

Most often, it's the words we try to plant in each other that we ourselves need.

Language is about choice.

What patterns will we follow? Whose patterns will we use? How will we form our structure and papers and answers?

Language is about power.

The potential energy each word has. It's written that every word spoken by God finds its fulfilled purpose. Not one goes back void.

Language is about belief.

Believing in the unseen reality that each word can produce gardens or barren land. They can bring beauty or smear over it.

Language has life.

Use every sentence with care and faith. Language is the medium of life. Books, speeches, and sentences made up of phrases, words, and sounds. Whether written or spoken, each word is cherished and precious. It's the power in your life.

Speak life.

Write hope.

Use language for love, the blessing of the Creator.

You know, that week: A Story of Belonging (Chapter 1)

Monday

Life on the island. Hot. Humid. Too many cars. But the fruit is delicious. The roads are too narrow for four lanes of traffic, but it happens. There's an advertisement on every building along with a store name, making every street a colorful spectacle. This isn't the west, though. This is Taiwan. Farms still merge with city life. Look over a bridge or behind a storefront and you can see where some of your food just came from.

And occasionally, you see a rarity: a westerner. This is the life Christopher has known for the past twelve years. It gets boring at times, but it's incomparable to the secluded life back home in California. Christopher came to Taiwan with a better job prospect than his own country could offer. It helps a lot when you're fluent in two languages, especially two very important languages.

Christopher's family is Taiwanese, but he was born and raised in L.A. As there were plenty of needs for translators in Taiwan, Christopher took the opportunity, exploring his family's country for the first time. Today that dream is going to disappear. He's about to tell his manager he's flying back to L.A. on the next available flight.

His manager has no idea what's coming. Christopher didn't want anyone to convince him otherwise. He speaks in English and the more he shares, the more heated he becomes.

“I'm leaving. I'm leaving because I can't stand to do this monotonous job any longer. There's no purpose. I should be doing something important with the skill set I have, but I'm stuck behind a computer everyday. And then, when I get off work, I have to walk through this smog-filled city with people who think I'm superhuman just because I speak English.

“The food's oily, the ground's dirty, the people are ignorant, and I just don't fit in. It smells terrible here and I'm getting on the next available flight out of here. Thanks for the job and I hope you find someone else to translate all of your marketing gimmicks. Goodbye.”

“Christopher,” his manager, Mr. Chen, starts to plead with him, “will you consider...”

The door shuts. Christopher already has the stuff he needs. He knew he would stay if he listened to what his manager had to say. It's time to go. It's time to go home.

L.A. has a less shocking Monday for Mary, the newest movie star who just became the face on everyone's news feeds. It's partly because of the creativity of the show she's on and partly for her talent that she hit the big time. The show is a futuristic melodrama filled with crazy gadgets and unbelievably cool characters. All the classic ingredients are there: deception, revenge, scandal, betrayal, romance, and plot twists with every episode. It was an overnight success and its main actress is Mary, a girl from middle of nowhere America. Now she's another L.A. Star, enjoying time off after the smash ending to the first season.

She had to adapt to the new fan base: big clothes, wigs, alien sunglasses, and lots of make-up. There's no escaping the fans, though. Especially the crazy ones. She walks down the busy skyline filled with people and cars and shops, not because she's trying to be seen, but because she still refuses to give up the normal life she once had, as well as the chance to find a decent guy. Now it's all the same. They are either much too crazy and sick, or too scared to say anything. There's always dating another star, but that feels too much like caving in. She's about to meet one of the crazy ones now; one of the fans before she made it big. That's what they all say.

It's a private tea house. You can get a snack, escape the sun, and relax, but how does someone uninvited find himself in the bathroom of an invite only shop?
That's Domitian. He has a job that mainly pays on commission, but he still sacrifices his time for the chance to make a great first impression. Today his timing is perfect. He has his chance to meet Mary. The one hundred and fifty-eight centimeter Latino department store worker leaves the bathroom with his hair slicked back and his shirt too tight around his chest.

Mary takes her seat and sighs deeply at the first sight of him. 'Here comes the speech,' she thinks to herself. And it will come. Domitian's face gets hot and his stomach twists as he stumbles over the floor, catching himself before coming within two meters of her.

“You are so stunningly gorgeous my love. I've seen all your shows and you are the most talented...”

Before he barely gets started with his well-rehearsed speech, a security personnel is already in his face, telling him to leave or he'll get arrested.

He shares the abridged version as he walks out, “I'll see you in every re-run. Just think of me. It's Domitian. I'm watching you. I love you.” The end trails off as Mary orders a drink and blocks the memory from her mind.

'Why can't guys just be normal?'

Sitting in the private shop alone gives her time to reflect on the last year of her life. She can't believe things could have changed that quickly. It's time to make a choice. Is all of this what she really wants? Will she give up the chance for a normal family to become the next big star?

She didn't know it would mean all this, but here she is: face plastered all over the country and yet hiding away from all the flashes. 'It's already here. I just have to admit it. Goodbye all you crazy men. It's time to flirt with Hollywood.'

The airplane takes off around evening time. It will be a half a day before Christopher touches ground again. He'll get to L.A. in the middle of the night because of the time difference. It's like he's flying into the past, going back to his old life. He's about to get his reality checked, though, because everything has already changed. He's a zombie when he jumps into his dad's car. It was short notice, but his dad had the time and a taxi would be too expensive.

“Hey Dad.” Christopher says in Chinese, jumping into the car. His family always speak Chinese to each other.

“Welcome back, Christopher. Did you bring everything?” His dad is referring to the usual dried snacks and cakes his family always buys when they make trips back to the island.

“I was in a hurry, so I just picked some things up at the airport.”
“So no pineapple cakes?”

“There's probably a couple in the variety packs.”

“Did you eat yet?” His dad asks the important question. His mom is already preparing their nightly meal at home.

“Not yet.”

His dad focuses on the road. Christopher lays back and listens to whatever pop radio station is on. It takes about an hour to get back to their house. As soon as they walk-in, they remove their shoes and the feasting is on. The house is huge compared to anything Christopher was living in in Taiwan. They have a front yard and two stories. For California standards, though, it's on the small side.

The evening marks a safe passage home for Mary. She drank three different drinks filled with sugar and ate a New York-style cheesecake. It was a little celebration for her. She no longer has to worry about strange guys. She's going to make it single and enjoy all the work she put into getting here.

The pictures start flashing with her first step out of the store. She puts a hand up and keeps walking. It's like there's no escape from the hound dogs. The sooner she makes it home the better, but it shouldn't be this way. Can't they just watch the re-runs if they want to see her again? This is curiosity turned approval turned excitement turned obsession. 'Remember your dream.' Which one?

You know, that week: A Story of Belonging (Chapter 2)

Tuesday

“Why does it still smell like Taiwan?” Christopher says out loud. He still remembers all the attention, all the pictures, and all the fandom from being an American living abroad.

His mind starts recalling memories at will. It doesn't matter how long he's been away. He knows where everything is. He knows the morning routine. Teas and breads and dumplings fill the table downstairs. It's life. Signs of life. There's no plan for today, but he knows the expectation. If he's staying in L.A., he has to find a job. There is no other choice.

It's only day one and it feels like Taiwan still. He walks to the bathroom and it suddenly hits him. Jet lag. 'What time is it?' He slept enough, so he will force himself to stay up. He's had it worse before.

The morning is silent. Everyone understands each other. Everyone feels comfortable. There are no need for words.

The morning is just as quiet for Mary, L.A.'s newest movie star. She has fresh fruit and chocolate milk; a combination even she isn't too sure about, but the craving was there. “Today I'll make this city my playground.”

She feels safe in the back of her car with tinted windows, but she knows she has to get out of it sometime. The gym is her first priority and her first mistake. Recordings, pictures, and screams cut her time short. She feels frustrated and unstable. It's the beginning of a complete breakdown.

It's time for tea.

Christopher borrowed his dad's car. It takes around forty-five minutes to get into downtown without heavy traffic. He makes it in under an hour and parks in a meter spot. He has no agenda. He's simply checking out the new city. It seems new anyway.

All skyscrapers appear the same, but he tries to focus in on the subtle differences. The textures. The windowsills. The corners. The doorways. The arches. He's seen it hundreds of times, but he can still notice new beauty when he needs to. Here in L.A., he's desperate for it.

And then he sees something totally new. A new Asian tea shop. And they sell bubble tea. This, he has to try. He orders the original and looks for a seat. Nothing. He just came from Taiwan though. A table for four with one person is a waste of space.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Christopher asks, expecting a quick reply.

Mary takes off her sunglasses and looks at the table, which has her stuff conveniently spread all over it. She already has the word 'yes' in her mouth, but he doesn't seem taken by her at all. Actually, he just looks tired.

“No, sorry.” She says and takes her things back so he has space to sit.

Christopher looks around the shop. It's mostly Asians, but they all seem to be staring at him. Everything is Asian-themed and the bubble tea is almost the right flavor. A flash goes off and Mary gives a frustrated look across the store.

“Did someone just take a picture of me again?” Christopher asks Mary.

“Do you get that a lot?” Mary asks.

“Sometimes. It can be quite annoying, you have no idea.”

“You really don't know, do you?” Mary questions him.

“Oh no, am I famous here?”

Mary laughs and looks directly into his eyes. 'There are still people that don't watch TV,' she thinks. Just then, somebody walks in and screams Mary's name. Christopher looks back and then to Mary.

“Who are you?” he asks, confused.

“Maybe it's better you don't know. At least one guy can be normal around me.”

“Thanks, I'm kind of used to the attention myself.”

“And why is that?” Mary asks, thinking how arrogant he is.

“Because I speak fluent English.” Christopher says it with a serious face, but Mary just stares at him, trying to figure him out. He doesn't add anything.

“Who are you?” Mary says, starting to smile.

“I'm Christopher. Nice to meet you. And you're Mary?” He guesses.

“Yes.”

“I'm bad with names. Sorry if I forget it.” Christopher says right away. Mary still can't tell if this is all a ploy, but she's amused anyway.

“So what do you do?” Mary asks as Christopher takes a sip from his bubble tea. She watches the little balls get sucked up through his straw and bounce around in the corners of his mouth when he answers.

“I'm a translator. Well, I was a translator. Not anymore.” A slight pause. “And what do you do?”

Another slight pause. “I'm an actor.”

“Oh, like on the commercials?”

“More like on the dramas.”

“Anything I would know?”

“Apparently not.”

More flashes strike off Christopher's eyes and Mary realizes that their faces have slowly drifted towards each other. It seems she's already figured out what tomorrow's gossip headlines will be. She backs away and lets the reality of who she is sink in. 'Surely he knows at this point. Now it's time to see his crazy side.'

Christopher replies. “Unless you're in a Taiwanese drama and can speak fluent Chinese or Taiwanese, I don't think I would have heard of it.”

“Where do you live?” Mary asks in shock.

“Now?” Christopher seeks clarification.

“Yes!” Mary says too loud.

“L.A.”

She gets quieter. “And you haven't seen any advertisements with me in them? The ones posted on every block?”

“Not yet, but I'll be sure to look. I just got back to the States, so sorry if I seem apathetic to your new TV show. I'm sure you do a great job in it.”

“You've been living in Thailand, haven't you?”

“Thailand?” Christopher says, looking offended.

“Didn't you say something about Thailand?”

“It's Taiwan.” Christopher corrects her.

“So I said it wrong. Anyway...” Mary tries to change the subject, but is interrupted right away.

“It's a different country. Thailand is in southeast Asia. Taiwan is an island country off the coast of mainland China. They speak different languages and eat different foods. They have completely different cultures.”

“Thanks for the geography lesson.” Mary's eyes get big as she takes a deep breath and then finishes the rest of her tea. “But I have to go.”

“Sorry, but a lot of people are just really ignorant.”

She stares into his eyes again and can tell he really is being sincere. “How about we meet here again on Thursday. Same time?”

Christopher looks around because of how quietly she said it. “Sure,” he whispers back at her. And without any hesitation, she's already out the door with flashes following. It takes about thirty seconds for the questions to start.

“Wow! Are you going out with her? What did she say? How do you know her?”
Christopher says something in Chinese and leaves as fast as he can. He stumbles over the chair and spills his tea on the floor.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says in Chinese to the manager. They strike up a conversation in Chinese and people slowly start going back to their own business. 'Who did I just meet?' Christopher wonders to himself.

Mary stays out of sight for the evening. She has a sense of hope within her and she has to share it. She's still the same girl underneath all the fame. She dials the number and tenses with each ring that intensifies the nervousness she feels. She won't answer.

“Hello?”

“Jessica?”

“Who is this?”

“It's Mary. I had to change my number. Sorry it's been awhile.”

“Mary!? From TV?”

“Mary from high school. Your friend, Mary. You know?”

“Yea of course. Wow!” Jessica starts talking quickly in the background to someone. “You won't believe who I'm on the phone with. It's Mary, like the Mary. I can't believe it. Hold on a second.”

“Listen Jessica, I don't want this to be weird. Just thought maybe we can talk like old times again.”

“Definitely. Where do you live? Is this your real phone number? Is there anyone with you now? Where are you right now? Are you pregnant?”

Mary drops the phone. It may be a time for a new number again.

“Hello? Hello? Oh no! I think the call was dropped. Mary! Don't worry, I'll call back!”

'Why did I ever want this?' Mary thinks as she walks away from the phone and tries to think about something positive.

Christopher.

It's the normal routine at Christopher's house. He listens to every conversation between his father, mother, and sister. It's like a record on repeat. It's like they never get tired of the same conversations. He was like that too, but that was before twelve years in Taiwan working as a translator for a company that only cares about profit.

He's glad he's gone. Glad he left.

“Any new job openings, Christopher?” His father turns the conversation to him. It starts.

“I'll start looking tomorrow.”

“What did you do today?” His mother joins the conversation.

“I tried out a new tea shop downtown. And I met someone pretty interesting. Have you ever heard of Mary?”

“The Mary?” His sister can't help but respond.

“The one on TV.” Christopher says.

“We've been watching her every night. Mom and Dad love her.”
“She has incredible talent,” his dad clarifies.

“Yes, she seems really interesting.” Christopher thinks back to the tea shop.
“So you're thinking of acting?” his mom asks.

“No,” Christopher laughs. 'What am I thinking?'

“Find a job first. Think about TV dramas later,” his dad says.

His sister teases him and the conversation turns to a different topic. It's only been one day and Christopher is more confused than ever. 'Why am I more concerned over this girl than finding my new career? And why is everyone so infatuated by her? She's just a person. And so am I.'

Chapter 3


You know, that week: A Story of Belonging (Chapter 3)

Wednesday

The alarm rings. The voices start. Everyone with their own opinion. Everyone with their own end. And Christopher's heart. Beating. Pumping that diseased blood. It's a deadly curse. Pessimism.

Today seems the same as yesterday. The wanted section is open on the computer screen. Breakfast is on the table.

“Not many job openings lately,” his dad says.

“I'll find something.” Christopher says immediately.

“Mr. Chen called.” His mother says. “He says they really need you, even if you want to work from home. You should take him up on it.”

“It's a great job to have and you can work part-time,” his dad adds.

“I'll never translate anything ever again. That was the worst job and I was a fool to waste so much time in that dirty country just to help that man earn money.”

“He seemed nice on the phone,” his sister says.

“Thanks. I'm going out to look for jobs.” Christopher eats breakfast and listens to the silence return to his morning. He gets ready and grabs the car keys. He sees one of his dad's friends working in his yard. He must be planning a new project. He's a forty-year old Hispanic man with a special talent for woodwork. He works in some big company that comes with bonuses, but he seems more like a carpenter because he can make anything from scratch: chairs, tables, porches, patios, gazebos, hot tubs, and even houses. Everything he makes is carved with designs. It's art. His art.

“Hey Christopher. How are you?” Hugo says in Spanish.

“Fine, thanks. How about you?” Christopher answers back in Spanish. He doesn't think he's particularly good with languages, but he knows how important they are to people. He can get by with Spanish, but eventually they will have to speak English. It's usually after the two minute mark.

“Fine. I haven't seen you in so many years.”

“I know.” Christopher says. “Things are a little hard now. Let me ask you. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be a movie star?”

“What, like Mary?”

“Why does it always go back to Mary?”

“Mary!”

“What?” Mary finally answers the phone that wouldn't stop ringing. It's six am.
“I need to talk to you, you know, girlfriend stuff.” Jessica's heart accelerates, pumping an overdose of adrenaline through her life. “Let's hang out. Call your movie stars and I'll bring my dog. I'm on my way. Send your address.”

Mary screams through the air, sending her phone into her wall, which crashes into pieces.

A flash. A flash. A camera flash. Mary walks to the window and peaks between the curtains. There's a reporter.

“I'm calling the police.” She says in frustration as she looks for her phone, only to find it still in pieces on the floor.

It rings. It's ringing. Mary picks up the screen and sees Jessica's name on it.

The reporter's picture is in perfect timing. The phone crashes through the window, shattering glass outside along with the ringing technology.

That's going to be the picture on tomorrow's front page.

“I hate you Hollywood!”

“She has the perfect life, doesn't she?” Hugo says in English, not sure how Christopher's Spanish is holding up.

“I don't understand why everyone loves her so much! She's just an actor.”

“Is that jealousy Christopher?”

“I'm an important person. Mr. Chen is begging to get me back.”

“Who?”

“You wouldn't know because...” Christopher sighs and realizes his anger is following him, clinging to him like a sweaty shirt after a long workout.

“I wouldn't finish that sentence. You'll regret it later.”

Christopher sinks down. It's not as easy as he thought to let go of twelve years. And how could he let his anger out on Hugo of all people. He had nothing to do with the situation.

“Hugo. I'd like to learn some woodworking. Do you have time to show me some things?” Christopher asks.

“It looked like you were heading out.”

“Nothing pressing.”

“Okay. What do you want to build?”

“How about a bird cage?” Christopher suggests.

“You want to buy a bird?”

“Actually I want to smash it to pieces after it's done. I always wanted to do that.”
“Then get your own wood.”

Christopher quickly recants his last statement and promises he won't smash it, not on purpose anyway. They spend the afternoon building it. Christopher takes in as much information as his brain will allow and he learns a lot about Hugo as well. It seems their stories aren't that different. Hugo grew up in Mexico, but moved to California with his family. He worked hard until he finally landed a decent job and then balanced his time between work and home, building new projects for the house.

“You see Christopher, you can't let your job define who you are because it will always demand more of you. You have to know it yourself. Who are you? What are you living for? Then you can do your best at your job without sacrificing who you are.”

About half-way through, Christopher is already too tired to finish, but Hugo insists the project is small enough to finish all at once. He encourages Christopher to keep going and before the afternoon is finished, the bird cage is ready for staining and painting.

Mary gets lunch, movies, and new clothes delivered to her house. She decides it's better not to leave. When she has to go to the restroom, she takes a look at herself in the mirror. 'I've changed. I'm changing. I'm different. I'm starting to go mad.' Mary lets out a crazed laugh that grows into hysteria. 'I'm okay. Everything is fine.' Perspective. It's seeing yourself from different angles. In different lights. We are different in endless ways even to ourselves. A picture can never capture who we are. Maybe that's why the media must continue coming back over and over until people lose interest in the person. We will never be truly captured. Even if we remain the same, we can never be contained by four corners of a picture.

If I'm going crazy, it won't matter if I look it. It's time to go out! Big sunglasses. Tangled hair. Pajamas and a long bathrobe with a long coat over it. And make-up. Lots of make-up. A beauty queen gone mad. This is Mary. Can you recognize me now?

Mary's drive takes her to the bowling alley. She has two lanes all to herself. Suddenly she has the urge to call Jessica. She takes out the new phone with the new number, as she instructed her driver to get for her, and makes the number private. As soon as she hears Jessica's hello, she hangs up the phone, not because of regret or coming to her senses. That would be reasonable. This is unreasonable. Unthinkable. Crazy.

This is Domitian. “Looks like you have lots of space over here. Can I treat you to a game?” He's a good-looking man, more because he takes care of himself than his natural appearance. He's strong, clean, and fashionable.

'Maybe he doesn't recognize me.' Mary thinks to herself, but the truth is obvious. She's being stalked. This must be the creepiest fan of all. How can he possible be interested in her now when she looks like a drama queen after being shot out of an elephant's trunk?

It's obsession.

“Sorry. I'm expecting friends,” Mary answers, finally.

Domitian looks up to see four 'Mary's on her bowling screen.”Are your friends all named Mary?”

Mary lets out an embarrassing laugh. “Maybe another time.”

“Give me one game or the whole bowling alley knows that Mary is bowling right alongside them.”

“One game,” Mary says, staring him down.

“Unless I win. Then you have to give me two.”

“No way.”

“I'm not a professional. Just try me. It will be fun.”

Mary can see a beam of hope in his eyes. She has to crush it soon or this stalker may be following her for her whole career. “Okay. But if I win, you can never follow me, look at me, or talk to me ever again.”

Domitian considers it. “Okay, but if I win, I stay the whole night with you.”

“You're on.” Mary agrees. She grabs her own custom-made bowling ball from the rack and walks up to her lane. With perfect form, she spins the ball towards the gutter, but as if it's following her command, it spins right back to the center, hitting the pins at an angle and knocking all of them down. Strike. She walks back to her seat and sits down without saying a word.

Domitian's eyes turn into saucers, but he keeps his cool. He didn't know this about Mary. What else doesn't he know? It's his turn. He takes a normal bowling ball from the alley and steps up to the lane. He mimics Mary's form, which in his head looks graceful, but to Mary looks like a weightlifter without a hint of balance. He releases the ball, curving it just like Mary did. It doesn't curve back, though. Gutter ball. One more try.

He changes techniques. If something isn't working, he's always learned to change techniques. He keeps his arm straight. His fingers straight. His head straight. Release. Gutter ball.

Mary's turn. 'Maybe she just had a lucky throw the first time.' Domitian thinks. Mary releases the ball. Strike. 'Or not.' “So you played before?” He asks, but gets no answer back.

It's not until the fifth round that Domitian hits a pin down, but by the eighth he's already developed his form. Meanwhile, Mary keeps hitting strikes and spares, ignoring any attempt at conversation from Domitian.

The last round. Mary's first. She releases. Only nine pins go down. Mary's face gets a little pink. She wanted the strike. A spare will do. She walks to the lane. Throws the ball. It goes wide. She only knocks down nine pins. It won't change the outcome, but it still makes her a little frustrated.

Domitian's last turn. He's calm. Not nervous. He throws the ball. It curves around with speed and slams into the pins that explode all over the lane. Strike. Two more throws. He gives a smile to Mary. She pretends not to see it. Same form. Same curve. Same speed. Strike again. He got his form now. He knows his strength and he's using it just the way he wants to. One more throw. It's like a song on repeat. He steps up, throws the ball, and explodes the pins. Strike. Now this is fun.

“I'm not that bad, am I?” Domitian asks, knowing she has to be impressed.
“You lost. Don't bother me again.” Mary turns away and waits for him to leave. A tear falls from her eye. 'That was too much Mary.'

Domitian accepts his loss, not frustrated, but rather sad. 'How can the Mary with such a booming personality be so cold?'

“It makes you feel so warm, doesn't it?” Hugo says, looking at the finished bird cage.

“It's just right. It's beautiful.”

“I think this makes you happy.” Hugo says in Spanish.

“It's a lot of work and there are so many details. But, looking at the finished product is something special. It seems worth it, even with all the frustration in between.”

“Well, you seem really positive all of a sudden.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Don't get mad at me. You know you don't exactly see sunshine in every situation.”

Christopher is offended. “I'm not going to exaggerate the truth. Sometimes, things are just not going well.”

“Are you sure you have the whole story? The whole truth?”

“Okay, okay. Thanks for helping me learn some woodworking skills. What do I owe you for the materials?”

“Hear me out and it's free.”

Christopher sighs.

Hugo starts before he can run away. “Let's use your old job as an example. It's just an example.” Hugo quickly says when Christopher looks like he's going to object. “You think you're just wasting your time in a big company that only cares about profit, but have you ever wondered what the dream of that company's founder was?”

“I'm sure it was something like retire early on a nice beach away from civilization.”
“It would be interesting to find out. How about your manager. What's his name?”
“Mr. Chen.” Christopher says, losing patience.

“Do you think he puts in all that effort and overtime simply for the money? Or is there a vision statement he likes to quote from?”

“I don't know.”

“So he does quote from it?” Hugo asks, sure he already knows the answer.
“It really drives me crazy.”

Hugo laughs. “What's it say?”

“I'm not saying it. There's a reason I left.”

“I can help you build a bird cage all day and you can't quote your company's vision statesmen for me?” Hugo says, looking Christopher square in his eyes.

Christopher sighs. Pauses. “Making the world smaller and bringing us closer through language, translation, and understanding.”

“Sounds like world peace.”

Christopher rolls his eyes back in disbelief.

Hugo laughs. “It's not so bad. And I know you don't believe it, but what if Mr. Chen does? What if he's exhausting his life for a vision for world peace? What if he believes his everyday job is making a tangible difference in the world? If, if it's true, would that change your perspective on your company?”

“It's not my company. I know where you're going with all of this. Thanks Hugo. I mean it. I'm just finished with that place. I have to move on.”

“Okay, at least you heard what I had to say. Can you handle this?” Hugo motions to the bird cage.

Christopher affirms and takes the cage back to his garage. It's already evening and he hasn't started looking for jobs yet.

And then the phone rings.

“Hello?” Christopher answers on the the second ring.

“So it's true. I heard you were back in town. It's been so long. Are you really still alive?”

“Hey Petey, yea it's true.”

Well are you free tonight? We have to catch up.”

Christopher looks at the computer with the job listings website still up, but somehow he can't say no to an old friend. Or maybe he can't say yes to his job search.

Christopher and Petey were friends from school, but not best friends. They could only spend a few hours together before their arrogance flattened any life their relationship had. It's like two people always trying to pull down the flag. Once it's down, the conversation goes silent.

They agree to meet at a burger place, the one where they skate out to your car and take your order. Somehow the food really does taste better there.

Mary doesn't even finish her last game. She leaves early and gets in the car.
“Just drive,” she says and picks up her phone. Jessica's name is stuck in her head. She believes things really can go back the way they were. She can reason with her. Being the next big up and coming actress isn't a big deal. Not really.

She stares at the number pad on her phone. 'It's possible, but not like this.' She throws down her phone and tells the driver the address. She has to meet Jessica in person. It's the only safe way.

There's hope building inside of her as the driver makes the familiar turns to her old friend's house. On the other side, there's a sense that she really is going mad, spending her time so recklessly and obsessing over trivial matters. 'I'm a movie star. I should start acting like one.'

As her regrets and doubts start converging, the driver informs her they've arrived. The tall apartment building looks the same as it always has. This place is filled with memories, all having been crushed by her rise to fame.

'It's not worth it, actually, but I have to do it. I have to prove my worth, my skill, myself.'

She gets ready to step out of the car and then takes a look in the mirror. Big bug-eyed glasses. Overdone make-up. Hair frizzy, knotted, and moving out in all directions.

'I'm not that Mary anymore. So who am I?'

Christopher gets to the restaurant first. He parks off to the side. Even though it's not possible, he can still smell the food and hear the sizzling inside. Memories. A lot of good times. Christopher closes his eyes, letting his mind wander through stories. It's a past he thought he'd forgotten. Now it's creeping back.

Petey pulls in towards the front. He has a different car. He's bigger than he was before, too. He gets out and walks up to the front doors. It's like everything has changed about him. His gait. His style. His clothes. His hair. Does he still know this person?

Christopher takes a look at himself in the mirror and he has a nostalgic feeling mixed with a reality check. The who was and the who is aren't aligning. His past and his present have drifted apart. It's then he realizes that he's been remade. Taiwan has reshaped all of who he is, just like L.A. continued to shape Petey over the years.

He stares into the mirror and the question stays glued to his mind. “Just who am I?”