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It's getting Lao'd in here

Yesterday, you got a little taste of who we are as Midwest Lao Americans. And as writers. I guess I get a tad antsy labeling myself as a writer. I have nothing formally published and don’t consider myself a writer, much less a blogger. I simply write for the sake of writing, without a care for grammar or technical perfection. I’ve even been told by my professor at one point that, “Blogging isn’t writing, it’s graffiti with punctuation.” My friend Bryan the Worra advised, “Well then, you better be the Banksy of Blogging!” I couldn’t agree more. And that’s part of why I’m here. There are no barriers to writing and posting what I want on a clean slate. This is the beauty of blogging.

So who am I? I’ll spare you the usual refugee immigrant story. That’s for another LONG post. I’ll tap in a little intro of myself in one sentence: I’m a 20-something who works in the glamorous nonprofit world, encounters daily stereotypical mishaps, hunts for simple humor, and casually writes for escapism. Enough of me for today.

Let’s start your Tuesday with a little lift to get through to Wednesday. What do we think when we want to feel liberated? You know what I’m talking about: karaoke. You are truly not Lao American, or Asian for that matter, unless you have a couple of VCDs of your favorite Lao and/or Thai singer. Most Asians are quiet and calm until they hit the mic and the lyrics start flowing on the screen. It is who we are and it’s our innate nature to be closeted superstars.

Growing up in the Midwest, one of my first Asian American role models was Connie Chung. Don’t laugh. She was the first person I saw on TV. That’s when I was intrigued with journalism. But the first Asian American who actually caught my heart had to be none other than…ai Kahn Souphanousinphone from King of the Hill. He is Lao’d. He’s American. He has redneck neighbors. And best of all, he doesn’t give a badak about anything. It helps to be a cartoon character. Plus, Ai Kahn’s experience is the closest thing us Lao Americans can relate to. So without further ado, I’d like to dedicate this post to Mr. Souphanousinphone, because “there’s got to be a morning after”.

The Morning After

By Maureen McGovern

There’s got to be a morning after
If we can hold on through the night
We have a chance to find the sunshine
Let’s keep on lookin’ for the light

Oh, can’t you see the morning after
It’s waiting right outside the storm
Why don’t we cross the bridge together
And find a place that’s safe and warm

It’s not too late, we should be giving
Only with love can we climb
It’s not too late, not while we’re living
Let’s put our hands out in time

There’s got to be a morning after
We’re moving closer to the shore
I know we’ll be there by tomorrow
And we’ll escape the darkness
We won’t be searchin’ any more

There’s got to be a morning after

Singing out,

Chanida

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