Now Casting: Avatars Illustrated

19, college student
Asian or mixed Asian / Western


[Xue chews bubble gum, somewhat absentmindedly, somewhat flagrantly. Every now and then she blows a big bubble, picks up a sheet of glass and smooshes it against her mouth, flattening the bubble against the glass. She deposits the rest of the gum from mouth to glass as a small sculpture, she turns the glass to different angles to admire her creation, perhaps offering a view to the camera, then sets the glass back down, pops more gum in her mouth, starts chewing, and repeats the process…]

Hell-lo-oh. I’m Xue Faith.
I’m 19.
I was living with my mum.
She teaches at Erasmus in Rotterdam.
I left last year – finally!
Came here to London.
Studying at King’s college.

I’m a sophomore now; the crappy weather here in London’s way better than the crappy weather in Rotterdam, plus it’s so great to be on my own. I only met my father for the first time when I was 11. My mom’s a white chick who went to college in Hong Kong and the, like, weekend after she graduated she was farting around in Taipei and managed to get herself prego.

Note to self: avoid this.

Anyway, I was born in Taipei, but I’ve never lived there. No, I don’t speak the language. I’m sort of an “ABC” – you know, “American Born Chinese,” except for the whole, not actually being born in America part. You get my drift.

I’ve spent most of my life with my mother dragging me around to one stupid adventure after another. Or maybe they were cool. Or maybe they were both.

My mum’s a performance artist. Monumentally pretentious stuff. I hate art. I’ve hated art all my life. Gawd, no, I, no, I have no idea why I opened an art gallery. It’s so weird. It’s like I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be my mother… and then somehow I’m just turning into her anyway.

Cosmic joke.

Like god’s just laughing, “you think it’s all about you? You think you can do anything you want? Yeah, doesn’t work that way. And fuck you for trying.”

The worst part of it is, I totally love having an art gallery.

Do not tell my mother this: I will deny it, I will tell her you’re a pathological liar.


Also, do not tell me that I’m spoiled and superficial. You just don’t know what it’s like. No really. Forget it.

Just shut up about it!


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