post 4

.gitea/workflows/pipeline.yml

@@ -20,16 +20,16 @@ jobs:
           mkdir -p ~/.ssh
           echo "$SSH_PRIVATE_KEY" > ~/.ssh/id_ed25519
           chmod 600 ~/.ssh/id_ed25519
-          ssh-keyscan -p 22 "rchou.org" >> ~/.ssh/known_hosts
+          ssh-keyscan -p 22 "rchou.net" >> ~/.ssh/known_hosts
           chmod 644 ~/.ssh/known_hosts
 
       - name: Rsync to server
         env:
-          SSH_TARGET_DIR: /home/cab/docker/blog/src
+          SSH_TARGET_DIR: /home/cab/docker/websites/blog-src
           RSYNC_SOURCE: .
         run: |
           rsync -rz --delete \
             --no-times --no-perms --no-owner --no-group \
             --omit-dir-times --mkpath \
             -e "ssh -i ~/.ssh/id_ed25519 -p 22" \
-            "$RSYNC_SOURCE"/ "deploy@rchou.org:${SSH_TARGET_DIR}/"
+            "$RSYNC_SOURCE"/ "deploy@rchou.net:${SSH_TARGET_DIR}/"

posts/post4.md

@@ -0,0 +1,31 @@
+#### Home is a Moving Target
+## Sep 18, 2025
+---
+
+The first thing I notice when I land in Taipei isn’t the humidity, it’s the English.
+The customs officer glances at my U.S. passport, smiles politely, and greets me with a crisp, "hello".
+It’s friendly, but it’s also a signal: foreigner.
+
+Back home in the States, the signals run the other way.
+Strangers will tilt their heads and ask, “Where are you really from?”
+To them, my black hair and last name are proof that I don’t fully belong.
+
+Two countries, two kinds of distance.
+In Taiwan, my Mandarin carries a soft American lilt.
+In America, my face carries a history I can’t shed.
+The result is a strange elasticity of self: I’m stretched across the Pacific, always a little too much and a little not enough.
+
+And yet, in that stretch, there is unexpected abundance.
+
+I love the late night chaos of a Taiwanese night market, the smoky perfume of oyster omelets, the sugar crust on fried sweet potatoes.
+I also love the messy creativity of American diners, where pancakes arrive bigger than the plate and coffee refills never stop.
+My playlists swing from Faye Wong ballads to Kendrick Lamar verses; my shelves hold both pu'er tea leaves and prepackaged mac and cheese.
+These aren’t contradictions. They’re coordinates.
+
+Belonging, I’ve learned, isn’t a single address.
+It’s a moving target, a constellation of tastes, sounds, and memories that shift as I do.
+I may always be a foreigner in Taipei and a hyphenated question mark in California, but I carry the best of both with me, like dual passports of the heart.
+
+Maybe that’s the quiet gift of being Asian American:
+To stand in the middle of two cultures, to love them both fiercely, and to know that home isn’t where people decide you fit.
+Home is everything you refuse to give up.

script.js

@@ -16,6 +16,7 @@ document.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded", function () {
     // Dynamically load posts on the home page
     if (document.getElementById("post-list")) {
         const posts = [
+            { title: "Home is a Moving Target.", date: "Sep 18, 2025", excerpt: "The first thing I notice when I land in Taipei isn’t the humidity, it’s the English.", file: "post4.md" },
             { title: "Hemming", date: "Jul 28, 2025", excerpt: "Everything I create lives on screens", file: "post3.md" },
             { title: "Scars, Sadness, and Soulmates", date: "Jan 26, 2025", excerpt: "Healing isn't a prerequisite for love, being human is.", file: "post2.md" },
             { title: "Meaningful Action", date: "Jan 23, 2025", excerpt: "wow this is barely comprehensible", file: "post1.md" },