Yuenkay

Halfass

2009-07-26T02:01:00.000-07:00

You know, when someone says they don't do anything half-ass and they put 110% into their work, it is really just a glass-half-full way of saying they are going to half-ass on You instead.

Pride

2009-07-02T13:23:00.000-07:00

It was Pride last weekend. I was out the few days before rafting so I kind of forgot and only remembered when I was wondering why a normally super busy brunch spot was kind of empty, and then saw a dude with a blue wig walk by.

I watch Rachel Maddox religiously via her vidcast. I adore her. Gay rights news is often talked about on her show coz well, she is an openly gay person herself, so I get pretty regular updates about these things. Many believe that the political establishement is actually rather removed from popular sentiments regarding gay marriage and Don't Ask Don't Tell; and specifically for Republicans, it seems like they can only be openly for it, IF like let's say their daughter is gay: case in point, Dick Cheney and Jerry Sanders. Who the hell is Jerry Sanders? Well, I heard about him on NPR actually, he is the mayor of San Diego (R) and in 2007, gave a very emotional press conference detailing the reasons why he flipped on his campaign stance in 2005 and came out in support of gay marriage. It is refreshing to see a politician (esp a R) to be willing to risk his conservative political career and just come out and support what is right. A very moving and personal press conference, worth a watch:

By the way, this press conference was given the day before he started his re-election campaign. Jerry Sanders won against 4 other conservative candidates and got re-elected, and his support for gay marriage wasn't even an issue that came up.

Maybe Malia or Sasha has to be gay before Obama gets a move on about actually repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell and publicly stand up for marriage equality.

Butter

2009-06-05T22:32:00.000-07:00

---------------------------------------------
Context: Friend makes update to Facebook status. 18 Comments ensue. Excerpts below.
---------------------------------------------

Friend: (status) Butter is better! Stop eating margarine and go find some grass fed, organic butter! http://bit.ly/YiW9J

Douche#1: Use some other spread or just eat food that tastes good in the first place. Butter's almost nothing but saturated fat. < ... >

Me: Saturated fat tastes good.

<...>

Douche#2 (yes a different guy): No, butter is not better! Use olive oil spread.

Douche#2: Douche#1,who paid to get you to say that? The reality is that butter contains milk solids, milkfat, aka butter fat aka the stuff that lines your arterial walls as plaque and causes blood clots. Butter is made from calf's milk which turns "60 lb calfs into 350 lb cows" -- its not real food. If you want fat try vegetable oils, olive oil, etc. ... Stop eating meat and exercise. If you do eat meat, eat only a small, small portion of meat. Meat is "survival food" -- meaning it should be only eaten as a last ditch effort for survival.

Douche#2: "Numerous subsequent studies costing hundreds of millions of dollars, have failed to conclusively back up this claim.5"
Except you can watch a video of what happens to a patient who has arteries blocked by butter fat and meat fats: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHE1ig4k64M

Friend: wow, didnt think I would spawn such a response. I think the point is just don't eat margarine. That was what I took away. Nutrition is a new science, but research HAS shown that certain fats are critical to digesting certain nutrients. Certainly this article isn't saying to go out and eat a butter sandwich, if you aren't an idiot, you should get the point.

Douche#2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6CK9RIDFaY

<...>

Me: Mmmm.....mascapone, creme fraiche and double devon cream. Yum.

Friend: for serious Jane!!!

<...>

Douche#2: YOU DO NOT NEED A COW'S MILK OR ANY PRODUCT PRODUCED BY PROCESSING COW MILK. ESSENTIAL FATS ARE A PART OF VEGETABLES, NOT COW MILK.

Douche#2: EF (Essential Fats) are found in: Flaxseed oil (best source), Canola oil (Cheaper source), flaxseeds, flaxseed meal, hempseed oil, hempseeds, grapeseed oil, pumpkin seeds, pine nuts, pistachio nuts, almonds, sunflower seeds (raw), olive oil, olives, borage oil, evening primrose oil, black currant seed oil, chestnut oil. Replace hydrogenated fats (like margarine), cholesterol-based fats (butter/dairy products), and poly-saturated fats (common cooking oils) with healthy EFA-based fats when possible. For example, instead of margarine or butter on your warm (not hot) vegetables, use flaxseed and/or extra virgin olive oils with salt. (This tastes similar to margarine, as margarine is just hydrogenated oil with salt.) High heat, light, and oxygen destroy EFAs, so when consuming foods for their EFA content, try to avoid cooked or heated forms. For example, raw nuts are a better source than roasted nuts. Don't use flaxseed oil for cooking, and never re-use any type of oil.

Douche#2: Essential Fatty Acids are the "good fats" all over the news these days, and a very hot research topic. More is known about them every week as more studies come forward. Some information hasn't changed since Julius Fast wrote his book The Omega-3 Breakthrough (Tucson, Arizona: The Body Press 1987, ISBN 0-89586-625-0). For example, good fats compete with bad fats, so it's important to minimize the intake of trans fats and cholesterol (animal fat) while consuming enough good fats. Also, good fats raise your HDL or "good cholesterol". One of the jobs of this High Density Lipoprotein (HDL) or "good cholesterol" is to grab your bad cholesterol, LDL (Low Density Lipoprotein), and escort it to the liver where it is broken down and excreted. In other words, these good fats attack some of the damage already done by the bad fats. This is very important in an age when so many Americans are struggling to get their cholesterol down, and fight heart disease and obesity.

Me: i think being a douche is bad for your health.

Sane Person: Point: Jane. Holy balls my homepage is full of preachings from a health nut. If I wanted my eyes to bleed I'd have gone to PETA's website.

Cairo

2009-06-05T14:43:00.001-07:00

If you're going to watch or listen to ONE political speech, listen to this one.
What a gutsy, profound and poignant speech.

In the middle of the speech, yes, some guy DID yell out "WE LOVE YOU!", like it was a rock concert. At the end, the audience began to chant "OBAMA! OBAMA!".

Some excerpts:

"Now, let me be clear: Issues of women's equality are by no means simply an issue for Islam. In Turkey, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Indonesia, we've seen Muslim-majority countries elect a woman to lead. Meanwhile, the struggle for women's equality continues in many aspects of American life, and in countries around the world.

I am convinced that our daughters can contribute just as much to society as our sons. (Applause.) Our common prosperity will be advanced by allowing all humanity -- men and women -- to reach their full potential. I do not believe that women must make the same choices as men in order to be equal, and I respect those women who choose to live their lives in traditional roles."

"It's easier to start wars than to end them. It's easier to blame others than to look inward. It's easier to see what is different about someone than to find the things we share. But we should choose the right path, not just the easy path. There's one rule that lies at the heart of every religion -- that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. (Applause.) This truth transcends nations and peoples -- a belief that isn't new; that isn't black or white or brown; that isn't Christian or Muslim or Jew. It's a belief that pulsed in the cradle of civilization, and that still beats in the hearts of billions around the world. It's a faith in other people, and it's what brought me here today."

Tiananmen

2009-06-03T20:53:00.000-07:00

A little while ago, Tammer wrote a post about Tiananmen.

My RSS popped up in the middle of work about her post, and I immediately wrote back.
Here is the repost of my response.

==================================

i remember that time very well too, much better than what i remember from anything around that time.

i remember my dad went to one of the huge protests. They said more than a million people went on the streets. My dad was never very political. i remembered thinking, wow, this must be a big deal.

i didnt’ remember the typhoon. i remember what cartoon the news interrupted to show the breaking news of what’s going on in Tiananmen. It was “Dream Warrior”, in some weird font I can still see so vividly in my mind. It was on the channel I didn’t normally watch.

i remember that the night of June 3 i believe, we were having dinner with an acquaintance at the HK country club. I remember being bored and walked the halls with my sister, and we talked about how, yeah i heard there are tanks now, in the quiet somber way that kids can talk about adult things, that they know are really truly serious.

i remember the following morning, very early, my mom came into my room, woke us up, and said with tears that the tanks have gotten into the squares, and many students have died. I remember when my mom choked up, I also started to cry. I remember the rolled up orange blanket i had next to me.

i remember Zhao Ziyang.
i remember the Goddress of Democracy.
i remember later flipping some current affairs magazine, and seeing in horror, a picture of a pile of minced meat which is what happens, when a person gets rolled over by a tank.
i remember knowing, my life is not going to be the same than when it was going to be on June 3. We weren’t thinking of emigrating before. After Tiananmen, my parents decided they did not want their kids to grow up under a govt that would send tanks to roll over students.

2 years ago, i was watching pbs when frontline had a special on the famous video. The man, standing in front of the tank, and stopping it. About 10min into the documentary, I started crying uncontrollably. I was rather surprised honestly… it’s been so long. I wouldn’t think of Tiananmen as something that still at all affects me emotionally. yet i literally bawled. I had to stop watching the video.

Queen

2009-04-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

Everytime Tammer writes a post, I feel compelled to reciprocate. I guess that's a good thing, because the only reason why I haven't been writing is really coz I've been a lazy ass, and I have been enjoying doing absolutely nothing other than work, cook, eat, Resident Evil 5 on the couch, Zookeeper in bed, and sleep at midnight.

And what a coincidence. I had a really weird ass dream last night too, so I should write about it. I dont' remember all the details now, but basically, I was escorting Queen Elizabeth in a helicopter. It's kind of like a space helicopter too. I remembered her as being very nice, and that after she left, I had this weird omg feeling about whether I touched her or not, and whether that was ok or not, but I was like, man, she is a lot more normal and sweet than other people would think.

And then there was the helicopter that was awesome. It flies kind of like a model helicopter instead it does exactly what I want it to do, and it was really fun dreaming about it. It was a bummer when I woke up that I was like, aw, I can still feel my connection to my little copter.

In other news, the garage being built underneath our place is like 3/4 complete. The new sidewalk and the new retaining walls are in, and they just have to pour the concrete to make the floor and finish the inside and you know, put a door in. It's very exciting.

They are also starting work on the horizontal extension downstairs, on which our patio would sit. The sun is starting to shine, so hopefully we can spend some early summer mornings on our deck with a nice cup of coffee.

Loan

2009-04-01T16:38:00.000-07:00

These days, it's hard to figure out where to put your money; that is, if you are a saver of any sort. The days of 5% return for merely putting your money at ETrade or ING are gone, and well, sure it is a good time to buy stocks, IF you are doing long term investing. But what about the short term? CDs give you next to nothing as well, and keeping your money as cash is not useful to anyone, and well, pays next to nothing in interest.

Well, I'm investing in a farm.
Not just any farm, but the local farm (about 1.5hr drive away) that supplies my weekly organic, sustainable farmed and super delicious vegetables.

I have been a happy subscriber to Capay Farms, or better known as Farm Fresh To You, for a few months. I share a regular box with another friend, and half a weekly box is about right for us who cooks dinner about half the time. A month or so ago, they announced in their weekly farm news (that's included with some recipes in each box) that they have an annual Green Loan program. Every spring, the Farm goes into high gear and obviously needs a bit more cash flow than normal, so they solicit loans from their subscribers to do the big spring planting. The loans range from $1000 to $25k, and you can either get paid with 7% in produce, or 4% in cash back. There is no minimum term, but they would love to at least have the money for a year, and they will return your money within 60 days if you request for it in writing.

I figured, if I take $3000 out of my savings account, and invest in the farm, I will get 7% or $210 worth of free produce in a year, which is more than 1/4 of a year of my greens paid for. That is great, since it is money I spend anyway.

And guess what? The brothers who run the farm (they inherited it from their pioneering mother), are all around my age. Thaddeus, the farm manager, I believe is exactly my age. You can read about their various stories, about how they grew up on the farm, went off to college for Agricultural Economics and/or Engineering, and have turned a little family farm into a fantastic business, with excellent customer service and even a store front in the San Francisco Ferry Building (which I am sure is not cheap in rent).

They will host a Farm Tour on April 25 with strawberry and peaflower picking. I look forward to meeting them in person.

In this time of financial crisis, I think it is even more important to think about how we all utilize our money. It is only part of being socially responsible, to think about the utility of your money, and how it might be useful in real ways. Invest in real things. Learn about how the returns are generated. In the end, we would all be better off, including your bottomline.

Inforum

2009-03-23T20:43:00.000-07:00

It's been a while.
But let's jump right into it.

I love the bay area. Why? Well, there is just so much to do, and so much going on, so much energy in so many different areas of life. Last night, me and a few friends were helping out at the Bang XX game, short for Bay Area Night Games but it's basically a puzzle hunt organized in a neighborhood in Bay Area. We were in the North Beach section of town, and we were volunteering to help run the game which one of our friends is organizing. I have not much of the idea of what puzzles were about, but, it seems like pretty serious business, and that I would have no freak'n clue how to even start. This was a huge game, with 61 teams and over 300 people attending.

The spot I was helping out involved each team being split up into two groups, and messages had to be ferried from one to another. So I was a runner, ferrying various messages. Which means I get to run around in a green St. Patrick's hat, yelling out awesome team names like, "BIPOLAR BEARS!", "UNIVERSAL SOLVENT!", "LEAD PIPE CONSERVATORY".... it was fun, despite the cold. Only something like 12 teams made it to the final puzzle, which I also helped out at, and the winners were the Burninators, and were clearly at least an hour ahead of most other teams. The whole game just lasted 3 hours. So being an hour ahead, makes you pretty elite.

Tonight, I went to my first lecture/panel at the Commonwealth Club. I have always been interested in the activities of the Commonwealth Club, but it's not really quite worth joining if you work / live outside of the city and has a job, considering much of the activities start around 6-7pm in downtown. Many of their higher profile lectures and exchanges are also broadcasted by the local NPR station, which is why I know of them.

So, what is the Commonwealth Club? It is America's oldest and largest public affairs forum.
Its mission statement is simply as follows: "The mission of The Commonwealth Club of California is to be the leading national forum open to all for the impartial discussion of public issues important to the membership, community and nation." In short, if you are into PBS, NPR, public and current affairs, you would find their activities very worthwhile and interesting.
I heard about tonight's panel actually from a Doctors Without Borders mailing, and I decided now that I live/work in the city, and only a 15min walk from work to the club, I really should join. Then I found out it's only $75 to join the youth branch of the club, and you get FREE lectures on Mondays and Fridays, and also FREE language lessons, how cool is that? I can't really use the language lessons since they are all intermediate/advanced French and Spanish, but hey, it is still cool.

Tonight I went to a panel titled "Afghanistan: The New Iraq?" and featured 3 panelists, the US head of Doctors without Borders Sophie Delaunay, an Afghan-American journalist named Fariba Nawa, and another guy I forgot his name who is an expert in south asian affairs.

It was only an hour, and I thought the moderation of the panel coudl have been done better but there were insights from these experts that were very illuminating. Fariba lived in Afghanistan for a few years during the war, and had very first hand insights of the mood and thinking of the populace. She also stressed the difference between Iraq and Afghanistan. 30 years of war has broken down the tribal structure that used to be the foundation of Afghan society, and that must be taken in account when one thinks about Afghanistan versus Iraq. They are essentially incomparable in her view, other than that both are Muslim countries. Sophie noted that it has became dangerous for NGOs operating in the humanitarian arena in the region when governments, esp the US government, often mix development and military agendas. Doctors Without Borders were targeted (5 aide workers were killed in Afghanistan in 2004, prompting DWB's departure) because the Afghans lost trust with NGOs workers after confusing them with American military personel. I thought that was an interesting perspective. I have always thought governments should go forward with development aide, but I suppose if done incorrectly, mixed with military goals, the downside is impartial NGOs could get "tainted". The third guy, who has a more macro view on the topic, stressed very much that nothing is "just" afghanistan. The administration needs to have a regional strategy that makes sense in both military and development sense. All in all, it was very informative, and I'm glad a know a tiny morsel more about Afghanistan... because to be honest, after funding the war there with my tax money for 8 years? I know next to nothing about it still, and I woudl consider myself relatively well informed.

Oh, and I would say the average age of the audience was about 65. I would say I saw maybe 5 other people about my age, in a crowd of about 100. Good times.

Tomorrow? It's the beginning of GDC - Game Developers Conference. The makers of Rockband has a party and I have an invite to it. Go Bay Area, I love living here.

Expectations

2009-02-13T14:37:00.000-08:00

I remember reading somewhere, or listening to the radio somewhere, about the key to happiness being low expectations. There is certainly truth to that. It's like, if you expect a certain expensive restaurant to be the most mind blowing eating experience you'll ever have, and then it's just great, then you'll be disappointed and well presumably less happy than if you had no expectations for a good meal and ended up with a great meal.

Managing expectations I suppose, is a skill, and an art in these days. In this day and age, it is very easy for for someone to plan something, and then due to peer reviews and google and blah blah, come to reasonably expect something out of an experience. Basically, it's not hard to make sure that something doesn't suck. It takes you not putting any effort in, to be lazy, to opt out of being aware, to have absolutely no expectations for things by default.

Somehow, this relates to a chronic frustration of mine.
I am a planner. I like to organize things, and plan ahead. It isn't hard really, I mean, the internets make things quite plannable in many easy, your-ass-doesn't-even-have-to-leave-your-chair way. But that also means, I associate planned activity with a level of "effort". As in, since it is so easy for me to plan and arrange things, it is almost impossible for me to not equate not-planning as not giving a shit.

The problem is, since I plan so well, everybody else almost expects me to do the work, coz well, it's easy for me. That inevitably also makes me feel like, oh, if I don't give a shit, NOBODY ELSE gives a shit.

How do you balance that? I mean, how can I manage my expectations for things, with that? If I plan things, then I feel like oh man I have to do the work all the time, I'm a bit frustrated, but hey, I can expect something to happen and I won't be disappointed. If I *Don't* plan things, and things don't happen, then it's worse. I have almost expect things to not happen, and be disappointed. Then it's a validation of all the OMG NOBODY ELSE GIVES A SHIT expectation, and makes me preplan more, and thus create expectations more?

I really don't know how to do it. I can't not plan things, and also not expect anything.

Sometimes all I ever want, is for something unexpected to happen and be pleasantly surprised. Nothing big you know. I don't expect much. But is that already too much to expect?

I just want to be able to be a little irresponsible sometimes, and have someone else catch the ball. Have something that needs to be done that I don't have to worry about. It is so tiring to always have to line up all my ducks all the time. Is that too much to ask?

Rain

2009-02-06T22:34:00.000-08:00

It started raining a bit today. We are definitely going to have a drought since it barely rained more than 10 times or so I could remember. I don't mind the rain. It gives me the excuse to feel allowed to be at home and feel a tad more introspective than let's say, a very sunny day. It is not sulking, if it is raining outside.

I have been feeling kind of off this week. A bit more irritable than usual, which I don't like, but, oh well, that's how it is. It has turned an melancholic edge now, which I don't particularly, but oh well, that's how it goes. Writing always helps, since it gives me a way to acknowledge my feelings instead of dismissing it as something irrational or frivolous like so many women are taught to do.

Maybe I'm just coming off the high of the Obama ascension. Now all that excitement and hope has progressed into the usual drudgery of politics. For me to see the GOP, who already lost their power, to not even try to get behind the new state of affairs is really disappointing. I mean, maybe I'm more an idealist than I'd like to admit, but, it makes me pessimistic once more that maybe all that unity, all that momentum of change, may not be enough to get over that entrenched yap of partisan rhetoric. It disappoints me to see basically every single republican congressman to behave like spurned children in the sandpit. I was actually looking forward to perhaps change my mind about the other side, and just chalk up at least part of the past 8 years as oh, you know Cheney dust. But no. They have to act like children.

Or maybe I'm feeling like playing Joni Mitchell's River nonstop because it was a bad idea to watch a romantic comedy on my own over takeout. I wholeheartedly advise against doing such a thing. It just renders what probably would have been a rather enjoyable movie into something that is neither romantic, nor comedic. And there isn't much left for a romantic comedy after that.

For some reason, I'm really missing my friends tonight. I have a lot of friends, but most of them don't actually live very close by since I got to know quite a few of them when I wasn't living in the city. That is perhaps the curse of having a very mobile life. When you move, your social circle doesn't move with you. And the ones that live close, they just happen to have other things to do tonight, oh well, that's just how it goes.

For whatever reason, tonight reminds me of the first night I spent in college. I was by myself, in a triple that was empty other than my two suitcases. I was one of the first to arrive, and it was so quiet it seemed like I could be the only conscious thing in the whole building. It was an old building, like this one. It was one of those particular moments that I was very aware that I was alone. Not in the sad and lonely sense, but still, I was alone. Alone in my thoughts, despite the rain and the trees and other living things, I am the only person to feel my own skin, my own breath, my own being.

It reminds me that I should be good to myself. That even if you're surrounded by friends, family and loved ones, ultimately, I am the only one in my skin. And there would be times when there would be neither friends, family, nor loved ones. And I'd better be comfortable with that, alone, with nothing but the rain.

25

2009-01-28T11:26:00.000-08:00

Ok I have been tagged like 3 times with this now, so I suppose I'll write about this.
I'm not going to tag another 25 ppl though so yeah like tammer says, tag yourself.
I don't have internets at home yet due to AT&T's typical fuckups, so don't have too much time to write still. Hopefully that will change. It's been really hectic since the move-out/move-in, oh well. can't do it all.

1. I love cheese. Triple cream cheeses, hard cheeses, stinky cheeses, any cheeses. I love them all.

2. I traveled a lot as a child: been all over China, Japan, South East Asia, western Europe, New Zealand. I don't remember much from a lot of these trips, but I am sure those experiences have shaped a lot of my world view.

3. My legal status has had an interesting history: British National Overseas (BNO, aka, you're a colonial subject of the British Empire and no citizenship for you), Hong Kong Permanent Resident (HK Citizenship is a grey and strange area, is there even such a thing?), Canadian (whoo!!), US Resident alien. I don't like the xenophobic ring of that last one, alien? Wtf.

4. I don't really have specific new year resolutions, I have two general perennial resolutions: to visit a new place every year, to do a new activity every year. This year's is already technically satisfied.... Kauai, and helicopter ride.

5. I love subways and light rails.

6. I like playing boardgames though I cannot play anything that requires any knowledge of trivia. Not growing up in the sphere of North American influence really cripples you in that dept.

7. I can write English backwards, or mirrored. Like, Leonardo style. I learned how to do that while being bored out of my fucking mind at corporate meetings.

8. I can fold my tongue in half, lengthwise. Like, without use of teeth. I learned how to do that while being bored out of my fucking mind in grade school.

9. I am in that strange and special club of people who can properly counter "you fight like a dairy farmer."

10. Holy three-headed-monkey, I make a living in that strange and special club now.

11. I really admire Nicolas Kristof, NYT columnist. His broadly humanist reporting inspires me to aim for a more empathetic and responsible life. He is also fluent in Chinese and Arabic, which I find totally awesome.

12. Related to #11, I took a year of Arabic (MSA). I still feel utterly elated when I can understand one or two words (mostly numbers) from snipbits of broadcast, or when I can read a sign in a restaurant. I really want to get back into it, but only when I can mentally commit fully to it again.

13. I take my charity support very seriously. I feel that informed and persistent giving has turned into a moral compass in my life. With knowledge comes responsibility. I support: CARE, Doctors Without Borders (MSF), UNICEF, Habitat for Humanity, Half the Sky, Somaly Mann Foundation.

14. I have a secret wish to go on a MSF mission at some point in my life. I lament that I lack any sort of qualifications to do such a thing.

15. I won a Home Economics prize when I was in grade 7 (8?) in Hong Kong. Funny I'm an artist now.

16. I won a Top in Sciences prize when I was in grade 12 in Vancouver. Funny I'm an artist now.

17. Most of my scary dreams have a theme: big dark shapes lurking in the ocean.

18. I love being on the water, but not really in the water, maybe due to #17. Paddling thus fits the bill perfectly.

19. I used to play the piano, the clarinet, and the Chinese flute. Though what I really want to play is the Chinese zither = Zheng.

20. One of the most memorable moments in my life: waking up at dawn on the deck of a felucca by the shore of the Nile, listening to the first prayer call echo over the waters, watching the reflection of the moon shimmer on the Nile.

21. My hair is naturally wavy, which is very unusual for ethic Chinese peeps. My great great grandfather on my dad's side supposedly had green eyes, or so his name suggested. Maybe the wave came from him.

22. I have a very complicated emotional relationship with my heritage. It is very hard for anybody who never had to adopt another nationality to understand.

23. I have lived in the US for a decade. Watching Obama's historic ascension to the presidency was the first time I felt like I wanted to be American.

24. I used to have more guy friends than female friends. As I get older I cherish my female friends more and more. Maybe it's because we actually grow up.

25. I grew up playing with box cutters. I still find the western aversion to giving kids actual sharp tools to be odd. Pain is a very good and effective lesson towards dexterity. Let them learn.

I suppose those are pretty random points. Yeah, so tag yourselves.

Milk

2009-01-16T00:06:00.000-08:00

I have lived in the Bay Area for more than half a decade, but yet, I realized I know not much of the local history. Last night I saw one of the best movies I have seen in a while, Milk. It is based on the story of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office in California, who was assassinated along with San Francisco mayor George Moscone in 1978.

I think I must have had watery eyes through half of the movie. I have not known the story of Harvey Milk before, but Sean Penn really put him to life, with such tenderness and genuine affection that one can't help but feel the enormity of his loss. His spirit and passion in his fight for gay civil rights, which only blossomed in his 40s, was awe inspiring. Part of the movie chronicled the movement's successful fight against Proposition 6, which would have stripped the gay community of many civil rights. The movie filled me with both sadness and hope, and most of all, a call to action for the continual fight for equality in light of the recent setbacks in the passing of proposition 8.

I am going to live 12 blocks from where Harvey Milk started his movement, in the district that he would have represented if he ran for office in our time. I'm very grateful for this film. It makes me so full of pride for my city of San Francisco, and makes me appreciate the historical importance of all the great work that's grown from her streets, in the decades past.

You really, really should go see this.
If you don't want to leave the comforts of your chair, then maybe you can pop over to Hulu.com to see the 1984 Oscar-winning documentary about Harvey Milk, for FREE.

Hatering

2009-01-11T19:16:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I wrote! Well it's been kind of nuts, but in short, Kauai was really nice. It is also nice to be back home and getting back to routines... oh wait, I mean, I wish I can get back to routines but really, I have to start packing and what? Friends are visiting? And someone has a birthday? Yeah. I'm kind of craving some non-social downtime, some monotony sounds great right now, but alas, maybe I'll get that in a few weeks after the move is over.

So, perhaps in pursuit of some downtime, I got some last minute tickets to a Chinese "cultural" dance show that was at the SF Opera House, which boasts live orchestral music and authentic costumes and a nice poster. Sounds great right? Chinese New Year is just around the corner, and I haven't done much in terms of saying hello to my heritage in a while, so I figured, why not. I have never been to the Opera House, it will probably be a fun thing to do for a couple of hours on a Sunday.

What I got, was instead in summary, tacky Falon Dafa evangelism for 3 hours. After I got the tickets I heard that the show has some Buddhist "overtones" but I didn't make much of it coz well, whatever, Christmas has Jesus overtones and it doesn't bother me. But holy god, this is not "overtones", there are sequences about a "normal guy" being moved by a Falon Gong "art exhibit" which comes to life and hands him Falon Dafa leaflets and he dances in joy. Or, reenactments of a Falong Gong dad with a lovely family, being beaten to death by officials donning jackets with giant sickle-and-hammer symbols on their backs. I kid you not. It also showcases the most horrible breakage of what I think must be the 2nd wall (4th wall being the audience), like, the backdrop of the theatre. People jump out of the CG backdrop. Like, little CG people fly down from a Buddhist heaven, go behind some steps, and then REAL people get up from the steps and go "voila! I came from Buddhist heaven to dance you some truth". We left as soon as it was not obviously rude to leave, literally in fear of being accosted by Falon Dafa Truth Leaflets being stuffed in my face.

Not as advertised.

I think I'm actually culturally traumatized. I was actually looking forward to some exposure to some Chinese dancing, which one rarely seen performed in non-tacky ways these days, and I figured OPERA HOUSE might guarantee a level of professionalism. I was hoping to get in touch with my roots, and shit like that. Now I'm actually being slapped into cultural self-hatering. I am embarassed I took someone to this "showing" of my "culture". It is like, taking someone to what you thought was a really nice Chinese place, and then realizing Moo Goo Gai Pan in your choice of brown shitty sauce was the only thing on the menu. It is humiliating.

You know, I don't have a problem with Falon Gong practitioners, I do hope one day they could practice their particular form of religion / meditation practice / whatever you want to call it in peace in China. I don't believe in wheels turning in your belly and probably will never understand the appeal of this form of buddhism, but you know, it isn't that far off from immaculate conception and 72 virgins etc in terms of plausibility. However, I DO have a problem with such a group masquerading as nothing more than a dance troupe striving to preserve traditional cultural arts, without mention of ANYthing associated with Falon Gong on their website, and proceeds to basically present me with an obvious fundrasier and overt evanglistic event for their movement. I don't like being lied to, and thanks to this, Falon Dafa you just got yourself a lot more creepy-cult points.

Lots

2008-12-16T22:20:00.000-08:00

Wow, it's been a month since I wrote anything here. Well, it's been a very eventful and busy month. Perhaps I can illustrate with some photos:

Vermont:

I got to spend a few days in Vermont with P's family at the country house. It was lovely. The place looks like it came out of a catalog, doesn't it? It used to be an old country house, but has now been renovated to be the perfect family gathering place. The old furnishings make quite the interior decorating set.

San Francisco:
The whole time during Thanksgiving, and the 3 weeks afterwards (until today), I was reviewing and navigating around the legal terms and jargon that would make me the partial owner of this place. Yes, as of today, I'm officially a homeowner. Remember all those posts about not feeling like I have a home? Now I can start to feel like, I'm making my own home. It is a beautiful, sun filled space full of possibilities (and thankfully seismic retrofits), and I can't wait to start a new chapter there. I feel so... grown up.

Oh, and then our game finally got announced with our new publisher.

Los Angeles:
And then, in the middle of escrow, myself and 19 other coworkers drove down to Los Angeles in a convoy of Escalades, to attend this:

Where I saw this guy walking off the "red" carpet (really it was more periwinkle carpet):

Saw this guy do his Get Up thang:

Got to have a ton of free drinks and made friends and hung out with the creators of this (and find out that they're huge fans of us, which was a total treat!) in a small room with 15 people and urm, a "borrowed" Christmas tree. lesson: don't take ambiant, if you're not actually going to sleep.

And then the day after, I randomly saw this guy and gal and their little kid at lunch:
And yeah, he is just as hot in person.

All in all, not a bad "weekend at work".
It's been an oddball of an eventful month.

8000 lbs

2008-11-12T20:15:00.001-08:00

I helped sort and box 8000 lbs of carrots yesterday. It felt great. Oh, and about 400 lbs of oranges too as bonus. You can call that as an answer to President-elect Obama's call to action, for more community service, or you can also call that Jane-needs-something-unplugged-to-do-on-Tuesday, in any case I went to volunteer at the SF Food Bank for 2 hours (their regular evening shift). The basic work at a food bank involves manually packing lots of food items, and this time it was transferring 8000lbs of carrots from industrial sized one-ton containers, to smaller, easier-to-manage wine boxes so community pantries and soup kitchens can actually use them.

Where did these carrots come from? Well, there is nothing wrong with these carrots, it's just that most of them are either too-giantic for market, or deformed, or in their own way not conforming to the traditional look of a normal-sized carrot. Their less-marketable shape make them a very cheap buy for the Food Bank, which is great since the produce is otherwise entirely identical to the ones you'd pay good money for at your regular grocery store. With about 15 people, we quickly packed the entire load in about 1.5hrs of actual work. There is something very theraputic about repetitive work like this, that involves touching things, for someone who works with the computer all day. It is kind of like playing tetris-with-carrots, combined with some level of exercise, combined with a good dose of good karma. I really enjoyed it, I'll go back next Tuesday for sure.

Now that I'm not paddling (I might resume some level of weekend paddling later, we'll see) since it's off-season, I have been resting and now I'm also trying to figure out some sort of new routine for the darker months. For a while, work was really busy, so that kind of by default filled my extra time. Now it seems like it'll be more regular hours, so I am ramping down my sloth, and ramping up my usefulness as a person outside of work. Food bank is a good regular spot on Tuesday; I'm supposed to at least play some badminton with Lydia sometime soon, that might take up another day. Hopefully I'll find another yoga studio that I like going to as well, that might be another day.

I am not very good with a sense of waiting. It doesn't matter if there is a very legitimate reason why I have to put up with the wait, after a while, it's all just waiting around, no matter why. I am a rather patient person now I think, but waiting, is different. I don't mind waiting if there is a set time when the waiting is over... like, I'm actually pretty good in waiting for flights, etc, unless there is a delay-without-any-ETA, then I start to go batshit. This type of waiting is like, a sense of suspension of living, that your routines or your schedule can't continue, until the variable clicks into place and the gears start going. I don't mind if the gears of life grind slow, I just start to mind it when it is on pause, pending something that might arrive in the next hour, or two, or three.

I'm trying to reduce that; but, I feel like the waiting has been piling on. I dont' have a really good strategy of how to deal with that, especially when getting frustrated really isn't going to solve anything, or, rather, would just make things worse. I like running my life feeling ready, and I'm pretty decisive, so it's a good combination for me. I don't generally feel like I waste any time. These days I kind of feel like I'm at a perpetual bus stop... sometimes caught between the decision to attempt to enjoy the time while waiting or just to go fuck it and walk.

Packing carrots is a good antidote to that feeling. A pile of carrots, a box. There is no waiting involved to 8000 lbs of nutritious pride.

Tears

2008-11-07T14:03:00.000-08:00

It's been 3 days past Election Day, and I still can get teary in private about as easily as I blink. The pictures of Jesse Jackson in tears, and the interview with Colin Powell, in which he visibly choked up talking about how his whole family wept upon the news of Obama's victory, and I swear, Jim Lehrer choked up too, at least his voice was uncharacteristically crackly in a prolonged camera cutaway. Judith Warner wrote elegantly about these Tears to Remember.

I have been reading Newsweek's 7 chapter article on the the campaign. It is easy to forget how unlikely a candidate Obama was two years ago, and how human he is as well, as confident and aloof his on stage presence might be. The article talked about how Obama could not stop crying at a book party, when he was overwhelmed with guilt about his inattentiveness to his own family during his Senate race.

My tears are curious. Part of it is just being part of a truly tremendous historic moment. Part of it is because I feel that Obama represents me, even if I am not American. Part of it is because the palpable change from fear to hope in the air. But also part of it is noting yet another close of an era, and relating my own changes along it. I vividly remember staying up in 2000 in my College hallway; I vividly remember 2001, when my mother's phone call woke me up that fateful September morning; I remember my life then, who I was with then. Then the Bush years, and how my life has changed along with them. And now Obama, and how my life has again changed from the last election, and how this time when I look forward to the future with hope, and so much of that is so personal.

Contrast

2008-11-05T12:34:00.001-08:00

It didn't feel like a presidential victory in the streets of San Francisco. It felt like a revolution. Everywhere, there were spontaneous bloc parties with people filing out from their homes and parked cars (that was me, I just happened to drive by) and just, gathering and celebrating in jubilation of this historic moment. It was really amazing, walking around in the relatively warm and beautiful night and everybody was just, ecstatic, and excited, hopeful. It was absolutely incredible, and you just can't help but be teary eyed. Less than 50 years after the passage of the Voting Rights Act, America has a multicultural African American president. Obama's niece, Suhaila Ng, has my last name.

In the midst of celebration though, however, there was also angst. Prop 8, has passed in California. That is an absolute shame. Proposition 8 would allow the State to change the State constitution to ban same sex marriage. I am really angry about that, honestly. I don't understand how people can take existing rights away from others, whose biology they do not agree with. It is not a lifestyle choice, people. When did you decide to be heterosexual?

I have lots of friends whose life would be intimately affected by this. It pains me that more than half of Californians have just smacked them in the face and said they do not deserve equal rights, that in effect, they are second class citizens. And there are LOTS of rights written into the definition of marriage, as a state construct. Domestic Partnership is NOT the same as marriage, there are lots of legal rights that are affected, some of the following are:

Not forced to testify in court against each other
Make medical decisions on each other’s behalf
Access to a decedent’s estate in the absence of a will
Maintain life and disability insurance on a spouse
Automatically hold property as tenants in common

For example, if a gay man is taken to a hospital, his partner cannot just go to his side, without first having to prove his partnership with tons of legal paperwork. For the rest of us? You'd just have to say, he is my husband and no questions would even be asked. That alone is ridiculous. Regardless of what your emotional response to a picture of two men or two women committed to each other for life, there is no reason to deny anybody EQUAL RIGHTS. The one consolation is that a big majority of young voters voted NO on prop 8, I suppose if nothing else, people will die off, and times will change.

But I'm still happy. Change takes time. And America took one giant progressive step forward yesterday.

OMFG

2008-11-04T20:52:00.000-08:00

Today, is the first day in a decade when I honestly, truly wished I were American, and not just living in America.

Well done. Well freak'n done.

And oh hello old time Senator McCain, we missed you. Thank god we can say goodbye forever to freakish Candidate McCain.

Puppehs

2008-10-27T15:58:00.001-07:00

It's a live feed of a pile of Shiba puppies!!

Footnote

2008-10-23T15:58:00.000-07:00

Addendum to the previous post.
America, how, how can you not be for this candidate.

Future

2008-10-23T14:26:00.000-07:00

I think as of Sept 2008, I have spent a whole decade continuously in the USA. I have seen Bush gotten elected twice, and now, I am so scared of being disappointed again. Then again, this time it will be different, because if Americans say no to Obama, I think I won't just be disappointed, I think I will literally be devastated and to a large extent, disillusioned with the ideals of this country.

In the past four years I have gotten exponentially interested and well versed about American politics. It is a ruthless, complex space full of people with great character corrupted by the populist aspect of this democracy. Yet I am so utterly, almost embarrassingly enamored with Barack Obama. Early in the presidential campaign, I took one of those online politics test and my dot was smack in the forehead of Obama's. I agree with him on almost everything. On the few things that I don't share his opinion, I find myself respecting the difference, instead of feeling that his rhetoric belittles my position. That is no small feat in American politics. I identify with his journey as a sojourner. I am inspired not only by his rhetoric but his intellectual command, and his unifying charisma. I know as capable as he is, he won't be able to solve every problem (and there are a lot) this country faces in the future. Yet the unique way he has asserted himself on the national stage, fills me with such hope and optimism that I feel would be the ONLY way we all get over this state of affairs. He can't solve it for Americans, but he can, and has, lifted a lot of people out of apathy. He can inspire and lead Americans to find the strength and will within to come together again, to respect expertise again, and to do great things properly again.

Frontline recently broadcasted an excellent in-depth look at the biographies of both candidates. I didn't know that much detail about Obama's years at Harvard, particularly his impressive tenure as the first black president of the Harvard Law Review. It was very enlightening, and I have even more admiration for him afterwards. You should all see it here.

Larry David made a good post describing pretty much how most of my social circle feels waiting for Nov 4th. I think on Nov 4th, I should wrap myself in a Canadian flag and sit next to a mirror, and when I feel like Pro America Palin Nation becoming a reality then I can quickly turn to the mirror and be reminded that I am way more emotionally invested than I should be.

Inspiration

2008-10-17T13:43:00.000-07:00

In the last presidential debate, McCain talked up Palin as a role model for women.
Screw you, McCain. Please. Yes there are very few women in American politics, but even in that limited arena, she would come behind a long line of much more accomplished women who doesn't just wink about Joe-Six-Packs to get by. Madeleine Albright would top my list. And if you're talking about elected women, Hillary Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, Barbara Boxer and others have been lighting the way for years on the national stage. Oh right. Maybe he meant conversative women, since there are so few Republican women in either Senate (5R and 11D women Senators) or Congress (21R and 49D congresswomen). I suppose if you're a conservative woman looking for conservative political female role models, there aren't that many for you to choose from. Plenty of conservative white men though.

It still blows my mind that there hasn't been a female (other than as wife) in the White House. I mean, Iran had a female vice president. Pakistan had Benazir Bhutto. These are countries the US likes to mock as oppressive to women.

My most admired female politician though, is still Mary Robinson, the former first female President of Ireland, and former High Commissioner for Human Rights at the UN, and the founder of Realizing Rights.

But speaking of other females that are inspiring, I have been watching little snipbits of Christiane Amanpour's special report on religious fighters. She is CNN's chief international correspondent and has always been one of those journalists I really admire.

And, this is a nice video of Karen Armstrong, a scholar on comparative religion. I only heard of her recently, when she came to SF to give a lecture and I caught some of it on NPR. She received the Ted Prize this year.

Dahlia

2008-10-02T14:11:00.000-07:00

The dahlias roots I planted earlier in the spring only had a few leaves on them. I suppose the fact that I planted them in upside down probably didn't help. In any case, I threw one out, and kept the one in better shape going, hopefully by next year it will actually grow a little faster than 6 leaves a year.

In any case, I bought myself a bouquet of dahlias yesterday, pale pink ones that sort of look like this.

I was in somewhat of a funky mood in the past couple of days. Then somewhere in the middle of that, I realized I haven't gotten myself flowers in a long long time. I get other people flowers, but I don't ever get myself any. Why not. So on the way home, I stopped by Whole Foods, saw a bunch of these pale pink bunch of love and got them for myself. Then I also picked up some food staples for my place. I never cook in my own kitchen, so the pantry has been more empty than a bachelor's apartment. It's kind of sad.

It felt like it was about time I show some affection for moi. It felt good. This morning woke up and saw the blossoms, and they made me smile. It's too easy for me to forget sometimes, how to take care of me.

Crazy

2008-10-01T16:03:00.000-07:00

Times are crazy.
Between the bailout votes and the Sarah Palin clips about Putin and newspapers, I really don't know what the hell is going on. Has the world always been this stupid, or am I now just old and bitter enough to notice?

I have been listening to a very good/new podcast from NPR, called Planet Money, which helped illuminate a lot about what the financial mess is about. Naked short selling, credit default swaps, CDOs, now at least I have a brief idea what they're about, and how they have contributed to the toxic waste pool. I highly recommend it, click here for to the podcast.

As for Sarah Palin, well, let's just say I'll watch the VP debate tomorrow night with a drinking game. I still have to find a good set of rules to use, but drink every time she says "you can't blink", and everytime Biden mentions Scranton, PA, are good starts.

In other news, work is good. I am going to paddle/train for the 4th time in 5 days. This is a record I think, but hopefully it will be short and sweet, since we're preparing for our last race this weekend, at the SF Treasure Island Int'l Dragonboat Festival. My hands kind of need a break before they break out entirely in blisters.

Also, I'm thankful for my women friends, their infinite patience slash commiseration, and the power of chocolate.

Nugget

2008-09-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

It might just be that I'm getting older, but what I used to brush as aside as gender stereotypes before, at least as related to what women think of men, ring a lot more true (and more funny).

I have more female friends than I used to as well, and I am thankful for it. It might also be just that I'm getting older, but I appreciate female company more than I used to. We get what we're complaining about and, I feel more supported without having to explain as much sometimes. We all end up just laughing about variations of our common problems, and then you feel a little stronger.

In the past year, I have dealt a lot with the consequences of men not having a clue what they want. This was, of course, in contrast of most of my women friends blossoming into decision-makers who knew exactly what they desired, and figured out how to get there. I spurted a little funny nugget while just talking to a friend today, so I figured I'll note it down here, for the chuckling joy of other women.

Getting a man to sit his own ass down and think about what he wants, is kind of like getting a cat to learn how to flush its own shit down the toilet.

Not impossible. Just takes a lot of shit and a lot of patience.

Palin

2008-09-17T20:11:00.000-07:00

Wooooo, Wednesday is the new Tuesday, which was the new Thursday, which in turn was the new Friday. In any case, I just had two cocktails with my coworkers at a nearby Happy HourS and am totally jazzed to talk about Sarah Palin.

That's only because I promised I would actually write something about Sarah Palin for the past week to myself, and haven't actually stood up to the task. With two cocktails on an empty stomach, maybe now I can try.

Basically, I am fascinated by the woman. And that I really don't like her. As a politician her character seemed vindictive and ends-justify-the-means-opportunistic, abeit a style different than that of the "old boy's club" but vindictive and secretive and cronyist all the same. And I am really more than annoyed that her Veep-ship has actually earned McCain more than a few points and I might just start taking up drinking as an antidote to another four years of bullshit I have to endure, now as a potential prospective American citizen. HA.

Basically, my feelings can be summarized as, "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME??" Both to McCain, and then to the hordes of women who go gaga over it.

I have nothing against Sarah Palin the woman, and even Sarah Palin the state politician, she could be as vindictive all she wanted as long as Alaska didnt' mind. I actually honestly think she is a fascinating character. Anybody who can shoot 5 babies out of her vajayjay earns a medal of respect in my book (kind of like how McCain earns a level of respect just from the pure fact he was shot out of the sky 4 times and manage to not die), especially if she can do that while maintaining a public career. It might not be my choice of a life, but hey, it certainly ain't easy. And while I would have urged the use of contraceptives or you know, the plain old pull-out-the-troops so to speak at the age of 43, she kept her down-syndrome baby as a pro-lifer, so well, points for her to live up to her convictions.

That does not mean I think it isn't complete bullshit that she is a VP pick, when McCain is older than the Golden Gate freak'n Bridge (literally, look it up) and has had a bout with cancer.

Why?

The simple reason is, I seriously doubt she would have been considered if she had a wank instead of a vajayjay with her experience credentials. Which means, she was very much considered because she has a vajayjay. And that to me, is purely tactical populist political and sexist bullshit.

She is a cheerleader. I don't think this country needs another cheerleader in national office.
I really have no idea why the fact that she might feel real to some people, the fact that they could imagine her as their next-door neighbor, is related at all to the fact that she should hold the nuclear codes.

Ultimately, her pick just speaks low of Senator McCain. It just shows the extent he would do whatever to win. Country first my ass, McCain. I honestly much prefer you as a Senator than as a Candidate.

I just hope that if McCain do get elected (and I should prepare myself for that honestly) he would shed some of this do-whatever-necessary-to-get-elected shit and get back to his old self. But who knows. If his first step at reform is by picking Sarah Palin as Veep, I am holding tight onto my Canadian passport.

Renewal

2008-09-15T21:13:00.000-07:00

I'm happy to report, I have actually finished my passport renewal application thing and it's been done, for like, almost a week. They changed the requirements since last time I renewed... now they no longer as you to find a person of "reputable professions" such as doctors and lawyers to guarantee that you're who you say you are, instead, they require another Canadian with a valid passport (or one that has expired less than 12months ago) to be your guarantor. I prefer the new system. It makes a bit more sense, in terms of security. I mean, it would have been sooo freak'n easy for someone to just pose as some "doctor" and sign the back of your photo. They might as well say you need to pinky swear that you are telling the truth

Anyway, my passport doesn't expire until next May, and I don't plan on being out of the country in the next couple of months, but I have to get it now because, well, I think I'm going to actually go for a... wait for it.... a green card.

Yes. After 11 years in the U. S of A, six of which I have been considered a resident alien, I have finally decided to go for it. I love my job enough that I am okay with staying put for most likely 2 years... I mean, I have been at my new job for almost a year already.

It might seem a no-brainer decision for some people, but actually there were a lot of practical and well, honestly, sentimental reasons why it's taken me so long to decide whether to go for it or not. US Immigration is not exactly a simple straightforward thing to deal with. To get your employer to sponsor you for a green card, you are bascially shackled to them til you get your green card, and then perhaps longer (depending on your negotiations). That can take anywhere between 1.5yrs to 3 or more years. My previous employer EA, was rather notorious about taking their sweet ass time to get your application processed. EA paid for all your lawyer fees, but the downside is that well, you don't get to really inquire much about the process, since you're entirely in their debt, so to speak. Now that I'm at a small company, they actually explain to me the intricate timing and process, which I much prefer, even though it means they only pay for half the fees, thus I would have to pay something like $4300 to take the "alien" out of my status. I like knowing why things take long, or not, even if it means I have to pay for it. For example, there are filing time frames. It makes sense for me to start my process now, so by the time my H1-B expires in Januaray 2010, I should already have gotten my labor certification, and they won't have to deal with more extra BS. Blah blah blah.

As for sentimental reasons, well, there are plenty. Practical reasons of employment aside, getting a green card is one's first step in becoming American. That ties into various webs of feelings about who I am, how I relate to America, etc etc that is too much to get into right now. I have tried to explain to others, and often failing, to convey why it is such a sentimentally deep issue. Perhaps it's because most people don't choose to have a country. You are born into one, and for all better or worst, it is part of you, and you can be proud of it or have fun ridiculing it because well, it's part of you. When you are a person born without a country, and you have a chance to choose, it becomes a much more... responsible thing. Especially if a wonderful country has already gratiously adopted you as one of their own, in a strange way, getting a green card almost feels a tad like... cheating. And for what? Because the new country's ideals suit you better? No... at least that reason would have more... I suppose, civic integrity. The reason why I want a green card, is so I can continue to live like a Yuppy in San Francisco, eat fabulously expensive cheeses, locally made salumis, have cheap Amazon deliveries, and the ability to oh, I dunno, have a two month long vacation in between jobs if I so choose, and all the while keeping my high Canadian horse and go "oh you silly Americans and your Sarah Palin and your stupid shit politics and your lack of universal healthcare and your ridiculous warS".

I dunno. I suppose once I apply for a green card, I am also effectively saying, okay, I intent to permanently associate with all the above mentioned unsavory parts of American-ness. I know having a green card is no citizenship... but nonetheless, it is a first step towards switching all those "your"s to "my"s; a first step to taking responsibility for all the bad, as I enjoy all the good that is an American Life.

Plans

2008-09-05T18:51:00.000-07:00

I'm kind of a restless kind of person, in terms of vacation and travel. I always like having something in the near future to look forward to, that I can plan for, while also having a vague idea of what I might want to do further in the future. After Penang, it's all about enjoying my vacation and travel and not racing. :) I still have one more local race in Oct, but it isn't something I have to prep 8 months for, more just like, 3 weeks. So September is rest at home and train-for-last-race time.

Coming up in mid October, I am renting a cabin by the Monterey Bay for me and 7 other people. We will be there for 2 nights, and it'll just be good for kayaking/surfing, chilling, cooking, and boardgaming at night. It is situated on a buff above the Monterey Bay, so we'll have ample view of the ocean. I can't wait. I'm hoping to get some sea kayaking in, and that's probably about it. I'm sure some folks are gonna go surf, maybe I would, but it still makes me anxious enough that I might just opt out and instead plop myself somewhere to enjoy a good book. The place is called Last Gleam, some photos here:

Then for Thanksgiving, we'll be flying to New Jersey and then spend most of a week up in Vermont country. I'm excited about that, I have only driven through New Jersey (the smelly turnpike part) and I have never been to Vermont. The fall leaves will likely be gone by then, so it won't look exactly like the picture here, but close, and just as beautiful I'm sure. It will be so nice.

And then the week between Christmas and New Year, we're going to Kauai for a little escape. I have only been to Oahu, not to Kauai, so it'll be a new experience for us both. We haven't booked a vacation rental yet, and there is a chance that some friends might join us and we'd be able to get a nicer/bigger place, we'll see. We know though that we want to take the helicopter ride to see the Waimea canyon, Na Pali coast and the surrounding landscape like this:

The rest of the year is looking nice, and I'm looking forward to it.
Maybe I'm scheduling this nice stuff in, so I will have something to cheer me up in case on Nov 4th we end up having President McCain. Man. Just typing that makes me want to sort of gag. I will write more about my thoughts on that tomorrow maybe.

Cow

2008-09-04T16:49:00.001-07:00

Speaking of our share of grass fed cow, here is a picture of its cousins.
It apparently spent its grass eating days at the Morris Ranch before becoming the happily grilled steak on my plate.

The beef from grass fed cattle tastes considerably different actually. At first I thought it being a more natural animal will make it taste, you know, more "beefy". In fact it's the exact opposite, it does not taste "beefy". It is soft, tender, somewhat sweet, takes flavor very well, and interestingly cooks much faster.... you know what? It makes it taste kind of like alpaca.

I like the idea of getting this beef. First, it is local, sustainable and organic. The cows are not fed any grains, so the ecological and socio-political footprint per say for these animals are comparatively smaller than other beef. Second, ranching on California lands help keep our open spaces healthy (well managed grazing actually helps the land I heard), and increase the land value as simply open space (as opposed to getting developed). Third, it is always nice to support small family farms, since the Farm Bill sure doesn't. Oh, and last but not least of course, it is some tasty tasty meat.

The meat comes conveniently packed in 1lb ground beef packages, and other 1-2lb portions of various steak and roast cuts. It is easy for us to use the ground beef, and for the larger meat portions, it has been a great reason to invite friends over to dinner and share the cow.

This first shipment came in about 15lbs... we will have 2 more shipments of maybe 8lbs each. Each shipment is a few months apart. Total of our 1/3 share of a split half is 30lbs of meat.

Update

2008-09-03T19:01:00.000-07:00

Okay okay. Tammer called me out so I have to do a quick one.
I was pretty good about updating until you know, life got busy! And honestly, life got stable, and I find that usually stunts my writing quite a bit. I suppose if you don't hear from me here, you can assume that life must be going pretty well.

Life is going well, and also I'm enjoying a little bit of a change of pace. Work actually got a lot busier these past few weeks, RIGHT as I came back from my Penang trip, which I still have to properly tell you all about with them photos. I like to comment my photos so you wont' just be looking at random pictures of crap and not know WHY I took them... so bear with me a bit.

Work has been lovely... busy, but lovely. I have been working through lunch (well, eating a sanmich at my desk) and staying beyond dinner time for these few weeks, but you know what, I'm actually rather enjoying it. Sometimes on Sundays, I actually get a little giddy about having to go to work on Monday, to keep doing what I left off on Friday (I don't ever work weekends, that's a solid philosophy that I intend to keep), and I haven't felt that way in years, and last time it was kind of during one of those new-job-honeymoon periods. Now, I'm 10 months into this job, and I'm loving it still, that's not honeymoon talk anymore. This past month was a little special because, well, as some of you might know, we're in a bit of a transition period, and we are prepping for a new chapter of the project, and that just happens to mean that the area I'm working on is getting a lot of focus. That also means I'm under a lot of pressure, but this round, it also means I get a lot of creative freedom, and that it's all paying off due to the pressure+focus. I also am really enjoying the hyper collaboration with my teammates that I don't usually get in this high concentration. Basically, I can't wait to show what we have off, because I know it will be very very well received, and I can actually go "this, this, this and this and this and this is my work!". Well, my work plus all the help and love from my coworkers of course, but still very much my work. :)

I'm also very glad it's now September. June to August was a little bit TOO hectic for even this multitasker. September is mostly empty in terms of commitments and social obligations, so now I can go back to enjoying some chill time, and cooking time. This past weekend we grilled a rack of lamb and some new york strip from our share of the grass-fed-cow. The rack is very easy to make, you should all try it, it's basically brain dead easy:

Grilled+Roasted Rack of Lamb

1 rack of lamb about 8-9 ribs (Trader Joe package yay)
2 cloves of garlic
2 tbsp of fresh chopped rosemary (totally approx)
2 tbsp of fresh chopped thyme (totally approx)
a little bit of fresh oregano (totally approx)
kosher salt (or other kind of large grain salts like sea salt)
fresh grated black pepper
optional white pepper powder

1) It is easier to cut the rack into two smaller pieces with 4 ribs each
2) Wash and pat dry the ribs. A few hours before you intend to grill the lamb, mix the garlic, herbs, salt and pepper together and just rub very much into the lamb.
3) Wrap and keep in fridge and take out about 30min before you're ready to grill and let the meat warm up to room temp. When you take the meat out, start the grill (if you're using coals like me, which takes a while to burn down from red hot). Also preheat oven to about 350F
5) On rather high direct heat, sear the rack on all sides, probably a few minutes each
6) When the rack is nicely seared, take it off the fire, and shove into oven for about 15-20min, and it's best to use a meat thermometer to desired done-ness. 140F is medium rare. 20min will give you more a medium-well done.
7) Instead of the oven, you can also use the grill, but move the meat to a part where it can receive indirect heat.
8) When it is done, you should wrap the meat in foil and let it rest for about 8-10min. This is important so it can keep cooking and even out the doneness.
9) Enjoy the meatsicles!!

We were too eager to eat the meat, so we forgot to take some photos. Sorry! Next time.

OH. And we made little almond-cream apple/peach fruit tarts. They were RIDICULOUSly tasty. Someone-awesome-not-me is so freak'n good at baking I am so impressed I haven't gained 10lbs from the butter-in-various-forms-o-deliciousness. And again, too eager to eat, forgot the photos. Sorry, there will be more food porn next time.

Walking

2008-08-20T23:21:00.001-07:00

Hehehe. Jonesy with a little tankie that says "Walking" or "In the middle of a stroll". Thanks sis! So cutely ironic.

Stoves

2008-08-17T22:20:00.000-07:00

The Darfur situation has been on my radar for a few years. The article by Nicholas Kristof about how the women had to go out of the safety of the camps to gather firewood, since they would "only be raped" instead of if the men will be killed, was a major reason I started paying attention to the crisis. The problem of gathering firewood has always been on my mind, and for a long time I don't really know what practical solutions have been deployed to address that very specific problem. I knew of solar stoves, but I hadn't heard much of wide deployment so I was also curious why they hadn't been.

We were talking about such issues tonight over dinner (part of a part enthusiastic rant and discussion about efficiencies of governments, NGOs, logistics of aid etc), and I got to googling about solar stoves in Darfur. I happened upon this site instead, which gave a ton of information, plus the relief that oh, there are good people trying to solve it in a real way. Good people from the bay area too.

Essentially, solar stoves could not really be used in Darfur because they do not suit the climate there and the stoves could not provide enough BTUs to cook the type of food they had. The Darfur Stoves Project is instead advocating a small metallic stove which are currently being manufactured by local Darfurians using scrap metal (with much of the cost subsidized by donations abroad of course). It is good news indeed. While the politicians fight over everything and the UN security council gets nothing done, at least hopefully there is one practical solution at work in Darfur. One slice at a time. Lessening the demand for firewood is a big one.

They seem to be in need of much design or web related help. Maybe I'll see if they need any photoshop skills. I have to really ask myself if I can commit to it though, I'd hate to bait and switch on people with good intentions. Maybe I should wait til September first, when life ramps down from high gear back to normal pace.

But definitely, I can at least buy someone a stove.

P.S. There are recent updates about the Darfur Stoves Project here.
P.P.S. Here is KQED tv episode about their endeavor: http://www.kqed.org/quest/television/view/923

Taoyuan

2008-08-04T04:49:00.000-07:00

I am now into 13th hour of my 28 hours airport to airport trip home. I took the airport shuttle with people who had earlier flights with me, so I was at the Penang airport for 3.5 hours before I even got onto my first flight. My flights have been great so far, no delays, and all the connections have been very easy.

It is now nearly 8pm at Taipei's Taoyuan airport and thank god for the various free internet stations. This means it is nearly 5am in San Francisco. I am glad to wrap up 8 months worth of training and taking a good 2-3 weeks break from dragonboating until the big SF race. I feel free now, now that the big psychological pressure of having to do as best as I could is over... I didn't realize how much of my stress before the trip was from the anticipation of the big race. I really did feel like I was prepared for it though, I felt great before, during and after all races, and I felt strong and positive and filled with pride and spirit of the team. There really is nothing quite like the thrill of achieving our personal best in a big international race, with 21 other teammates. Dragonboat is great like that. It is not about jock muscle and bulk. It is more about working together than any other team sports I can think of, since you have to be in sync, and in trust of your steersperson and drummer and their commands at all times. You don't have star positions like quarterbacks or goalies or anything like that. 22 of you work as one, and it is amazing how close many races were. For example, in our premier 500m heat, we took second only by 0.05sec ahead of the team in third, putting us in the semi-finals. That is like probably 6 inches gained from the last 3 strokes, of a 500m race. Lucy, our drummer, said she has never seen us want something SO BAD, and we got it. And even if we never medal, that feeling is still worth every painful bit of the last 8 months. At the semi's we achieved our best time ever of 2min6secs (normally we do around 2:10), and this is done in SLOWER water (freshwater is less buoyant) in 90F heat, thousands of miles from our home turf.

All in all, it was a great week. There were 23 countries there, an unusually high count since it was a combination of two separate events. I participated in the Club Crew Worlds but the teams competing in the Asian Dragonboat Championships were also there. On Sunday there was a BIG jersey trading frenzy, and I was glad that we were prepared with tshirts and extra jerseys. I traded my 3 tshirts for a Dubai jersey, an Iranian bracelet (when would I EVER meet another Iranian DB team? They were only doing the ADBC which usually is at a separate city/country) and a Canadian White Heat hat (they won 3 golds, I want to rub some of that juju on me). I also traded jerseys with the Australian Brisbane team (since it was a great fit and it is pretty), and also with the Hong Kong Island Paddling Club (it is a good fit and also for sentimental reasons you know). I got photos for every trade so I'll post them when I have them off the camera.

Now I'm tired. In a weird way I'm actually enjoying my long ass trip home so I can have some me-time to just unwind and read and whatnot. I really enjoyed my time with the team, especially getting to know some of them so much better, but a whole week with paddlers, especially at the festival site where probably around 3000 paddlers were around at any given time, was a bit much. I got paddler overdose.

Anyway, I am going to walk around the airport a bit and get my blood flowing a bit before settling in for the last 2.5 hours of waiting to get on a 12 hour flight. yay.

Racing

2008-08-01T06:21:00.000-07:00

I actually love racing in this weather. I have actually rather acclimated to the warmth and humidity and am finding it much easier to get warmed up, ready to go and also am recovering a lot faster than I'd have imagined. so far, I have raced the 2000m, and the 200m category. Tomorrow afternoon I will do the 500m category, then I will be done racing. I thought the Premier Mixed crew paddled rather well for both the 2000m and 200m. We didn't place anything, but well that is honestly to be expected. The Canadians as usual swept the first 3 places of both I believe. The 2000m race was an interesting one, since you have to make three big U turns along the 500m race course to complete the whole 2000m. That makes for a lot of room for error since dragonboats are really long and it takes quite a lot of skill and strategy on the part of the steerperson to do it well. Our steer for the 2000m is passionate about this. He has wanted to steer the 2000m since like 4 years ago or something... but his overzealousness meant that he also wanted to re-inteprete the rules somewhat, and thus cost us a 5sec penalty when he decided to bypass a buoy that to him looked to have drifted off course, but well, all the other teams went around it so, too bad for us. I was pretty mad about that, but what can you do. I actually forgot what we placed, but we would have probably placed 2 positions better if not for that penalty. Oh, that was item #6 then.

The 200m is a total sprint. A normal 500m course takes about 2min to complete, whereas the 200m is under 50sec. I think we got to be #10 out of 30 teams? That's not too shabby I suppose! We had to race in really really windy conditions and given all that I thought the boat felt good. We were pretty happy with our performance.

The Premier Open (all men for our team) did not fair as well I think. They had a lot of miscommunication within the boat and their morale was affected, and most of the crew had to double duty on the Mixed crew as well... the combination led to a unsatisfactory result, or at least something that they were not proud of. However they placed, it's a bummer that they felt like they did not perform to the best of their collective abilities.

The women of the Mixed team were supposed to be able to get back to the hotel after the Mixed races in the morning, but due to some delays, we ended up having to stay there for the whole day. Actually that was quite a lot of fun. Now that I no longer feel that oppressed by the heat, the 5-6 women had a lot of fun bonding, and also chatting with other teams. We were scouting out other jerseys for trading, which is a tradition at the end of big international races. I think I want the Hong Kong women's jersey, it is quite nice and hey, it's Hong Kong. Our jersey was a popular item, so I get to pick and choose who I'd like to trade with. We also have some tshirts (that i designed) for cheaper trading, though it'd be hard pressed to get a jersey with a shirt... but I hope I can get other stuff like a hat or other things from other teams perhaps with them.

It is so much fun to be hanging out with so many people from so many different countries. Some are more friendly than the others, so far we haven't had a chance to chat with anybody from Europe, Russia, Ukraine etc, they seem rather hardcore and wanted to just get on with the racing. The most friendly teams are the Asian teams, perhaps since they don't have to fly as far, more of them are here for the fun as much as for the competition. We made some friends with the Japan team, various Malaysian teams, the Hong Kong Island Paddle Club, a Phillipino team, etc. We traded smiles with the Dubai team (they are all ex-pats) and our drummer girl Lucy waved to the Iranian men's team and they all happily waved back too. The Iranian girls are much more shy, but Judy managed to get a photo with a few of them. They are very nice, just more used to hanging out with themselves instead of socializing.

An update to the money situation.... so after another long phonecall with Etrade, I finally found a very helpful lady who took the time to find out that Etrade apparently has entirely disallowed any cash withdrawals from some SE Asian countries, and obviously Malaysia is one of them. 20601 is the code for potential fraud. There is no way they could just allow my transactions to go through. This is what you trade off for, for the high interest rates i suppose. Bummer. At least I can give up that route now, and the fact that she was so helpful and patient made me feel a lot better. Tomorrow morning, I will just walk to citibank and show them my passport and get some money that way. No biggie, I mean I dont' really need the cash anyway since eating here is SO CHEAP. We have been going to the same foodcourt 3 nights and man, we just have piles of food and it's all so cheap. Like, RM$3.50 (that's about US$1.10) for a really tasty plate of stir fried noodles.

Ok, my internet minutes are up. For some reason I couldn't check gmail here at this shitty computer. I'll have to do that tomorrow at a different internet cafe I suppose.

20601

2008-07-31T02:49:00.000-07:00

Ok, my break was ordering tea. Speaking of which, Teh Tarik is the local milk tea here, literally meaning "Pulled Tea" since the tea is sloshed from glass to container back and forth to be mixed. I'm not having that at the moment since I'm at the hotel lobby using my friend's laptop... but well, I had to think of a different post title, since this is actually the post about Murphy's Law, and not the last one.

Ok. #4. Why I hate Etrade.
So, previously, I have always travelled with my Citibank atm card, and I have never ever had any trouble using any ATMs. This time, I carried my Etrade one thinking they woulnd't actually charge bank fees (only 1% foreign currency charge as opposed to a way way higher number). I did not bring my citi atm card thinking well, the less i carry the better.

So, on Wednesday, when I went to get money from the ATM with Phoi and Judy, it gave me an error. I was like, oh, what luck. They told me they had to inform their bank before travelling to malaysia, so maybe Etrade blocked the transaction thinking it might be stolen. So I was like, okay oh well, I suppose I will call them. That was 5pm. Etrade does NOT have a 24-hour number. The 24 hour number direct you to their office, which is closed from midnight to 7am ET. And that was 5am ET. I was pissed.

Anyway, thankfully Phoi was a nice sugarmommy and lent me money when I went to get a foot massage and bought a pair of cute shoes (only RM45!). That night, I called Etrade and I got an unfriendly agent who kind of sounded like he was questioning my intelligence about why I didn't call when my transaction didn't go through. I was like, you were closed. He went, we are open from 7am to midnight. I was like, yeah. You were closed, I am in Malaysia, and it was 5am ET when I was at the ATM. He went, ooh, the time difference. And then he did not help me at all, basically saying that there shouldn't be any reason why I can't use my card. And then he went, why are you withdrawing funds from Etrade financial. I am like, erm, coz I need to use money? I am travelling?? (Why is that even a relevant question) then he was like oh, right. It was retarded. Then he basically concluded it was my fault and maybe I should try another ATM from another bank, and if it doens't work I should call them again right there. I was like, ok, I will try.

Then I walked to the ATM closer to the hotel, and they were both busted. The closest other one was back at the mall, and I was like, shit, I'm not walking 15min back there at night by myself just to verify some dude's theory about MY user error. So I decided, maybe I could just cash advance from my credit card, whatever, at this point I dont' care. Then I realized I didn't have my PIN number. So I had to call my mastercard, to try to set it. Everything went smooth, until it asked for my checking acoount number that I normally use to pay for the credit card. I was like, urm... I don't know, it's not something I memorize you know. So I found a person to talk to, and they said they can't help me since PIN numbers aren't something they can override, it is all auto-generated and that I can set it immediately if I use the automated phone service(to avoid fraud I suppose, which is good). Which means now I have to get to a internet cafe, to find out my checking account number and try again.

And then today came along. We had our race, came back at noon, and I finally had a chance to look for an internet cafe that wasn't obvious (they really don't have signs here for the internet cafe, it's really weird). I finally found one after wandering around for lunch with Judy and Phoi, wrote down the number, and called collect again (thank god for my usable mobile phone here with my awesome hotlink prepaid sim card) and entered my checking account number.... and then it asked for it again... and then it said it will mail me a pin in 7 days. I was like what? I need it now! So I found another person to whine to, and they concluded that the reason why the automated phone service was confused, was that I never set a pin in the first place, and that service only works if you had a pin, forgot, and wanted to chnage it oer the phone. CRAP. @#$#. Murpy's Law was starting to go "haha" in my head. The citi mastercard lady was really helpful though, unlike the Etrade jerk, because she suggested that I could go to a local citibank branch, present my passport and they will let me have money even if I don't have a PIn. So i was like, YES!!! And then took off to the citibank branch 15min away (I tried their atms before, at which I found that my particular Etrade debit error was 20601, which I will yell at the guy later tonight... i didn't think of talking to a clerk there for cash advance, but I wouldnt' have had my passport on mem anyway). I got there, explained my situation, and the lady regrettably informed me that, the bank was closed at 4pm. I looked at my watch, and it was 4:10pm. GARARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. That was item #6. At this point I am resigned to not being able to get at any money until I leave Malaysia. I have over RM200 left and if I need anymore my friends here are more than willing to lend me some. At this point, it's not even about the $ (as Phoi said it's not like SHE is broke as well) but it's like a hurdle that I must go through now that smacked me so many different ways. I just want to get the thrill of being able to get as much money as I want from a Penang ATM, laugh like an evil villain, totally spent it whever I want (like I could spend that much here... the 45min foot/shoulder massage was RM30), like a crazy woman. Or even if I don't spend it, I will enjoy taking out the cash, and then selling it back at the airport, JUST BECAUSE I CAN. Screw you Etrade. I love you for your interest rate and you beat me with your shitty customer service.

I did not detail all of the other small trips I went to make sure that it wasn't the local bank's fault. Or that the ATM's were out of cash, that it was something with Etrade and that it is condition 20601.

Anyway, I have to write about the racing later coz my fingers hurt and Judy and Phoi came back down to check on me. They probably thought I fainted onto the laptop since urm, I have been here for LONG time writing like 3 trillion words.

Tomorrow, I'm just racing in the morning as well. It was fun to see all the differen teams there... a few Russian teams, Czech teams, German teams, lots of Asian teams like Thai, Singapore, Malay, HK, Macau... and even an Iranian team! :)

More later.

Murphy's Law

2008-07-31T01:42:00.000-07:00

This is my 4th day in Penang. Last time I wrote it was my 2nd day in Penang, right? Yeah. And I didn't even get to write about anything about that day at all.

Anyway. Lots have happened since then. Some bullet points before I start in the details:

1) I love Penang. It is hot here.
2) Trishaw ride was fun.
3) I love Permata Electronics at the Komtar for saving my camera life
4) I hate Etrade
5) Murphy's Law totally applies here, relating to Item #4
6) Racing has started! 2000m done with some %^$@

Ok. Maybe I should talk about things item per item.
Item #1. Penang is really really nice. In many ways, it really reminds me of Hong Kong. Perhaps its' because it was a British colony up until the 50s, and that there are tons of Chinese signage and businesses here, it really feels super familiar. The sidewalks are paved with the similar jigsaw style bricks, similar feel of apartments and shores and vegetation. And yeah, it is really clean here. For such a hot and humid country, I was expecting more grunge ala Mexico but really there is very very little litter around and everybody seems to be busy on their way. Surprisingly there doesn't seem to be that many tourists here, I only saw a few that doesn't glaringly appear to be a paddler. Oh, and so far I have yet to be bitten by a mosquito, maybe it's too hot? I am so amazed. They eat me like cheese. So far I only saw two mosquitoes and they were both on the shuttle bus (I killed one, yay).

Anyway, should continue writing about my Tuesday here, which was really the only day I walked a ton around by myself. In the morning, I got up at 7:30am, got some breakfast at the hotel (included) and left the hotel premises at about 8:30am. There was lots of traffic where I wanted to walk, so instead I decided to spend RM$10 and hired the first trishaw I saw. The driver's name was Raj Six-fingers, as he proudly showed me the little additional thumb on his right thumb. I told him I wanted to go to the Pinang Perenankan House, he nodded but in some minutes clearly had no idea where I wanted to go, and thought I wanted to go see a church.

I thought we passed the street where it was located, but he stopped and asked a local when i pulled out the guidebook and tried to point out where it is. Apparently, the locals have no concept of where things are on a map in Penang. I suppose they never had to look at a map of their own city, coz well, they just go where they need to go normally. So I described it a little more, and then he went, OH, You mean the Baba Nonya House with antiques in it. And then I said, yeah it says here it is on Lebuh Bishop? And then he was like, er... and then I said, I think that's Church Street? And the he went, OH oh i know where that is. So, streets have two names here. The old British name (Church Street) and official malay name probably given after indepence (1950s) but locals obviously still used the old English names. Eventually, we got there and he apologized for not knowing where I wanted to go. I gave him RM$15 for his troubles, I mean, he worked twice as hard, and it wasn't really his fault I suppose, he still took me around some smaller streets and pointed out landmarks and was a nice guide for the 15min I spent on the trishaw. And I mean, RM$15 is US$5. That guy said his only reading glasses was smashed accidentally, and he will probably get a new one soon, but it cost RM$13. So hopefully my extra RM$15 will add to his speedy acquisition of a new set of glasses.

Anyway, I wanted to go to the Peranakan House because it's across the street from the Penang Heritage Trust, which I thought conduct walking tours of the historical areas. They do, but apparently you have to book in advance and you have to have at least 3 ppl. I only had me. So I supposed I was going to wal karound by myself, which turned out to be just fine. Soon enough, I was pretty clear about which street was where, the boundaries of Little India, etc. Also, Penang is pretty much dead even at 10:30am. It seems like people don't open their shops until past 11am or noon (and then take a 1-3pm lunch break sometimes), and most of the daily shop business seem to extend into the cooler nights instead. Which makes sense I suppose. I was teh *ONLY* tourist walking around this area at this point, and many locals waved and said hi and invited me to sit at their hawker stall for some tea etc. I wasn't going to risk hawker tea on my first day, but it was nice to see people relaxing in their natural habitat so to speak. On my stroll, I visited the Sri Mariamman Hindu Temple on Queen street. This is the first Hindu temple I have ever visited, and it was very interesting. I took off my shoes, walked in and just quietly walked around and observed people practicing their rites and offering many gifts of candles and flowers to the 9 Hindu deities worshipped there.

In that heritage area, there were MANY many Chinese temples. Old clan temples, Goddess of Mercy temples, you name it and multiply by 5 and there you have it. I visited so many of them they all ended up bluring into one big image of incense and idols. At about 10:30am or so I walked back towards the Peranakan Mansion because by this point they are open for visitors. I went in, paid RM$10 and was about to walk around myself until a guide offered to give me a private tour. I suppose he had nothing else to do, so i was like sure! I asked, don't you not offer tours until 11am or so? And then he was like, oh i have some time, there isn't anybody here anyway I can show you around. The advantage of being a solo female traveler I suppose? In any case, I had a good time touring the mansion, it was VERY well restored and they had reasembled many period furniture and antiques and showcased the good life of wealthy Baba Nonyas back in the day. Baba Nonya refers to a community of chinese-malaysians who began as Chinese male seafarers/traders settling in Penang and marrying local Malay women. They have a unique culture that is half Chinese and half Malay, and also partly colonial as well since the wealthy can afford western comforts and they imported many goods from Britain and other European countries. The ladies have their own type of fashion, usually this buttonless blouse (they keep it together with brooches) and sarong, and the most famous being a particular type of beaded slippers they would handmake for themselves (since Nonya ladies were basically confined to their houses).

The house was very nice, but I was most impressed with the private temple right next to the mansion that actually needed very little restoration. It was, simply, beautiful. It was a place of ancestor worship, with old photos and furiture, and an open "air well" like many of the Chinese temples. But unlike other temples, there was no gawdiness. They was no tackiness. There were no people selling you caged birds to free to get good points with them buddhas. It was just an elebarote wooden structure, with nobody else but me and guide, and a sense of tranquility that must have offered refuge to many Nonya ladies back in the day when they could only dream of leaving their confinement. After the tour, I gave the tour guide a RM$1o tip, at first he was really honestly surprised, and said no, but I insisted and said you gave me such a good tour, so he accepted at the end. But I suppose RM$10 goes far in Penang, but still, I mean, that's a US$3 tip, for like a good 30-45min of private tour and explanation of the culture and history of the place.

After that, I decided to check out the Khoo Kongsi which they claimed is the heritage jewel of Penang. It was getting to be about lunch time, and I stopped at a local food court and had some hainan chicken. So in Penang foodcourts, you usually order your food, tell them where you are sitting, and when you sit a waitress type person come by and ask for your drink order. Basically these are permanat hawker stall places organized around a central drink-making area, they also share the dishes and whatnot. These permanant foodcoruts are actually very clean, and the food cooked super fresh. I still did not dare eat or use any ice, just in case you know.

After a little food, and sweating like a pig dipped in water, I walked for a few and found the Khoo Kongsi, which is the clan temple of the Khoo clan. It was absolutely beautiful, more beautiful than a lot of temples I have seen even in mainland China. I wonder if ti's becasue these overseas temples are better preserved, for a lot of such structures in the mainland probably was destroyed or damanged during the various wars, and revolutions, not the least the Cultural Revoluation when anything from the past was seen as bad and many smashed. The Khoo temple was built in the Fujian style, with many elaborate porcelain-decoratated wings on the roof. It is a living structure, in the sense that the Khoo clan is still very active, they just open up their temple for visitors. Opposite the temple there is also a permant opera stage which is used where there are celebrations or festivals. One thing that struck me was that in the 2 side temples, there were big plaques of names of Khoos who have achieved academic excellence. There were big plaques proclamining Khoo So and So, Generation 24, PhD in Engineering at Hong Kong Univesity, or Khoo So and So, Generation 18, PhD in Law in London School of Law or whatever the university is. That was pretty interesting. It is sad to note that all the plaques were male Khoos, because they discard the achievements of female Khoos for well, they belong to the clans of their hubands when they marry. But it's not like they list the achievements of women who married INTO the Khoo clan. Whatever.

Anyway, at this point, I think I wandered a good 30min trying to look for the bus tha twould take me to Air Itam, where the big Kek Lok Si Temple complex is. On the way, I stopped at the internet cafe and wrote that entry back a few days ago. So I am happy to report that I indeed found my way onto the local RAPID bus, and it only cost me RM1.50 (that is US$0.50) to go basically from terminal to terminal to the town of Air Itam about 20min away from Georgetown. There I walked through town, up a path lined with numerous stalls (it reminded me TOTALLY of Stanley market in Hong Kong), and past a few kind of disgusting ponds FILLED with turtles (probably from people releasing turtles to gain good points with them buddhas), and finally up to the big Kek Lok Si complex (in Cantonese that's Gig Lok Jee as in Extreme Happiness Temple).

That temple was very odd indeed. Yes it was huge. Yes it was impressive, but it also was in the middle of raising funds for their GIANORMOUS bronze statue of the Goddess of Mercy, and so everywhere they were selling shit. Everything you could think of, and more. That includes plastic plates printed with images of CG renderings of urm. I dunno, sensual anime style looking astrology images? I mean, they were selling EVERYTHING. It was like a made-in-china kitch store mutliplied by the number of buddhas in that pagodo and then another trillion. On TOP of all those stores, they also had a inclined elevator, theme-park style, that takes you up to the top of the hill to gaze at the GIANORMOUS statue of mercy that is currently being built. They charge you RM$2 per way. The weird thing was, why do they even bother with per way? It's not like I could buy my ticket up there, and then not come down. I acutally looked around up top to see if I could walk down. Nope. You could only use that fancy inclined elevator (think a gondola on rails) both ways, so why bother selling tickets one way? And now you have to maintain two ticket booths, with two people manning it, BOTH sides.

One thing I did buy at the temple, was a bag of fish food costing RM$1. It was about 3pm, the height of the heat of the day there, and I was the only person around the pagoda that was built over a koi poind. And by koi pond, I mean RIDICULOUSLY huge kois. Like, 2feet long and at leaest half a foot wide. I had fun throwing food pellets that smelled suspiciously like cat food at them.

After that I decided I was totally exhausted, and decided to take the U204 back home. Or at least, to the big mall area (the giant ugly tall, almost phallic building in the middle of Penang). Oh, speaking of phallic, for those who know Cantonese, did you know that the Chinese name for Penang is Bun Sing (Bun City), or..... Bun Jou (Bun Province)....... hahahahahahahah yeeeaaahh.. Bun Jou, like UPenn, you know, like, peepee, wang, dong, you get the idea. Yeah UPenn people, the Chinese name for your University sounds exactly like Penis University in Cantonese.

I went to the mall because of that camera charger fiasco. Yeah I forgot my charger and left my uncharged battery in my camera. After asking about 3 places, I thought it was going to be a lost cause. The closest was "oh we have to order that part"... then I found this dingy little place, and the really happy looking guy said, oh, I'll call our storehouse to see if we have any in stock, and after waiting for a few minutes while they looked, the answer was YES! I was like, OMG! And the guy was lifting both his arms too and saying YES! It was fun. The only downside was that I had to wait 20min until they deliver it to the store. I was like, no problem that's the best news I have ever heard. I also happily forked over the RM$90 that they wanted, I mean, I wasn't going ot haggle over this when I obviously was in paradise when I heard that they have my charger. The guy was really happy and excited about it too, it was kind of adorable. Anyway, I got my charger and that was the happy part of the story.

When I got back to the hotel, I called Lucy and Marvin (with my snazy Hotlink simcard in my unlocked nokia) and we went out to an Indian restaurant. Later as we got back to the hotel, the bus trucking most of the BAD team actually arrived at the same time, so I met my roommates Phoi and Judy and we went to bed pretty early since we had to get up quite early to practice.

Anyway, I think that took care of item #1, #2, and #3. Let me take a break and I'll continue in a separate entry.

Penang

2008-07-28T22:05:00.000-07:00

Holy cow, I'm in Penang! Specifically, in a not very air-conditioned hole in the wall lined with 10 computers on Love Lane (basically backpacker's alley). The price of online here is RM$2 an hour. Which is about US$0.65.

Yes I have finally made it here. It is kind of strange since in a way I feel like i have been here for a while. Penang really, REALLY reminds me of Hong Kong in the 80s, at least the Hong Kong with the old shops, temples, hawker stalls, and really hot weather. There are Chinese signs everywhere and I can speak English or a mix of that with Madarin slash Cantonese all the time. I don't have any jetlag that I can feel... most of the time I don't feel it when I'm goign somewhere, I feel it when I get home.

Anyway, I should try to be adhere to the timeline here, so I am not massively off tangent. I'm going to try to write here everyday, since typing is SO MUCH FASTER than writing in my journal. I tend to get frustrated when I try to write with a pen when I just want to spee it off my fingers.

ANYWAY.
I got to SFO at about 00:15am on Sunday morning 7/27. The China Airlines was delayed til about 2am. It was an OLD 747. I mean, there is that big projection screen every 20 rows in the middle kind of old. China Airlines is actually a Taiwanese airlines, which makes sense that we're going to go to Taipei then. Flight time to Taipei was 12 hours almost exactly. They fed us "dinner" at about 3am, and then I konked out. Thank you, whichever saint who invented soft foam ear plugs. Thank you. I love you. So much. I konked out so well that it was about 11:45am when I woke up when the crew turned on the lights. YES. Then they fed us breakfast, and then I was off the plane at Taipei's Taoyuan (Peach Garden) Int'l airport at about 2:0pm SF time, which was 5am Taiwan time.

The airport terminal I got off at, was incredibly, incredibly shitty. I was in fact, in shock at how horrible it was. It reminded me basement skanky fake-CD malls in Hong Kong that wasn't doing so well. It was godawful, and I was like, shit I have to spend 3 hours here?? Thankfully I was curious and so I walked around and after some maze like route, I somehow managed to get into the NEW wing which was, omg, it was like suddenly we advanced 3 decades into modern above-ground electronics mall. It was bright, upbeat, and there was free internet and oh, free massage chairs and cute information booths about the culture and nature of Taiwan. Apparently a typhoon was getting close, and some of the flights were cancelled but thankfully mine to Kuala Lumpur was not affected. I ate a bowl of pork chop noodle soup and had some Oolong tea and before long I was sitting in my 2nd flight to KL, scheduled at 8:30am. Now it's been some 16 hours since I left SFO.

The flight to KL was actually quite pleasant. I had an individual touch screen that let me pick what movies I wanted to watch. Man. You woudl think they would have that on a cross-pacific flight, and maybe not so much in shorter intra-Asia flights right? Nope. Well I was glad coz I wasn't going to be able to sleep again after that 8.5hrs of massive miraclous plane sleep, so I watched The Bank Job which totally did the job of killing 2 hours out of my 4 hour flight.

When I stepped out to see KL, omg. I was in love with the airport. It made me feel like I was a country mouse, seeing city lights for the first time. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the Petronas towers but no luck, since the airport was actually 75km from KL. But shit. That airport, is amazing. Apparnetly it was named "Worl'd Best Airport" by some airport international body, but man, dude, they deserve it. It was soooo easy to navigate around, and people were super friendly, and the airtram that linked the two massive buildings were super swank and sweet. It reminded me of the Hong Kong international Airport, but nicer. I basically spent 2 hours that gawking at how awesome that airport was. As I was walking around with my mouth open, there were plenty of women in headscarves and even full on burkas walking around. Somehow though, this felt very different than in Egypt. I dunno why. Maybe it's the general vibe of the airport screaming "We are doing so well economically and life is great" that it didn't feel oppressive. Not that Egypt felt oppressive but it did feel more tense on my skin than in Malaysia (then again, I was in Egypt when Danish cartoons made headlines). In Egypt I didn't feel comfortable saying I lived in the US, I said I was from Canada and they would give big thumbs up and then say, yeah we don't like the US. And then they would correct very quickly, we like American people, especially peopel who would even come to see Egypt, we don't like the US government and we dont' like Bush. Oh, and every sign in KL airport had like 5 languages on it, English, Malay, Arabic, Japanese and Chinese. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's the apparent ethic and cultural diversity made the burkas seem like it's just part of a big mosaic. Now that I'm in Penang though, I have not seen anybody in Burkas. Perhaps those are people in transit from other Muslim countries. But anyway, in short, I couldn't help but think in my head, very loudly, man, this is "Islamic country done right", and also "This is oil revenue done right".

At about 3:30pm, it was time for me to get on the plane to Penang. At 4:30pm, we landed in Penang. Talk about a short flight. We literally ascended to 20,000 ft and immediately descanded. The Penang airport was simple and straightforward. I managed to get my luggage in 5min flat and got my money changed in 3min flat and then got my Malaysia sim card purchased and activated in another 10min. That was simple. Then when I was in the taxi line to get the "official we wont' screw you" taxi ticket to get into town, I met 5 of my other teammates that I didn't know was there at the same time. We shared two cabs and got into BayVew hotel.

Wow I have been in this chair for 45min, cooled down and ready to go again. Maybe I'll come back to write more at night later but right now I want to catch a local bus to see the Kek Lok Si Temple, oh, and probably to look for a charger for my camera which I regretably forget to bring, and even more regratebly my battery is already low. :(

More later!

Birfday

2008-07-23T23:30:00.000-07:00

Some photos from the birfday week.
The day after I skipped practice and decided to go to the farmer's market instead. This is a typical SF Ferry Building Sat farmer's market loot:

- lots o' ridiculously tasty locally grown organic fruits and veggies. My favorites are nectarines and the cherry tomatoes that taste like candy.
- half a dozen free range fertile eggs. Fertile eggs mean that the eggs are from hens that are housed together with roosters. The fact that there is more activity in the pen make the eggs the tastiest.
- Freshly baked bread from Acme
- Blue Bottle cafe that was locally roasted the day before purchase
- Rabbit rillette from Fatted Calf, also local (usually we get some sort of salumi or pate)
- half a roasted chicken to bring home to nibble on.

The weekend after the birfday I was treated to a little getaway up in Yountville, which is about an hour north of San Francisco in the wine country. We stayed in this super cute b&b called Lavender, had a little cave wine tour, and then basically gorged ourselves with food when not napping or sleeping. We went to Ad Hoc for dinner, which is the casual sister restaurant of Thomas Keller's legendary French Laundry. Here is a photo of French Laundry's garden right across from the restaurant where they grow some of the food. When we were there, we saw kitchen staff harvesting beets, and a chef lady going out to gather some herbs.

Dinner at ad hoc was fantastic. We had a salad with heirloom tomatoes, a main course with short ribs, a cheese plate and then dessert. I was a bit overwhelmed by the food and forgot to take pictures mostly. The next day, we went BACK to ad hoc for brunch, and had MORE ridiculously good food. When we saw that "steak and eggs" was the menu, we almost hesitated. Could we handle that much beef in like 15 hours? The answer was yes.

My favorite though was the first dish, which consisted of 3 different types of bruchetta: 1) tomato + mozzarella 2) anchovies + golden raisins + crushed almonds + some green shoots 3) pork tenderloin + radish. omg.

Then it was prime ribs steak and eggs.

To be topped off with peaches and cream with shortbread cookies. $38/pp for that is a crazy good price as far as I am concerned.

Anyway, after we stuffed ourselves we went to Bouchon bakery for even more food. And then we decided we had to move some, and went to Cold Canyon near Lake Berryessa to do a 4.5mile hike with about 1500ft of actually rather steep elevation gain.

Yeah that was a really nice weekend.
This coming weekend I will fly off to Penang Malaysia for my dragonboat world championships. I'm not quite excited yet, still rather stressed about getting work done and packed and everything... I think I'll get excited when I actually can feel Penang on my skin.

For now, another picture. This one taken today showing the range of yummy veggies we have been harvesting from the little backyard. We made a very tasty orzo with veggies type of warm pasta salad with them. The yellow thing is a squash, which is slightly longer than my hand. Everything is rather small, compact but super flavorful. We are proud!

Anyway, that's what I have been up to. And again it's midnight. Sigh.

Misc

2008-07-14T22:10:00.001-07:00

Just posting some belated meat sauce photos.

p.s. Birthday was fun, but I'm also glad it's over. I think I like other people's birthdays more than mine. I can never decide whether I want to celebrate or not, so I always end up caught somewhere between it being a big deal and it being a big pain. Meagan's little video though, totally made my day!

Vonnegut

2008-07-02T17:51:00.000-07:00

Last night I picked up A Man without A Country by Kurt Vonnegut to pass some time. It had been on my bookshelf for a while, but I was trying to read some other books first before I got to this one.

Just under an hour into it I'm already halfway through the book, but it has already become one of my favourites. This book makes me miss the old man, even though I have only started reading his writings after his death. This book makes me feel like I am having an intimate conversation with a funny, wise and piercingly honest old friend. This book makes me feel like something is terribly absent in this world now that he is no longer around.

Here is a passage I particularly enjoyed last night:

"If you want to really hurt your parents, and you don't have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something."

I have some free time today. I think I'm going to take the train all the way to the ocean, to say hello to the waves, to have th fog wreck havoc with my hair, and spend some time with old Kurt by myself. The cold air, and the sharp wit, will do me some good.

Balance

2008-07-01T22:36:00.001-07:00

I am a little stressed. Today I got a call from China Airlines and the lady told me that part of my return flight from Penang Malaysia has been canceled and if i could move my travel plans by a day because that would be easiest for them. What? What kind of airlines tell you that oh sorry, you need to travel a whole day later for our convenience. Not a few hours changed, but a whole day. I basically said, NO, I cannot travel a day later and then she looked some more and arranged an extra connection to make it all work. And then just now I realized I missed another call, and the voice message was "oh, by the way, did anybody tell you that your flight TO Penang also got canceled? Now it's a day later. Hope it's ok". NO OF COURSE IT IS NOT OK. Now I have to call them tomorrow to bitch. I wouldn't care even if they give me a voucher, since it's not like I'll ever fly with them again. Not like they would anyway, I mean, sorry to be racist against my own people here, but Chinese people wouldn't just GIVE you vouchers just because they screwed you over.

Anyway.
I was going to write a bit about work life balance and how I feel like I am good about not being stressed about work. But obviously, I get stressed about travel plans. But I suppose that's normal right? That at least seems to be worth stressing out about.

But I suppose some people think work is worth stressing out about? I don't know. I decided a few years ago that it just is not plain worth it for me to be stressed out about work, because I suppose I made a decision that my work will not define my life, or who I am. I might feel different if I were in a job that matters, like if I am an ER doctor or a humanitarian or a teacher or something. But I'm an artist who make video games. My work at best brings wonder and inspiration and further imagination, and at worst it's wasted pixel space that also hog physical space in a landfill. I am not saying that one's career is not important. It is a great source of growth and fulfillment in one's life, and most of us spend the majority of our living hours doing it. But I am pretty clear about one thing though... if I know I have one year left to live, I would not spend it doing my job. That tells me that as much as I love and enjoy doing my job, in the grand scheme of things it is not that important to me.

Perhaps the reason that I have managed to not be stressed about work, unlike many of my friends, is because I don't expect my job to make me happy. Ok let me phrase it a little more carefully, since it is a nuanced idea. I think it is my responsibility, and no one else's, to make sure that I am happy in a professional capacity. But on the flip side, I do not equate that happiness at my profession, as anything to do with happiness with one's Big Life. No doubt professional fulfilment can bring about a lot of excitement, recognition and esteem that contributes to your Big Life, but these are fleeting. I think a lot of people fall into the trap of defining their Big Life with their job, or career. And when something is amiss in your professional life, suddenly they feel lost, and perhaps even spin into a bit of depression, and consumed with questions like "Why?", "Now what?", which tend to also further aggravate their issues at work. In this society though when success in life is much confused with professional success, it is understandable that so many people hit that disillusionment, and then realize they have no idea what their Big Life even is, and how they can find happiness in it.

When I was at EA, I was encouraged to do a 2 day workshop called "Pathways to Performance", and in my bitterness towards the company I much mocked the experience then. Thinking back now though, I think that workshop taught me a whole lot. In fact, I think it was truly instrumental in helping me develop a healthier relationship with my profession. It was the first time that anybody told me that nobody but me will know how to make me happy at work. No, not your manager, not your boss, and definitely not HR. It is my responsibility thus to find out what would give me professional fulfillment, and then market it, as if I'm my own brand of product (cheesy but true). If you tell your manager/boss/HR that specific XYZ will make you happy, they are more than likely to accommodate it because well, they WANT you happy because everybody knows a happy employee is a better employee, provided that what you want is aligned with what the company needs... more on that later.

The workshop had several methods in helping you find out what gives you that fulfillment, but I thought one of the most important exercise was to write down different values on cards. You started with something like 10 cards, and then you were forced to vote them off the island one by one, and then you had a prioritized list of values that are important to you. I think two of my top ones were Integrity, and Creativity. I forgot the rest. But from just those two cards it was clear to me why my particular job position then was not making me very happy. I wasn't being creative, and I felt that my integrity was being compromised when saying yes was more prized than giving honest feedback.

Ok now let's talk about alignment. No, not the DnD type of alignment, but whether you as a product fits with what the company needs. When it is a yes, then it is a problem of misplacement within the company, which could be corrected especially when you can voice your needs so specifically. Sometimes, the answer is a no. Then it is obvious that well, perhaps it is best to move on. But the best thing about thinking about it this way was, it was not personal at all. It has really helped me maintain really positive, honest and respectful relationships with people I have worked with, even as I was giving taboo notice to quit midway in a project.

Anyway.
I should now attend to the other stuff in my Big Life that does give me actual happiness. A good night's sleep also really helps with the happiness thing too. Really.

115th

2008-06-30T17:42:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in a while because I have been busy. Not work busy, more life busy I suppose. I am starting to really prepare for the Club Crew World Championships in Malaysia at the end of July. Last weekend I went to the Alcan Dragonboat festival in Vancouver to race with my team BAD, and in two weeks there will be a sprint race locally in Fremont before we head off to Asia. Before I leave, I will also be celebrating my birthday with a big dinner party, and heading up to Napa for a little weekend trip. So yeah, summer has already kicked into high gear. I am a little stressed about all of it actually.

Actually, talking about my event packed life is a good segway into what I actually want to write about. I do not sound like I'm living in a country at war for the past 5 years.

War and country.

As I have noted in other posts, I am in a strange position in regards to American politics. I am not American, but almost everything I have come to know and love in my adult life is American. I have lived in this country for more than a decade, and as much as I call San Francisco my home, I am not at ease as a resident alien. I have never supported the Iraq War, and I abhor the political machine that lied and manipulated its way to make that a sad reality. But recently, I am starting to get angry at how disjointed war and country has become. If you walk around the USA not knowing the country has been at war, you would never guess that well, it has been. Other than perhaps the small towns that a lot of soldiers come from that is.

As much as I don't believe in the reasons for going to war, the fact is, the country I have been living in and paying taxes to HAVE BEEN at war. TWO wars even. But I don't feel a lick of the shadow in my life. Lately even the headlines have shifted entirely away from what's going on in the frontlines, or worse, what life has been to the people and families in the military who has been shouldering the entire war effort almost alone, and silently alone. It is a shameful, immoral business.

Bob Herbert wrote a column about the invisible wounds of the war:

"However one feels about the nation’s war policies, we have an ironclad obligation to look out for the short- and long-term needs of the troops we send off to combat. In the absence of any general call for sacrifice, it’s the least we can do. Right now we’re not even doing that."

Not only are Americans not doing that, it's not even being talked about. I tried to think about when the last time the war, or the soldiers in combat, have been a topic of substantial discussion amongst my friends. I could not actually think of any such time. It shocked and disgusted me a little.

Part of me thinks, well at least I have an excuse, this is not my country. But then I thought about HBO documentary Baghdad ER I saw a couple years ago. Did it matter that the people interviewed were American, and not Canadian? Did it even really matter what war they were in? Or that I did not agree with the reasons they were put there in the first place? No. Actually the fact that I thought the war was not justified made me more compassionate for the soldiers who are sent to combat. What they live through everyday is real; even if I feel like they are pawns of a big stupid political game, that does not change the fact that their buddies die; that their limbs are amputated; that they have to decide when to shoot a civilian car that refused to stop. If they were fighting for something concrete, it seemed like it would at least be worthwhile. When they are fighting for something they are not sure about, only clinging to an abstract idea that "whatever they are doing will better the region", "it is for the love of country", it just breaks my heart. All these young men and women with good and honorable intentions, being put into morally ambiguous and tactically impossible situations, all the while leaving their families and homes for 15 months at a time, and many are in their 4th tours of duty.

If I lived in a small town, all of these people going away could very well be my friends. Instead, since I live in San Francisco in a nice income bracket, I am having a fabulous dinner party with my friends instead and talk about anything but the war.

Perhaps I got sentimental about this when I saw the Canadian Reserves helping out at the Dragonboat festival in Vancouver. I couldn't help but think about what kind of world it would be, if American reserves were able to do that kind of event again; instead of setting up tents for the Racer Village, they are, and will be for a long time, setting up tents in the desert.

Last time I felt this way, I think it was after watching Baghdad ER, I wanted to do something about it. I found this site called Treats for Troops, which lets one send a care package to individual soldiers or whole units. On the newsletter page, they told a story about the medical unit of the Alaskan National Guard being mobilized and they would love to receive packages because they would be so so far from home. This is the thank you letter they sent me via TfT:

"Dear Jane,

I am speechless. I never thought I'd be at a loss for words, but I can't begin to find the words to thank you enough. We have received your package through Treats for Troops, and thanks to you and the other kind sponsors we have more than enough goodies for everyone -- not only all the Medics in the BN, but quite a few other Soldiers who needed a lift from home benefited as well.

Absolutely amazing, and so much better than I had even dared to hope for. Please, PLEASE accept my most sincere thanks for making this happen. I wish you could all see the Medics\' faces... see the light in their eyes, and their huge smiles, when they lay their eyes on everything that was sent, and then get to pick & choose from the entire lot, for anything they want. Incredible!

Seeing my Medics smile causes an incredible feeling that I can hardly describe it. I honestly cannot thank all of you enough.

On behalf of all the Medics (and other Soldiers) in our Battalion, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Truly an incredible gift, and truly an incredible service that Treats for Troops provide.

Thank you so much.
Steven
"

I believe by now the Alaskan unit is home. So this time I got to send something to the 115th Combat Support Hospital that is based out of Fort Polk, Louisiana. I learned from a press release that they have just been deployed, and will be taking over the medical treatment for all detainees in Iraq, while training local Iraqi teams to do the same. The unit's motto is "Healing for Peace". I hope they will like the treats in the care package.

Maybe by keeping the 115th in my mind, it won't be as easy for myself at least to slip into that comfortable ignorance of what the other side of this country, and along with it the other side of this war is going through.

Brunch

2008-06-15T15:50:00.000-07:00

Hey there! :)
I'm giving a big happy smile to all of you who read my previous couple of more depressing posts and wanted to make sure I'm doing okay. Thanks for all your lovely thoughts! However I should fess up that most of the time, my life is truly awesome and filled with happiness. You have to understand that my writing is... kind of like... blowing into a tissue when one has a cold. If you only see the piles of tissues, it might give the impression I'm a cesspool of sadness; but really, I am more the better precisely because the snot is out, and not in. I am, most of the time, overwhelmed by how wonderful life is.

For example, today.
I woke up in a pile of love, comfort and purrs. With leisurely delay, the day started with a tree lined walk along Laguna to Hayes Valley, one of my favorite places in the city, and a fresh Gibraltar at the Blue Bottle kiosk. Then it was Bar Jules, a place we haven't tried before, for brunch. Someone-awesome-not-me got the scrambled eggs with prosciutto and arugula; I ordered the baked eggs with pulled pork and potatoes with radish salad. We sat at the counter, shared a cup of delicate tea, while watching the chefs do their magic over the open kitchen (where there is a wood fire griddle). Our food took a while, so the lady at the counter gave us a glass of prosecco mixed with strawberry juice on the house (think mimosa but way better). It was a very nice gesture, but I did not mind the wait at all, since I was thoroughly enjoying my time smelling freshly picked peonies while s-a-n-m translated the secret copulations of linear equations (in particular, the Conjugated Gradient Method) into plain English for my curiosity. The food at Jules was remarkably tasty. Then we also visited miette, the local confiserie (yes, i said confiserie) and bought a pistacio macaron and a box of lavender honey nougat, before walking back up the hill.

Later in the day, after s-a-n-m consorted with the linear equations some more and I finished my shirt design obligation, we stopped by the Embarcadero Ferry Building on our way home. We got some mascarpone, sheep milk ricotta and St. Pat from the Cowgirl Creamery, and some freshly baked pain epi (as in the picture on left) and rustic sweet baguette from Acme. What for? We are going to make some homemade raviolis while eating some tasty toasted bread with cheese on it.

When we got back to home base, s-a-n-m went to water our garden (the tomatoes are in green lumps; the carrots are small yet DELICIOUS; one strawberry is coming about once a week; and one can start to glimpse the future harvest of zucchini, tomatoes, squash and lemons) and I donned the apron to start making the pasta dough. We are making two batches of dough to make three types of ravioli: 1) ricotta with herbs 2) mushrooms with shallot, thyme and mascarpone and cube of homemade stock 3) crab meat with mascarpone. I can now say I can knead like a champ, and s-a-n-m as always can cook like a real chef. A couple of hours later, we enjoyed some wine with our friend and shared some ricotta and mushroom raviolis with our also homemade ragu. zomg. The crab ones we froze for a later meal.

But yeah. Talk about being whiny... I know.
This is not a routine Sunday, but it is also not unique. I live very well; and on most days really, I do count my blessings and try not to take any of this for granted. I am very happy, and thanks for thinking of me when I had to blow clear my figurative nose to appreciate a fuller, clearer breath of what I have, what I enjoy, what I love.

Preposition

2008-06-12T10:47:00.000-07:00

I have been rather spacey these past few days. I thought I was just really tired from paddling, but I don't think so now that it is morning and I have slept something like close to 11hours. I think there is a lot on my mind, maybe writing would help, it always does.

So right now I'm at work, listening to Elliot Smith and waiting for a ginormous data sync that seems like it would take the whole frickin morning. Of course I saw the email about "only sync what you need" after I started the full sync. Thanks.

The weather is beautiful outside and while I intellectually appreciate it, I don't really seem to give a crap, which is really not how I usually am. Something really isn't right.

There is a topic that I have wanted to write about for quite a while, but every time it comes time to write, it always hide itself away in the back of my mind. It doesn't want to get addressed I suppose. It doesn't want to be dragged out of its dark corner where a lot of my fears hide; and this one, obviously, has become quite comfortable there, gaining strength, and occasionally venturing out on its own to darken my bright days.

It's about this preposition, in. Yes, the word "in", and how it really changes the meaning of things.

Quite a few people come to me to talk about relationships, that is perhaps because I have been through a couple long ones. They can share with me the joys, the hardships and the decisions, because I most likely have experienced some version of what they are going through.

One of the big issues is, what do you do, if you love someone, but you are not in love with them anymore. Or the worse, what do you do, if you are in love with someone, who loves you but not in love with you. How do you know. What do you do.

Fuck. Just writing that (A) turns my face into 3 faucets, (B) make me want to go punch something so hard that there will be blood (C) Bite my nail really hard so I won't do either A or B when I am sitting in the office.

I have been through both sides of that scenario, but both times I was the first to realize it. It is a sad, sad state of affairs when you realize you're at that breakpoint in a relationship.

I am a strong believer that one can learn to love anything. I can hate an album, and if i listen to it enough times, I will discover that I love it after all. We love plenty of things in life, and if you have shared a significant portion of life with someone, it is only natural you love them in a way that is more than the way you would love a friend. But in love? That is something so much harder to decipher. What quantifies that? Some people don't believe in it, but I do. When you are in love, it makes you do things that a rational person with a high regard of self interest just would not do. It is not just the butterflies in your stomach; it is something that is so hard to describe. The closest thing I can come to say is, when you are in love, it makes you yearn for the future with the person in it. It makes you willing to forgo comfort to be with them. It gives you strength to overcome your own barriers, and the fortitude to expose your vulnerability to them. It makes you willing to do very silly things, like call them cheesy cute names, like move to an unfamiliar place, perhaps give up your career, give access to your net worth, and shoot babies out of your vajayjay.

Being in love, makes you willing to give up a good bit of yourself, to make room for the other person; in sickness and in health; for better or for worse.

And you know what? I think they have that as part of the vow in marriage because someone wiser knows that when time goes on, you would lose it. The "in". There would be a time, when you are no longer in love with the person you love. You would want to reclaim that good bit of yourself. This is why marriage is hard, I suppose.

I get sad when I think about this because I feel like it's inevitable. I have heard so many people say, "I wish I am in love with her, I really do, because I love her so much". I get sad, because I feel that unless you are aware and are willing to put the effort in to keep it going, it is very hard to reignite that kind of in-ness once it dies. It is not easy. It is a conscious work of self awareness and empathy for the other. Comfort and complacency can smother it so easily, quietly, gradually. Completely.

The two times it happened to me, I decided I did in fact want to reclaim that good bit of myself. But that good bit is never the same. It gets eroded every time; and every subsequent time, you are tempted to put out less, because you are afraid.

I get angry when I think about this because I feel like I get shafted when I am more self aware and more empathetic. I get angry, because I feel like I always have to do the work. It is not easy to evaluate what you personally want, what you need, what makes you happy and then to express it. When you do and when put yourself out there, naked, exposed, it does not guarantee that the other person would reciprocate the same. Actually, maybe in a fucked up way maybe it makes them inclined to do less, since well, *I* am already doing it. If someone is already doing the laundry, you just put yours in the pile right? Why start your own load. And if that person already always initiate the laundry, would you ever? Probably not. But I guarantee you that the laundry starter probably feels pretty darn taken for granted; and eventually, they would want to reclaim that good bit of themselves, and walk away.

But what can you do, but feel sad and angry and watch it happen? If the other person doesn't see it, what do you do. Do you just watch it die? You cannot make the person do the work, if they don't want to. Even if you tell them, hey, if you don't do the work, this isn't going to work out. Even if you write the letters on the wall. Even if you tell them exactly how you feel and what your fears are. What do you do, when you can see it coming, and can't prevent it; how long can you rely on thinking back in the past how special that person made you feel. The sweet things they used to say. How intimate in every way you used to be. Everything in past tense. How much faith can you put out on a limb, knowing the fickleness of love, that it still is in present tense? How can you put away the fears, that one day you find yourself in love with only a shell of a person who used to be; living a shadow of what you hoped would have been. Even if your daily routines don't change, your time spent together doesn't alter, but somehow, that color of intimacy is faded and brittle like a yellowed page; and you are afraid to disturb the status quo, because it might all just crumble, piece by piece like broken glass, and be scattered by the wind.

You cannot make someone stay in love with you.
And can you ever even know for sure if someone is, if they don't tell you. And if they do, are they just empty words.

Weary

2008-06-11T15:32:00.000-07:00

Last night in the middle of dinner being made, I had a strange energy crash and I really needed to lay down. I think I am tired. I feel weary. I don't have much free time, and when I do, I tend to pack them with things to do. I always feel like I'm on the go, on the way to somewhere and something is always almost late. I am getting better at the last item, since I am getting better at saying no to people who want my time. People who want me to do pro bono design for posters and t shirts and websites etc. I'm getting better at that... at least I'm only on the hook for one tshirt.

I realized the last time I took a real vacation was last April, when I went to Peru. I took 3 days off in between jobs last October, and that was eaten up by me having to frantically look for a place to say in the city. This past December I was in Jamaica, while it was a nice resort wedding, it wasn't really what I'd choose to do. In March I had a ski trip, but while it was really fun it wasn't really a vacation, since it was really hectic. I didn't feel recharged. It seems like I have time off from work often enough, so maybe it isn't that that is making me feel weary.

Maybe the problem is that when I am home, I don't really feel at home. My place feels almost like a dorm room that I sleep and store my stuff. It feels temporary. It is not mine, and I don't really want to spend too much energy in there. It feels like a way station, a rest stop, a place that reminds me that I haven't arrived.

Maybe I am weary of always being in transition. I am good at change; too good at anticipating it and perhaps at instigating it. In 7 years, I have lived in 5 zip codes. In the past 7 months I must have met at least 150 new people, and befriended a good portion of them.

Now I just want to go home. I am ready.
But first I suppose I have to find it.

@$#%#$

Ragù

2008-06-03T19:19:00.001-07:00

Since I mentioned Bolognese meat sauce in the previous post, now I'll share how to make it. This is the modified version, so it is not the classical sauce. I find the traditional recipe to be not tomato-y enough, and we also added more variety of meat instead of just beef to broaden the flavor. Be forewarned, it takes about 5 hours to make, but you can have at least 3 wonderful full dinners for two out of it.

Bolognese Ragù (meat sauce)
gives 6 large servings

6 tbsp of butter
1 tbsp of olive oil
1/2 lb ground beef (not too lean)
1/2 lb ground pork
1/2 lb ground lamb (if you don't have lamb, just use another 1/2 lb of beef)
1 large onion, finely chopped
4/3 cups of finely chopped carrots
4/3 cups of finely chopped celery
2 cups of milk (at least 2%, if not whole)
2 cups of dry white wine (or 1 cup of red)
2 cans of peeled, unsalted plum tomatoes
1/8 to 1/4t of freshly ground nutmeg.
Some parsley, oregano a bay leaf and a clove of garlic (if you are going totally off the classical recipe!)

Method

1) In a large pot (we use our Le Creuset French oven), melt the butter and olive oil and cook the onions until translucent (about 2-3min). Put in carrots and celery and cook for another 2-3 min.
You add the olive oil in so that the butter will not burn.

2) Add in all the meat in small chunks into the pot and mix with the vegetables. Add in a large pinch of salt to help the meat get rid of its moisture.

3) When the meat is no longer pink, add in the 2 cups of milk and grind in the fresh nutmeg at this point. You can smell that this goes reallllly well with it! Reduce until there is no visible liquid left; this could take up to half an hour.

4) When the milk has been reduced down to nothing, add in the wine. Again, reduce the liquid down to almost nothing. This again, take almost another half an hour.

5) While the reduction is happening, you can prep the tomatoes. Open the cans and try to seed each of the tomatoes. I suggest you seed the tomatoes over a bowl to collect the seeds and the juice, and then you put the seed-free flesh in another bowl. Cut the seed-free tomato flesh into smaller chunks. Strain all remaining juice and seeds through a strainer to keep just the liquid.

6) When the reduction is done, add in all the tomato flesh, and some of the juice to a consistency that is not watery. Reduce the heat to a simmer. Add all the relevant spices you want. Now you have to simmer this wonderful sauce for at least 3 hours while stirring occasionally. When the mixture gets dry, add in more tomato juice. I always end up using almost all of it and not have to add any water.

7) At the end of the 3 hours, there should not be any watery liquid left on top. The fat might have separated a bit but that's normal, as long as it is not watery. This sauce is served best on home made tagliatelle which is a ribbon pasta slightly wider than fettucini that you have to cut by hand. It really is quite easy to make home made pasta, if you have a pasta machine, 2 eggs and one cup of flour and about an hour of time. To me it is also tasty on regular spaghetti, but it never seems to go that well with a shape like fusilli. Serve with some Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese!

** I have photos, and will post some tomorrow

NOTE:
- a few tips for those who want to make their own pasta.
1) leave your two eggs out to warm a bit before using them.
2) when the book says knead for 8 minutes? It really isn't enough. I kneaded for 16min (but I am slow) and man it was so much tastier. The dough REALLY needs to feel soft like a baby's ass before you run it through the machine.
3) unless you are sure your dough will hold up, do not roll the pasta super thin. It will get brittle too easily.

Stock

2008-06-02T23:28:00.000-07:00

I have been cooking a lot lately. Lately, as in the past couple of weeks. And for some reason, many of the cooking exercises have been long ones: as in, I have made two pots of Bolognese meat sauce which takes 5-7 hours to make. There was also homemade chicken stock, that took 4 hours.

Coincidentally, I have been on a somewhat depressive streak. Perhaps it's the weather. Or perhaps it is that time of year when boughs come to bear fruit; the culmination of sweet and sour of the past few months of Winter and Spring. Tumultuous yet transformative; such were the seasons, and such were my days.

I used to default to cleaning when I needed solace. The productive monotony focused my mind while imbuing me with a sense of control over my surroundings. Cleaning in truth is a manifestation of order over chaos; convergence over divergence; sense over shambles. The downside to that, however, is that you first have to admit to the disarrangement. Sometimes we would rather just close the door, and not count all the broken pieces.

Cooking on the other hand is more optimistic. You begin with benign individual ingredients, and through equivalently productive monotony, you work towards something more than the sum of the parts. More than just getting back to the neutral norm. More than just okay. Through time and fire something wonderful happens; something wonderful that you can share, with people you love.

Maybe it is because I have a ton to take stock of, that I have gravitated to making stock.

==========================================
Dark Chicken Stock (as described by Anthony Bourdain)

- a good amount of chicken scraps, such as necks / backs / wings / bones.
- a fair amount of vegetables, total not to exceed 1/3 volume of chicken, in the following ratio: 50% white onion, 25% carrots, 25% celery. Cut into big chunks.
- Put oven on 350F, roast chicken parts with optional wad of tomato paste and handful of flour, mixed in. Turning occasionally to coat evenly, and take care only to brown, and not scorch.
- roast vegetables also in the oven until evenly browned and caramelized.
- Dump chicken parts and veggies into large stockpot, and filled to top with cold water.
- Add in a few sprigs of thyme, a few whole peppercorn, and a few bay leaves.
- Bring to near boil, and turn to a low simmer for hours, as long as you have time and patience.
- Skim off foam and scum as they form on the surface.
- When done, get rid of the bones and veggies and cool the stock in an ice bath.
- Strain as many times as you can stand through cheesecloth, and freeze in ice trays so you can use them in small doses in many other recipes.

Talk

2008-05-30T15:10:00.000-07:00

It's Estrogen day. I just had a nice lunch with 5 other ladies (with one miffed male in the midst), and in about 4 hours I'm going to spend my evening with 9 other fabulous lady friends. Why Estrogen day? Lunch was a coincidence, but evening is Sex in the City the movie night. Honestly, I don't really care as much about the movie. It is more an excuse, an event, for me to celebrate sisterhood with my female friends.

I used to trivialize female companionship. When I was in College, I always hung out with the guys, and was proud of being one of the boys. I was kind of a girl-talk hater, I thought perhaps it somehow made me cool that I didn't need it. Bah. Women talk. Chip Chirp Chap it's all the same over and over.

I feel different now that I am older, and have had more experiences that I find only resonate with women. Some of my women friends have been through divorce; even though I have not, but having had 9 years of practically contiguous serious live-together relationships, two major breakups and subsequent upheaval of life, I can relate and confide just the same. Women heal by talking through our feelings. Sometimes repeatedly, over and over. It rarely gets tiring for us. Talking lets us vent, lets us bond, lets us explore our anger and sadness in a safe environment that will not escalate beyond collective tears and communion. We talk, so we can accept, and move on.

A lot of men, as I have learned, really don't. I find that sometimes, men perceive that talking about issues make them worse, akin to dwelling on something. Instead they want to do something else entirely, to put their mind on something other than what they were frustrated about. A lot of women would consider that "avoiding the issue". So when women want to talk about it, confront it instead of avoid it, it is like exactly the opposite thing some men believe would improve the situation.

I never quite appreciated the saying "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus" until that difference in approach smacked me in square the face, and then I could almost hear Carrie's monologue narrating the awkward and silent situation I suddenly find myself in. I remember almost in disbelief thinking, am I in a Sex in the City episode?! Can this possibly, actually happen outside of a television show? Then all I wanted was to be surrounded by women who wouldn't judge my sentimentality, who would understand and would comfort me, and tell me that sometimes being a crying, irrational pile of emotion is absolutely normal and need not, cannot be trivialized.

That is perhaps the one big thing I enjoy when I watch Sex in the City: the fact that those four women, no matter what they were going through, stuck with each other. The show's appeal to me is way less about the fashion and their sexual liberation. They could get pissed at each other, but still ultimately, they work through it and they're there for one another. When I watched the show those years ago, I felt that I was almost part of that sisterhood, or at least I could live vicariously through them to experience what having a tight circle of female support could be like. In reality though, I have had some disappointing female friendships. The talking is a double edged sword. When it is laced with lies and turned against you, it is worse than anything a man could possibly imagine saying to deliberately hurt.

Perhaps like the show, when I am with my women friends it might sound like Men-bashing when an outsider catch a phrase or two out of context. It might sound like we are all looking for a fairy tale, or that we are unrealistic, and that we are whiny and demanding. But really, like the show, through our complaints we are dismantling some expectations and sharing what we find so unexpectedly precious about our respective loves. We just have to get together at times, to roll our eyes and laugh collectively about how frustrating/wonderful/perplexing/beautiful it is to be in love with them mute Martians.

Belief

2008-05-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

On NPR this morning I caught a snip bit of Forum. The guest speaker was neurologist Robert Burton on his latest book, "On Being Certain: Believing You Are Right Even When You're Not". The 10 mins or so I heard was about about the different way people perceive things, as in, knowing something in your rational mind, versus believing something in your gut. The conscious mind, versus unconscious thoughts.

If I were a person of faith, I'd coin that up as some sort of divine revelation, since I spent the better part of the previous night pondering exactly that: How is it that I can know something in my head rationally, and yet have such a difficult time believing it with physicality.

Perhaps if I were a person of faith, then I'd have less of a problem, since so much of faith is about believing when you don't even know, or have no way of ever validating.

One might say, well, one should just believe what one already knows. Yeah, but should is such a dangerous word. Should. Whatever should may never be, and over the years I have learned to rely more on what is, instead of what should. Over the years, I have also learned to trust my gut feelings because belief has more than once come out of its closet as delusion in disguise. Over the years, I have learned not to trivialize my own feelings, no matter how irrational they may seem; and if the feeling is, then should can go fuck itself out the window.

So, I don't really know where that leaves me.
Other than perhaps that I know things will be fine.

Kitty

2008-05-26T17:17:00.000-07:00

Many people have commented on my rather cat like nature. And so, like any other kitty, when one has a hairball day, it's all better with some extra extra pampering and general borderline-ridiculous-attention-getting such as lap time with scratches behind the ear.

Brrrreeeow.
Oh, and some cheese on toasty bread.

Hairball

2008-05-22T17:26:00.000-07:00

A hairball is a small collection of ~~hair~~ crap or ~~fur~~ misery formed in the stomach of animals that is occasionally vomited up when it becomes too big. Hairballs are primarily a tight elongated cylinder of packed ~~fur~~ issues, but may include bits of ~~vomit~~ tears or recently swallowed ~~food~~ baggage. Cats are especially prone to hairball formation since they ~~groom~~ try to fix themselves by licking their ~~fur~~ pain, and thereby ingest it.

Suquet

2008-05-18T20:20:00.000-07:00

Omg, I am so full from the Suquet (Catalan fish stew) we made for dinner; it was incredibly delicious, and my first attempt at Spanish cuisine. It is the first recipe we picked to cook together from Penelope Casas' Foods and Wines of Spain. I think the secret of our success is that we opted to make our own fish broth instead of using clam juice or something from a box, so I'll start by describing how I made the base broth. I will list the official ingredients from the book, and then I'll describe how we modified it. Looking at the recipes may seem like a lot of work, but it really isn't, and there is no technical difficulty to any of the methods. The hardest was maybe de-veining the shrimp, but that was really for tomorow's dinner anyway, so that doesn't count.

Fish Broth

1 small whole fish, head on, cleaned
1 onion, quartered
1 small carrot, scraped and halved
1/4 cup dry white wine
1.5 cup water
1/2 bay leaf
1/4 tsp thyme
6 peppercorn
a little salt

METHOD: The process is simple. Basically put everything in a pot, bring to a boil, and then simmer for an hour. Strain. You got broth.

NOTES: For the fish, I used a white perch (0.5lb) that is about the size of your hand. It is a bit small, so I also threw in the head of the striped sea bass that I got for the rest of the stew. Since we planned on grilling shrimp the next day, I purchased whole white shrimps (about 16 of them) and threw the shells and heads into the broth (instead of buying pre-shelled shrimps). Also, since fish broth is a useful item to have around, we decided to pretty much double the liquids and simmer the whole pot a bit longer so we would have extra broth to freeze for later use.

=================

Now let's talk about the Fish Stew itself. The following is modified from the original to make two (awesomer) servings.

Suquet, Catalan Fish Stew

1 1/4 cup fish broth (as detailed above)
10 clams (you can use a combo of fresh mussels and clams)
1 slice lemon
3 tbsp olive oil
3 big cloves of garlic
2 slices French-style bread, 1/4 inch thick
6 blanched almonds, lightly toasted
1 tbsp fresh parsley
1/2 tsp paprika
3/4 tbsp flour
1.5 lbs fish steak, of two types, I used halibut and striped bass, cut in big pieces, skin and bones removed
3 tbsp dry white wine, I used Ruffino Orvieto ($9 from whole foods)
1 tbsp peas (frozen ones are fine)
few strands of saffron (we did not have any)
pepper, salt

METHOD:

0) A few hours before you start, like, perhaps when you're making your fish broth, you should put the clams (and/or mussels) into a bowl of salted cold water and add a tbsp of cornmeal. Leave them in the fridge. This would make the shellfish spit out any sand or dirt they have. It also apparently make the meats more plump. If you don't have time though, this is not a necessary step.

1) About a half hour before you want to enjoy your fish stew, cook the shellfish. You can also do step 2 simultaneously if you can multi-task. I only used clams since there wasn't any fresh mussels available. In a small skillet, put in 1/2 cup water and the lemon slice and the shellfish. Bring to boil, and stare at it until the shells open. Take out the clams, keep the meat for later, discard shells into compost (only if your city is as awesome as SF that is). Discard any clams that fail to open. Strain the clam cooking fluid and combine with fish broth. NOTE: You could also use a bit more water if your skillet is wide and you feel there isn't enough coverage; I would just reduce the fluids a bit afterwards.

2) Heat the olive oil, and then cook garlic in it until golden on all sides. Put garlic into food processor or blender. Fry bread on both sides in the same oil. When golden, also put into blender. Toast the almonds in the same pan if they were not toasted. Put the almonds, parsley, saffron and salt into blender. Grind until it's getting to be a paste.

3) When mixture is pasty, add paprika, flour and about 1/4 cup of the fish broth into blender and blend until smooth. Then gradually add in the rest of the broth.

4) Put the smooth mixture into a casserole. Bring to boil. Add fish pieces, wine, peas, salt and pepper. Cover and simmer for 12 minutes, and at the end add in the cooked shellfish meats.

5) Serve in soup bowls, and then enjoy with the rest of your white wine, and maybe some toasted bread, and maybe a light pasta side (will elaborate below).

NOTES: It may be hard to remove all the bones from the fish steaks esp if the steaks are small. I actually got a whole striped bass, which is rather small, so I basically could only take out the main spine but not the smaller ribs. Take special care when removing the skin, it is slippering and harder to peel than I would have expected.

MORE NOTES: This is one tasty tasty dish that is very presentable! It probably would be a great first course instead of a soup in a dinner party, when served in a half portion.

======================================================
Someone-awesome-not-me also made a side dish to go with the stew. It is a tasty, light-tasting way to include some veggies and starch to make a more balanced and filling meal.

Orzo with Onion, Zucchini and pine nuts

Orzo, enough for two
Half an onion, diced
One zucchini, chopped
Some olive oil
Some pine nuts (I suggested adding the pine nuts, and I'm proud!)
Some splash of lemon juice
Some splash of white wine used in the fish stew
Pinch of salt, pepper, sugar and paprika

I can't really elaborate on the quantities here since well, someone-awesome-not-me basically winged this dish. Basically you boil the orzo like any other pasta. In a separate skillet, heat the onions and zucchini in the olive oil until yummy, probably not TOO soft. Put in pine nuts at the end, just so it's a bit heated and toasted. Strain orzo like any pasta, and then just toss everything together. Add chef magic. Something like that. :)

======================================================

Someone-awesome-not-me wants to stay mysterious and shall hereby be referred to always, as Someone-awesome-not-me.

Giving

2008-05-12T19:58:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I'm going to donate blood for the first time in a 14 months. It was not a voluntary lapse, as I became ineligible for donation after my visit to the Amazon last May. The jungle is considered a Malaria area, and thus you have to wait a year to resume giving blood. I am looking forward to it. Tomorrow will be my 4th time donating blood, and since each donation is about a pint each, it would make me a half-gallon donor.

I started donating blood in July 2006. It was during those couple of years when I felt like I really came to be who I am now. I remember feeling compelled to start; it is perhaps as close to feeling a calling as a non-religious person could. One day, it was just clear as day to me, that I needed to give blood.

I admire Mia Farrow. She said in an interview once, that she has taught her children that "with knowledge comes responsibility". I thought that was such an eloquent way of describing a nobility of living that I too want to aspire to. Giving, is easily seen as a gesture of generosity; but to me, given the extraordinary prosperity and knowledge that I have enjoyed in life, has become a responsibility.

It might sound overly altruistic and lofty, but aiming to live a more selfless life has in fact many selfish benefits. Many studies have said that happiness is a very relative thing, for example, the reason why many ______ people never feel happy is because they compare themselves to people who are more ______ than they are. Fill in the blank with any variable there.

These days, I am in touch with a very real sense of happiness and contentment that I have never felt in my more juvenile days. I am much less attached to things that don't matter, and many things that used to stress me out now flow around me. With a wider perspective outside myself, I feel like I have learned to really cherish the things that count, and hold them dear moment by moment, in both stillness, and motion.

Nationalism

2008-04-29T17:23:00.000-07:00

As much as I am going to stress my support for the Beijing Olympics, I am going to try to articulate the certain unease and dismay I felt when I was in the midst of pro-China demonstrators in San Francisco. The following articles by NYT echo the strong nationalistic tone I witnessed at the torch rally. While I have an understanding for their frustrations, I found the expression of their anger (likely a result of feeling personally insulted by the West) abrasive, domineering and unnerving. All that was symbolized by one such pro-China supporter venturing into the Save Darfur crowd, standung on a nearby trashcan, and flashing a prominent middle finger to the activists.

I find it disappointing that many of the vocal Chinese nationals, in their support for their motherland's achievements, tend to want to drown out other perspectives with insults and personal attacks. There is, it seems like, a very immediate hostility towards dissent or opinions that might tarnish their national pride.

As for those people who would want to point out that Americans are just as nationalistic, well, you don't see overseas Americans waving American flags and chanting "BUSH, BUSH, USA, USA" when there are anti-American protests. In fact, there are plenty of domestic American protests against American policies (I consider such expression patriotic and not nationalistic). What happened to the Dixie Chicks was nationalistic and unfortunate, but even in that case, it was mostly their own country fan base that turned against them, and the rest of the Americans were cheering in support for them. In short, there are certainly nationalistic elements in the USA (such as pundits admonishing Obama for not wearing a US flag lapel), but in my opinion, it is largely not to the degree currently displayed by Chinese nationals.

Anyway.

Firstly:
Chinese Students in U.S. Fight View of Their Home
Chinese students in the U.S. are confronting an image of their homeland they neither recognize nor appreciate.

Secondly, I am reposting Nicolas Kristof's graceful commentary on the topic. The article linked about Grace Wang is also definitely worth a detailed read.

"Shaila Dewan of The Times had a fascinating article about Grace Wang, a Chinese student at Duke University who tried to encourage dialogue between pro-Tibet protesters and pro-China protesters. Grace is from China, and bloggers there perceived her as betraying her country and siding with Tibetan independence. The result was a nationalist explosion on the Chinese web, with people posting her parents’ home address and comments that came across as threatening. Her parents abandoned their home for reasons of safety.

This is exactly the kind of story that makes those of us who like and admire China so uneasy about rising Chinese nationalism. It’s the same feeling I had after 9/11 when I saw all the posts on Sina and Sohu BBS sites, expressing the feeling that it was so “cool” that Americans were dying in the twin towers. That broke my heart.

Granted, I’m sure many of those Internet users didn’t mean what they wrote about 9/11, any more than they mean the threats against Grace Wang. People let off steam on the Internet. But this kind of Internet bullying seems more common in China — there have been many such cases — than in most other countries, and it has shades of the Cultural Revolution in it: The mob of crazed students clinging blindly to an ideology, denouncing a cosmopolitan intellectual as a “stinking No. 9″ and demanding that he or she repent to the crowd. This kind of nationalism is blinding, just as Maoism was in 1967, and it’s not good for China or for the world. And those fiery nationalists are doing far more damage to China’s image around the world than a million Grace Wangs could ever have done. I hope that more Chinese intellectuals will speak out against this nationalism, and that the Chinese ambassador to Washington might invite her to tea to show that the government disapproves of campaigns of hate." - Nicolas Kristof.

You can also read other people's comments on his commentary here.

Babel

2008-04-28T17:52:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I wrote. Life has taken a turn to the busy side, with visits and training, but much of it will settle in the coming week.

A few thoughts along the same general theme has been floating in my mind and I should jot it down here before they leave me for good. Several events have led me to think about this: the SF Torch rally and subsequent news coverage, discussions of Tibet/China that surround the Olympics, and the recent nyt article on the controversy about a muslim educator and her school in Brooklyn.

Being bilingual and mostly tricultural (Chinese, Canadian, American), I find myself standing in the gaps of people's different perceptions of the world many times. In the many discussions I have had about Tibet, China and the various protests, I have found myself both arguing for and against both sides of the divide, depending on who I am talking to, and what language I am using. It has been an interesting exercise, and one that I find illuminating and frustrating at the same time. Much of the time, I find that news coverage or opinion pieces tend to inject a lot of paranoia about the other side, and much of the discourse is debased by inflammatory hyperbole and assumptions that are neither educational nor productive.

It is not a surprise that people tend to read opinions that they already believe in. I am guilty of that myself I am sure. However, I get perturbed when I am presented with opinions that are more a rant than an educated opinion supported by evidence; and especially when such opinions are masked by translation and other tricks and presented as a very studied and broadly accepted perspective.

Recently, I was forwarded a newspaper article in Chinese that was printed in the "International Headlines" section of the well-respected paper, the Ming Pao. The article was listed as a translation of a piece written by an American named Justim Raimondo, editor of the website antiwar.com. The Chinese translation was rather literary, as in the language was formal. The tone was strongly partial, and contained very inflammatory positions that I personally strongly disagreed with, and in particular, its paragraphs regarding Darfur were patently false. Curious about the origin of such an article, I did some research and found the original "article" which turned out to be little more than a rant on a blog.

I was, for the entire rest of the day, in disbelief how such an "article" could be majorly edited (with much of the informality edited out) and reprinted under a much different title in a NEWS section. It would have been okay perhaps if it was in an editorial, maybe. But taking half a page in the News section? It is almost akin to the New York Times translating and reprinting a random Chinese blog rant and presenting in their Asia News section. The lack of journalistic integrity was astounding.

It might seem a bit melodramatic, but my world got grayer that day. Suddenly it seemed like there is no way much of the world can come to common understanding, if this was the quality of discourse available to a demographic that I, perhaps naively, assumed to be better guarded against such riffraff.

I thought of the time when I was in Egypt, when an English speaking local youth in Cairo told me how he was really angry that the Danish government was going go ban Islam. You know all those protests that the Arab world had over those cartoons? God only knows what they thought they were protesting about, if an English-speaking young man who was open minded enough to talk to a tourist thought the Danish was outlawing Islam. Shit.

Mohammad, the young man in Cairo who thought
Denmark was outlawing Islam.

And then there is the whole hoopla about Obama having attended a madrassa in Indonesia. The word literally only means school in Arabic. And now more hoopla about the school in Brooklyn because they teach Arabic, coz it might be a madrassa.

Words

2008-04-15T16:42:00.000-07:00

I have always believed that Words have a certain power that nothing else can rival. As much as one can say action speak louder than words, Words however, are what that remain when even memories fade into oblivion.

When we were coming back from our company ski trip to Tahoe, we were listening to This American Life. There was this one episode called Last Words, and much of the episode was devoted to last words recorded by black boxes on doomed planes.
One copilot said, I love you Amy.
Even though it was someone else's tragedy, it was haunting to hear. Apparently much of the words spoken for loved ones by pilots are not released to the public. So one could only guess how much was said on those tapes; how much was not said; how much they wished they could have said more, before it became their last chance to say anything at all.

Some of my most enduring memories are of Words that were given to me. I could lose all my my possessions, all my photo reminders, and yet those Words would remain. People could change, and our lives could prosper or diminish, but yet those moments would stay, forever sealed by the power and wonder of language. Sweetness distilled; sadness crystallized.

Words can also be like poison; even if one would take back hurtful sentences uttered in disregard, one cannot wipe away the stain that seeps deep without hope of recovery. Such daggers they can be; bullets shot out with serrated brutality.

We can all say so much, and yet say nothing at all.
We can all say nothing, and yet have so much to say when it is too late.

Why are we so stingy with what we mean to say.

Haste

2008-04-08T00:01:00.000-07:00

These days, most of the time I feel like I do not have enough time.
But for some reason, when I do have time, like right now, something in me tugs as though I cannot bear it. I just realized on the way home by myself that I have a compulsion to write when I am alone. It is hard for me, to not be sharing my thoughts, or expressing how I feel in some form, almost all of the time. So when I am left to be still in the dark, instead I sit in front of a bright screen, reflecting thoughts back to myself.

About three and a half years ago, I decided I wanted to expand my life. It was a conscious decision, shedding comfort, companionship, to look for something I felt was lacking. Adventure perhaps; growth perhaps; I did not have a clear idea, other than that I knew I would never find out if I did not shake myself out of my convenient complacency.

Then soon enough, I thought there was only a limited amount of time for me to be in the Bay Area, to do things that young people without any children could afford to do, in both time and resources. Thinking back, I had a sort of haste about the way I was doing things. Part of me felt like I was making up for lost time, and part of me felt like I had a deadline. I wanted to live life to the fullest, and I did not give myself any excuse for being lazy about it. I was not afraid of change, I was afraid to be afraid of change.

Then somewhere along the way, there was a sense of melancholy. Or perhaps it was always there. That I just would not have time to feel it when I am out doing things and laughing with people. Right now, the air around me is rich with its scent, enveloping me in a velvet that I cannot escape. When I have time, it catches up to me, once in a while.

I do not quite know what it is.
It is not unhappiness. The closest I can think of is an irrational sense of insecurity.

Last time it came, there was a nightmare.
Last night, I apparently gave a muffled yell in my sleep, in another dream that was for sure going to turn into a nightmare. In my dream I woke up holding a knife in bed, knowing full well that an intruder was in the house. I had trouble walking, but I saw a broken window and a muddy footprint. I was on the way down the stairway, wondering why it was so hard for me to yell when I was awakened to safety by a gentle call of my name.

I think I am beginning to understand these episodes.
They seem to come thickest after I come across a place I have said farewell to. I am still not afraid of change. But out of that strength, I think I have developed a muscle memory in dealing with the pain that comes from having to say goodbye with any sort of grace. Loved and lost. Constantly. Exhaustingly.
In a way, the melancholy is almost like a preemptive mourning for when I'd have to leave. My body is in caution; the sheer physicality of this radial reaction from my gut to my fingertips is not something directed by my mind.

I will not be afraid of change. But somewhere along the way, I have developed this irrational fear of being unwanted; of loving in earnest without return; of having change thrown upon me, when I no longer want to shed the comfort and the companionship I have found.

Perhaps it's a fear because I have exerted this change on other people; it would only be poetic justice if it was thrown back towards me with equally good intentions.
Perhaps it's a fear because I no longer want to feel the haste; but instead I want to savor life, anticipate life.
Perhaps it's a fear now because I have an eagerness which I don't want lost; to share my thoughts, or express how I feel in some form almost all of the time, with the voice that harbors me from the dark.

Torch

2008-04-07T15:40:00.000-07:00

The Olympic torch is coming to San Francisco this coming Wednesday on the 9th. It will be the only stop in the US. Its route through Paris today was halted because of severe protesting against China's human rights record and its recent crackdown in Tibet. Many of my other US friends have asked if I will go see the torch. I have thought about it quite a bit... since I work literally blocks from where the torch will pass, it will literally be stupid for me to NOT go. But what stance will I go in? After some thought, I think I will head over and quietly support the Olympic spirit while wearing my Save Darfur hat.

I find it interesting that I have a complicated response to China hosting the Olympics. On one hand, I definitely feel a certain pride that "my people" has "come of age"onto the world stage, to be hosting the Olympics. That side of me want the Games to go as smooth as possible and that it becomes a highlight of cultural achievement and triumph. That side of me wants the world to know that China isn't just about lead-poisoned foods and cheap plastic Walmart products. That side of me is glad to see the rising China, out of her dark and self defeating complications of the last century's turmoils, to embrace more than just the gold that comes from her economic reforms.

On the other hand, my identity is not Chinese. A big part of my political and cultural vision has been informed and nurtured by the West. I am as much Canadian and American as I am by heritage Chinese. I do not hold the view that grass-roots US opposition to China's support of Sudan is a US government conspiracy with covet goals to subvert Chinese energy supplies (a viewpoint seriously and legitimately posed to me more than once). I disagree that shaming China by bringing up her not-so-glorious human rights records in her supposed time of glory is being unfair. I feel that by "coming of age" onto the World Stage, China also needs to acknowledge that her influence on world matters comes with increased responsibility. China should not be surprised when the world points out the latent irony behind the "One World One Dream" slogan.

Some people argue that politics should steer clear of the Olympics. I agree to the degree that participation and celebration of the sports event should not be affected. I strongly oppose any boycott of the Olympics, and personally I find any politician's urge to boycott the ceremonies or pass empty resolutions of "alarm and protest" to be more self-serving than anything. But a big part of the Olympics is politics, isn't it? Or maybe we have forgotten that through participation, sometimes politics can be positive. Don't you remember when North and South Korean athletes marched together in Athens? How was that not political?

Anyway, in short, I support the Beijing Olympics. I think it is an opportunity for China to shine, and to gain respect in matters other than her GDP. I do not support disruptions to or boycotts of any Olympic event including the torch relay. However, I also do not support turning a blind eye to China's implicit support of a genocidal regime in a time when "Unity, Friendship, Progress, Harmony, Participation and Dream" are supposedly the values of note.

Here is another excellent opinion piece about similar points by Roger Cohen, though he focuses on China's stance on Tibet:

"Bush is right to attend the Olympic opening ceremony. Boycotting it would only accentuate old Chinese feelings of victimization. That’s good for nobody. But China needs to get over the repressive reflexes of the one-party state, talk to the Dalai Lama, and understand that harmony in rigidity is impossible."

Mia

2008-03-27T16:42:00.000-07:00

I'm not doing very well at keeping regular at this, not that it's really a problem, but well, I said I would when I started, so I should at least try. Maybe I'll talk a bit about music, since I haven't talked about that very much.

I don't strike others as being musical, so I always rather surprise people when I tell them I played piano for about 10 years, and then I also played the clarinet and Chinese flute, and was in a couple of school symphonies and college choruses. I suppose, music always used to be more a type of "achievement" when I was growing up. It was something you're supposed to have training in, (yes I just used the word "training") you know, to make yourself a more well rounded person.

However, I do love music, and I secretly wish I have a space where I can be musical again. Part of the reason I really loved being in the symphonies and the chorus was that, you are part of a bigger piece of musical fabric. I didn't really enjoy piano because it was solo, and I also wasn't very good at it. I never felt expressive with piano, the way I felt like I could be expressive with a Chinese flute or my voice.

These days, I enjoy my music as a part of introspective retreat. My bus rides are always accompanied by music, and there are always a soundtracks associated with my particular thoughts, writings, or people I am really into. I am a bit obsessive with music. When I am into something, I would listen to it on repeat like a thirst I could not quench. Music also serves as a bookmark to my obsessions; when I listen to a certain album, it puts me back to where I was mentally, when that melody spiced my particular yearnings.

Right now, I am obsessed with Mia Doi Todd. I have the pleasure of discovering her music yesterday when I was looking up who was opening for Jose Gonzalez at the Fillmore tonight. I find this particular song absolutely hauntingly beautiful. It makes me think of coils of velvet snakes...
Writhing, sliding, copulating;
Dangerously, silently, sensually.

It makes me want to slither in the dark under silver flakes.

Peony

2008-03-17T15:30:00.000-07:00

These days I have neglected to sit down and write. I should make sure I set aside some time for some reflection, as that have always done me good. Maybe I'll use my tea break at work to write more, since I would for sure be at a computer then.

My days have settled into a sort of peaceful rhythm. Work is busy, but manageable. I am getting a lot of creative fulfillment from my job, which is more than I could have hoped for when I graduated college. I don't procrastinate at work, which is saying a lot.

After work, about half the time I am doing some physical activity. Tuesday will soon be a Dragonboat day, Wednesday I go rock climbing, and Thursday I do yoga. Saturday morning I also get up before 8am to train Dragonboat (which proves how much I must like the sport). Mondays and Fridays are a bit more restful, and will probably involve some culinary adventure; there have been some pretty fantastic home cooked meals lately.

This past couple of weekends I was exercising my green thumbs again, after a long hiatus. It feels good to touch the soil again. It feels good, to want to do it again.

There were some plantings of herbs, carrots and strawberries. Cucumbers, squash and tomatoes are on the schedule as well to be planted.

I also planted some peony roots. I am really excited about them. I have always loved peonies, even though I have never tried growing some myself.

I really enjoy gardening. Something about getting down onto the earth to nurture a small little plant is at once so simple, yet so grand. Perhaps it also reflects a state of mind. Something about growing roots into the ground, and looking forward to the bud, looking forward to the future bloom, bright and beautiful.

It is almost Spring time in the garden.
But I feel like Spring is with me already.

So much to do.
So much time.

Lament

2008-03-10T14:15:00.000-07:00

I have always thought I am rather good at saying farewell.
However, I'm getting the sense that perhaps, that only applies to saying goodbye to people, and of my own life passages, but not quite so much places. I am always surprised by how much a place can remind me of things I do not particularly want to remember. A place has the ability to hold echoes of a life long past, and of lost expectations that will never come to pass.

When you visit a place you used to know, it is like a frozen moment in time; suddenly you are on the rock, in the middle of the raging river. All you see is the river that flows and changes, and the rock that does not. I mourn the things that have been lost into degradation, and then everything just becomes infused with a sense of inadequacy that I can only describe as lament.

It does not matter how much one has moved on.
It does not matter how much one has in the present.
It is not about regret, or even nostalgia.
It is simply lament.

But I better be quiet now,
I'm tired of wasting my breath
Carrying on, getting upset.

I have been listening to a lot of Elliot Smith. Perhaps the fact that I know he is no longer alive adds to the melancholy in his music. That soft voice, now only a ghost, playing in the crevasses of shapes in my consciousness; not unlike the whispering of places about a future long dead.

Maybe I have a problem,
But thats not what I wanted to say.
I prefer to say nothing.
I got a long way to go
Getting further away.

The futures that I threw away, they haunt me still. Not because I miss them, or want them. But they tell me the river flows still, and the river changes. That maybe I have a problem. That maybe one day, I'll yet be standing on this rock, drowning in something more than a sense of inadequacy.

Porcini

2008-03-05T14:50:00.001-08:00

I have been eating really well lately. We have been cooking quite a bit actually, and the weekends are sprinkled with tasty outings like Radio Africa Kitchen, Suppenkuche and soon, Cajun Pacific. San Francisco is blessed with many unique and fantastic food experiences, and I'm thoroughly enjoying this new way of exploring my city.

A couple of days ago, we made this wonderfully simple and tasty pasta sauce. I'll share the recipe here:

- 2 tbsp shallot
- 2 tbsp butter? enough to go with the shallot
- 3 tbsp panchetta (or your preferred kind of smoked ham)
- 1 oz dried porcini mushrooms
- 1 big can of whole canned tomatoes (we used the Trader Joe's one)

1) Soak the dried porcini shrooms in about 2 cups of water. Do this first, coz it takes 30min or so for it to get fully reconstituted.
2) While the shrooms are soaking, cut up your shallots into bits, and cut the pancetta into about 1/4" strips.
3) Cook the shallot in the butter on med heat until it's golden, takes a few minutes. And then put in the pancetta, for a few minutes.
4) While that's going, open your can o' tomatoes, and cut them up. Remove the obvious seeds since they may bitter the sauce. Afterwards, pour the tomatoes and the juice into the mixture.
5) When you get here, the porcinis should be about soaked for 30min. Pour everything including the liquid into the sauce! Add some salt or freshly ground pepper to your taste.
6) Bring to boil, and then simmer for about 40minutes.
7) Put some yummy Parmesan on top when you're ready to enjoy your awesome dinner.

We made 8oz of pasta and we still had about two small servings of sauce left.
Deeelicious.

Rest

2008-02-28T22:59:00.000-08:00

Yoga always put me in a philosophical mood.
Now that I'm taking the bus less, the walk to and from Yoga is becoming my time for some checking in time with myself.

Life has been really good to me. I hope I have been good to Life.
Lately, I have been feeling very at rest, despite if I am tired from daily life. It is, more a sense of peacefulness. It is perhaps the kind of serenity a sailor feels, when the storm clouds have parted, and they recognize the constellations in the sky, and know where they are at sea.

Baggage

2008-02-24T17:07:00.000-08:00

I don't usually remember my dreams. But this morning, I woke up holding the remains of a tattered baggage that had been tumbling in my head like a broken doll all night. I woke up feeling overwhelmed by the world of grey that was in my sleep. It was so raw, even now, I could feel the part of me that was deeply weeping over something, that when I touch it now, my eyes moisten for no reason I can articulate.

I don't know what triggered it.
But it came in two parts last night, in my dreams. Dreams so vivid, I can still feel the strain of going through it, a good 7 hours after I left the bed.

The first part of the dream was not very visual. It was intensely emotional; a weave of disappointment, helplessness and an unjustifiable sense of betrayal. There were three people other than me. The First person, someone I used to care about but who had pushed me away, sided with the Second person who had betrayed my friendship, to conspire in secret against the Third person, who used to care about me but I walked away. I was caught pondering whether I should tell the Third person of what I know, about what was being done behind his back; however, all of this, was really none of my business. There was really nothing I could do, other than feeling all the aforementioned emotions tangled up in a hypothetical maze of heartbreak and indignation; with every jagged glance and accusation cutting me like shattered glass.

The second part of the dream was intensely visually vivid.
Somehow I was with a crew of people who had to install an exhibit. It was dark, and dingy. We were surrounded by water, on an industrial island that had a heyday of sorts as an artistic place. But it wasn't anymore, just in decay. There were damp piers, and rotted wood everywhere. And then we walked into this theatre, that used to be beautiful, and where the stage would be, was a giantic cloudy fish tank packed with oversized, yet colorful fish. And by oversized, I mean the sizes of cars. I remember specifically there was this huge, backlit, angelfish that had only one clouded eye. The crew were installing more fish tanks in the ground. There were more rotten earth, and pipes, and tubes.

As the crew left the hall for something, and I was the only one in this place, the fish rearranged themselves to spell out words. They were frightening words. They told me to lay down on the rotten earth, to be with them. And there would be dire consequences, if I did not follow their commands.

I freaked out, and I ran. But it was already set in motion, and the whole space started to darken and suddenly there were these police looking people, that I knew were part of Them. Their dress reminded me of asylum guards.

Everybody ran. There were more people on the island that I did not know about. But I lost track of the crew I was with. The night was dark, and damp, and I ran into this car with a girl and a boy in it. I told them they had to get out, to run, and run with me. The guards in white came close, and shot this ketchup looking substance that started to melt the glass.

We ran down this broken pier, and the water was black around us. Part of the pier was sinking, and we had to climb up this decayed stairway. The stairway was no more, but the railing was made of coils of thick cables. I had to take care of them, make sure the girl and the boy are safe. She was above me, trying to climb the cables, and I was behind her, feeling the strain in my hands as I tried to cling onto the cables that moved in my grasp.

But in the back of my mind, I knew we could only run so far. We were on an island, surrounded by black water.

Then I woke up. Still trying to get my legs to hold onto the cables as they were starting to peel off the dilapidated structure. And everything in the room didn't feel real, even as the kindest eyes looked with concern at me, they felt like a dream that wasn't real, like they were just a mirage; false hope my brain conjured up before I succumb back to the dark.

Bergamot

2008-02-17T23:57:00.000-08:00

It was a lovely day spent with my lady friends again.

These lady friends are less fortunate in love than I am. Two of them are going through a divorce. They are going through a lot of growth that comes along with the pain and disappointments. Women heal by talking through their problems, and I indulged in that today, lifting some of my own scars to peek underneath. The flesh is blushing pink and healed in my case, but for them, the wounds are only beginning to close.

As we walked around the city, we talked about relationships; our failures; how we grew out of them; what we want out of love, life; and despite all, how content we are as women of our age.

I am my own complete woman.
But as I walked my familiar route through Hayes Valley , I missed the sweetness in my Bergamot candy, and my Blue Bottle mocha.

Today, they were not the same.
Today, they were only reminders of an acute absence.

Sex and the City, part II

2008-02-16T23:37:00.000-08:00

About a month ago I had this kind of obnoxious post with the same title. Tonight though, was much more apt, so I kind of have to reuse the title. I was invited by a girlfriend to attend a "Passion Party" at her place, where 10 or so fabulously dressed ladies were having magazine-worthy finger foods, cosmos, and urm, a presentation by a "passion consultant" about certain "products". I mean, seriously, if someone took a photo of us in that candle lit loft, you would have thought we were staging some Sex in the City tribute night. I mean, come on, we were literally wearing heels, drinking cosmos and passing around the rabbit. You know, the rabbit.

For someone who works mostly with men, I cherish this estrogen time. It brings out a different side of me, and reminds me that there are things that yeah, men don't talk about that women do. We laugh about different things, and we bond in a different way. I love being in the company of men, and I do forget sometimes that I also like the company of women as well; I just don't get that very often.

The "passion" part of the evening was also kind of fun, think about it as an avon lady with a trunk full of Good Vibes worthy items. Personally, I think I have a pretty open and healthy outlook on this part of life, thus none of this is news to me. Understanding your own sexuality, and being comfortable with it, in my opinion, is a very important part of knowing yourself. It is, no doubt, a key ingredient in the foundation for a strong relationship as well. We are all sexual beings; however, most of us are brought up in an environment where you are discouraged to embrace that, in whatever moral framework. For some of the women there, this is a new window on a part of life that perhaps has been rather taboo to talk about. It is very good to have a space where women can openly discuss and chuckle about intimacy, without it being linked to promiscuity.

Speaking of estrogen time, today has been especially X-chromosome packed for me. This morning I had brunch with another girl friend, and then paddled with a boat of some 16 Masters women (the over 40 demographic has their own category called Masters) who are going to represent the US in Penang Malaysia in August. I may get the chance to compete with them in Vancouver come June, depending on whether they're competing in the Women's division, or the Masters division.

Tomorrow, I'm having brunch with another girl friend, and then meeting up with my African friends from Ghana and Kenya for dinner in Berkeley. And then Monday night I am going to see Sia at the Fillmore with other friends.

Again, so much for my fear of a boring long weekend on my own.
But I am already looking forward to Tuesday. Right now, it seems like Tuesday can't come soon enough.

Valentine's

2008-02-15T22:17:00.000-08:00

I haven't had much time in the past 3 weeks to write much. I have some time now, so I will try to pick something out of the mush to form into words. There have been many topics I wanted to write about, they have surfaced in inopportune moments during work . And since work has been satisfying lately, I have mostly chosen to submerge in my work instead of prancing around here, in this play space.

It is Feb 15, so I suppose I should talk about Valentine's Day. Yes, it is a manufactured holiday, but it is a sweet one perhaps, or a bitter one... depends on what angle you view it from. Kind of like chocolate.

Personally I have never looked forward to such holidays. I have a tendency to play down celebrations of any kind... I don't really know why, perhaps I was really disappointed before when I was young? Or perhaps I have a birthday in July, which means I grew up never really having had a birthday party, and thus, I extended it to everything else? Don't expect celebrations on "special" days? Valentine's is just one of those occasions ripe with danger of misaligned expectations... so it's best, to just not have any I suppose.

But then again, the times I did set aside time to celebrate even these manufactured holidays, it has become special. Not because of the holiday, but because of the time you set aside to think about how one can enjoy life, with the people who inspire you to enjoy life. Or even recognizing that life doesn't just roll on monotonously; stopping to smell the flowers; recognizing that there are flowers, even. Then suddenly the most mundane things become fantastic. Simple pleasures, magnified by fits of giggles and spoonfuls of crème, into a Life extraordinary.

As for my Valentine's yesterday, it was simply, wonderful.

One egg, one cup of flour, yields two servings of fresh pasta and a measureless amount of delight, contentment, and absolute wonder.

Namaste

2008-02-12T16:39:00.000-08:00

I have been doing Yoga for about two months now. Not too often, about once a week. I have really been enjoying the experience. At the end of every practice, there is a time when you are supposed to be in complete rest, lying on your mat, and just letting it all go. The first time I did yoga, I remembered tears coming down my face; not in a sad way, but in a very calm, cleansing and healing way.

It was alright, to let go.
And it came out quietly, out the corner of my closed eyes, as I felt a sense of gratitude and serenity wash over me.

It was not something I expected out of Yoga, since I was not there for any spiritual fulfillment at all. I wanted a form of gentle exercise where I can stretch and improve my agility, but somehow, a sense of grace came along with it.

And the end of that first class, my teacher told us to find a comfortable seat, and put our palms together, and lift it to our third eye.

"I honor the place in you which the entire Universe dwells. When I am in this place, and when you are in this place, then we are One. "

That saying really touched me. Every time I go do Yoga, especially with teacher Kari, I do find my rest in that place at the end of my practice. It is a beautiful place.

Tonight, I'll go to Yoga again. I'm looking forward to it. I lost Fuzzy, a cat I loved, a few days ago to a peaceful and expected sleep. Somehow I feel like being in that place of rest, I'll get to hug him one more time, before I really let him go.

Namaste.

Duty

2008-02-05T17:07:00.000-08:00

It is Super Tuesday today, so, naturally, I should talk a bit about politics.
In the past couple of years or so, I have become a lot more politically aware than before. It is all part of growing up I suppose, but a lot of it is also due to my introduction to NPR in the same time frame. When I had that long commute from San Carlos to Emeryville, I would have NPR on and would get most of my news that way. Once you start knowing, you can't help but want to understand, and then slowly you would develop your own opinions and convictions, which then hopefully would lead to a level of action.

For most people, the basic form of action would be to Vote.
It is not only a privilege, but a civic duty for those who can vote to do so.

Ironically, for as politically earnest I have become, I have never voted. Ever. I have always moved outside of a place when I have become eligible to vote. I left Hong Kong at 14, and then I left Canada at 18. Some people asked why I don't do overseas voting for Canada, but there is something wrong about voting when I am a registered non-resident of a country. Seems dishonest in a way. I know nothing about Canadian politics, so even if I am eligible to vote, I don't feel invested enough to participate in its politics. It is not a cop out, I just do not believe in seagull style voting... fly in, poop, and fly out.

I am conflicted in how I feel about American politics. On one hand, I understand the general apathy that so permeates my peers; it is easy to feel like you have no say in this polarized environment, especially if you live in San Francisco which is about as far to one extreme as you can get. Whether you vote or not in SF, it will be a blue state; and yet in a way it doesn't even matter, since Californian politics is not what would tip the balance on the national stage, at least not in the Presidential race. Something is very broken with American politics. That much I think everybody on both sides of the aisle can agree with.

On the other hand, it is in America that I learned how to care about politics, and why it really does matter. Despite the pitfalls of this democracy, this is the place where I have had the most intelligent discussions about politics of all kinds, with people who genuinely care and know what they're talking about. Despite all the retarded talking points and mumbling pundits, this chaotic political system still fosters the kind of energy that I have not felt when I was in Hong Kong or Canada. In particular, I can sense a bubbling up of enthusiasm for global social justice issues from the younger generation; a brand of politics that aspires to go beyond all the broken mechanisms in the American system.

Today, I feel hopeful.
If I could vote in America today, I would vote for Obama. I am most aligned with his positions on almost every issue (in fact, one of those web political compass pegged me squarely ON Obama's face in those tests). I would leave it to the articulate Fareed Zakaria to explain my more personal reason for wanting Obama to be in office:

The Power of Personality - by Fareed Zakaria, for Newsweek.

Some excerpts:

"Throughout the campaign, and Hillary Clinton have been squabbling over who has the better qualifications to lead the world's only superpower."
...
"Obama's argument is about more than identity. He was intelligent and prescient about the costs of the Iraq War. But he says that his judgment was formed by his experience as a boy with a Kenyan father—and later an Indonesian stepfather—who spent four years growing up in Indonesia, and who lived in the multicultural swirl of Hawaii."
...
"But when I think about what is truly distinctive about the way I look at the world, about the advantage that I may have over others in understanding foreign affairs, it is that I know what it means not to be an American. I know intimately the attraction, the repulsion, the hopes, the disappointments that the other 95 percent of humanity feels when thinking about this country. I know it because for a good part of my life, I wasn't an American. I was the outsider, growing up 8,000 miles away from the centers of power, being shaped by forces over which my country had no control."

Part III: Lumps

2008-01-29T16:35:00.001-08:00

I am taking a break from creating sunrises and sunsets. So I am going to come here for a bit, and talk about how I discovered I love to squish sugar lumps.

I really love the feeling of finding hard and sweet pieces in a bowl of flour, and pressing them against the side of the metal bowl. Destroying them. Liberating them. Assimilating them. Blending them. It is kind of like popping bubble wrap, just much sweeter. Simple pleasures of life in powder form.

I have this grand trilogy of writing I was planning to do, about love and loss, futures and detours. Navigating words in the past few days had been more like walking around land mines: One step over the imaginary line, and you create lasting damage.

The Three parts are as follows:

1) Love as Deceit
2) Logic as Weapon
3)

And then I kind of got stuck on number 3... and the only idea that kept coming to my mind was squishing sugar lumps. Perhaps, there is a meaning in there. Perhaps it makes a logical third part. And then a couple of days passed, and I kind of just wanted to talk about the sugar lumps.

I'm not even going to try to make any sense of out this one. But squishing sugar lumps is up there, somehow it makes the perfect conclusion to a trilogy of complication.

Making something sweet with someone sweet.
Simplicity perhaps. Is the natural resolution.

Fork

2008-01-23T10:29:00.000-08:00

In the past four nights, I have managed a total of about 15 hours of sleep. I feel like I am in grayscale. I am coherent and acutely alert from this involuntary fasting; but, I am choosing to not articulate this in words.

But this about sums up everything.

Suspension

2008-01-21T17:28:00.000-08:00

Merely two weeks after I said I am losing focus in my writing, I find myself again plunged into a world laden with shades of gray and volumes of twilight. Instead of sitting dry next to a sea of clouded thoughts, I have since watched myself jump in, as if lured by something in the deep, losing myself in the waters and the tangled webs within.

If the land is the textured space between wanting and having, then the sea is her sister; the chaotic mixture of words unspoken, suspended poetry, and hidden dangers. I find myself swimming in it, being pushed and pulled by currents unseen, unanchored by lines that once mattered.

In between the lines.
It is like a drape over naked forms, an intoxicating silhouette of shapes made permissible only due to its anonymity. One can observe the sensuality, hear the soft heaving of breath and inch close to feel the heat, only over the layered covers of ambiguity.

Uneasily, I find myself a sudden mistress of this domain; navigating this fluid landscape between inhibition and destruction. I know I could drown, if I free dive down into the deep. But that is where the whale song is, amongst the dark shapes that roam free. It commands me to grow fins, and descend to where I can no longer heed caution.

And then there are the footsteps that linger on the shoreline. I can hear them. Yet I am no longer sure what I am; that if I open my mouth, what comes out might not be warning, but a siren's call.

Tunic

2008-01-17T19:43:00.000-08:00

I do not read style magazines. I do not consider myself stylish, yet I have rather come into my own about what I want to wear. Every time I have a major life change, I get more reaffirmed in what I think looks good on me, and I don't really give a damn what trend it is, since well, it's just my expression. I wear what I feel like that day, as I briefly mentioned before.

A few days ago, I wore a spontaneous combo of a moss-brown tunic dress that goes to mid thigh, tied a beige/red Japanese-print fabric belt on, with moss green tights and light brown slough boots that almost goes to orange. It is an almost a wood-elf-like outfit. The colors were bold, yet complementary. I thought it looked really nice, yet alternative. It gave me extra spring in my step.

Throughout the day, I unconsciously felt that people were looking at me to a point I consistently checked if I had something on my dress that I didn't realize. It was strange, it was almost like as I walked by, there would this slowed down silence around the people next to me. As I was out getting an afternoon coffee on my own, this happened.

"Excuse me dear." A lady officer who was directing traffic smiled at me.

"Oh, hello!"

"Do you mind if I ask you what size you wear? Is it like zero?!" The warm and awestruck expression on her face reminded me of a kind and proud relative.

"Urm, I suppose I wear a size 2?"

"I was over there looking at you, and was going, dang that girl is tiny! I think last time I was a size 2 I was 3 months old! Hahaha!"

Despite my self-deprecating tendencies, I realized this kind stranger was giving me a very nice compliment. It was the good kind of "tiny".

Then it suddenly dawned on me that people were looking at me because my appearance was commanding attention. It explained why earlier one of my girl coworkers leaned over to say she wanted to learn how to dress more feminine, like me. As I was pondering that odd possibility and waiting for the light to change, the corner of my eye caught a face inside a cafe. I looked over, expecting it to be someone I know, and then I realized it was just a guy who had paused in the middle of lifting his cup of coffee, and just, looking at me with a hint of a smile. Then I also realized a Latino man in front of me has turned completely around, with somewhat of an awed look, and didn't even realize the light has changed to green. As I swiftly walked past him and getting increasingly self-conscious, the man burst loudly into song. I am not even joking. He literally, burst into song.

I was not quite sure how to make of the experience. I grew up feeling plain, and was resigned to being somewhat like my namesake, Jane Eyre: a plain-featured girl who is defined more by her talents, honesty and quietly passionate character. Yet, who doesn't yearn to be beautiful? We can all claim to treasure inner beauty, and however true, we all want to be physically beautiful as well.

It is strange to me, that I could possibly be considered beautiful. It is ironic too, how being self-righteously dismissing Style, I have somehow stumbled upon it by literally not giving a damn.

Echoes

2008-01-15T00:15:00.000-08:00

I miss those perfectly tailored waves in my hair. It's gone now, unappreciated unfortunately, as I find myself unexpectedly unaccompanied; left alone, to explore that textured space between wanting and having.

That textured space.
It is as if I'm on a pier. Looking out at the gray, restless sea that is my thoughts. What am I looking out for, I don't know. I just find myself hugging my knees, hiding my face from the cold crisp air, listening to the echoes from the depth.

I keep trying to go to sleep early on these nights.
But somehow, I can never pull myself away from the damp splinters. I sit pensive. Stopped. I wallow in its unforgiving desolation, staring at the muddy waters, as if expecting that some revelation will bobble up through the cloudiness, like a magic 8-ball.

Ask again later.

I only have one recurring dream, which borders on nightmare. In the dream, I am standing on the balcony of the 23rd floor where I grew up, and the sea has swelled; the cold water is creeping up the height of the building.
I see gigantic, dark shapes gathering slowly in the deep; they are ominous, yet majestic. Sometimes I also see brilliant but silent explosions in the sky; sometimes I hear haunting whale songs from the deep water. One time, I saw people drowned, floating inside a bus.
The water is green, sick with destruction. There is nobody else with me. And the building falls.

I wake up with the end of the world echoing in my breast.
It is cold.

Better not tell you now.

Contrast

2008-01-13T22:16:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here with a head of beautiful hair, and sensing a the tip of the dagger that is loneliness. It is a rather unfamiliar feeling now. But tonight, it is thick in the air. Perhaps it's the music I'm listening to. Looping Famous Blue Raincoat by Leonard Cohen. Perhaps it is a text message long delayed. Perhaps it is just contrast, from all the social time I have been having with lovely people. Perhaps it is the beautiful hair, reminding me that I alone get to smell it tonight.

I have actually been running myself very tired from being social. There was a dinner party that I actually skipped tonight, because I was feeling drained from being up last night saying goodbye to my lovely friends Alex and Anouk with 40+ of our friends; that was after a dinner with 5 new people I never met before; and then getting up early this morning post the tequila shots to meet another new friend for breakfast. Then I also got a haircut and caught up with Lee, my favorite stylist who taught me how to love my waves. Thus the beautiful hair now.

So I am a bit surprised, right now, feeling a bit pensive this way. Or maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I have been running forward so much I have not had the room to let it sink in. Have not allowed the room, perhaps, to let it sink in.

There are some things I need to think through about the nature of my affections. Having this contrast as a backdrop is actually good for that.

And my hair will still be beautiful tomorrow, for someone else to smell.

Seconds

2008-01-11T00:51:00.000-08:00

Apparently, I am the "most adventurous" amongst the people I know. Or so Facebook says my friends say. I suppose that is pretty aligned with how I view myself; I usually don't shy away from trying something new, even if it scares me to death, like surfing.

It's not hard for me to try something once.
People always romanticize the idea of "first times". First time you hear a band. First time you meet somebody. First time you have eaten something unusual. Even I do that... collecting those fresh life experiences is important to me, and it shows in my two and only perpetual annual resolutions:
1) visit a country/region you haven't been
2) do something you have never dared.

But there is something to be said, about the Second Time of everything. If you only tried something once, you are in the space where you get applauded for simply trying, and there are no expectations of good performance, nor are you truly held accountable for whatever opinion you have of that virgin excursion. Second Times, however, force you to confront your ambiguous first impressions, and possibly to reevaluate your own judgments. It also invites the possibility of a Third Time, and three points define a plane. Three points are enough to triangulate some sort of committed opinion; which, mostly likely, would come back to define who you are.

I just realized this week I had a few Seconds, which is actually kind of unusual. I rode on the back of a motorcycle for the second time in my life. I rock climbed for the second time. I went to see City Arts & Lectures for the second time. And?

Motorcycle rides = even more badass than I remembered the first time. It is actually rather hard to explain in words, exactly what made it so awesome. But it was. I want a Third Time. And many times more.

Rock Climbing = harder than I remembered. But there is definitely going to be a Third Time. On a side note, I belayed for the first time today. That might count towards my new year resolution... but that seems like cheating somehow; it's so early in the year to get your resolution over with.

City Arts & Lectures = interesting in unexpected ways, and different from the first time. There will definitely be a Third Time, and I'm sure, I will again help bring down the average age of the audience by at least 20 years.

Future Second coming up? Rodrigo y Gabriella are back in town on Feb 9. This time they'll be at the warfield. I can't wait.

Fractured

2008-01-07T00:11:00.000-08:00

I need to start thinking of a better focus for my writing. I have noticed that for many creative people, when the amount of chaos in their lives go down, their craft starts to lose steam. This is definitely happening to me. When I'm on the bus, I'm no longer lost in thoughts that weave in and out of each other in mysterious dance; the loom has slowed, and the fabric is turning dull. Instead, I look forward to my destination with singular focus, and everything else starts to melt away; and all I notice is the engine of the bus, not going fast enough to take me where I want to be.

And yet, I don't want to write about the destination.
It is my sanctuary.

It is like when you find yourself in awe of the most breathtaking landscape; and you just know even the best photograph could not describe how the moment means to you. It would only cheapen the sense of presence, and discovery. So you don't try to record it. And you keep it special, just for your own memory. You bookmark it instead with your neurons, that may it never be reproduced, for anybody else to experience.

It is however, fracturing my sensibilities; which is becoming much more evident in my writing.

Sex and the City

2008-01-06T02:16:00.001-08:00

Yeah so much for staying home to get over a cold. I was out again, with MJ and Lauren, with MJ's brother feeding me scotch at Annie's Social Club, dancing to Britpop. I love living in the city; it is actually possible for me to stop being anti-social at 11pm and be with my friends half an hour later.

Another girlfriend of mine joked once, that we need to find a nice regular brunch spots so we could be all "Sex in the City" style living it up. Maybe. But even without those, I'm feeling a bit fabulous these days like the ladies on HBO. Not that I'm having a ton of men drama, it's more like, I'm embracing the fact that I'm a self-sufficient adult woman with means living in one of the most awesome cities on Earth. I'm firmly loving the "City" part of it, and I, urm, won't comment on the first part. Let's keep it PG-13 here.

On that note, I'll have to relay that I never get hassled in bars or clubs. Apparently my friends just get told "your friend is hot", and then they would say, "why don't you tell her yourself", and then the guy would say something along the lines of "I'm scared".

What is up with that?

It is sad that I have more balls than the average man. Sad for them, not for me.

Knowing what you want

2008-01-03T00:41:00.000-08:00

I used to think that's a very simple question, "what do you want." Most of my life, I have pride myself in being able to answer that question rather directly. I'm a go-getter. I like to get to the point, and actively go about making things happen. A dear friend phrased it as "are you an active participant in your own universe", I think that's a good question to ask yourself. Every day.

But being a go-getter is based on already knowing what you want. You can't really go-get, if you are unsure what you're trying to achieve.

The problem with knowing what you want in a relationship is that... even if you think you know, you might not. It's not as easily quantifiable as anything logic can work out. One can have the most solid idea of what one wants, and end up getting involved in something fantastically magically different. That's part of the fun perhaps, and thus, I'm starting to question if that is even that much of a requirement before one embarks on a relationship.

It seems like most people fall into two camps. The ones who have a checklist of what they are looking for, and then measure up everybody they meet and go, "is this the one?". And then there are the ones who have no admitted agenda, who just go by "feel" and let their guts lead them and go "you just know, when you meet someone real".

I think I used to be in the first camp. Now I think I have migrated to the latter one.

Happy New Year

2008-01-01T21:57:00.000-08:00

I feel uninspired. This is the irony of a more settled mind.

There have been times when I actively bookmarked in my mind moments of true happiness; when I have felt truly content. I do that because I knew then those moments would not last, that there would be times when I would think fondly of those times, since they were past.

Lately, I find myself spoiled.

I wake up often to those moments.
When I inhale my first breath in the morning, it is of Spring.

I fall asleep often in those moments.
When I exhale my first dream in the night, it is of warm velvet.

They renew me with such vigor, it is hard for me to think of them as fading into the past, just like all the other moments such as those. I want them to come regular like seasons, and soak me through and through like the summer rain.

And as I say goodbye to 2007, I have this feeling about 2008, that it will be filled with moments like these. Be it an illusion of a spoiled mind; but right now, I want to believe they would; so much so that it will feel like one long moment, that lasts beyond my own skepticism.

How the Heart behaves

2007-12-27T01:54:00.000-08:00

As I was driving over the Bay Bridge tonight to see a new friend for dinner, I had Feist playing again after a month of deliberate hiatus. When I listen to music, I almost never consciously comprehend the lyrics; English as a language reverts to being simple phonetics in song, and it takes concentration on my part to work out what the song is saying.

How My Heart Behaves came on, and this section of the chorus got my attention:

The cold heart will burst
If mistrusted first
And a calm heart will break
When given a shake

My mind turned to different conversations with several friends in the past few days who shared one thing in common: they have found themselves unable to be in a relationship. They all claimed it was intentional, and that is what they desire; but, in between the lines, there simmers an unwanted distant loneliness. One girl said she never found someone worth the trouble. One guy said why bother if he knew it would not pan out in the end. Then one said, he has forgotten how it feels like to be in love.

To forget how it feels like to be in love. If I were to hear that a few months ago, I would have dismissed the sentiment as banter of snide bitterness. But, I think I understand that much more now, having also felt that particular numbing layer of callus. I think, one really could forget how to love. And when that is internalized over and over again, you just don't fall in love anymore.

I believe it is a choice.
There is always a struggle to hold back. As the saying goes, the only way to not lose is to not play. It is self preservation, and a reaction perhaps to conditioned disillusion. I can understand it, and I don't judge people who hold that position. But I choose not to subscribe to it.

About a month ago, I saw Adaptation for the first time. The film makes fun of movies that has cliche moments of revelation; however, it gives out one as well, perhaps in jest. Nonetheless, it echoes with me today:

"It was mine, that love. I owned it... You are what you love, not what loves you."

3am on Boxing Day

2007-12-26T03:04:00.001-08:00

Yeah can't think of a better title there.

This Christmas has been... oddly awesome. I slept in, with my kitty Jonesy purring on my chest for about a good 3 hours of the morning. That was the first time I consciously slept til noon in a while, I think I really needed it. Then in the hour after I got up, I got some txts from lovely people who were thinking of me on this day. It was really unexpected, and I couldn't help but held my phone for a while and thought about the sweetness of being remembered.

It was like a parade of old friends today. Early in the day, my College friend Nii Antiaye Addy called me unexpectedly. We ended up spending the day together, until I drove him to the airport so he could fly home to Ghana. At night, I caught up with MJ, another College friend, and we ended up meeting up with a hotchpotch mixture of various orphans at the DNA Lounge where we stayed til 2:30am in the morning. It was great, I got to meet some new people, including Yusun, another Asian girl in my same boat of recent singledom, and Jamie the owner of the lounge. I danced and danced, and felt really alive. I forgot how much I liked to dance.

But then, beside it all, I felt constantly in me somewhere a contraction. A physical manifestation of missing someone... when you feel like your body is retracting from your skin, and that the center of your being is being pulled inwards, sinking deep, into an abyss inside that you know nothing about. And nothing can relieve that sensation until your skin feel the heat of that embrace, and you can smell the gentle scent of that shared moment. It is, oddly, such a physical sensation... not unlike thirst, or hunger... nothing that reason alone can relieve, or dampen.

Is that love?

Orphans United

2007-12-24T23:59:00.000-08:00

Since it is Christmas Eve, I should talk a bit about it.

This is actually the first Christmas in four years that I am not spending 30,000 ft in the air on the way somewhere. 3 years ago, I was on my way to Costa Rica; then it was Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, and last year it was to Honolulu Hawaii. I suppose it's my way of avoiding the inevitable sour grapes feeling I get, even though I know I don't really give a shit about Christmas, since we never celebrated it growing up anyway.

I was trying to think of fond Christmas memories, and all I could come up with are horrible ones. Such as the time when my highschool bf got in a psychotic temper tandrum in a church during Christmas eve service; and then with my college bf the awkwardness during Christmas since his parents announced the divorce to the kids on Christmas morning. Talk about a nice present for posterity.

So, Christmas is always a strange time for me. It's the time when I cannot help but notice that I am the only one left in town since my circle of fellow transplants are all home surrounded by loved ones. It's the time when I can't help but miss the people who have become dear to me, yet they are not with me at the moment. I am glad they are with loved ones, honestly. I am not possessive in that sense at all, thankfully. I just makes me appreciate the presence of people dear to me, which kind of goes with the theme of my life lately anyway.

The Holy Family in a prison. Don't ask me why. Cartago, Costa Rica. 2004.

Tonight was quite nice though. I ended up spending Christmas Eve drinking good wine and having awesome Indian takeout with my atheist French Canadian ex, his good friend Nick the bitter Brit, and Nick's Buddhist girlfriend. I thank Jesus for Indian restaurants, seriously. Some would call that awkward, or even sad, but hey, Orphans United in Indifference towards Jesus Day. That's actually quite a win in comparison to my other Christmas memories. At least we had a fireplace. Yay.

P.S. This post actually warrants a new post label: snark. Get used to it. That's part of me too.

200

2007-12-23T20:50:00.000-08:00

My facebook friend list got beyond 200 the other day. I was a little shocked actually, since I normally despise "friendwhores" who collect acquaintances and are promiscuous about the many friendships that have "touched them to the core" (actual quote there) and other such tear jerking crap.

I took a good look at my list, and there were a handful of people who I wouldn't care to know what they're up to. I removed them from my list. Sorry guys. But in general, I would call the majority of the people there my friends. Not close friends, but friends nonetheless, as in I would actually want to know how they are doing in their lives. Many are from past episodes in my life... my childhood friends in Hong Kong, and my high school friends from Vancouver, and College friends. Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with a good many of them, and it's actually been quite wonderful. Many old faded names in my memory are now made flesh again, albeit in more grown up context.

I had a long talk with Deweese the other night and we were talking about my perception of myself as being introverted. He thought that was ridiculous, since in his opinion, most of my buddies here would consider me outgoing and am someone who makes friends easily. Now having that Facebook number staring me at my face, I guess it's time I readjusted my perception of myself.

Three years ago, I felt like I had no friends. I made a conscious effort to change that, and I suppose it has been fruitful. Changes in my life has also given me the opportunity to expand my circles, which I have embraced wholeheartedly. Looking back just in the past 2 months, I counted that I have met roughly 40-50 new people: new artists and coworkers from my new job, a lot of Canadians and tax accountants from my trip to Jamaica, practically doubling my female friends from "girl nights at Sherrie's" (thanks dear!) and others from virtue of being modestly single in San Francisco, etc etc. Some of those people I would consider my friends now; so, no wonder my list grows.

Since I don't have family in this country, my friends are like my family here. Mostly I spend time with about 10 close friends I'd say, in different contexts, and the rest are im-friends (since they live far away), or friends from the past who can anchor my memory of who I was.

I treasure my friendships more than ever now that I am on my own. Still, I think 200 is my limit. Even for minimalist Facebook maintenance, a friends list over 200 is just getting disingenuous.

Warm Sand

2007-12-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

Life has been wonderful.

I think I will be spending this Holiday season by myself. Almost everybody I know will be heading home here and there, and the friendships I have been dependent on may not be around.

To some, it might be a horrible thought, to spend Christmas in solitude. But right now I'm in a good spot, and I am not too affected by it. Would I rather have it another way? Yes of course. I would rather have my basket be full, and curl up in contentment. Even for an agnostic person, this season is one of warmth, love and blessings.

Looking back now I realize how wrapped up in anxiety I was before my trip. It was all built up in a way even words cannot relieve the strain. But now I feel like I can touch the bliss again.

Touch. It is such an important sense, that we neglect too much.
And Life has been so tactile.

It feels a bit like having my hand through warm sand. I'm not trying to hold it tight; I'm not trying to count the grains; I am letting the warmth overflow through my fingers, and focusing on every bit of wonderful sensation as it comes through my hand.

I am learning to touch life, in silent radiance.

Jedi on the Beach

2007-12-16T23:53:00.000-08:00

Many times, traveling is more about the people you meet than the actual locales you laid steps on. I was staying at a resort in Jamaica, but thankfully I still got to meet some Jamaicans who worked there. Here are some of their stories.

I spent most of my time there at the beach hanging out with Rose, Kristin and Xiangy. Rose is Nelson's sister, and Kristin is one of her best friends. They are great and I'm so glad to have the chance to get to know them this week. Xiangy as I mentioned before is my best friend from college. Since Rose, Kristin and I are all the "active" type, we spent most of our time on the beach near the watersports shack. Being single women who are comfortable having a conversation in a bikini probably helped with our popularity there as well.

On our first day, we met Shedeice, or "Jedi", since the water is like the force to him. All the beach staff were dark, tall and athletic, so we came to recognize Jedi by his white hat and how he'd tie the ends of his cornrows to a minuscule ponytail. Since the wind was a bit gusty, nobody wanted to give us lessons but Jedi said he'd take us. We ended up having such a blast laughing and laughing while trying to get on the windsurf board, that Jedi said his cheeks froze up as he hadn't laughed so hard in forever. After learning that we were ALL single (super unusual at a couples resort) Jedi was not shy about asking if we'd go with him and the beach guys to the resort's staff Christmas party. Why not eh.

Me, Xiangy, Rose and Kristin.

We also met "Nelly" (whose real name I forgot... he just looked like Nelly so we all called him that), who ended up in trouble with the resort security when they would not let them into the lobby to pick us up to go to the Christmas party. So we ended up not going, since we only found out why they didn't show the next morning.

Having the night suddenly freed, we ventured to the late night grill where for some reason there were no guests. An older Jamaican man was standing there at the grill who introduced himself as Ultimate, as in "Ultimate Chocolate" (I found out the latter is his stage name as the blazing pianist at the resort club). We ended up having a wonderful conversation with Ultimate and the grill chef Ramon, and another young staff Omar. Ultimate said that 90% of the resort guests are from the US, and almost none of them ever talk to the staff; however, the guests from everywhere else would actually want to know about Jamaica and the people. He made a point of mentioning how many guests had the false notion of Jamaica being very dangerous, and that he actually looked up the murder rate in the US and was shocked at how much higher it was than the Caribbean as a whole.

Omar was shy that night, but I learned that he is 22 yrs old, and is on the night janitorial shift for the main dining hall. I suspect he took somewhat of a liking to me, since later nights he would sweep the floor close and by chance I was by myself, he would come and converse more with me. He told me he is a choreographer, and that he actually has a fear of the ocean, and cannot really venture out further than chest level when he is at the beach.

The next morning, we met Jedi again. With sad eyes he explained their absence at the lobby, and how he was glad we were not Jamaican women otherwise we would have given them a stern scolding. He said the security had Nelly by the neck cuff, but Jedi was sensible enough to call the operation off and have them all leave otherwise they could have lost their jobs. And then he introduced us to Reni, and the two of them would take us on two hobie cat sailboats out to sea for the morning. Reni is darker than Jedi, with a higher voice, shaved head and a wider set of sunglasses with sparkling bling on each end. He also turned out to be the better sailor, and we flew out to sea with tremendous speed on high winds brought on by an incoming storm. The two boats raced to a far away island, as Reni switched the sail from side to side, and Xiangy and I would have to jump also from side to side so our backs were always towards where the wind blows from. That way, you could watch the sail, and it would never hit you in the back of the head.

The two boats sailed far to an offshore island, where there is a small sandy beach. Jedi then took us on a small hike to see a butterfly grove; on the way, we had to climb over a tree stump, and when Jason (another friend of ours) tried to help me, Jedi went, she don't need help, she's the tomboy. I suppose I am, and I take that with pride too.

Me, Jedi and Rose on a hobie cat. More Hobie cats on the beach.

We also met Evrol, or "Nemo", who gave us another windsurfing lesson. There was also Garfield the entertainment coordinator, who after overhearing my conversation with Mark about what has been going on for the past 10 years, constantly teased me about my two ex's of the same name. I suppose he as well should be glad I'm not a Jamaican lady, coz I might have given him a stern scolding for that. Nah. It is all good. My past is the way it is.

So the days were like that.
Beach.
Learning how to windsurf.
Chat.
Laughter.
Tons of laughter.

And lots and lots of friendship. Old and new.

Life & Death

2007-12-13T20:26:00.000-08:00

As I was moping about how the weather wasn't perfect in Jamaica because of a storm, I learned that my close friend's girlfriend's sister was murdered back in SF.

As I am celebrating the beginning of a new life for my friends, someone is mourning the robbed life of a loved one. I know intellectually this happens practically every minute, of everyday; but, it doesn't hit you like cold water until it happens close to you.

I am so fucking blessed.
I have such a wonderful life. It is so fucking easy to forget, it makes me so ashamed.

Happily Ever After

2007-12-12T19:40:00.000-08:00

It is beautiful in Jamaica.
It's been a beautiful day as well, since this is the day of Nelson and Joy's wedding. Nelson is one of my favorite people on Earth. We were really close friends during senior year of highschool, when I was in Vancouver, and pretty much he was the only person I kept in touch with all these years when I haven't been in Vancouver anymore. He was born on Valentine's Day, and it pretty much summarizes who he is as well. We used to compare our writings, even though he says he doesn't write as much anymore. I haven't seen him in probably 5 years, so I feel really honored to be invited to this special day of his, even though we were only close for about a year, and it's been 5 times longer since we last met.

Speaking of which, I also met my highschool sweetheart Mark here (one of Nelson's best friends), and it's been really nice. It was 10 years since we have met, and actually his more recent ex girlfriend of 5.5 yrs is here as well (there was a joke about how he'd invite all of Nelson's exs when it is his turn to have a wedding). I'm actually really glad he's happy now, and that even though we had rough times (we were so young then) we can actually reconnect and that I can see past all the bad times we had, and remember why I liked him back as a person when I was a kid.

I am kind of a hater, when it comes to relationships. I have become rather skeptical of long committments because of my personal experiences. I remember Nelson called me out of the blue when he broke up with his last serious girlfriend when he needed to talk with someone who wasn't in his immediate social circle. I remembered telling him how a good relationship should feel like.... and ironically, I am now back to square one, and he is wedded to the love of his life.

Within the past 3 years, I have had 4 friends getting married, and 4 friends getting divorced. Some kind of cosmic balance I suppose. This does not necesarily ease my status as a hater... but you know what, seeing Nelson and Joy, I want to belive in Happily Ever After. No. I DO believe in Happily Ever After... if not for me, I do believe it, for my dearest friend Nelson.

Joy and Nelson's wedding arch in Negril, Jamaica.

Congratulations my friends. I sincerely, with all my heart, wish for the best for the long happy life you will share together, as husband and wife. I love you both, Nels and Joy.

Transience

2007-12-08T17:50:00.000-08:00

About 20 hours from now, I should be at a spot like this. I'm going to be at my friend Nelson's wedding at Negril, Jamaica. My best friend from college Xiangy will also be there with me. She keeps me grounded, so it will be good for me to have some time with her.

I probably will not have a chance to write here until the 16th or beyond.

The past two days have been dark and paradoxical. Trying to live in the moment has had the adverse consequence of making me say goodbye to everything all the time. I would wake up calm and content in the morning, with a warmth that I'd hold and cherish... and then as the day go on, I'd make myself say goodbye to the attachment, bid farewell to the expectation of another morning such as it was.

I find myself being wonderstruck at the beauty of a moment and then immediately grieving its transience. Loved and lost. Constantly. Exhaustingly.

The Girl and the Pear Tree

2007-12-07T14:15:00.000-08:00

There is a fable in my head forming, about a girl, and a pear tree. I think I would want to spend some time to write it out properly later, but it came to me in a few moments of solitude as I was walking to lunch today, surrounded by my lovely coworkers that I'm getting to know.

It goes something like this:

The girl was walking along a country road. She was looking for something to fill the basket that she was carrying. She walked by orchards, walked by fields. And then she saw a pear tree, on a hill.

She went up to the tree that belonged to nobody. It was cool where his leaves dappled the ground; and it smelled of earth, where his barren branches shaded the sky.

The tree paused his rustling, and offered her one single pear. Enraptured by its brilliance, she reached up onto her toes and took the golden globe that glowed in the sunlight.

The pear was warm and inviting in her hands, and she bit into it without hesitation. Her eyes fluttered half closed as if trapped by time, as she savored the wonder of the moment; the sweetness of its nectar, the roughness of its flesh, the freshness of its nourishment.

As the juice flowed through her teeth and coated her throat, the girl began to sing a song of Spring. Her voice caressed the tree's roots, and her melody rose through his leaves. The sound touched his limbs and they unfurled a single flower; rare and unexpected.

For ten days, the girl with the basket went to the pear tree. A single golden pear and a single song of Spring. On the tenth day, the tree opened up his bark and spoke.

"Girl, do you not want to taste other fruits from other trees? I but give you one fruit and leave your basket empty."

"Tree, I walk by orchards and see thorns in their hidden branches. I see fruits plenty, yet rotten and worm laden. You give me but one fruit, but it is golden and true."

As her soft steps comforted his earth, the Tree bulged with an urge to fill his boughs with the most fantastic harvest. To shower her eternally with his luminance, so she would sing for him forever.

"Many others used to come. I was joyous in my bountiful harvests, filling baskets with my golden gifts. I gave and gave, and they would take and take. And then some came with axes to take my fertile branches, as if oblivious that the owned become lifeless. Now I only give one fruit, one day."

As she looked up to answer, she saw the multitude of chopped limbs hidden behind his foliage. She wanted to sing into his scars, to bring Spring to his wounds. But as she walked over his roots and felt the strength of his entangling coils, she hesitated.

"I used to sing many songs. I was generous with my enchantments, filling hearts with my contentment. I gave and gave, and they would take and take. And then some came with chains to hold my person, as if oblivious that the owned become lifeless. Now I only give one song, one day."

So the Tree kept back his, and the Girl held back hers.

And so it went on, everyday. The girl and the Pear Tree with their own separate emptiness, would meet for a moment in their day.

And in that moment, there would be no girl, and no tree.
There was only possession, without ownership.

Beaujolais Nouveau

2007-12-05T00:38:00.000-08:00

I love a night of honest talk with a friend with a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau. We were just talking about how life throws you the strangest curve balls in ways you least expect.

I thought I was going to be sad today. But it ended up alright, in fact, kind of awesome.
I think it's all about how you set your expectations. If you don't have any expectations, things can only amaze you. If you have all sorts of plans and strategy about life, it can only disappoint.

I am learning how to adjust my perspective these days. Instead of feeling neglected, I am feeling like I have more than I set out for. I would never ever have expected how life is now a month and a half ago. And I'd never have guessed how much more it'd change just even in the last week. It is not as hard as I would think... adjusting that perspective. Friends and good wine can certainly help that. But then again, maybe not. I know people who constantly mourn the past, and I feel sorry for them. Life is too short to miss the things you could have had, especially when life gives you something every corner you turn, if you'd just stop looking backwards.

Life is good. But you have to reach for it, and not have any regrets about the things that you couldn't hold tight. Just like the Beaujolais Nouveau, it is best enjoyed, with immediacy.

Happiness

2007-12-03T23:59:00.000-08:00

One of the hardest things about living on your own is that there is nobody to talk to. I think that is the one thing I have the most trouble getting used to. I don't have a roommate, so when I get home, there is me and myself. When Jonesy gets here, then I have him to meow to, but it isn't exactly talking.

Having practically lived with another person for the past 8 or 9 years, it is literally physically hard for me to not be communicating when I'm home, when thoughts come to me.

I never saw Into the Wild.
A friend who saw it told me, at the end, the main character discovers that true happiness is only real when shared with other people.

Maybe that's why I felt there is a callus inside.
My happiness is feeling only half real.

Callus

2007-12-02T21:58:00.000-08:00

It's hard, picking up pieces of a life.
I feel like I have a callus somewhere, where I used to feel, and now there is a shield. I'm okay, I think, just contemplating that numbed sensation like I'm observing from the outside.

I am in uncharted territory actually. Part of me doesn't want to acknowledge it. That part feels like I'm watching a story unfold, with me smiling, and loving, and living in the moment. That part, wants to hold me back, to not let me feel the joy, so I won't have to deal with the pain.

It was a wonderful weekend. Genuinely, thoroughly. I know it.

But it seems like I can only believe it, when I can touch it with my fingertips.

Femme days

2007-11-29T23:59:00.000-08:00

It is late, again. I just came home from Ozomatli at the Fillmore, so at least I have a good reason to be up late again. I love Ozo, the way they always have a little carnival moment when they snake through the crowds at the end, like a little marching band. I wish there are more occasions where everybody is supposed to make music and dance and be joyous together.

Anyway, this should probably be a short one, since it's late, again.

On the way out this morning, I thought about what I usually wear. Today actually has been the first day in a while that I don't feel femme. Lately there were a lot of femme days, when I enjoyed wearing clothes that make me feel consciously feminine. Skirts that hug my waist, boots that structure my step, hair down which frames my face. My outfit somehow tailors my body language and mannerism as well, and makes me feel solidly like a woman.

It's not like I'm wearing very boyish clothes today either, but it is not a femme day. A slender grey threadless tee, black jeans with industrial looking orange belt, ballet flats with a vermilion sole. What would be the adjective for that, I don't know. But I did notice I present myself very differently in these clothes, and my body language change equally... I am slightly gruffer, more direct, and there is more spontaneity in my step. I still feel solidly like my own person, but not consciously female, I suppose.

I suppose I knew I was going to see a live show, so it would be plain retarded if I wore heels or something like that. But in general, I feel more rambunctious and spontaneous in flats, and more premeditated and commanding in femme. I wonder now, which comes first: does my mood in the morning dictate my outfit, or do the clothes themselves tailor my attitude and behavior?

Is it expression, or condition?

Old Souls

2007-11-28T23:48:00.000-08:00

It is late, and I didn't sleep much last night, but I'm feeling pent up again so I need to sit down and sort it out a bit.

I have had wonderful conversations lately. Perhaps the state I'm in makes me connect easier with people now. Short notes, long conversations; synchronous words, asynchronous thoughts. For some, I am a confidant of private lives and patroness of secrets; for one, I am a nightingale of nuance and ferret of dossiers; for another, I am a glimmer in the eye and messenger of stolen sleep.

Old souls are drawn to one another, some say.

Maybe that's it. I don't really know how else to explain the feeling of tendrils curling around another person so easily and readily. When it happens, you just know; there isn't any pretense, just reminiscences of your soul resonating with another in honest assurance. Thoughts linger, with an intimacy and immediacy that is hard to ascertain.

An intimacy that without, makes the emptiness you curl around palpable.

Little Pieces

2007-11-26T23:59:00.000-08:00

It was a glorious Monday today.
I was joking with a very close friend of mine, who is going through some rough times as well, that my day seems to go better as his goes down the tube. It must be some strange cosmic balance.

I also briefly chatted via Facebook with a college friend who is currently in Japan; also going through some rough times of her own. Similar to mine, actually. But she did not have her ray of sunshine today. I told her, I am holding onto my little pieces of elation now, because I know I could crash into the abyss tomorrow. These things, they come and go. I'm getting used to it now.

Tomorrow. It is a new beginning for me in a way. I am prepared to be either surprisingly amazed or profoundly disappointed, but not quite somewhere in between. I'll take it as it comes, whatever form it takes.

At least I think I have come to the conclusion that I am totally fine, being alone. I am not courting loneliness nor do I plan to be a nun; but it is not so bad after all, even if I am to be on my own. I still feel like I have a lot to give, to learn, and to share with people around me or far away.

Or maybe I'm just fucked in the head.

Or maybe, I am actually learning to appreciate even little pieces of caring from someone these days, a lot more than I used to.

And that's a beautiful thing, even if I am fucked in the head.

The Window Shopper

2007-11-25T01:40:00.000-08:00

When I was bored and needed some light hearted entertainment yesterday, I took some random online personality test and this is the result. I swear I didn't edit it.
It is kind of eerily accurate... other than the "fair amount of love experiences" part. Then again, not that many people my age has had two long and serious relationships I suppose (and stayed friends afterwards with both).

I'm supposed to avoid artists? Great. Good luck with that. I'm only surrounded by them, and I love that too.

========================================
Random Gentle Love Dreamer

Loving, hopeful, open. Likely to carry on an romance from afar.
You are The Window Shopper.

You take love as opportunities come, which can lead to a high-anxiety, but high-flying romantic life. You're a genuinely sweet person, not saccharine at all, so it's likely that the relationships you have had and will have will be happy ones. You've had a fair amount of love experience for your age, and there'll be much more to come.

Part of why we know this is that, of all female types, you are the most prone to sudden, ferocious crushes. Your results indicate that you're especially capable of obsessing over a guy you just met. Obviously, passion like this makes for an intense existence. It can also make for soul-destroying letdowns.

Your ideal match is someone who'll love you back with equal fire, and someone you've grown to love slowly. A self-involved or pessimistic man is especially bad. Though you're drawn to them, avoid artists at all costs.

========================================

Red lips, pink skirt

2007-11-21T23:17:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving is almost upon me.
Last year, we fried a turkey.

Last year, there was a we.

Right now, I am nursing a nice port, out of a nice but plastic cup. It describes the state of my life perfectly I think.

The port is staining my lips red; in the shadows of my mirror, it looks like my lips are red from passion; red from something that is entirely antithesis of how I am now. This red, it's like the rust of irony.

My eyes are smoky, like I have intended it for seduction. Indeed, I was seducing tears; but somehow they didn't come. Strangled sobs, unsatisfying, and refrained. All it did was smudge my eyeliner. Like many other things, the tears deserted me.

I am wearing a pink skirt. It's not pink like barbie pink. It's pink like a rich blushing rose, and heavy, like a stage costume. I found it in a vintage store on the way to see an art show on Sutter. It was $10; I think it was cheap because nobody else would fit in it. Or that nobody else would want to wear something so colorful. I never understood why everybody wants to wear greys and blacks.

I don't know what kind of costume this feels like. But it hangs heavy with a big gathering of fabric just under my knee. If it hold out its ends, it almost comes all the way up to my waist like a wide semicircle, like some 50s style skirt perhaps, if it would puff out a bit more. I suppose, this is like a skirt someone would wear, if she is happily in love.
Last year's costume.

I am missing things I cannot have.

I know what Thanksgiving is all about, and I do have many things to be thankful for. The people that I have, the lovely people I have met, my health, my life, my everything.

However, on this Thanksgiving eve, all I can think of right now, is that speck in the sky far away, that isn't mine.

Waves

2007-11-20T23:54:00.001-08:00

I have naturally wavy hair, which is very unusual for a Chinese girl. It came from my dad's side. Somewhere along his ancestry, he had a great grandfather whose name means "Green Eyes" (which also, poetically, sounds like "Clear Pool"). That is probably the source of his family's waviness, which is pretty strong in me. My sister has relatively straight hair, more from my mom perhaps.

For most of my life, I hated my wavy hair. I had no idea how to deal with it, since nobody else had waves. The humidity in Hong Kong would make my hair look like a crazed lion with its tail in an electric socket. When I was a child, I hated going to the hair salon, because the stylists always blamed me for having bad hair, and would shake their heads at my mop, and then say something like "when you grow up you should straighten it or something. Tsk tsk tsk."

So I tried straightening my hair. I hid my waves anyway I could. I tied it up, held it back. I would be jealous of other people's perfectly straight and silky hair. When the Japanese thermal conditioning came out, I went for it, would sit in a chair and endure an 5 hour process to buy myself silky straight hair.

A few months ago at OxenRose, I met a Vietnamese stylist Lee who himself has awesomely natural curls. He taught me how to wear my hair with its waves in, and it is so much simpler than the ritual shit I would normally have to go through. Just wet it, put this in your hair a bit, and just leave it be. Scrunch it for fun if you'd like.

Now I love my waves.
Now other people would ask me how I get my hair to be wavy like that, and I would just say, I'm born with it, and they would say, "wow, you're sooo lucky".

I don't know why it took me so long to learn to love it.
It seems so strange to be at a ripe age of 28, to only be able to learn to love something so basic about myself. It is just... hair. I am not my hair, as India. Arie would say. And wavy hair is not weird, it's something that looks great on many people... somehow I just decided I didn't look good in it. That humiliation of having the "wrong hair" from when I was 10 years old was rooted so deep.

I wonder if there is anything else about myself I haven't actually been alright with. Sometimes you live with those self hatred for so long, you think the hatred IS you.

Keeping Promise

2007-11-19T23:48:00.000-08:00

About three years ago, I made a promise myself, to go to a new place I have never been every year. And by new places, I mostly mean countries.

It is a promise that I take really seriously. So far, I think I'm actually ahead of it:

Dec 2004 - Cartago, Costa Rica (I was there for a Cross Cultural Solutions trip)
Dec 2005 - Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (yeah, it's weird but that was my first time to Mexico. In 1998 I was about 100m from the Mexican border but I was on the Belize side)
Feb 2006 - Egypt (my first experience in Middle East / African continent)
Dec 2006 - Oahu, Hawaii (I consider Hawaii a far enough region from mainland US)
Apr 2007 - Peru (my first time in Southern America)

In about three weeks, I will depart for a week in Jamaica. That will technically put me ahead of my promise two years in a row, which is great. I'll be in a resort the whole time though, which is super rare for me, but it is for the wedding of one of my best friends in Vancouver so that is just part of the plan. Slight change of schedule is that I'll be going solo, but I know the majority of the guests so it should be like a fun little reunion of old friends. I haven't seen most of them in 10 years.

I love going places I have never been, especially if I get to see how the local people live. I am always amazed at how much those experiences mean to me afterwards, and how they chisel my idea of who I am.

When I travel, I like to rough it a bit.

I loved sleeping on the deck of a no-facilities felucca on the shore of the Nile and "walking the plank" in the morning to commune with nature.

I loved being astonished by the fiery night sky of rural Belize when I lied on the rooftop of our base, and counted satellites as they orbited by.

I loved watching my Amantani family cook with their wood fire, as grandpa knitted patterns of snowflakes and chitchatted in Quechua.

I loved being awakened by impatient roosters at 5am way before sunrise in Boca de Tomatlan, and oh man that empanada de camaron.

I still dream about falling asleep with the Amazon night draping over my naked skin, with the loud symphony of the jungle as my walls.

Next year I want to go to Turkey. Istanbul has been calling my name for a while now, I think it will be time soon to answer her. This time I am contemplating backpacking either by myself or with a friend or two... for both Egypt and Peru I joined a small group itinerary which was excellent, but maybe it'll be fun to have a little more risk, freedom and challenge.

Sometime in the near future, I hope to spend 3 weeks in Morocco possibly with Cross Cultural Solutions (think of that as a mini Peace Corp) again. By then I want to be able to hold basic conversation with someone, and that would make the experience that much deeper. That was my one regret in Costa Rica, that my Spanish was nonexistent.

A promise is a promise. Giving your word, even to yourself, shouldn't be a light matter. I intend to keep this one no matter what.