Reconnection

Yesterday I reconnected with an old friend. She is in her 80's and physically frail. We've lost touch for several years, but I had a very nice visit to her house. I felt a touch of sadness as I saw how much she had shrunken over the years but to my delight, she still possesses a very fine wit and a good head on her shoulders. In fact, over the course of our conversations, I started to feel like an absolute ignoramus, because I've had to shake my head ruefully many a times and go, No, I haven't heard of so and so, No, I don't believe I know who you are talking about. We exchanged book lists, her list being like 30+ book titles long, mine a very measly five. We also gorged on tea and candy and ham salad. Sometimes I lost myself in the food and would lose track of the conversation. We both bashed Bush with glee, because, let's face it, he's too easy of a target and he's just such a mockable man.

Last night, I went to pick up another a friend, this one considerably younger, since she's my high school buddy. We went to a thai place and ate at the bar, feeling like women about town. Then we went to watch The Holiday. I would have to say, the movie was great and very fun. I would watch it for Kate Winslet and Jack Black. Jack is my new favorite male actor, he has a great smile and very wicked eyebrows. Of course, Jude Law still oozes smoldering hotness with the barest of efforts. Cameron is now getting on my nerves with her strangely blinding smile that pulls her face 20 cm too wide. But did I mention Kate Winslet is amazing? She resonates warmth, believability, and a beauty that even sunshine girl Diaz can't really match.

Today I went to Church and was strangely fascinated with buttcrack girl. This skinny shrimp of an Asian girl walked down the stairs in front of me wearing her pants at half kilter. I'm sure her butt is cute by most male standards, but buttcrack? Ugh....that was a sight that made my eyes sore.

Delivering lectures

I guess it's true that parents do rub off on kids. When I was a wee girl, I still remember Mom driving sis and me to karate on friday nights. En route to karate class, the two of us would be sitting in the backseat a bit groggy from our afternoon nap and my mom would be rattling off lectures one after another. I don't know if she followed a whole syllabus, but I'm sure we got a whole course on life 101 through the program designed specially for such commutes. It's perfect see? There's no escape routes close at hand and we either tune in to Station Mom101 FM or we glaze over as we idly gazed out the window.

All this is just to say, I just spent a good couple of hours talking on the phone and before I knew it, I was rattling off lectures (quite passionately) I might add. I've had this experience with other people too, and because I'm normally so reticent and as this blog can testify, so succinct with my verbiage, I can only conclude that the art of lecturing has been passed on to me from mumsie.

Ha...it's now way past my bedtime and I should probably discuss the subject of lecturing at a more decent hour. Tallyho mates and off to bed I go!

babble babble rouse and rabble

Jin tian wo qi lai de shi hou, wo de xin qin te bie hao. If you don't know what that means, welllll....as the great Dr. Cox would say, how many different ways can I express that I just don't give a damn!

Yesterday I was in a strange mood, all crazy paranoid. As I got ready for my play last night, which by the way, was a very fun play titled Beaux's Strategem by George Farquhar and adapted by Thornton Wilder, I wondered with a melancholic air whether or not I would meet with a tragic death on my way to the play, since I was going off to our national's Capital at the ungodly hour of 8 PM at night. Maybe it was the book Norwegian Wood that got me too caught up in thoughts of death and tragic demises, although in that book, none of the deaths were by any means accidental.

So today, I woke up a different animal altogether. I feel like sunlight has entered my soul again and that I can face the world without fear. So long as the sun's up I guess. In celebration of my fabulous mood, I splattered on some shade of pink from a gloss I purchased most triumphantly from The Body Shop just two days ago. I thought it looked passable in the yellow hue of my bathroom lighting, but when I got into my car and checked it again against the bright morning sun, egads! My lips have mutagenized into that horrid entity otherwise known as BUBBLEGUM colour. Terrible, it not just offended my aesthetic senses, it absolutely clobbered my aesthetic senses unconscious. But even an utterly hideous shade of lip gloss couldn't cap my good mood today and so here I am, gabbling at length.

Last night's play was a delicious surprise. I got a call at about 5 PM asking me if I wanted to go see a play. It was so last minute and though I don't readily admit it, I am a person who likes to make plans. But then again, I checked my social calendar and found to my surprise that I had a free evening so I agreed most agreeably to attend.

The play was a raunchy and absolutely ridiculous romp. Rogues, tramps, highwaymen, and drunks ran amok. The most fun of all would have to be the married Mrs. Sullen who has a first rate wit and a very droll accent. She says "my dear" like "mai diyaaaaa." She is unhappily chained to another carcass in unholy matrimony as they put it and eventually is won over by the dashing imposter and money hunter who of course falls in love with her. The whole thing ends well for everyone, as befitting a comedy. Add to the mix a fat old lady whose sole dream in life is to amputate people's limbs, and you've got a strange but lively combo indeed.

Anyway, forecast ahead, four glorious days of nothing to do, Tuesday being a day of mourning for President Ford, as decreed by Bush. How could this soul not be happy?

Norwegian Wood

Last night I stayed up until 3 AM to finish Norwegian Wood, one of my Christmas gifts. The novel read like a memoir and it was indeed the memoir of a 37 year old man, looking back on his college days. The man was in love with his dead best friend's girlfriend who was never fully able to get over the death of her boyfriend. The narrator also, gradually, came to fall in love with a different girl altogether, someone who is a completely different animal from the dead best friend girlfriend. Intertwined throughout the novel were various sexual exploits that the boy goes through, the sex was mostly casual and treated with both interest and disdain at the same time, much like my attitude towards it admittedly.

I thought what permeates the novel's overall tone was one of existential angst. It was not hard to see what triggered the protagonist's disinterest and lack of motivation towards life. His best friend, at age 17, decided to smoke up the exhaust pipe from his car, with unsurprising results. The novel's forward momentum is characterized by the boy's gradual and very rocky ascent towards enjoying and truly appreciating life once again. In the mean time, the book also reflects to some degree, the general sense of malaise and discontent that is the lot of human beings when they regard their lives, at the same time, I think it also uniquely reflects the Japanese post-modern society, their disaffected youths, their desire to find meaning in life but somehow, never quite going up the right alley to do so. One of the most interesting characters in the novel is a woman in her late 30's, who suffered multiple mental breakdowns and lived for almost a decade in a quiet commune designed for psychologically unstable people. They live a structured quiet life in the countryside, trying to build stability both in their lives and in their mind. People who recover eventually leave and rejoin society. There is an interesting contrast between the respite offered by the commune and the crazy frenetic energy that is Tokyo. On some level, the author is perhaps saying that all of us need a break from TOKYO (or NORMAL LIFE) as we know it and just coast for a few months or years in a soothing nondemanding environment. This novel, written in 1987, presages the now common and ubiquitous belief that we human beings are STRESSED STRESSED STRESSED, so many busy milling ants running around, picking up loads too heavy for our bodies to bear. I sometimes wonder...is modern day stress exacerbated by the very fact that every pop psychologist and their mother are constantly berating us for letting ourselves be stressed? It's a vicious cycle and I'm completely digressing.

I read the novel quickly, I finished it in barely three days. I think at some point in the future, I will go back and re-read it at length, although, I wasn't too impressed with the translation, becuase at times it seems a bit choppy, but there aren't exactly multiple versions/translations available. I guess I could read it in Chinese and that will definiitely force me to go slower.

I have as of now, ten different books awaiting my attention. I want to finish them all in three weeks time. The Catch-22 is that if you read fast, you read widely but you read only shallowly. I want to read both deeply and widely and because I'm being somewhat greedy in this respect, I am also paid the friendly visit by our dear friend Stress again. Yes I am actually feeling a bit stressed that I won't be able to read all 10 books on my list in the time I allotted myself. I also fear I am going blind from reading so much. I shall end this post before I get completely mired in negativitiy. See? That's what reading existential angsy books do to you. They never leave you with a warm fuzzy feeling afterwards, rather, they pass on the malaise and discontent from their words to your eyes to your optic nerve to your brain and finally penetrates your consciousness. Now someone get me a happy pill, please.

My gifts

This year, friends, I had a good and quiet Christmas with my family. I also got tons of lovely gifts which I'd like to share on this blog. Here's a quick rundown.

1. A turtleneck sweater
2. A grey formal looking cardigan
3. A sexy slinky black lace top (from my Mom of all people!!)
4. A cute gold crinoline-ish corset top made for clubbing
5. Eyeshadow palette
6. Microdermabrasion kit (for the evil little things that are invading my face)
7. Beatles, a fan book
8. The best of U2's CD
9. Beads for my jewelry making hobby
10. A grey scarf
11. A fuzzy Dr. Seuss-like scarf
12. Two tiny porcelain bears, in granny wear
13. Beatles' Visit to America DVD
14. Norwegian Wood, a novel
15. Captivating, a book written by a pastor's wife for women
16. An amazon gift card
17. Cars, the movie

The best present I got this year though were a pair of stuffed beanie babies. One's a lamb and one's monkey and they symbolize my sister and me, in our eternal dorkiness. What a pair!

Merry Christmas all!

Lately since my sis's back, she rented a whole bunch of movies that I probably wouldn't have thought of renting, but some of them have turned out to be surprisingly good.

Shallow Hal - Jack Black is great in this film, good, believable acting, lots of fat jokes, I know at least one person who will be delighted.

Click - I had imperiously decreed this to be a one-joke movie, but I have to admit that it was surprsingly touching at some moments and I was definitely a bit too hasty with my pronouncements.

My Super Ex-Girlfriend - Garbage.

Tallegeda Nights - Mostly garbage, I went to sleep halfway through, I couldn't even finish the exciting ballad of redneck Ricky Bobby. I don't know if i'm just snobbish, but I'm so UNexcited by hicks. The whole Texan accent...ugh, what a turnoff.

Ahh, but I'll save the best for last.

The Banquet - I saw this last night. Feng Xiaogang is right up there with the other Chinese cinematic masters. The artistry was exquisite, the scenes were all dramatic, stately, and despite a certain theatrical distance, very emotive. Zhang Ziyi was convincing as a queen in love with the crown prince and power. She makes Lady Macbeth look like a bunny rabbit. Although the plot turned out to be slightly unbelievable, I would argue that the film nevertheless is still worth its weight in gold based purely on the actors, the characters, the artistic composition and the script.

Last night's dinner party was a resounding success. Mom has outdone herself once again and I think all our guests really enjoyed being at our house. Much as sometimes we bitch and moan about having to clean the house (okay, that would mostly be me) I guess I see the value of throwing parties too. It leaves others with a wonderful memory, and that, is the most precious gift of all.

Lesson from an actress

Last night I sat down and watched a Chinese program with my folks for about 15 minutes. The program was an interview of an actress in her middle age. They also showcased her many works through the years. The actress was born in 1949, a year younger than my dad, a year older than my mom. You can say they are all of the same generation.

Actually I was quite impressed with her many stories, over the course of her long acting career. She talked about one scene where she was to be slapped so hard she would literally be knocked to the floor, and that she was to overturn a coffee table in the course of her fall. Evidently Chinese cinema back then didn't believe in "faking it" and her male counterpart really had to give her a resounding slap.

So they filmed the scene and the actor delivered a blow to her face. She describes the sensation as a thunderclap on her left cheek, and she subsequently heard a ringing in her ears. She was knocked off her feet and her cheeks swelled up and immediately showed the imprints of the four fingers from the blow. She sat on the floor quite stunned and amidst the commotion, she heard the director say, "That was good, but we have to do it again! Because you didn't knock over the coffee table the first time." She put on a brave front, but she was quite understandably very distressed that she'd have to repeat this experience. So they repeated the scene and the guy gave her another brutal slap to knock her down, this time she said she was almost completely knocked unconscious, but during her fall, she maintained enough wit to remember to knock the coffee table over. The coffee table turned over, the porcelain and glass cups and plates fell over and broke to many pieces and she gashed her palm on the jagged edges of those broken pieces. So the actress recalled how she sort of sat there stunned, as she tried to fight off the encroaching blackness and when she stood up, she told everyone she was fine, while her cheek swelled up to unholy proportions and her hand was raining blood all over the place. She remembered walking to the side of the set and very suddenly, bursting into tears.

So what made this particular thing blog-worthy of course is not so much just her experience but my parents' reaction to it. First, they were quite riveted by the program, that was amusing too. Secondly, upon hearing this story, my mom turns to me and goes, "Yi qian de ren zhen de heng hui ci ku. Ni kan kan!" all the while, shaking her head in undisguised admiration.

Roughly translated, she said, YOU should learn to eat bitterness and like it, damn it. Okay okay that translation was a bit too rough. But that is indeed the subtext. My mom comes from a long line of hardworking, bitterness-eating-and-liking-it type folks. She and of course, subsequently, I, believe that nothing can be gained without the same or more amount of effort to be expended first. Something for nothing does not happen. One must work really really really really really really hard to get somewhere in life. Really really hard. Really.

Good friends, great food - this is my New York

Let me see…where to begin the telling of my glorious trip to NYC this past weekend? I went to NYC in great spirits, not unlike Borat as he heads off to America in a donkey-drawn car. As we approached the city, I looked around at the dazzling nightlights, tall buildings and bustling activity and took it all in with relish. My blood pressure may have rose a few notches as my anticipation increased.

As soon as I got there, I made my way down to Chinatown to meet up with Yoming and her small group holiday party. I walked into a Chinese restaurant with the cringe-inducing name of Dragon Palace into a roomful of boisterous Korean Christians. The next half hour or so was a whirlwind of meet and greets as I met a bunch of people whose names I shall soon forget. Thereafter, Yoming, Dave and I left with some of their more party animal friends to crash another party in Chinatown at a bar/lounge called People. A fitting name, because it was quite jammed with people, as we tried to make our way to the drinking pool and get our first swigs of alcohol for the evening. I was in the mood for partying but I was definitely not dressed for it. Like the dork I’ll never admit to being, I danced around in my sweater top and brown slacks and walking sneakers, knowing full well that I’m making every girl next to me look 10X hotter. Regardless, I had fun and partied it up with Yoming. She was really getting into the dance too, it was funny to watch how exuberant she was.

After that, we went to K-town to grab a bite to eat and stayed and chatted til 3 AM in the morning. We were kicked out of the store that we were at and went our separate ways after. Yoming and I proceeded to gab until 5 AM before reluctantly heading off to bed. That, my friends, kicked off my weekend in NYC with a running start.

Saturday, I went to the reception for my old youth pastor’s ordination. At the reception, I stayed a short while but got to meet and chat with lots of old familiar faces. It was cool to see my old pastor too, in his stately religious garb looking like he was at a graduation ceremony. We chatted briefly and took a picture together. I saw lots of people who came up from MD too.

Then after that, Yoming and I met up with one of her friends who also brought a friend. It was like a double date, with all girls. We ended up at a café, munching happily on fried snacks and sipping tea. Though it was my first time meeting with them, we had a fair number of things in common and the afternoon passed by pleasantly. Soon, we meandered our way through the crowds and the people, walked down Soho briefly, went through East Village and ended up at yet another Bubble tea café. We joked that it was the journey not the destination, since we essentially walked a thousand steps to end up at the same exact type of place we were at earlier. There Viola and Dave joined us and we talked yet some more until it was time for dinner. Yang/Huafie and George/Russell joined us there and we gorged ourselves on Malaysian at this place called Jaya.

The evening was spent at K-town, see a recurring theme here? Chinatown, then K-town, Chinatown, then K-town. We had some nice wine at a trendy 3rd floor café, again in a roomful of boisterous Koreans. Scanning the room, I’d say I saw more than a few of the hotter specimens of the male race, but I wasn’t there to pick up a man, I was just there to hang with my buddies.

Anyway, I did a little more of this and that before reluctantly saying goodbye to my beloved college hometown. Goodbye for now New York, but I will be back!

My spaghetti disappointment

We just had a holiday party and I was all gung-ho about my dish. I had Martha Stewart visions of everyone licking my dish CLEAN. I got up at 7 AM this morning to make 2 lbs of spaghetti plus tomatoe sauce and even a dash of basil. Despite the fact that I shamelessly advertised my dish to everyone I knew at the party, and everyone was good natured enough to take a small helping, I am still left with what seems to me to be a mountainous pile of noodles. =(

That's it, I'm never going to cook again. It's a disaster anyway, given the way everyone sort of gingerly picked at the spaghetti. I went over and took a helping myself and to my great dismay, found it to be NOTHING like I had imagined. Instead of hot steamy dish of pasta, it's this cold, lukewarmish pile of tangled dough. I guess it really is quite underwhelming.

A dream, a good deed and an anticipation

This morning I was sitting down to breakfast with my aunt. In between the gulping down of hot coffee and munching home-made cake, I declared with relish, "I have a dream to share!" I proceed to say, "Last night I had a dream of a big blue house. It was so big and beautiful. Except there were no doors to the house. You had to get really close to the house and then you can see the outline of a door. Then you can go inside but inside, there's lots of little rooms." My aunt looked at me and then her eyes sort of glazed over. Then there was a pause as she tried to come up with the appropriate response to such a boring, nondescript, utterly trivial and supremely meaningless dream. I went back to eating my cake.

Last night I ran around with a friend to buy stuff for a giftbag to be donated to Hearts for DC, a charity organization to distribute goods to the homeless. I couldn't believe how quickly things added up money-wise even when shopping at discount stores like Target and Kmart. We had to get gloves, scarfs, longjohns, hats, and daily toiletries. All of this of course is out of our own pocket, but luckily we are splitting the giftbag cost. Anyway, somebody should be pretty happy this Christmas, with all the brand spanking new things he's getting as well as the impeccable tastes that this fabulous lamb and friend have brought to the selection of such items. If I may say so myself, these things are not half-bad.

Weekend forecast - going to NYC, on my tri-monthly pilgrimage. It should be a good time. No wild crazy clubbing this time, it's just gonna be me kicking back and relaxing with my buddies.

i wrote more blah blah

I just sent out an update letter to my top choice for medical school. It’s the beginning of my personal “shock and awe” campaign against the admissions office. Wait..nevermind, we all know that didn’t turn out all that well, I better rename my operation. How about Mission Impossible? Hm..well so far all three missions impossibles turned out to be possible, despite the fact that you really had to suspend your disbelief, like a few thousand stories high. Well well, one can hope. Worst case scenario, I drop a few thousand stories and land in….Lewisburg, West Virginia! Hi ho silver.

I recently, like, 10 minutes ago, found out that the director for whom I had written my update letter to two months ago is DEAD. She passed away about a month before I sent my letter. They obviously did not update their website or inform their receptionists for that matter, because I remember distinctly calling the office and asking for whom I should address the letter to. I wonder if this is a cosmic joke on me or the secretaries wanted to be cruel to the applicants on that particular day that I called. I know, I’m not being a very halo worthy person right now, caring more about my stupid updates than the fact that a person has passed away. Still though, it’s not everyday that you find out you very earnestly poured your blood and guts into a letter addressed to, ahem, the beyond. I guess that explains why I got no response? Eh….I need Gilmore girls, I need Scrubs, I need mindless entertainment to distract myself from the annoying thing known as LIFE.

Going for the halo

I was chatting with my coworker the other day and she mentioned that she had finished all her Christmas cards already. I couldn't help but be impressed by her display of efficiency. I thought hard about my past Christmases...I usually expend very little effort, if at all. I would get gifts for people I care about and the buck usually stops there. I've even stopped getting cards for my family in recent years, let alone distant friends or acquaintances.

But this year, it's time to turn over a new leaf and bake the other side to a nice crisp hue. I'm going to be a golden girl this year. I went to the mall and I got two sets of nice Christmas cards. I drew up a list of people I'm going to write cards to. I also did some shopping to buy gifts for people, nothing too fancy, but just a little something to show that yes, despite my icy stone cold exterior, in there somewhere is a real live beating human heart! Gasp!

Okay theatrics aside, by now, if there's one theme you know from reading my blog, that one thing is that i'm always on a never-ending quest towards self-improvement. As long as I want to continually better myself on different fronts, I can't be too horribly off course, can I?

Only a coincidence, little Grasshopper?

Recently within the span of two days, I ran into the same reference three different times. It’s starting to be eerily familiar and strangely recurrent.

It started Wednesday. My coworkers and I were joking around in the late afternoon to pass the time away until we can make a getaway home. I made a comment about something. Another coworker immediately says, “That never happens.” A third coworker laughs and said, “Foolish grasshopper!” I laugh. No big deal.

Then yesterday, I went to Maryland, as you know and had my near death experience, quite a trip really. In the trauma clinic where the psychologists were discussing the pediatric patients, at one point, a social worker was rushing out to calm a hysterical mom on the phone and the psychologist quipped, “Run along grasshopper!” Strike Two.

Last night I settled down and rewarded myself with two episodes of Gilmore Girls after successfully completing a translation work I had promised someone at Church. In one of the episodes, what does Lorelai Gilmore say? “Well done, grasshopper!” Strike three.

I’m starting to wonder, as the poet in I heart Huckabee’s what the significance of grasshopper is in my life. Perhaps I need to find a pair of husband and wife existential detectives to find out how this pertains to me on a deeper, more cosmic level. At the very least, is there some sort of show going on right now where it’s grasshopper this and grasshopper that, so everyone is suddenly quipping the same exact reference?

This grasshopper remains confused.

Visiting Baltimore

Today I took off for Baltimore to visit the school that is at this point, my number one choice. To kick off my wonderfully exciting day, I was hit by a car. Yes, you read that right. I had just gotten to Baltimore and had parked. I was trying to navigate my way around the campus to meet up with my tour guide for the day. As I was crossing the entrance of a garage, a car that was going in suddenly stopped and backed up. Meanwhile, there I was, absorbed in reading the map and walking my merry way when I didn't know what hit me -- Literally. It took me some nanoseconds to realize that a car had just attempted to make me roadkill. Fortunately, I'm a big girl and the car wasn't going fast. I think I bruised my elbow and knee a bit though. I was probably more stunned than hurt, but I glared at the driver with the famous Emily withering death look. I was thinking to myself, I so could sue this person and make his life living hell. Instead, I just walked off, as I didn't really want to turn this incident into the next Days of our lives soap drama.

Anyway, the next few hours quite compensated for that unfortunate incident. I went first of all into the school's health sciences library. It was so new and brightly lit and just absolutely fabulous. I thought that nothing would be more wonderful than to have the privilege to study there. I know, the thoughts of a tried and true nerd, what can I say? Then my gracious host showed me the hospital and I swear, the interior decor reminded me more of a mall than a hospital. It's starting to go the trend of, we are so pleasant, don't you want to be here? There are shops, a promenade, a display of reindeer and santa claus and just some spectacular arhitecture going.

The coolest part of the day however was attending a trauma clinic with my host. He's on his child psych rotation and trauma clinic is basically a meeting where psychologists and nurses and social workers and med students get together to discuss new patients and admits. The things that I've heard today...I swear, no child should ever have to go through. Unfortunately, these appear to be common phenomenons for the urban poor. things like drug addicts for parents, being shuttled to relatives' houses, being sexually abused, being chronically neglected, violence, etc etc.

In short, I left the campus today more convinced than ever that I really really want to go here...I just hope the school can pick up on my friendly vibes and send on over some positive reciprocal vibes. =)

Roast Lamb

This sheep is roast and toast my friends! =( I just went to lab meeting today, innocent as a sacrificial lamb. At the meeting, the boss was making some announcements and then very casually mentioned that we would be having small RNA club this coming Wednesday. That's fine and all, since we usually have these exciting affairs every two weeks or so. My boss and lab get together with another lab at NIH and explore the wonderful world of small RNAs. Usually my job is to sit back, relax and stay awake.

However, my boss, again very casually, mentioned, "I was thinking of letting Emily have a go with presenting her stuff." I was listening along pleasantly, not paying too much attention and then my meandering thoughts came to a screeching halt. What?? Me?? I looked at her and squeaked, "RNA Club? Me?" She nodded and smiled. I laughed, like, haha, surely you are joking, dear boss. She stopped smiling. She turned serious and she goes, "well, i just think it would be beneficial for us to take a look at some of the conundrums we're facing with this project." Gulp. I just looked at her. I didn't say anything, hoping that my refusal to utter one more word will somehow let me slide out of this one. I turned over to my steaming cup of tea for comfort.

After our lab meeting was over, I went over and very hopefully asked, "Are you sure about this? Because I don't think I have enough to present yet." She very jovially responded, yeah! of course I'm sure. And with that, my heart sank and I trudged heavyhearted away back to my desk to sulk about the fact that I'm about to be bound, gagged, and roasted alive before the scientific tribunal. RIPPPPP, there goes my leg. Crunch, there goes my shoulder. I will be torn to shreds!!!!!!!!!

Okay, i'm just being silly. It won't be that bad. ha. hahaha. now if I can only convince myself of that.

if you don't hear from me ever again on this blog, well, you will at least know of the sad demise of emily the roasted lamb.

Die Hard with a Vengeance 5

Last night I went on an adventure with Bruce Willis. When I woke up this morning, I immediately thought that I just HAD to write this one down, for, when was the last time I had a dream about Bruce Willis?

In my dream, we were all trapped in a different world. The only way back to Earth was to go through a dangerous prison. The prison is literally like a maze, and inside, wonderful world of loonies, crazy inmates and dangerous felons roam freely. Courageous hardy Bruce apparently didn't mind accepting this mission of leading a band of wimps back to Earth through this most dangerous route. Perhaps he didn't realize that HE would be doing most of the hard stuff. So he walks up to the gate of the prison and just opens it. I was there with him and I peeked inside for him. A couple of deranged looking people floated by. One burley tattooed man leered. And then....a seven foot Goliath, ugly and meaty, lurked somewhere in the background. Bruce Willis and I immediately stepped back, ran behind the door and kept it ajar. I knew his plan. He's gonna hide behind the door and as soon as the first bozo tries to come out, he will slam the door in his face. Unfortunately for Brucie, the first person to come out was the 7 foot Goliath. I was hiding in another corner and I tried to warn him. I put my hand high up above me and I mouthed to him, "VERY TALL". He nodded firmly, undeterred from his plan.

He slams the door at the key critical point. Goliath got slammed in his big toe or something, but Goliath nevertheless remained standing and was NOT happy. Suddenly, go figure, Bruce was face to face with the Goliath, but now there is a metal door in between them. Bruce did crazy stunts like putting his hands through and mocking the Goliath to try and catch him. Goliath also tried to put his hand through the bars, but ended up getting stuck. He kept up a series of roars that made me quake in my pants. I was not feeling too optimistic about our mission at this point.

Then the next thing I knew, I saw Goliath down in a hospital bed. Bruce Willis had challenged him to a burger eating contest and one of the burgers got stuck in Goliath's esophagus. They had to pump his stomach. Poor thing. Then I woke up.

Then I realize it's 12 PM and I COMPLETELY missed church while I was in the thrall of re-enacting my version of Die Hard. Oh well...blame it on the moon, what can I say?

My new stomping ground

Rockville is not a city that has instant name recognition. In college I used to tell people that I'm from Rockville, MD. I usually get one of three responses. A. The cheerleader routine: a blank face, followed by a forced grin as one "recalls" where that is. B. The Jerk: blank face, then outright smirk, "is it even on the map? is that cow country?" C. Stoner - blank face and complete noncuriosity. I eventually figured out that no one had a clue where I was from. I think some people, the foreign students particularly, even had some trouble pinpointing where Maryland is on the map. But I forgive them, for they know not what they are missing.

This week is an exciting one for me. Why? Because my friend, Rockville has recently opened up a brand spanking new public library smack in the middle of the future urban town center that will be downtown Rockville. The grand opening was on Wednesday night, but to avoid the crowds, I chose to pay a visit on Thursday night.

My was it a beauty! I walked around the temple for books in awe and appreciation. When you walk in, there is a 60 foot floor to ceiling wide open space. There is a winding staircase that leads you to the second floor. On the walls are carved the immortal words by famous people long dead who proclaim the joys of reading. One quote I remember in particular is, "Outside a dog, books are a man's best friend. Inside a dog, well, it'd be too dark to read." Haha, funny right? Appeals to my sense of corniness.

All the furniture are light polished wood, gleaming and pristine. The computer stations for teens are these futuristic setups, with eggshaped chairs and media hub. The whole library is spacious, bright, high ceiling, plush carpets. I never thought being at a library would feel so luxurious. I noticed that many of the books were also brand new, not just old recycled stuff from other branches.

Besides the fact that I'm a lover of books, I think this also bodes well for the future of Rockville. It means that the city is on the path to riches, the city is expanding and the population is booming and maybe, just maybe, one day I can say I hail from Rockville and not have to see a sea of blank faces stare back at me in befuddlement.

My nightly sojourns

Last night I dreamt that I went to the theater and watched a movie. It was about a girl with a sort of mishapened face getting a portrait done by a renowned artist. I thought it was a good movie. The next day, I went home and sat down to watch the same exact movie with my parents. Everything starts out the same, but the next thing I knew, the girl in the movie is someone entirely different. I was so confused. This girl is cuter, prettier, better looking than the other girl. I went up to the director and asked what is going on. He shrugged and he said, well, technically, this movie isn't exactly finished. We're going to reshoot the same scenes, only with this other girl. Suddenly I was on the set, and they were setting up the scene as it were in the film, to be shot in the same way, only with a different person. They replaced a Middle-eastern looking girl with an Aryan, blond, blue-eyed girl.

Next I dreamt that I was in a college class, it's called Woodworking. the class was a motley crue of art, humanities and general banter. I drew something stupid on the paper to show the teacher, and she promptly returned four sheets, drawing the same exact thing in vastly superior ways. I was awed by her artistic skills, but I also thought, this is a fluff class. I should be taking something serious. She very imperiously demanded that I either take her class or walk away now, no wishy washiness. Like an obedient pup, I slunked down in my seat and did what I always like to do: observe my fellow penitentiaries. Somebody read a poem, another person made dumb jokes. I puzzled to myself on why the class is called woodworking? Wherein lies the wood? A mystery indeed.

Immersed as I was in these fascinating and mystifying dreams, it is no surprise that I fought with my alarms this morning with fierce defiance. First alarm goes off, my arm shot out like a rocket to shut it down. 15 minutes later, the second alarm goes off, and beep, I shut it off again. then I closed my blurry eyes and tried to swim happily in a sea of unconsciousness until somewhere at the back of my mind, the vision of sheepishly trooping into work 40 minutes late again rose up like a jackhammer and gripped my heart and shook it a few times and with a cry of dismay, I leapt out of bed trying to calculate the complex matrices of brushing my teeth, throwing on clothes, eating a decent breakfast and pack all my stuff all within 15 minutes before I have to leave.

To end the suspense for you all, I ended up getting to work....20 minutes late.

Thanksgiving 2006

Wow, now I know why I have such great potential to be a party-animal. It runs in my blood. The past few days at my house was really fun, actually, despite the fact that "quiet and calm" became extinct, abstract myths. For a short few days, I had a taste of what it feels like to live in a large extended family. For one thing, you don’t ever really feel lonely. There are too many people jabbering away at any given time that loneliness doesn’t stand a chance. For that matter, neither does sleep. Every night, we were up til 2 or 3 AM. Saturday night, I basically pulled an all-nighter and didn’t hit the sacks til 6. And I wasn’t alone either. My mom, who usually is a walking zombie when the clock hits 10 PM, was still up chatting happily away at 2:30 AM in the morning. I don’t know what was in that tea she had, but it’s powerful.

Then there was the food. Oh say can we eat, by the dawn’s early morning early noon early afternoon late night late late night. Eating, smacking our lips together, chomping, we were constantly feasting. Every meal was scrumptious, I felt the full burden of the Haves this weekend.

Of course this weekend was not without its toll. I raked leaves on Friday in preparation of our guests til my two arms quaked in protest. Later that evening, they burned with hell’s mighty fury, boy did they sting. I had to down some Tsingdao beer to dull the pain. Again, my biceps fail me.

I also learned (sort of) how to play Go. It’s pretty high level stuff. While I watched these two men play Go, one of them began psychological warfare 101. He said stuff like, “We don’t need to continue playing out this region. You’re a goner anyway, you’re not gonna outrun me here, I’ve got you completely surrounded, there’s no point in going on.” Etc etc. it’s funny. It’s even funnier the way he said it. He said it in a very smiley, affable manner, but he was also quite serious. So you know he wasn’t just trying to bully you into submission, he truly already believes the battle’s been won. The guy that played him lost all three matches, even when given an advantage at the beginning.

Hm…yeah, I had a good Thanksgiving break. Did you?

The Queen

Frances is in town and we went to an Asian restaurant and had good food and good conversation. I really like talking with her because her mannerisms are very sweet. She has a habit (at least with females) to lightly put her hand on your arm when she wants to emphasize a certain point. It’s like a gestural punctuation mark. I think it’s amusing. Since I’m a bit more reserved and unless I have to, I usually prefer to touch people with a meter stick, I guess it’s also refreshing.

Last night we went to watch The Queen, starring Helen Mirren. Who would have thought that a cast of people who are 40+ would be so engaging to watch? In our youth obsessed culture, it’s important to see the gems in people who are not necessary brimming with youth and vitality, but nonetheless simmer with strength and depth. Helen Mirren, who is quite a beauty for her age, brings to the role the proper dignity and royal bearing that the character required.

The movie works because it was a restrained film, the tension runs subtly and builds up both externally to the character as well as internally within the character. You truly see how difficult it is to be a monarch, every small move you make, every decision you carry out has ramifications beyond your control. You are ruler of your subjects but you are also just as much, ruled by your subjects. There is a mixture of heavy resignation as well as graceful acquiescence in the queen, as she confronts and shoulders her burdens.

Dance Class

I started out chirpy enough, in my t-shirt and cotton shorts, my hair in a ponytail, ready to rock and roll. It was 7:30 PM and as usual, the room was filled with women of all ages, dressed to break sweat and serious about good health. There was a man in front of me dressed in tight spandex, cyclist outfit. He's probably late 50's or early 60's but very well toned. But I digress.

Then the music started playing and before I know it, I was swept along by the beat, lifting my legs, one two three, hop, skip, bounce, flapping my arms like a chicken. Not too long after, I feel the dwindling supply of ATP and my energy wanes. I think stamina is like this magical ark that stores energy in people. My ark is either really small or it's leaky, not efficient at storing energy. I got sooo tired!

One dance routine, we were supposed to do the whole riverdance thing, and we had to throw our arms up and down and to the sides, straight out, with our fingers splayed. You won't believe how much wind it took out of my sails, my friends, just to keep up with that grueling routine. I kid you not, I was throwing my skinny arms out and to the side repeatedly for all I was worth, but I was always a step behind the music and beat, and my horizontal arms were fastly becoming lopsided diagonals. At one point, I rolled up my short sleeves over my shoulder and glared at my puny biceps, and slapped it a couple of times to get it working. It was shirking its duties and bailing out on me right when I need it most.

And the whole time I was gasping and trying desperately to keep up the inhuman bounce and kick, I had visions of myself going to the gym every morning bright and early at 6 AM. Then reality quickly broke into my reveries. It's so typical! I always do this. I always bite off more than I can chew and start off with grandiose dreams of becoming the next rambo/rocky/jet li/mother theresa/tyra banks. So very sternly, I told myself to just focus on the here and now. And tomorrow, if God willing, I'll get up and go to the gym. But I won't make long term goals, I'll just focus on my tasks one day at a time.

Finally thankfully, the music ended and a slower paced melody filled the air. It was "recovery" time and we begin to sway slowly from side to side. I took that blessed moment to fill air into my floppy lungs. Aaah, the threatening blackness receded and I knew, all was well with me now.

Currently it's 11:30 Sunday night

and I have the song "Love me do" in my head.

The lyrics start like this:

Love, love me do
You know I love you
I'll always be true
So please love me do
Wo ho love me do

It's a very catchy song, and the Beatles' signature harmonica plays prominently in this song as it does in several of their works. I consider myself a newbie in Beatlemania, but I can see why people like them so much. I was just telling another person over IM today that most of the girls that were captured in the Beatles Anthology, all those crazed, bloodlusting fans, they truly acted out the painting "Scream" at those early Beatles concerts. Mass hysteria? You have no idea.

Click here

Hmm...okay, insights and thoughts from this weekend. Today I went to Church with Mum and Pops. Attended Sunday school class. Actually, I think the class I went to could rival any liberal arts course in colleges across America. It was basically a very rapid-fire Comparative Religion course, a whole semester's worth crammed into a 1 hour session. The teacher whipped the transparency off the projecter so fast, you barely had time to read the transparency before he pasted another one on. He talked really fast too. Even so, I learned some interesting facts about some current cults.

There's this cult that's truly a perverted form of Christianity. It was founded by a Korean and his wife. They assert that Eve had sex with Satan prior to being "married" to Adam and when she later on became Adam's wife, she passed on the "bad blood" to her husband. Then from then on, the children and children of this couple all have tainted blood running through their veins. The only way they can be cleansed of that blood is to have wild rampaging sex. Haha, I'm kidding. But they do dabble in sexual rituals and what not, in the name of cleansing the tainted blood. How utterly...TYPICAL...of power-hungry, sex-starved megalomaniacs. In Chinese, it's called "Tong Yi Jiao". Please don't be sucked into them. At the very least, you risk being laughed at like Tom Cruise and his space alien based Church of Scientology. At the very worst, you could be forced to engage in some truly disgusting behavior with an 80 year old Korean and his wife. You have been forewarned.

math-phobia

somewhere along the way i've developed a learning disability when it comes to math. i used to be good at math. i was the top of my class. but then for some reason, i got lazy, or i got scared, or both, and then i began to do terribly at some math tests in junior high. i began to think/believe that i was bad at math or that i was just dumb at math. in high school however, i once went to kumon for a while. it's a math supplemental class, it's a class most asian parents send their kids to, for fear that their asian kid will be the one bad apple in the crowd of asian math whizzes. actually i think i did well in the class, the teacher taught me some math and it wasn't too hard to understand. yet inspite of that, i still much preferred to spend my days in a book or watching a film, not cranking out math equations. thus, to this day (and yes, it's been going downhill since) my phobia of math has gotten even worse. in fact, i've regressed to the point where i can't even do simple arithmetics sometimes.

i just watched a bad movie. it's called Proof. even so, it's a movie that made me think, huh...math is a pretty interesting subject actually. The most brilliant minds in mathematics, what would that be like? There is something awe-inspiring in a math, in and of itself. it stands like a beacon of truth and light, it promises to reveal itself to only those who seeks. do you think math is a way or path to God, even?

anyway, after all this spilling of my guts, which was entirely unnecessary of course, but perhaps then again, so is my entire blog. i have something lighter to share. it's a puzzle. it goes like this.

There are three glasses on the table - 3, 5, and 8 oz. The first two are empty, the last contains 8 oz of water. By pouring water from one glass to another make at least one of them contain exactly 4 oz of water.

it's actually pretty easy. i solved it in like 3 minutes.

To pick a bone or two

Mother Theresa said once, "The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference." (something to that effect, I heard it first in Chinese and I'm translating it) Do you think that is true? If you are indifferent, you do not love. Makes sense to me.

If you were driving on the road and you see a car in front of you spin out of control and then land on the side bank,would you stop and see how the driver is? Would you try to help? The way I see it, there are only two course of action in this scenario. You stay or you walk. If you walk however there are usually at least tthree different reasons. One is, you don't really care, you think you won't be much help anyway, plus you have to get to work or you will be late, even if you are late everyday anyway. All manners of excuses can rise up to make you think you don't need to stop. A second reason could be that you were scared. You're scared to confront and face the situation. If the person is badly injured, it could be a gory affair, blood guts and nastiness. You don't want to get your hands dirty. Third possibility, if you've been raised in a psycho-paranoid household like I was and "bad people who want to do bad things to girls lurk everywhere" mentality was hammered into your impressionable brain at a young age, what if the driver of that vehicle harbored serious mental illness?

Btw, it didn't happen to me. It happened to someone I know, but that person essentially walked away. I wasn't so happy at first, but I admit I was a bit quick to judge too.

Yesterday and today

Last night I watched the Spanish movie "Talk to her" by Mr. Almodovar. He also made the movie "All about my mother" I believe. By now, I have a rough idea of his style of filmmaking. He is very much a man who appreciates the sensuality of women, particularly lush, full-bodied females. However, he has also casted females with a more angular cut.

In the film last night, there was a small section where a film within a film played, and within that film, what seemed to me to be the typical heterosexual male's ultimate fantasy was played out. A very small man, no bigger than one's hand perhaps, was in bed with his girlfriend, a regular sized female. She soon fell asleep and the little man, using all his might, managed to pull off her nightgown and expose her sleeping form, in the nude. Then because he was the size of thumbelina, he frolicked over her naked body, literally enjoying the curves of her body as landscape. Hills, valleys, you can imagine his fun. I would venture to say that, this director has managed to very eloquently symbolize what man (or maybe humans in general) ultimately may be seeking for, in the purest, freudian sense. Furthermore, without venturing too deep into human psychological mumbo jumbo, the film very precisely portrayed female sensuality and sexuality. One scene in the film reminded me of the Bernini sculpture where Hades captured the poor Persephone and dragged her screaming and kicking into his underworld kingdom. His five fingers, hard and brutal, contrasts nicely with the soft, inviting flesh of her inner thigh. It was this particular part that came to my mind during the film. Although I enjoyed the poetic treatment that Almodovar gives to human sexuality, I was not too impressed with the actual plot or storyline. However, perhaps this film bears repeated watching because it's not a plot-driven movie by any means.

Today, this morning, I got up and the first thing I did to perk myself up was to turn on the TV and watch some Chinese programming. My parents got these Chinese satellite programs, so that I can watch Chinese news and programs anytime I want. I watched a show depicting the cultural life and arts within China and around the world. A few posts earlier I said that images have a very strong effect on me, perhaps more so than music. But imagine the combinatory effects of images and motion and music all together. How my neurons danced this morning, my droogies! The show was only 30 minutes long and showed 15-30 second snippets of life around the globe. One minute I'm watching a fashion show in Beijing, the designer used red silk as his motif to create elaborate works of art and these beautiful woman strutted down the runway dressed in pure red glory. Lovely to behold. Then the program took me to New York City where a can sculpture competition was held and I was completely blown away at the creativity of these people, who managed to create, solely out of commercial canned foods, enormous and geometrically stunning configurations. I saw dragons, apples, faucets, a wedding couple. This did jingle my artistic sensibilities somewhat and made me long to try it myself. Another thing I saw was an auction where Andy Warhol's pictures of Mao and Marilyn Monroe sold for ridiculous amounts of money. This brings to mind a radio programming I listened to today that said that the top 20% richest people of the world collectively owns 90X more wealth than the poorest 20% of the world. Isn't that mind-boggling? And with that thought, I shall sign off now and began my work day.

today i realize life is not so meaningless after all

Once upon a time, there was a family of three. The father had recently died and the new widow had one daughter and one son. The daughter was 12, the son was 10. Within the year, the widow remarried with a construction worker who had four sons of his own. The new stepfather was kind to the two children and insisted that the two children receive an education alongside his own children, although times were tough and the family was not wealthy. He especially insisted that the girl gets an education as well, and for this, the girl was eternally grateful.
Three months after the marriage, the construction worker fell three stories at the site of construction. He broke his spine and was paralyzed from the neck down.
Understandably, the new wife felt terribly bad for him, but even more sorry for herself. She felt that she couldn’t possibly be destined for such a terrible, luckless life. One husband dead, the second husband an invalid. Not long after, she made plans to take her two children and leave her husband. The daughter pleaded with her mother to stay and take care of the stepfather, because she felt that her mother shouldn’t be so selfish. Her mother refused to listen and kept replying that it was for their own good. In the end, the mother left anyway, but the girl refused to leave with her and decided to stay to take care of her stepfather.
The four sons were all in school, either in high school or college. The girl told her stepfather that she would stop schooling to take care of him. However, she insisted that her stepbrothers continue their schooling,
This twelve year old girl tried to earn her keep by selling blood. She even lied about her age to appear older, so that she would be eligible. For four years, she took care of her stepfather’s daily needs and sold blood on the side to make more money.
One day, at the age of 16, she had just come back from another session of bloodletting and she was weak and disoriented. As she was walking down the street, a small bus that came by and side-swiped her by accident. She died on the spot.

Can you believe this story? A coworker recounted this story during lunch today. I almost got teary-eyed. A 12 year old girl who understands the true value of love. It truly puts me to shame. I don’t think I did the girl justice in the way I recounted the story. However, I didn’t want to get all mawkish and sentimental. If however this story is true, I can only say, her life may have been short, but it was truly well lived.

Ecclesiastical Emilie

I feel like I'm Solomon, I feel like throwing my hands in the air and wailing, "Meaningless! Meaningless! All is meaningless under the sun!" How come no one seems to ever fall into these existential gripes like I do?

I think it's just because my allergies blocked off proper flow of oxygen to my brain and now I'm half delusional. When I was young, I used to sleep with my head under my cover. I still remember when my mom found out about it, she gave me such a look of dismay and worry. I think she has feared ever since that her daughter has been permanently brain damaged.

Maybe my existential gripe is related once again to my dramatic encounter with the three Chinese Christians of yesterday. They were so enthusiastic, so fervent, so full of urgency, I thought for a second that somehow I wasn't converted enough, and they were trying to reconvert me again. I on the other hand, I couldn't quite manage to dredge up sufficient enthusiasm for this subject. Which subject? Yes, the subject of finding Christian hubby. Is it truly that that important? I think I just want a sexy lover, preferably from a foreign country. Of course, to be faithful to my inner solomon, that too will ultimately prove to be meaningless. Damn, woman, you are hard to please!!

In other news, today's weather absolutely frickin stinks! My nose loudly protested having to be subjected to such harsh conditions that it promptly shut down all facilities but very spitefully turned on the faucets. I was the dirty snotty little kid in the first grade, with a perpetual tissue wiping at the nose all day long. I felt miserable and I'm sure everyone who saw me felt equally miserable.

I think I should go to bed early today and repeat Scarlet O'Hara's mantra to myself over and over and over, "Tomorrow will be a better day." Under the covers, of course.

outgunned

I just spent the last hour sitting meekly in front of three very earnest, very VERY outspoken and talkative Chinese Christians. One of them happened to be my mom. The other two were a couple, a vivacious auntie and her husband.

The three of them took turns exhorting me to pray for my future marriage partner and did nothing short of attempting to HAMMER into my thick skull how important it is that I find a Christian hubby for future marital bliss. The auntie spoke at a machine gun rate, shooting out words as fast as my ear canals can process them.

I did a lot of nodding and smiling, like a bona fide emily bobbo head.

Here's the thing: I don't even actually disagree with them per se. It's not like I'm deliberately being perverse and saying, well, I'm just gonna get hitched to some unsaved heathen to spite my mother. No...I wouldn't play games like that with my own marriage. My brainwaves may not always be operating at some super alpha level, but they have not yet flatlined either. On the other hand, I'm not exactly sure what they want me to do. It's not like I have any potential prospects at this point in my life. My mom is making me feel like a rebel, but talk about a rebel without a cause, or more aptly, a rebel that is a figment of her imagination.

In other words, sure, I'd like to settle down with good loving guy one day, get married and have my 2.5 kids and all that jazz, but all in good time. I don't think that time has come for me yet. I don't understand what she's making me feel bad about. My mom has gotten it into her head somehow that I'm this rebellious, stubborn mule of a girl. But exactly what am I rebelling against? My own happiness or her PERCEIVED and imagined possible future unhappiness in my life?

My mother, thou doth worrieth too much. But I still love you, of course.

two emily thumbs up

I watched a most absurd movie last night but it made me laugh pretty hard at some moments. As I’m naturally stringent about doling out cheap laughs, I think anything that actually succeeds in amusing or making me laugh, invariably impresses even myself.

The film in question is I heart Huckabees. As I look back now, I don’t really understand the title. It’ s just random and gimmicky and designed to be a bit offbeat. Other than that, it doesn’t seem to have any special pertinence in the film. Anyone who has seen the film and can offer a more cogent interpretation of the title is welcome to correct me on this.

The movie is about a pair of oddball husband and wife detectives, detectives who are out to solve cases of existential crises, not the usual murder-she-wrote variety. Dustin Hoffman with a Beatles mop for hair did a hilarious turn as the husband of the team, paired with his wonderfully sublime wife, played by Lily Tomlin. As “detective”, she walks around in a 1940’s prim business suit, complete with high heels, doffed with cotton white gloves to fish through garbage cans and spy on people. It’s a comedy deliberately going out on a ledge.

I thought Mark Wahlberg, as the fireman, obsessed with how uncaring the world is about the usage of petroleum was great. He was full of anger, but also childish petulance. He was paired with a wimpy poet and activist Markovsky and eventually tried to sway him to another philosophy about life, into a philosophy of the more nihilistic variety.

So this movie is about people obsessed with finding out what the meaning of life is. The film ultimately doesn’t really tell you, per se, what the meaning of life is, but it does strongly imply what it believes life NOT to be. For instance, Jude Law, sexy and sleazy as ever, plays a charming, slick and ambitious sales executive who ends up having his world turned upside down. His girlfriend plays a pretty girl who suddenly loses all confidence in an identity built on looks and tries to uglify herself.

I heart huckabees is a film about lost people who need to find themselves. It’s also about lost people who don’t even know they are lost. It’s also about loopy people who on the one hand, indulges in their wildest imaginations about what life is all about, and on the other hand, need to reconcile their place in the objective, “harsh” reality of life. Maybe I see my own loopiness reflected in the film, and that’s why it resonated so strongly with me. All I can say is: I heart I heart Huckabees!

Op Ed etc.

Yesterday was a ringing victory for the munchkins, long oppressed by the wicked troll of elephant land. All through the land, a cry of triumph collectively soared from all the munchkins as they pump their little fists in the air and sent the elephant troll packing. Eh, sorry, a wave of nostalgia for the Wizard of Oz suddenly washed over me. However, the overwhelming victory of the Dems in this year’s election and the sweeping changes that are brought to the political landscape are dramatic enough to inspire such swooping metaphors.

I truly hope that this brings about some positive change to America. As a citizen of this country, I hate the thought that this country is spinning around in circles, sinking deeper and deeper in a quicksand of its own making. Or rather, it very enthusiastically and militantly jumped into the quicksand muck, thinking to “save” some poor schmucks already trapped at the bottom of the hole, not realizing that it might eventually sink under the weight of its own misguided ambitions.

We, the people, the munchkins standing by, holding on to the nation with our pathetic little hands, might soon be brought to our knees with exhaustion from holding up the enormous burden of a country, mired in debt and hatred from middle east countries and generally poor management of country affairs.

Yesterday, like a sinking boat, the elephant pirate booted one of its top shipmates into the water to preserve buoyancy in these rocky times. Poor Rumsfeld, into the mud you go. But seriously, what good have you done for this country? What good have you done for the public? What good have you done for Iraq? These are not easy questions and I don’t anticipate easy answers. Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between and time will tell whether or not any good will come out of these militant executions. So far, the prognosis for good results – grim.

Okay….enough political mumbo jumbo. I should stick to the more prosaic commentary of daily life. A friend and I are currently discussing taking a trip somewhere. Wherever we end up going, I’m sure we will have a fabulous time. Can’t wait!!

Nap session

This morning I had to attend a seminar at work. The overly conscientious and enthusiastic speaker had prepared a long presentation. I started out bright-eyed and bushytailed, a happily fed attentive listener. I probably lasted about 10 minutes in that erect posture. Then my posture began a downward inverse logarithmic decline, slumping lower and lower with each growing minute. The familiar signs of the alluring promise of sleep beckoned. The brightly colored presentation with its dazzling colored proteins began to sway and blur and melt into a potpourri of colors. The droning of the speaker became white noise that sashayed in the background and hummed in my ears, dimming away. My eyelids got heavier and heavier…

Okay, I think I’m feeling a bit too poetic today. The truth is, I started nodding off very ungracefully. My head very conspicuously falling down and then jerking back up abruptly, much to my embarrassment. Over the course of that tortuous hour, I must have tried every possibly permutation of positioning myself comfortably in a hard plastic chair so as to continue my snooze more cozily. The result was that I settled into a fitful nap, in the netherland between wakefulness and being zonked out. I had attempted valiantly to follow the speaker’s experiment for about 10 minutes or so and then I completely gave myself up to my lazier self. I woke up in time to hear the speaker thank all the lab members of his group in a very heartfelt manner, since apparently he’s leaving soon. Oh well…so much for endoplasmic reticulum associated degradation.

Attic Cat

I'm watching a Korean drama right now, about two people thrown together under the same roof by fate. Watching the drama makes me envious, actually. How I wish I can live with the man I love under the same roof. I like living with my family for the most part, but I feel like a kid too, like some 16 year old teenager. It seems fun to live with another person your own age, to interact with peers and to do couples stuff.

It's funny how a soap opera can make even the most mundane things look so fun. I see the girl in the kitchen, making dinner to share with her "roommate" and it actually looks like fun. Then I would think that one day, when I'm living with someone, I would do the same thing and enjoy it too. In reality, I am not so inclined to be bustling around the kitchen all day long, waiting on some guy hand and foot. But the drama makes the idea appealing.

As a kid back in 4th grade, I remember how I looked upon a picture book of a girl sitting in a plane, on her way to somewhere. The picture book showed the plane from a birds eye view, all the seats, all the people, all the activity and excitement bustling in the air. I felt so envious at that moment, and wished to be in a plane that very moment, experiencing what was in the picture before my eyes. I think my imagination runs wild and makes everything seem so rosy and interesting and appealing. It's the same with other visuals too. I remember flipping through a picture dictionary and seeing pictures of vegetables and fruits and suddenly have a very strong desire to consume apples, oranges and tomatoes. I suppose a visually titillating image can work wonders on the human motivation and desire.

So it is with this soap opera too. This girl's life, with all its trials and tribulations, seem vastly infinitely more interesting than mine at this moment. All I want to do is live in an attic apartment somewhere with a good looking Korean stud and live out their petty dramas on a daily basis.

Who knows you best?

Do you know yourself best? Or when you do a little self-analysis, do you spritz on some fragrant lies, some rose-colored lenses, some self-congratulatory pats on the back and soothe, placate, stroke your ego a bit too much? What about other people? Do they know you best? Supposedly they are more objective, no? Not as inclined to see you for more or less than who you are. Or is that not true as well? I think sometimes others carry their own emotional baggages and knowingly or unknowingly judge others under those biases.

I often think with a slight cringe, will someone come along at the end of my life and sum me up in a few cutting sentences or two? Would that person, that omniscient God like critic, the "author" of my life, will that person be able to diminish and reduce me into a character, a neat and tidy package, a category, a type? I'd LIKE to think I'm this interesting, multi-faceted, well rounded and hard to place, hard to pin down type of freewheelin' and dealin' personality. Perhaps that is so far from the truth as what the world perceives me to be, that it's a complete and utter joke? And the truth is that I'm just this mousy sullen and lazy girl who wants life to be handed to her on a silver platter without having to expend the extra energy to acheive lasting glory?

Life is a zero sum game. How come it has taken me such a long time to figure that out? But I digress. I am also on a quest for truth (I want to know if truth is truly relative or absolute, this is a big mystery to me right now, I'll be honest)
In my own life, I can think of half a dozen scenarios where telling the truth per se is not the way to go, no sir. But that's not all I meant. I don't really care about the more petty issue of "telling the truth or telling a lie". That is not my moral burden at this point. What interests me a bit more is, what is the truth about how life is supposed to be lived after all....in other words, are you there God? It's me, Emily.

My existential guilt

On Sunday, I helped Mom plant tulips in the side garden to our house. In the process, we initiated what I shall term “The Massacre of the Bees” which shall forever live on in infamy in the history of Yen. Or perhaps we have now created a whole generation of jihadist bees who hate the Yens because of our merciless destruction of their homes due to our whim of making a ‘prettier” garden. Before my imagination gets too carried away, let me just report the facts as is. So we were pulling out mints and weeds to clear the way for the tulips and we discovered a hole where lots of bee traffic was going on. My mom surmised that a hive was perhaps in the hole and contemplated what we should do about it. Live and let live was not q uite considered as a viable option. Because we didn’t have any insecticides at hand, my mom decided to take a pot of boiling water and drench the hole with angry hot water. The poor bees! I have to admit that I felt great existential guilt as a human being at that point, with our willful destruction of innocent lives. Then some bees that were busy foraging try to come back into their homes but alas, they founded ruinous destruction everywhere. While they flew around, wringing their antenna in despair, my dad joined in to produce further carnage by taking an electric fly swatter and literally electrocuting to death the hapless surviving few. How it works is like this. It’s a like a modified tennis racket, except the strings are all wires, designed to deliver a swift jolt of current to the poor insect body that flies in contact with the racket surface. Upon contact, you hear a pop and a sizzle and then sometimes, a thin wreath of smoke arises from the charboiled body. It’s a very cruel instrument of death, from the perspective of a fly, or a bee, in this case. One by one, the fried bees fell wordlessly into the dirt below to join their brethen who were underground and perhaps already drowned. I don’t know why, but I felt guilty and sad that humans and bees cannot live harmoniously and that we had to do this to them.

Earlier before, I had a similar experience at the grocery store where the seafood people pulled out these lobsters from their tanks and the lobsters were just going buck wild, squirming, twisting, curling and uncurling its tails, spraying water everywhere. It made me sad to think that very soon these lobsters will be placed in huge pots and literally steamed to death. Perhaps its because I try to imagine how it would be if I were placed in a pot and steamed to death. No sir, I would not like that one bit. So therefore, my sympathy went out to the lobsters and I felt a flash of shame for myself as a member of such a predatory species. Still, it is fair to say that this guilt has not stopped me from enjoying my lobster dinner the night before that, at the Tower Oaks Lodge. Perhaps the sooner I accept the fact that as a human, as a carnivore, I will have to sacrifice living animals for my own sustenance, the better it would be for me. It’s not often that I have to confront the actual killing of an animal, but everyday, my very existence means the death of these poor things. Hard to reconcile sometimes. And I guess, it also makes our destruction of the beehive seem more inexcusable because we aren’t killing them out of necessity, only out of a desire for convenience and to avoid being stung.

The Prestige

I can't remember the last time I was so enraptured by a film. Perhaps since Kill Bill. The Prestige delivers on so many levels - acting, cinematography, story, and depth. It is a film about the dark descent into the obsesseive psychosis of human nature.

First, let's discuss the two main characters. Hugh Jackman lights up any scene he's in. It must be the sheer intensity and wattage of his performance, because I don't think it's just his pretty looks. Christian Bale, he's also magnetic and hard to not pay attention to. Something about him seems a bit shifty, a bit sly, a bit hard to read. I think it's a natural quality about him but for this role, he's completely the master of his domain. The two main guys play off their character contrasts convincingly, with conviction. The supporting cast, notably Scarlett and Michael, did a brilliant job. All the women were more than simple garnishes to the main course and filled out their roles nicely.

The other part was the constant suspense. This film being about a rivalry between two magicians turns it into a bit of a horror flick in the sense that you know something bad is going to happen to one or the other next but you don't know what it is. You keep waiting and waiting, dreading and unable to tear your eyes off the screen nonetheless. The genius of the film is that neither main character was singled out to be the "good" or the "bad" one, the roles are moralistically much more complex. It had more of a karmic resonance to the film, where you can see the causal links and chain of events.

The plot of the story was not too difficult to follow, but the editing of the film did not follow a straight linear chronological progression. The back and forth flashbacks were done just enough to illuminate certain critical elements of the story, while slyly and coyly holding back on the rest. Other critics have called the movie itself a magic act and I couldn't agree more. Nothing is better in a movie like this than the final stunning finale and this being a film by Christopher Nolan, one can expect no less.

cinderella em

today my mom recruited me to wax her pride and joy, the pristine but dusty hardwood floor in the dining room. the one reserved only for our honored guests. boy was it fun...I was on my hands and knees wiping vigorously for over an hour to acheive the brilliant shine that is so esteemed of waxed hardwood floors. i think i wiped so hard I nearly had a heart attack. I felt short of breath, i was getting all dizzy (it could be from the fumes coming off the durawax too). Anyway, after an hour, the fruit of my labor? the freakin floor LOOKS THE SAME!!!!!! If I squint hard enough, I might be able to see some difference, but that could also be because I wanted to see a difference so bad, I might have conjured it up in my imagination.
oh well...just hope my mom can appreciate that i still did it. even though the results were really quite underwhelming.

in other news, last night i took my folks and auntie out to Tower Oaks Lodge, a supposedly fabulous best kept secret of Rockville. It was not bad, I think my mom really enjoyed the food there, which in itself should say something since she is an extremely critical culinary artist. the highlights were, raw tuna diced into cubes and served in a martini glass, savory trout buried under a blanket of mushrooms and tomatoes, lobster dipped in buttery garlicy oil, and delicious maple creme brulee to finish off the meal. I got greedy and ordered a haagen daaz ice cream, not suspecting that they would serve almost a quarter pint. it was humongous. i had trouble finishing it off to be honest and staggered out filled to the brim. Overall a good dinner, if on the pricey side. I'm glad my family enjoyed it. We made a pact to begin trying out all the area restaurants in Bethesda or DC, I mean, why not? I hope to spend more QT with my folks before I'm headed off to med school in 11 months.

So now it's Saturday and I'm at the lab doing some crappy old thing for my experiment. This is like the 15th time I'm doing this procedure. If the results are good though, maybe my boss will be happy. I've been here for over 10 months and I haven't been able to come up with anything overly spectacular. It's high time something comes out of my research. It's quiet at the lab...it's only me myself and I.

Tonight I'm gonna go check out The Prestige. Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman, what's not to love? I think i will enjoy mightily the sight of these two hotties go at each other with their magical prowess. Will be perfectly happy to provide a review of this movie tomorrow, of course. Stay tuned, my faithful bloggees.

Tennis Champ in the making!

last night i went to play tennis with church family friend. since it was already dark and cold around 7:30, I showed up in turtleneck, sweats and gloves. still i was really excited to play tennis again, after a hiatus.

My forehand swings are actually becoming more solid and consistent. The best shots are the ones that go deep and stay low. You can tell you've hit it well when the ball hits the racket at the sweet spot and there's a pleasant vibration. When the ball ricochets off the racket at a weird angle, the sound is different and the vibration is often jarring.

However, I'm still somewhat bad at backhand swings. I can't gauge the correct distance at which to hit the ball with a backhand. It helps sometimes when I try to remember how it feels to hit the ball with a forehand swing and what steps I take to get to that point, and then I try to apply it to my backhand. Otherwise when I worry too much about positioning, angle, the perpendicularity of the racket face to the ground, etc etc, all these random factors just distract me too much.

So far I've been able to keep up a steady back and forth volley less than 10 times on average. It's not good enough yet. The good news is - I got the uncle to agree to teach me tennis on a weekly basis until about Thanksgiving or so. Then perhaps we will break until Spring. The rate is very reasonable too. I think this is the start of a long and fruitful relationship between me and tennis =)

Wedding songs

I was chatting with a coworker about good/bad songs to play at a wedding. I was thinking of the songs I would like to play at my own wedding one day. This is an initial list.

1. Enya - Amarantine
2. Beatles - All my loving
3. Beatles - I want to hold your hands
4. Damien Rice - Blower's Daughter
5. Ozone - Dragostea Didn Tea
6. Mouse loves Rice
7. Rob Thomas - All that I am
8. Secret Garden - Nocturne
9. Miyasake movies soundtrack
10. Gladiator soundtrack
11. Colors of the Wind (from Pocahontas)

Blah blah more blah blah

Hello droogies, today I’d like to discuss a brief scare on the road while I was driving to work. As I was merrily driving down the road today, a white van piloted by a clueless driver tried to make a left turn from a road off to my right, in front of me. That would’ve been all well and good except that there were cars coming the opposite way and were not very keen on letting this intruder into their world of happy speeding. What does the white van do? It does a screeching halt midway through its left turn and then tries to backtrack, and ends up in MY lane, but directly facing me. Can you picture this scenario my friends? I was headed for a not so pleasant head on collision with this car, because it aborted its left turn and decides to turn left into my lane, directly in front of me. I was not a happy camper, but I did what any wise smart and self-protective driver would do. Nothing. I just kept going, going on faith that the van would wise up and steer to the shoulder, which it thankfully did. I did, okay fine, I did slow down, but I was not about to yield to the driver. Someone or another honked and for a brief nanosecond, it was all chaos and confusion. But the white van pulled very abruptly to the shoulder and I sped past it. That was that, but an interesting start to my day, to be sure.

In other news, I will hopefully take up tennis again and begin playing regularly, undeterred by cold weather and such trivial details as weather. For lack of players to play with, maybe I should get a tennis ball throwing machine. How sad is that? I need more people to play with!

I have to say, I spend the vast majority of my mental capacity scheming of new ways to entertain myself. Why have I become such a creature hellbent on having fun? Is that all I live for? Aah, I know. I just want to live an interesting and exciting life so that I have something to blog about. The lengths that I go to for my blog audience!

a particularly cruel technical difficulty

today i received an email from a medical school. it said, "interview confirmation" in the subject. When i clicked on it, the msg contained only one msg, "-1".

so being the eager beaver that i was, i called the school to ask what's up.

no one answer the phone, but a voice message recording addressed this "IT issue" and "sincerely apologizes" for raising the hopes of thousands of applicants throughout the nation but that the message is indeed meaningless. WTF???

terrible! that's just cruel, jerking us med school applicants up and down like this. =(

anyway, other than that, I am in a relatively good mood. I think I'll go work out today.

Most beautiful girl in the world

I have just been paid a most outrageous compliment. It's so outrageous that it's most likely not going to go to my head and puff it up like a hot air balloon. Still, it made me smile to have been told that. How lovely to be thought of as the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world, if even for an instant, if even for a moment.

Reading Scott M. Peck's The Road Less Travelled right now. Technically, it's a re-reading as I had previously read it in high school. Although, I must say that reading the same book almost a decade later does allow me to do a richer, fuller interpretation of what is being said, as I have a fuller reservoir of experiences to draw from. The basic premise of the book is that love must be coupled to discipline. That love is about what you can give and how you can grow spiritually with the person you love, inducing positive spiritual growth in each other. It's not just a 'feeling." It's not about instant gratification. Reading the book gave me greater insight into myself and how I had been acting the past several years. I've been truly awful in some respects. I hope to change, really, I do.

Tomorrow is a Halloween party thrown by my boss. It should be fun. I don't know yet if I should dress up. I won't mind, as long as I'm not the only dork going out on a limb here. I think though that I want to steer away from "asian' themes. No Chung Li look, no karate kid getup. Going as a sex kitten to a company soiree may not be such a good idea either. Hmm...what exactly should I go as? I'll try to think of something utterly ingenious and completely effortless. Maybe I'll go as Amelie Poulain, how about that? Good idea eh? I have the hair for it at this point, just need the clothes.

Now then...now what?

I think it's fair to say that I'm at a critical juncture in my life, on multiple levels. Career-wise, I have yet to know for certain where I'm headed in 11 months. Or I should say, I personally am quite certain, but it's perhaps also dependent on divine providence as well.

An overwhelming urge has come over me to take a trip somewhere. I have been talking about going to Mexico. Another top choice for me would be Prague. Regardless of where, I am certain it'll be somewhere.

Spiritually I feel I am at a new juncture too. I've been thinking of going into meditation for some time now, more or less inspired by Wendy's example I guess. But part of me still hesitates at the brink, not sure that I can make the full time commitment that such a practice entails. Truly though, I yearn for some peace of mind and perhaps meditation can bring it...

On top of that, there are several things I want to do. I want to begin volunteering part of my time at a nursing home. It's only fair that for someone to profess thinking about going into geriatrics, that I actually enjoy being around old people. I do and I don't, it's a mixed bag. So I think to be more sure, I should do something along those lines. Furthermore, I want to teach myself Spanish. I don't know if that's possible or realistic? Maybe I'll start a self-study now and then take an actual course in January at the local colleges. My ultimate goal is to be able to converse in Spanish and maybe volunteer abroad in Guatemala. Why there? Well...why not? Gotta start somewhere.

Artistically, well, I've been hoping to do more with photography and videography. I have video footage that I wanted to edit for some time now and I never got around to it. I like to think of myself as artistic, but here's the thing, regardless of whether or not I'm talented, I should just jump into it and do it. Do more, talk less. That way, I may actually get somewhere.

I just realized in re-reading my post that I mentioned "somewhere" like three times. It's probably my subconscious drive to indeed get from Point A to some Point B in space and time.

Another song I like

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me understand
'cause I've been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands

If I give my heart to you
I must be sure
From the very start
That you would love me more than her

If I trust in you, oh no please
Don't run and hide
If I love you too, oh please
Don't hurt my pride like her
'cause I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two
cause I couldn't stand the pain
and I would be sad if our new love was in vain

so I hope you see that I
would love to love you
and that she will cry when she learns we are two.

If I fell in love with you



I like this song by the Beatles too. It's a very sweet melodic composition. However the lyrics are awfully vindictive aren't they? I know this is from a "boy's" point of view, but it could just as easily be from a girl's point of view as well.

Dork, your name is Emily

I went to the gym today and lo and behold, I forgot to bring my gym shorts! What does Miss Genius do? She resigns herself to jogging on the treadmill in her newly purchased Express jeans. (Well because I was stuck there, my dad had dropped me off) Good thing they were kind of stretchy, so they functioned more like tights. I felt like a real winner there though. I think others at the gym must have thought I was a super fob, who had no idea how to dress for a workout. Oh well.

As I was jogging today, I kept wondering about one thing. Why are people so scared of pain? Is that a stupid question? Isn't pain meant to be scary? If we weren't scared of pain, we'd all burn ourselves to death at 4 or 5, when we were little pyromaniacs right? But I guess I wonder, isn't it a better attitude to embrace the pain, whether ir's physical or emotional? If you face the pain, in essence, one of my worst nightmares (I'll speak only for myself here) then...what happens next? Will it make you a stronger person? You would have faced what you were fearing most all along...and perhaps you realize, it's not as bad as you had feared, after all.

the big M

I was just reading the New York Times Readers’ Opinion section on the issue of marriage and people’s increasing reluctance to become married.

Most people brought up valid points, not necessarily making it a moral issue. Some were practical and simply said that the reason is an economic one. With divorce being such a strong possibility for most marriages today, it’s economically and fiscally foolish to enter matrimony. One guy is 71; he has been paying alimony since he was 39 and will be paying until the day he dies. That is a depressing thought indeed. Of course there is also the argument that as women become more financially established and independent, they are reluctant to enter a state of union where they have to go home and continue to slave for their spouse. Ideally, the chores and housework would be split 50/50 but when was the last time life worked out “ideally”?

Others of course take the preachy road and railed on today’s people as being selfish, instant-gratification driven, not wanting to give or sacrifice too much for others. On this point, I have to reluctantly agree that it is indeed an obvious societal trend. Taglines from ads like “because you’re worth it!” and “you deserve a nice little break, you deserve to live in a 4 star hotel, have a snazzy car” etc etc…it’s all been brainwashed into us more or less hasn’t it? It’s basically the religion of capitalism and it replaces the religion of yesteryears.

But I digress. Ultimately, marriage is about compromise and to some extent, “settling.” I think we are programmed to think that we deserve the absolutely very best in life and it’s less focused on what we have to give in our relationships. Hopefully I can begin a slow progress towards being more centered on “others” and less centered on “self.” I’ve thought about that for a long time now and it’s been something that has called to me. Unfortunately, some lessons are learned a bit too late and for that, I will always have some regrets.

Yesterday

I went to Columbia Day in DC to attend luncheon and some lectures with fellow Columbians. What was amusing was that I didn't expect that the vast majority of the attendees would be silver-haired and stooped. However, I have met some nice people and enjoyed talking to them.

The first lecture dealt with Homer and the Odyssey. Good memories of having to struggle through the Odyssey came back to me. I really have no inclination to read epic poetry. Maybe when I'm 60, I will acquire a taste for it.

The second lecture was by a foreign correspondent and Columbia alumnus. Good speaker. Talked about politics, Iran, Iraq, current relevant events. It was good to gain his perspective on things, because to be honest, I haven't done too much in-depth thinking of my own regarding our state of the affairs.

Then the final lecture was on Robert Moses and how he shaped the landscape of New York City. So much I don't know, so much to learn still.

I met two alumni, both class of '61. One of them asked me if I were single because he has a 30 yr old son he'd like to introduce to me. The other man asked to have dinner with me. Haha...if so, he would be the oldest guy I've "dated", since he must be pushing 70. Just kidding, I like elderly people actually. They usually have lots to teach and offer, but not everyone is willing to listen.

They also played a 15 minute inspirational (read: cheesy) video extolling the praises of Columbia. I watched it with a mixture of bemusement and grudging appreciation. I really did enjoy my four years at Columbia immensely and I think it has shaped me to be who I am now, for better or for worse. All the propandistic stuff about COlumbia being such an awesome institute and blah blah blah, well, I guess I'll take it with a grain of salt, but I don't want to be an ingrate. The truth is, Columbia is a pretty amazing place and I have met some truly important people in my life there as well. Sigh and let's face it, I might not have a chance to be an "Ivy Leaguer" anymore. But we should stay positive, shouldn't we? Who knows, maybe I'll do awesome in med school and then get a kickass residency at Columbia or Harvard or anywhere else. One can dream.

Last night I watched Ashton Kutcher's film "A lot like Love" It's a silly piece of work, but Ashton's always good to watch, because he's just such a cutie. I think my aunt enjoyed the film. But it's one of those mildly entertaining but immediately forgettable flicks.

Another one!!

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Last night went to happy hour with coworkers. For some reason, I didn't learn my previous lesson about the Bethesda parking cop, because I went back to my car after having let my meter expire for over 40 minutes and somehow I thought I could get away with it. But no no no, silly rabbit emily, you just got served yet another lousy parking ticket and you totally deserve it too.

So happy hour was not bad. The nachos there are my favorites. I also gulped down a beer with some measure of relish. i don't mind hanging out with my coworkers, but most of them are married and tend to have a different mindset from me, so usually my common ground with them would be movies and mindless entertainment of that nature, because i have nothing whatsoever to add in terms of houses, cars, kids, careers, etc. But nevermind, I had fun just sitting there munching the nachos.

I signed up to go to Columbia Day in DC. Hopefully I'll have fun going to the lectures and meeting some fellow Columbians. I'm a bit apprehensive because I'll be traveling by meself, but I think it's time I push myself out of my comfort zone. I feel that it's in a way, divine wishes as well.

One of my favorite Beatles songs

Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of joy
are drifting thorough my open mind
Possessing and caressing me

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light which
dance before me like a million eyes
That call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a
restless wind inside a letter box
they tumble blindly as
they make their way across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world

Sounds of laughter shades of life
are ringing through my open ears
exciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which
shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva

Thoughts are all jumbled up

Not much to report. Iris was back for the weekend. She has had a few interviews in the DC area for summer internships. My sister, always the go-getter, has like 10,000 interviews lined up. I am happy for her though, since I know she works hard and deserves to reap the rewards of that hard work.

Family friend Geoff in town too. We'll see their whole family in Thanksgiving, so we'll finally get to meet the Mr and Mrs. Kaos. My mother should be happy, she's always very delighted to entertain friends.

As for me, well....I guess a conversation last night with a friend put things in a more positive perspective. I could sit on my butt and whine and moan and groan. But things aren't going to change unless I do something about it, right? For some reason, it's taken me many many years to realize this simple truth. Perhaps I'm still in the process of realizing.

Today's the sixth anniversary of Grandma's passing. When I was really young, she took care of me for an extended period of time. Not surprisingly, I was a difficult child to take care of, and required superhuman patience. I was completely disinterested in food for one thing. I kept her plenty busy just with the arduos process of feeding me. But because of this too, we've always been closer, we shared a bond I think. I miss Grandma...

Taipei's all up in a doozy right now. Everyone who's against the president is out in the streets, dressed in red from head to toe to signify their collective anger. They remind me somewhat of the angry ohmnus (spelling?) in Nausicaa. When these giant beasts get mad, their eyes glow a fiery red. The sleazeball president Chen however is unlikely to be ousted from his cozy presidential spot. I guess the legislature protects his rights and throne too well.

What else? I think I've hitherto used films and movies as a way to escape from the harsh realities of life. Maybe it's time I throw away these crutches. Films should be entertaining, it can be a source of discussion and thought-provoking cafe chats, but it shouldn't be a means to disregard the actual real problems in my life and vicariously experience other people's sorrows and pains. Lord knows I have enough of my own problems at this current point.

I have to meet later with my boss. NOT looking forward to showing my unfortunate experiment results to her. I guess I better prepare for a round of castigation, Singapore style.

Ah....crap, I'm just writing for the sake of writing now. I listened to more Beatles on the way to work. I love their music, well, of course, there are certain other personal reasons for me to be so into the group now, but I'm very glad I got into this. It will be a faithful companion to me, I believe.