Confession

I hate public speaking. That's not to say that I haven't taken steps to conquer my fear of it. I took a speech class in college, senior year. I went to a two day leadership seminar on public speaking back in high school. I had various speech classes in high school too. For some reason though, being in front of all those people, all those pairs of eyes always make me feel like a trapped animal. I start exhibiting all the signs of an animal in distress. I break out into cold sweat. My face flushes heat, and is no doubt flaming red. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I have trouble forming coherent sentences and be my usual articulate self. Worse yet, sometimes I began to speak bad English. I revert back to my five year old self under this severe level of trauma and I guess at 5, I didn't speak English yet. The human mind is indeed a fascinating thing.

The only thing that breaks my fear is when someone asks me a question and interrupts my excessive fear and attention on myself. As soon as my attention is diverted to something else, I immediately began to relax.

So the only reason I'm writing this is because I have to present my lab findings on Wednesday to a roomful of smart brilliant postdocs. It would be a good idea for me to prepare. It would NOT be a good idea for me to wet my pants in front of these future nobel laureates. I better buckle down. =P

No words to describe this

DIP

This is a true account of my experience with Driver Improvement Program with my mom at Greg's Driving School.

The teacher, for starters, was a real character. I can tell she's got a good heart and she's an amiable person. But my, what a gossipy lady she was. The class was not so much a lesson/touch up on how to improve your driving skills but it was a share and tell session of everyone trying to best everyone else on how bad of a driver they were, how many run ins they had with cops and how many tickets/points/fines they managed to rack up over the course of X weeks.

It's pretty entertaining stuff. Yeah, and by the way, my mom and I, we stuck out like eggplants among bananas. Two quiet, goody goody looking Asian females amidst a "class" of really interesting/wacked out people. I'd say 1/3 were females, 1/3 was black, 1/3 hispanic. There was one Indian guy. No East Asian guys. Lots and lots of too cool for school teenagers or young adults.

One guy, he came in and sat in a far dark corner, sporting his nifty shades in the DARK. The teacher made a crack, "It's not that sunny in here." I couldn't help smirking in agreement.

There was this other female. When asked why she was at the class, she very enthusiastically and in my opinion, egregiously TMI-ing, started telling her life story of traffic woes. She owes the MVA some $1000+ dollars in fines alone. She seemed rather proud of it. At one point, she was trying to helpfully kill a large wasp that found its way to the Driver Improvement Program. For its troubles, it was nearly assassinated were it not for the girl's extreme clumsiness. She managed to whack down the projector screen instead. It was a hoot.

And so I was there, feeling rather superior because I wasn't there because of a particular fine or traffic violation. I know this sounds horrible, but the feeling is most like an average, normal intelligence kid sitting in a class for "special education" and feeling somewhat relieved that one doesn't really belong there. I know I know, what a terribly small person I am.

I was there to help Mom with translating the test. She initially told me to just tell her the answers and I just told her, I'm going to translate and she has to answer for herself. Ha. Didn't happen. As it turns out, no one cares either. I just started telling Mom the answers to each question. It was much easier than translating the questions into Chinese and then have her figure out the answer. Good thing too, she passed with flying colors, due to my astute tutelage. then again, no one failed per se. the teacher would have just supplied the correct answers if you didn't get it right. The whole DIP was an absolute joke. But at least entertaining and got my mind off some personal issues for the moment.

for various reasons

I'm feeling sad today...and I find that listening to the Sound of Silence over and over again suits my current state of mind.

Dreams

I used to have all manners of violent, swashbuckling adventurous dreams. In them, I would be a spy, an agent, a sword wielding heroine battling the forces of evil. In many ways, they are adolescent dreams of heroism, founded on fantasy and childishness, but also reflective of my inner self. I also used to be alot more repressed, I think, and these dreams serve as an outlet of sorts.

Recently, my dreams have become more placid, tamer, less violent. I think it's also in parallel to the fact that as a person, I am opening up more to the outside world, embracing what comes, connecting with people, expressing myself verbally and in other ways (this blog, for example) so that as I become less bottled, less repressed, my dreams lose their element of energized outbursts.

Last night I had an interesting dream. It occurred in two parts. One, a friend gave me a large large box of really good chocolates. It may be Godiva or other name brand, overpriced chocolates. On one of the chocolates, the words, "You are my best friend forever, Love ____" were inscribed. I thought the gift to be sweet (no pun intended) but I was also puzzled by the grandiose gesture, not sure what prompted it.

Another dream was that I traveled to Lebanon, or specifically Beirut, where it was getting bombed to death by Israeli forces. Some people in there resented my presence as an American. They heckled me, telling me to go back to my country, etc. At one point, I remember distinctly saying to some woman, "I'm just here to take pictures of your country, BITCH." And I strode off, feeling all righteous and justified. For what? I don't know. I don't even know why I had such an attitude problem.

On to other news...I have to go sit at a class with Mom for her driver improvement program. How dreary. It's 6 hours long!! I have to her translator...It's not going to be fun, I think. But I owe it to her, because mom got into an accident trying to bail me out last time and this is one way I can make up for my stupidity too.

Foodie

I have had the privilege of dining on the culinary delights of a true master. That person is none other than my boyfriend's dad. On Friday night when I arrived at Jason's house, Mr. Tu promptly made home-made chow mien! It was so so good. I had to restrain myself from snarfing it down like the hog that I secretly am. He also made light vegetable soup that went really well with the noodles.

The next day, Mr. Tu made Szechuan cold noodles for lunch. It's basically noodles, slightly chilled (spaghetti like noodles) and mixed with this sauce that is one part spicy, one part sour, ten parts yummy! I think I'll try to make some myself!

I wish Jason could cook like his Dad.

In other news, we had a good time watching Scrubs, season II. Funny funny show. Every episode had its genius moments. We also watched Pirates of the Caribbean. I can't remember the last time I was so bored at an action film. At one point, where the screen has melted into a conglomerate goo of people yapping, birds flying around, monkeys scampering, octopus face man snarling, and general mayhem all around, I closed my eyes and started thinking of hot guys to pass the moment more pleasantly.

Hm....what else? Oh yeah...secondaries from medical schools are starting to roll in. Crazy stuff. I have given myself a week's deadline to finish each secondary. Today, six came in. Yipes....time to get cracking and stop daydreaming.

Love

Cynical sophisticate that I am, when it comes to love, I am still a helpless captive to the undying myth of that eternal, romantic ideal. Here, of course, I am not referring to two people collapsing into a bout of passionate, frenzied love affair. While it may be called a "love" affair, love for the most part has little to do with it.

I reflected recently on what it means to be in love. I really think the usage is incorrect here. It should not be love that is used, rather, infatuation, a lust spell, a temporary insanity.

The truest kind of love there is, is the selfless love. The unconditional love. It's easy to say that God gives us all unconditional love, because, well, He is God, and you don't question God's love. It's a lot harder to search for that type of love among people though. It's alot harder to assume that you can derive such a love from your fellow humans, little people with selfish agendas, myriad conflicting interests, goals and dreams of their own.

I will have to say that I understand unequivocally that on this Earth, the two people that love me most nearest to the unconditional, pure love are my parents. Even then, their love is not entirely unconditional. But the truest test of their love for me is that they will do just about anything for me, perhaps even sacrifice their lives. Hell, they already have.

However I hope I am not a horrible person for admitting that it is not a balanced love. The parents always love the child more than the child could love the parents. I know it is true for me. Perhaps one day when I have children of my own, it would be the same situation. I will love them infinitely, vastly more than they could love me. And so the trend continues down the generation.

A child's love for parents is complicated by the child's equally fierce desire to break free and gain independence and autonomy. It's that desire for separation that comes with maturity that makes it difficult for a child to love the parent as much as the parent loves the child. it's psychology 101.

But enough about parent-child love. let's talk about romantic love. I like to ask people what love means to them. one answer I got was: it's just chemicals in your brain. that's rather more cynical than even I am prepared for. I don't really buy it. But then again, the sad reality is, if you get a lobotomy (half your brain removed say) are you still capable of love? No...I don't think so. You will not be capable of love. So in that sense, love, the feeling of love, the idea of love, the physics of love can not transcend the mere biological, physiological body.

Love is a tricky tricky business. If I get too overly philosophical and meditative, I think I will just end up confusing myself on what love really means. It's really a much simpler task to stick to lust, I must admit.

What what what

I'm really just writing in this blog to kill the last 30 minutes of work. It's a blatant disclaimer, please don't expect a unified theme or any inspired pieces of writing today. It's going to be motley crue, in line with all the random noise in my head I suppose.

Having blunt cut bangs like those high end fashion models on the catwalk - nice, very nice. The price you pay? You have to wash your forehead religiously to keep it clean. I'm being bugged by Jason to change my hairstyle. But truthfully, I really don't feel like it. I have in mind a picture of the type of hair I'm striving for. It's still a work in progress and I don't want to cut short my hair's potential. It would be a shame.

I exchanged songs over email with a colleague today. She sent me a funny weird song. A "chicken" singing about avian flu and how she (the chicken) doesn't mind being eaten, doesn't mind having her eggs snatched, she just doesn't want to be seen as wellspring of disease. Okaaay. Moving on to other news.

My current struggle at work to get a certain bacterial product is becoming a laboratory joke. It's both ego deflating and heartwarming (I know, contradictory emotions) Today, I finally am getting a product that may be what I was looking for and when I told people in the lab, one person broke out a WHOOOPEEE and another person was all smiles and cheers. I know my boss will not be complaining.

I was supposed to go have dinner with a friend today. It was cancelled at the last minute because her father was in the hospital. She's so nice and polite, she sounded truly apologetic on the phone when cancelling on me. If it were me cancelling, I'd just go, "Listen, I can't go because blah blah blah." It was not a situation that called for any sorries to be made.

I spent a good hour today struggling to read a scientific paper. It made me feel stooopid. I was like a student struggling with English. I had to read each sentence slowly, line by line, sometimes looping back to repeatedly read the same paragraph again. I think I am gradually getting a clearer picture of what the research is about. But it's still taking way too long for bragging rights.

Oh God!!! It's only 5:44. Why oh why does time go so slowly? On the other hand, I don't know what I'll be doing with myself after work today. It promises to be a dull evening...maybe. We'll see. I guess I could go work out at the gym. I could also finish watching 24. Chloe O'Brian, why is this person not making millions hacking into bank accounts? She's got all the ingredients to be an evil genius who can dominate the world (well, maybe not the personality). I find it funny that she's everyone's goto person on the computer, she's a one woman computer central. I swear, she should have eight hands, with the work that she does. Does she never feel overwhelmed? It's always like this. Jack: Chloe, I need you to cross reference all data sources and link it back to Christopher Henderson and also transfer some ITPA protocols to my PDA asap. Chloe: peers at the computer, pounds a few keys, "I'm on it, Jack!" Well they are a dynamic duo.

In other news, Mom recently bought seedless watermelon that was oh so sweet. Yummy.

In other news, I might go jetskiing with Jason this weekend. it depends on how well he plans the thing and whether it all works out in the end. Just kidding, I'm sure it will be fun. I can't wait to go jetskiing. Next thrill seeking event: Skydiving? We'll see...I'm not so sure I'm up for it just yet, seeing as how I have a substantial phobia of falling and dying.

Alright enough rambling for today. Adios!

Why I now count the English Patient as a favorite movie

Some films get better with each viewing. The English Patient is exactly that kind of film. The more I've watched it, the richer and more fulfilling it becomes.

There's Count Almassy, played to perfection by Ralph Fiennes. I would argue that even though he is great as the intense, brooding explorer who knows 10,000 languages, he was equally spectacular as the wry, cultured crisp toast of an invalid under the care of Hana.

As Almassy, his passion and fire for Katherine is palpable. I liked the fact that he began writing speculations about "K" or Katherine even before they began their love affair. Once, Katherine was flipping through his notebook and came across these ramblings by Almassy. Things like, "K's clothes always at ease on her. K laughs at joke with husband. Does K care about betrayal?" etc etc. It's a tool, but very effective one for letting the audience get inside the mind of the male lead and also to understand him for who he is, a thinker, a ponderer, a brooder with the touch of the poet and the melancholic imagination.

Another favorite scence in the film for me was when the English patient mentioned that he really wants to feel the rain on his face. It's one of the few, sad remaining pleasures in life for him. Later on in the movie, there was a point where Hana bursts into the room radiantly, saying with a big grin, "It's raining!" The next scene cuts into four people carrying the English patient on a stretcher and running around a large garden fountain in the heavy pouring rain. The view is birds eye. The feeling was joyous. There is something poignant about that scene because these four people were united by tragedy, personal ones and the impersonal one (WWII) and yet at that moment, they were also able to share in the delight of simply being alive and dancing in the rain. Nothing more needs to be said, but the scene in itself was a powerful statement.

I also liked the intimate moments that K and Count Almassy shared, the times they spent after they have presumably just had intercourse. That's the moment when both are relaxed, passions spent, but they are reveling in each other's company nonetheless. There was a scene where K begs her lover to tell her an ancient story. In his typical, serious way, he begins the story until halfway through, K realizes that she's been had and that he was really telling a story about her. Her biggest clue was when he says, "And she has a lover that she likes to beat and pummel all the time" and first there was a look of surprise on her face and then her face broke down into mock anger and she began pummelling him, her ineffectual hands flapping at his head. It's funny to me because I can relate to that scene.

This third or fourth viewing of the movie also allowed me to pay closer attention to other supporting characters. I think they were all very good. It's a film where all the ingredients came together at the right proportions and the product is nothing short of perfection.

Spare me the indecency of such unpleasing styles

I recently read about a new line of "modest" clothing for women. These are swimming suits redesigned to be like a loose fitting (read: ill-fitting) housedress circa 1940's. It's a two or more multi-layered construction with an undergarment and then a flappy overall look on top of it. Really...what is with all this blatant cover up? It's truly excessive and borders on ugh-a-ley. And they're not cheap either, at about $90 a pop. Anyway, I know that the excess runs in both directions with women all too commonly spilling flesh everywhere under the hot summer sky. But I don't think the answer to the solution is to swing so far to the right either. Give me a tankini any day. This simply offends my aesthetic sensibilities.

Click here for pictures

Some comments

Last night I delivered a lecture on the importance of having a direction in life. I know, it's a clear case of do as I say, not as I do. Yet increasingly I am forced to realize that it is an all encompassing truth of living a life with meaning. You want to have fun? Sure, who doesn't? But having fun is not in and of itself ultimately meaningful. There is always a sense of je ne sais qois after the party is over and you don't quite know what to do with yourself. Unfortunately, one must have something more serious to ground oneself in life. Then there is the balance of work and fun. It's a classic ying yang. The Chinese are so smart.

Anyway, for everyone's sake, having an over-riding purpose in life is important. Of course, it doesn't have to be only one. It can be several. It doesn't have to be stupendously ambitious. It can be small. But the important thing is to be committed to it 100%.

I am still learning. I find myself too distracted, too fragmented, divided in all directions with my various desires and avarices, greed for this, need for that. Therefore, I am usually able to parcel only a smaller percentage of myself towards any one of my goals. Therefore, consolidation is important. Prioritization and consolidation.

The other important thing is, never stifle your urge to learn and understand more. As children, we automatically want to learn more about the environment we mysteriously find ourselves in. All of us are plopped into this world with no real forewarning. None of us arrived with a welcome guide and brochure saying, "welcome to life on earth, here's some key points to keep in mind." No, we arrived, more or less through our own processes of learning. We all should try to recapture the joy of learning again. I think, I believe, that is the secret to possessing the quality, the essence of "joie de vivre."

Now if I seem like a bit of a francophile, that's because I'm currently listening to Pimsleur's Beginner French in my car everyday when I drive to work. I repeat French phrases in the car to myself. Je comprende un peu le Francais! Next stop, I hope to learn some German or Japanese.

Medical Ethics and its various problems

I recently finished this book called "First do no harm" by Lisa Belkin. It's a quick read with some melodramatic prose regarding the work of a particular ethics committee at a Texan hospital.

Some of the issues facing the committee were: whether to operate on a patient or let "nature take its course." Whether to keep a patient or ship him off to another hospital. Whether to let a patient go DNR (Do not resuscitate) or to save him whenever possible.

As I read this book, I realize more and more that I'm much more of the "let nature take its course" kind of person. Perhaps that is not surprising, given my personality, but more so than personality, it really is a personal philosophy as well. Sometimes when physicians do all they can to "save" a person, they truly do end up doing much more harm than good. You see a patient lying inert on a bed, four or five tubes sticking out of the person at various orifices, with complex lines crisscrossing over the body, injecting all manners of deadly toxins into the blood veins at all times, and you wonder, what is the point of that procedure again? What is the point of "saving" the person again? Is it so the person can lie there, stripped of autonomy, stripped of dignity, stripped of humanity even only to lie there and passively endure, endure and endure some more?

In some of the cases, I truly felt like it was clear cut. A baby was born was spina bifida. In a normal growing baby, the neural tube normally grows to cover the brain and the spinal cord. In a baby with spina bifida, the spinal cord may be exposed, like a raw gaping hole on the spine, in the back. Surgery is possible to close the opening, but that does not guarantee the baby will henceforth be normal. In severe cases, a baby will experience mild to severe paralysis of the area of his body below the opening in his spine. Also, buildup of spinal fluid around the brain can occur and result in severe brain damage. The baby may have surgery to close the abnormal hole in his back, but can only hope to become a crawling, drooling, half person. This is no quality of life for a child. I know I sound harsh, but I think there is no need to make a person go through that if nature can choose a kinder fate for the child and let it die.

In the book, the committee ultimately opted to "make" the parents go through with the operation. The parents capitulated and now they have a child with severe mental and physical handicaps that they will have to take care of for the rest of that child's natural life. What is the sense in this? Just let the baby go already. It's better for everyone involved, why is it so hard to see that?

Anyway, if I were to have a baby one day with such a defect, I will choose to let it go. Even if I have to endure the agony of letting my own child die, I will do it for his/her sake and for my own.

Wimbledon

Yesterday's Men's Championship game was pretty nice to watch. I enjoyed watching some of Nadal's spectacular returns on the court, surprise returns that even the nearly-perfect record Federer did not anticipate. I also enjoyed seeing Federer's even handed control on the games and his ability to direct the play. He was also able to return some really hard volleys too, as you'd expect from a master tennis player.

Too bad I'm starting at the relatively late age of 27. However, I still do have potential to get better and that is heartening.

In other news, Hannah, friend from NYC came to Georgetown for a month long program studying/researching Shakespeare. I got a little tour of the campus while I was there. I must say that I really like the campus. I wish I could go to Georgetown for med school! My mom said that if I got into Georgetown, she would probably smile so hard her face would become lopsided. i told her that there's no need to be so melodramatic nor to have such an excessive reaction. Man, how mean parents can be sometimes.

Time to put a stop to male fetishization of the female breasts

Seriously, enough is enough already.

In America and most developed countries, woman pour thousands upon thousands of dollars into surgical procedures to insert saline filled bags in their mammary organs for the sole purpose of appearing "hotter" to men. Sometimes, poor girls in less developed countries, but no less developed hunger to look sexy would go to a sketchy quack doctor to get the procedure done, often with disfiguring side effects and problems that may last a life. What is the sense in all this?

I just learned recently of a more ridiculous phenomenon. Ready? It's called Breast-IRONING. It occurs in Cameroon, a country close to the Central African Republic (if my memory is correct) There, mothers are taking heated stones, flat heated stones and pressing down hard on a young girl's developing breasts. The purpose here is to stunt the growth of the mammaries so as to deflect attention from horny, would-be rapists in the land of Cameroon. Of course, common sense number one tells me, it would hurt like HELL. You are burning the skin and killing god knows how many cells inside. Secondly, the disfigurement that comes with doing such a procedure will leave a legacy of shame and discomfort for the victim. Thirdly, and perhaps most ludicrous of all, this may do little to detract a man bent on becoming a sexual predator. Who knows? Maybe the men of Cameroon will develop Lolita like fetishes and actually LIKE flatchested women with crispy singed nipples. Or maybe when the animal urges come about, men couldn't care less whether the woman is a cup -A or a D+. Shocking isn't it? An exercise in futility that results in only pain and disfigurement.

I'm so sick of hearing about females being mutilated genitally or being forced to wear burqas (taliban cloth covering) or being restricted this way or that way either to please men or to divert men's attention. Honestly, it's getting old. That's it, I need to make this my mission in life. To educate more women to have just some fudgin common sense. Ugh, I am honestly ashamed that we let ourselves be so manipulated!!!

Mosaic Musings

I've come to realize another thing. I consider myself a pretty easy-going, relaxed person. Usually people's various follies and quirks and annoyances don't really get to me and make me really angry. It just never seemed to be worth making too much of a fuss over.

But family, now that's a different story.

Those who are closest to you are also closest to the trigger buttons. My mother, for example, got me so mad yesterday. She was pissed off at me for what I feel is not such a big deal. Her ranting and raving of course, made it into a bigger deal than it is. So I start getting angry and annoyed and finally I proposed a solution that I'm not altogether happy with, but it was proposed just to shut her up.

I suppose one good thing that came out of me being angry was that I channeled my anger into productivity. In two hours, with the help of my loyal Dad, I transformed my bedroom. I took out the computer desk and moved the computer to the basement. I installed/set up a second twin bed to lie in parallel to the first. Tonight I will set up the computer center in the basement.

The other annoying thing about Mom is that she tends to simmer in cold silence for a few days. I know I can melt her icy exterior with a few placating comments. But it's never been my social policy.

Jason's visit

Well we kicked off the lovely weekend with Jason ready to rip my head off because I had to be somewhere at work and couldn't bring my cell phone with me. Then Jason of course chose to arrive at around this time and after trying to reach me unsuccessfully for about 11 times, he was seriously ready to take a machete to my lovely little neck.

So the weekend started off with some fireworks. But it soon tapered to a relaxing, low-key weekend with my honey, as we played some tennis and watched a bad movie rental. We also went to watch Superman Returns. I would say, see it because Superman is HOT. But aside from that, I thought nothing else about the movie was overly spectacular. Oh yeah, lest I not forget, we had a wonderful Italian dinner at the Buca De Beppi until Jason made another faux pas. He knows what I'm talking about! The rest of the time was spent bickering over whether I'm a good driver, whether or not he can touch my thighs and whether or not I can sing.

I also enjoyed catching Wimbledon on TV with Agassi playing Nadal, the young brilliant player from Spain. He's so quick it's impossible not to be impressed. Time and again, Agassi volleys a ball at him and you could almost swear that he would not be able to return it, but he goes tearing after the ball like a rabid dog and slaps the ball back into Agassi's court. Poor Agassi lost all three sets and finally lost the match. Even so, I think Agassi is a very solid player and I admire him for staying in the game at that advanced age.

Made plans to rendezvous with Jason in three weeks. Stay tuned for more entertainment from J&E.