Sedentary people tend to develop fat in their tummy. This is what is termed an "apple" shape. A "pear" shaped body tends to have more fat in the hips and thighs. However, as is mostly common knowledge today, fat in your tummy is the more risky fat, as it could lead to a host of health problems such as heart attacks, high cholesterol, diabetes. Have you measured your tummy circumference lately? By itself, the actual circumference doesn't mean much. But it becomes more important when considering its relationship to the hip circumference.
For instance, my waist is 31 inches. It's nowhere near Scarlett O'Hara's famed 16 inch waist, as you can see. I'm a slim girl, but my waistline can improve. My hips however measure 35 inches. That gives me a waist to hip ratio of 0.89. Ideally, for females, the ratio ought to be 0.8 or less. So I have to get my waistline down to 28 inches. Certain factors may have contributed (I just ate, hahaha) But in all seriousness, it is quite good for your health to have a smaller waist to hip ratio.
For males, if you are interested, the ratio ought to be 0.95 or less. The hourglass appearance is not quite as necessary for guys.
I also currently have a body fat percentage of about 24.8%. It's considered normal for non-obese non-athletes. A full quarter of me is pure fat, pure viscous yellow oily lipid tubby lard! I think if I think too much about this, I would be extremely disturbed. All the more motivation to hit the gym, I suppose.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Progress is a state of mind
I think I'm finally catching on to what progress is all about. A state of change, a flux, a transient state of being. It's also about being at B when you were at A a minute ago. It's about being able to look back at A and seeing the distance that you have travelled. Is this vague enough for you? Let me give you an example.
So last night I was all bells and whistles about making my SCHEDULE. And I was ambitious, to be sure. I wanted to get up at 7 AM and start studying from 8 to 12. A good solid 4 hours of studying sounded like a good idea at the time. But in my excitement last night, I was unable to fall asleep for longer than I had anticipated. That usually is the domino effect for me and as things turned out, I wasn't able to get up early this morning. In fact, I got up 3 hours later than scheduled. I'm a German's worst nightmare come true.
Now, the old me would have been disgusted with myself and mentally slapped myself left and right and then in a fit of passive aggressive anger, I would have let the entire day go to hell after such a late start and a delay in my plans. I think in this way, I had an "extreme" side to my personality and usually detrimental.
The new me was still disappointed in myself for getting up so late, but I shrugged it off and looked at what was left of my schedule to salvage and by 1 PM, I was back on track. So there you go, I have progressed! It's not climbing mt. everest, but hey, I have finally learned the concept that if I fall back a few steps, i can still continue the climb. Sooner or later, I will scale this mountain!!
So last night I was all bells and whistles about making my SCHEDULE. And I was ambitious, to be sure. I wanted to get up at 7 AM and start studying from 8 to 12. A good solid 4 hours of studying sounded like a good idea at the time. But in my excitement last night, I was unable to fall asleep for longer than I had anticipated. That usually is the domino effect for me and as things turned out, I wasn't able to get up early this morning. In fact, I got up 3 hours later than scheduled. I'm a German's worst nightmare come true.
Now, the old me would have been disgusted with myself and mentally slapped myself left and right and then in a fit of passive aggressive anger, I would have let the entire day go to hell after such a late start and a delay in my plans. I think in this way, I had an "extreme" side to my personality and usually detrimental.
The new me was still disappointed in myself for getting up so late, but I shrugged it off and looked at what was left of my schedule to salvage and by 1 PM, I was back on track. So there you go, I have progressed! It's not climbing mt. everest, but hey, I have finally learned the concept that if I fall back a few steps, i can still continue the climb. Sooner or later, I will scale this mountain!!
Getting my groove back
I sat down today and studied diligently for a couple of hours. After a while, I began to nod off and the material swam before my eyes. Just so I would wake myself up again, I put my frontal cortex to work (ie. plan) by making a schedule of my next three days. I realize that writing down to the T what I have to do everyday is actually a very liberating experience. It gives me a sense of satisfaction and sense of control even before I do anything.
In any case, my new plan will involve some hard core studying. The next round of exams are looming ahead of me like that monster in Cloverfield and I have a dreaded feeling that unless I institute my plan, the monster will swallow me alive.
Speaking of which, I went to see Cloverfield on Sunday. It was a very gripping thriller and I believe it succeeds in what it tries to do, to wit, it attempts to capture the terror an ordinary average joe would feel on a day when Godzilla's cousin attacks his city. It was doubly unfortunate for the girls in this film, because they were at a party and not exactly dressed to sprint. The entire film was shot with what seemed like a handheld consumer camera. At times they made it deliberately jerky to imitate an amateur who can't seem to hold the camera steady for even 5 minutes. The overall effect was to make me feel queasy after about 60 minutes into the film. I was also, absurdly, even worried that the "amateur" would at some point, turn off the camera by accident or shoot someone's back pocket for an extended period of time. I then realize I was being silly because of course the filmmakers of this movie were professionals and they WANT you to know what's going on and the only way that would be possible is to continue to shoot relevant and interesting footage, since Morgan Freeman did not magically appear to narrate for us in this film. One word of warning though, if you are a type A personality and you watch a film and want to know all the whys and wherefores of this film, this movie is not for you. It is like a poem, it tries to capture a feeling, an essence, a partial story even, but its intention was never in the plot, it was never interested in answering "what happened next, before, after, and why".
In any case, my new plan will involve some hard core studying. The next round of exams are looming ahead of me like that monster in Cloverfield and I have a dreaded feeling that unless I institute my plan, the monster will swallow me alive.
Speaking of which, I went to see Cloverfield on Sunday. It was a very gripping thriller and I believe it succeeds in what it tries to do, to wit, it attempts to capture the terror an ordinary average joe would feel on a day when Godzilla's cousin attacks his city. It was doubly unfortunate for the girls in this film, because they were at a party and not exactly dressed to sprint. The entire film was shot with what seemed like a handheld consumer camera. At times they made it deliberately jerky to imitate an amateur who can't seem to hold the camera steady for even 5 minutes. The overall effect was to make me feel queasy after about 60 minutes into the film. I was also, absurdly, even worried that the "amateur" would at some point, turn off the camera by accident or shoot someone's back pocket for an extended period of time. I then realize I was being silly because of course the filmmakers of this movie were professionals and they WANT you to know what's going on and the only way that would be possible is to continue to shoot relevant and interesting footage, since Morgan Freeman did not magically appear to narrate for us in this film. One word of warning though, if you are a type A personality and you watch a film and want to know all the whys and wherefores of this film, this movie is not for you. It is like a poem, it tries to capture a feeling, an essence, a partial story even, but its intention was never in the plot, it was never interested in answering "what happened next, before, after, and why".
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Tell me you love me
I just sped through 15 episodes of a Korean drama. Which is somewhat of a feat, since I crammed 15 hours into about 6. The story is about a happy young couple who enters a company together. An older, accomplished woman falls head over heels in love with the young man and plots to break them up. She went at extraordinary lengths too, to obtain what she wanted. And as villainous as she is supposed to be, I found myself secretly rooting for her.
The drama is called, "Tell me you love me" and it was playing on youtube. I know this is going to sound shallow, but here goes. There were more than a number of decidedly unattractive characters in the show, men with faces that looked like God wasn't paying attention when he molded them, or a little fat chubby girl with a complexion like that of rice pudding and legs that look like she has had one too many of them as well. Her height was most comical, she was almost as wide as she is tall, so she comes across oddly boxlike. Lord, they were an annoying bunch. And I didn't understand their purpose in the show, perhaps for comic relief? The reason I am going on this rant is because I think for the purposes of a soap opera, the producers ought to employ only good looking or interesting looking people to star in the drama. That is one reason why we watch them no? Eye candy. To feast our eyes on beauty. Instead, every time these odd assortment of weird looking people come on, I felt the protest of my eyes at being subjected to such unaesthetically pleasing pictures.
To be honest, this show stank. The two bright things in the show would be, the female actress is a gem and shines at her role of being both a manipulative vixen and also a pathetic woman who just loves too heartbreakingly. Secondly, even though I watched the translations, I could tell the lines are written with more care, wit and thought. It wasn't very bland soap opera fare nor was it overly dramatic. At times, there were sprinkles of philosophical statements, just the way I liked it. The minuses of the show would have to be, the show became increasingly weepy and the bawling grew both in magnitude and frequency. I was not in the mood to bawl along, so instead, I just rolled my eyes and fast forwarded. Even the male lead couldn't stop crying like a little five year old who just had his toy snatched from him. I lost a lot of my patience with him and I didn't understand why a smart 30 year old and quite beautiful woman would go completely and utterly insane over him. Over him? Surely she could have done better.
The angelic female lead, the mother theresa who is on the receiving end of all plots and manipulations, but of course also the innocent one whom her lovely young man adores - she just annoys me. Her face reminds me of other Korean actresses before her, and she's like the generic version to a brand, or a knock-off substitute. She never quite stepped up to the lead female role as well as the villainous one, with all her scheming ways, was able to. I know I've committed heresy by sticking up for the evil one. All the commentators on youtube.com were screaming for her blood by the end of the show. They got so worked up, I had almost as much fun reading those comments as anything else.
To sum, I don't always root for the good guys I guess, whatever "good" means. I am intrigued by this theme of sheer raw desire, a manic bent on grasping that which you crave, I root for mad obsessive compulsion to own or possess something, I root for wanting something badly enough that you would stoop to almost anything to get it and know it too. At times, when facing such a dark side to human nature, it takes courage to confront the enormity of one's greed and to recognize it for what it is, sheer greed, the bottomless pit in the human heart that always craves for more and more, whatever that may be. Okay, I don't endorse this, don't get me wrong, but I am admittedly captivated by this theme.
The drama is called, "Tell me you love me" and it was playing on youtube. I know this is going to sound shallow, but here goes. There were more than a number of decidedly unattractive characters in the show, men with faces that looked like God wasn't paying attention when he molded them, or a little fat chubby girl with a complexion like that of rice pudding and legs that look like she has had one too many of them as well. Her height was most comical, she was almost as wide as she is tall, so she comes across oddly boxlike. Lord, they were an annoying bunch. And I didn't understand their purpose in the show, perhaps for comic relief? The reason I am going on this rant is because I think for the purposes of a soap opera, the producers ought to employ only good looking or interesting looking people to star in the drama. That is one reason why we watch them no? Eye candy. To feast our eyes on beauty. Instead, every time these odd assortment of weird looking people come on, I felt the protest of my eyes at being subjected to such unaesthetically pleasing pictures.
To be honest, this show stank. The two bright things in the show would be, the female actress is a gem and shines at her role of being both a manipulative vixen and also a pathetic woman who just loves too heartbreakingly. Secondly, even though I watched the translations, I could tell the lines are written with more care, wit and thought. It wasn't very bland soap opera fare nor was it overly dramatic. At times, there were sprinkles of philosophical statements, just the way I liked it. The minuses of the show would have to be, the show became increasingly weepy and the bawling grew both in magnitude and frequency. I was not in the mood to bawl along, so instead, I just rolled my eyes and fast forwarded. Even the male lead couldn't stop crying like a little five year old who just had his toy snatched from him. I lost a lot of my patience with him and I didn't understand why a smart 30 year old and quite beautiful woman would go completely and utterly insane over him. Over him? Surely she could have done better.
The angelic female lead, the mother theresa who is on the receiving end of all plots and manipulations, but of course also the innocent one whom her lovely young man adores - she just annoys me. Her face reminds me of other Korean actresses before her, and she's like the generic version to a brand, or a knock-off substitute. She never quite stepped up to the lead female role as well as the villainous one, with all her scheming ways, was able to. I know I've committed heresy by sticking up for the evil one. All the commentators on youtube.com were screaming for her blood by the end of the show. They got so worked up, I had almost as much fun reading those comments as anything else.
To sum, I don't always root for the good guys I guess, whatever "good" means. I am intrigued by this theme of sheer raw desire, a manic bent on grasping that which you crave, I root for mad obsessive compulsion to own or possess something, I root for wanting something badly enough that you would stoop to almost anything to get it and know it too. At times, when facing such a dark side to human nature, it takes courage to confront the enormity of one's greed and to recognize it for what it is, sheer greed, the bottomless pit in the human heart that always craves for more and more, whatever that may be. Okay, I don't endorse this, don't get me wrong, but I am admittedly captivated by this theme.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Zombies and my curious fascination with them
I just watched yet another zombie movie, the ever famous Dawn of the Dead, and all things considering, not too long after "I am Legend" either. There are some common themes that run through these films.
A) When you go anywhere alone, you will most likely die.
B) If you happen to be surrounded by zombies and you know you are a goner, then the next best thing to do is to blow things up and go down in a blaze of glory. Better to die that way than to be torn to pieces by zombies.
C) The really really big burly bald alpha male zombies (you see one in Dawn, you see one in Legend as well) - watch out for those. They are the "head" zombies and will usually do something that will surprise you - unpleasantly.
I was braced for a very scary movie so it turned out to be not that bad. In a typical zombie film, a "good" ending is if these people successfully evade the zombies and find a safe haven. However ever thought about what comes next? If these people do survive, they will probably end up with stupendous post traumatic stress disorder and may eventually break down into insanity. No one can take such a prolonged stress for such a long time. Of course in this film (spoiler alert), it is hinted that nobody ultimately survives. Sad, but somewhat more realistic.
Now a comparison study of the zombies in Legend vs Dawn. Legend zombies are fast fast fast, and usually they become bald. They are afraid of the sun and they burn when exposed to UV light. They are tachycardic, (heart rate through the roof) and they are usually very pale. They are smart too, and can strategize to a point. They seem to be made of steroids and they look like golum. They also have zombie dogs. Dawn zombies are not afraid of the sun. They can be fast too, often running. They keep their hair and they are usually decently dressed but grotesquely wounded. Missing eyes, cut off legs, ripped off arm, but they still go on. Legend zombies appear to be more intact, as far as I can tell. In the absence of victims, Dawn zombies just mill around listlessly and dejectedly. Legend zombies crouch in dark places and only come out at night to feed. Dawn zombies haven't learned how to climb, but Legend zombies are great at climbing. Legend zombies will fight each other for food.
Compared to these zombies, Chinese zombies are another breed altogether. They are usually very pale and supposedly already dead. They hop, they don't walk, and they stick their arms out in front of them. If you are near a Chinese zombie, you have to hold your breath and they won't detect you. So they have wonderful CO2 sensors, apparently.
Okay enough gabbling about zombies. I am going to become my own special type of zombie now, complete with a snug pillow, blanket and bronco bear!
A) When you go anywhere alone, you will most likely die.
B) If you happen to be surrounded by zombies and you know you are a goner, then the next best thing to do is to blow things up and go down in a blaze of glory. Better to die that way than to be torn to pieces by zombies.
C) The really really big burly bald alpha male zombies (you see one in Dawn, you see one in Legend as well) - watch out for those. They are the "head" zombies and will usually do something that will surprise you - unpleasantly.
I was braced for a very scary movie so it turned out to be not that bad. In a typical zombie film, a "good" ending is if these people successfully evade the zombies and find a safe haven. However ever thought about what comes next? If these people do survive, they will probably end up with stupendous post traumatic stress disorder and may eventually break down into insanity. No one can take such a prolonged stress for such a long time. Of course in this film (spoiler alert), it is hinted that nobody ultimately survives. Sad, but somewhat more realistic.
Now a comparison study of the zombies in Legend vs Dawn. Legend zombies are fast fast fast, and usually they become bald. They are afraid of the sun and they burn when exposed to UV light. They are tachycardic, (heart rate through the roof) and they are usually very pale. They are smart too, and can strategize to a point. They seem to be made of steroids and they look like golum. They also have zombie dogs. Dawn zombies are not afraid of the sun. They can be fast too, often running. They keep their hair and they are usually decently dressed but grotesquely wounded. Missing eyes, cut off legs, ripped off arm, but they still go on. Legend zombies appear to be more intact, as far as I can tell. In the absence of victims, Dawn zombies just mill around listlessly and dejectedly. Legend zombies crouch in dark places and only come out at night to feed. Dawn zombies haven't learned how to climb, but Legend zombies are great at climbing. Legend zombies will fight each other for food.
Compared to these zombies, Chinese zombies are another breed altogether. They are usually very pale and supposedly already dead. They hop, they don't walk, and they stick their arms out in front of them. If you are near a Chinese zombie, you have to hold your breath and they won't detect you. So they have wonderful CO2 sensors, apparently.
Okay enough gabbling about zombies. I am going to become my own special type of zombie now, complete with a snug pillow, blanket and bronco bear!
Thursday, January 17, 2008
A Depressing Yesterday
Yesterday I was under a black cloud for most of the day. I had a stomach bug after eating lunch and spent the better half of an hour white, pale-faced, sweaty in the bathroom after. Details are better off not discussed but suffice to say, I recovered to do battle yet another day.
Then I dragged my weak dehydrated self to the bed and dozed for an hour, with the intention of getting my strength back. I woke up somewhat later than anticipated and ended up going to the Chinatown Clinic later than anticipated as well. We were supposed to meet about 1/2 hour before clinic started. All along the way, I braced myself for being reamed by the attending physician. To my pleasant surprise, when I burst into the clinic and apologized profusely for being late, the doctor, normally with a reputation for being somewhat of a groucho marx, looked at me with a rather benevolent smile and just blew it off, saying, "That's okay."
I was working as a translator - well, thats mostly all I do there, translate for patients who walk in the door. I met yet another depressing case. This woman comes in. Her husband has stomach cancer and has been home for the past 2-3 years. She quit her job last October to take care of him. Their medical bills for chemotherapy and odds and ends were in the thousands. I had a feeling, before this is over, it would go into the tens of thousands. Both are not insured, and both were clearly not well off. I asked how they were getting by. The woman said her child, now 22, was working to support them. She became a bit teary eyed at that, thinking of how her child couldn't go to school because of the situation. I felt both terrible for her and ashamed of myself. I have had it so easy and I still go around feeling sorry for myself all the time. Sometimes I can truly see how tough life is and all things considering, life has been good to me, no, really really good to me...
Still, this realization didn't uplift me per se. It brought my mood down another notch. I also felt paradoxically that life is so meaningless too. They say that suffering means something, but for these wretched poorest of the poors, what added existential meaning does suffering bring to them? What lessons, or spiritual insights can they gain from this? They worry incessantly, I'm sure, about how to get by, how to not be sick, how to make ends meet, how to find their next meal, or ensure they have a roof over their heads. With all their energy tied up into worrying about such basic necessities, what spiritual value can their suffering have? I don't know the answer, but I do wonder.
Then I dragged my weak dehydrated self to the bed and dozed for an hour, with the intention of getting my strength back. I woke up somewhat later than anticipated and ended up going to the Chinatown Clinic later than anticipated as well. We were supposed to meet about 1/2 hour before clinic started. All along the way, I braced myself for being reamed by the attending physician. To my pleasant surprise, when I burst into the clinic and apologized profusely for being late, the doctor, normally with a reputation for being somewhat of a groucho marx, looked at me with a rather benevolent smile and just blew it off, saying, "That's okay."
I was working as a translator - well, thats mostly all I do there, translate for patients who walk in the door. I met yet another depressing case. This woman comes in. Her husband has stomach cancer and has been home for the past 2-3 years. She quit her job last October to take care of him. Their medical bills for chemotherapy and odds and ends were in the thousands. I had a feeling, before this is over, it would go into the tens of thousands. Both are not insured, and both were clearly not well off. I asked how they were getting by. The woman said her child, now 22, was working to support them. She became a bit teary eyed at that, thinking of how her child couldn't go to school because of the situation. I felt both terrible for her and ashamed of myself. I have had it so easy and I still go around feeling sorry for myself all the time. Sometimes I can truly see how tough life is and all things considering, life has been good to me, no, really really good to me...
Still, this realization didn't uplift me per se. It brought my mood down another notch. I also felt paradoxically that life is so meaningless too. They say that suffering means something, but for these wretched poorest of the poors, what added existential meaning does suffering bring to them? What lessons, or spiritual insights can they gain from this? They worry incessantly, I'm sure, about how to get by, how to not be sick, how to make ends meet, how to find their next meal, or ensure they have a roof over their heads. With all their energy tied up into worrying about such basic necessities, what spiritual value can their suffering have? I don't know the answer, but I do wonder.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Professional behavior extraordinaire
Today I had to go to the hospital, put on my little white coat, get all spiffed and starched up. So I was in a group of five classmates and we were given the task of interviewing a real patient. Easy peasy - we've done this more than a few times now and most of us are getting comfortable with the process. So we stride in, cocky future doctors all and before us sat this lanky man in a limp hospital gown. He had an overgrown beard peppered with gray. He looked at us with no expression but we each introduced ourselves and he shook our hands cordially.
As we gathered around him, he alone sat in a chair and we stood in front of him, in a circle in this weird ritualistic way. I cleared my throat and ventured first (the brave little pipsqueak that I am) and asked, "So what brought you into the hospital?"
He looked at me and said, "The Airforce."
"Oh?" I was befuddled.
One of my kind classmates chimed in, "Oh okay, so the airforce brought you in?"
The man mumbled, "MmmmHmm. The Airforce."
Another pipsqueak piped, "How long have you been in the hospital?"
"1974."
"Oh....Why are you here again?"
"1972."
"So you've been here since 1972. What are you here for?"
"The airforce." He looked at us amiably, calmly, patiently.
It was at this moment, or perhaps a second after, when the dawning realization came to each and every one of us, this man is COMPLETELY incoherent and possibly demented. A giggle started making its way from the depths of my belly. To my increasing horror, I knew it would erupt from my mouth if I didn't do something soon. With every ounce of self control I could muster, I froze the muscles of my face into a botox mask. I almost lost it again when I looked at him. I literally began turning red from the effort of trying not to laugh. We just stood there in silence then, not knowing what to say. My face felt freakishly hot.
I looked down at my shoes, I dug my nails into my hands, I twisted and retwisted my fingers. Then I stole a look at my classmates and I saw the early twitchings of a smile on everyone of them, all of them trying so damn hard not to giggle like little girls. It is a feeling like you're being tickled and you can't laugh, it was excruciating ladies and gentleman, I thought I would have an apoplexy from the effort of straining myself. Two agonizing minutes later, an internist rushes in all smiles and apologies and tells the guy thanks for his time and lets us scoot out of there. We all scurried out, eager to get out, sheepish about the whole business.
It turns out the guy has had some sort of blunt trauma accident and the frontal lobe of his brain had been removed. He basically had a lobotomy. Still bad bad emily! I kept yelling at myself that I should have had more empathy and professionalism. I became a blob that was about to burst at the seams and no white coat, no matter how well sewn, could have held me together if I had done that. Sigh, much to learn this one still.
As we gathered around him, he alone sat in a chair and we stood in front of him, in a circle in this weird ritualistic way. I cleared my throat and ventured first (the brave little pipsqueak that I am) and asked, "So what brought you into the hospital?"
He looked at me and said, "The Airforce."
"Oh?" I was befuddled.
One of my kind classmates chimed in, "Oh okay, so the airforce brought you in?"
The man mumbled, "MmmmHmm. The Airforce."
Another pipsqueak piped, "How long have you been in the hospital?"
"1974."
"Oh....Why are you here again?"
"1972."
"So you've been here since 1972. What are you here for?"
"The airforce." He looked at us amiably, calmly, patiently.
It was at this moment, or perhaps a second after, when the dawning realization came to each and every one of us, this man is COMPLETELY incoherent and possibly demented. A giggle started making its way from the depths of my belly. To my increasing horror, I knew it would erupt from my mouth if I didn't do something soon. With every ounce of self control I could muster, I froze the muscles of my face into a botox mask. I almost lost it again when I looked at him. I literally began turning red from the effort of trying not to laugh. We just stood there in silence then, not knowing what to say. My face felt freakishly hot.
I looked down at my shoes, I dug my nails into my hands, I twisted and retwisted my fingers. Then I stole a look at my classmates and I saw the early twitchings of a smile on everyone of them, all of them trying so damn hard not to giggle like little girls. It is a feeling like you're being tickled and you can't laugh, it was excruciating ladies and gentleman, I thought I would have an apoplexy from the effort of straining myself. Two agonizing minutes later, an internist rushes in all smiles and apologies and tells the guy thanks for his time and lets us scoot out of there. We all scurried out, eager to get out, sheepish about the whole business.
It turns out the guy has had some sort of blunt trauma accident and the frontal lobe of his brain had been removed. He basically had a lobotomy. Still bad bad emily! I kept yelling at myself that I should have had more empathy and professionalism. I became a blob that was about to burst at the seams and no white coat, no matter how well sewn, could have held me together if I had done that. Sigh, much to learn this one still.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Oh my eyes!
Last night I decided to do an experiment with me eyes by wearing an eye-patch on my right eye. You see, I have two eyes of vastly different temperaments. Right eye - very go-getter, very on top of things, competing to see everything first. Left eye - lazy, indolent, reliant on its stronger big brother to do the seeing, it just sits there and daydreams. I decided that left eye needs to work a little too, so I made right eye sit in the dark for a bit. It was super weird trying to read, let alone study, with one eye shut. I kept seeing, at the periphery of my vision, these pulsating bands of light. I think it was my left eye's spiteful little trick to protest.
A curious thing happened after that. Shortly after, I turned off the lights to my room to turn in for the night. The first thing I noticed was, a feeling like a curtain had just dropped over my left eye. Suddenly I had unbelievable night blindness from my left eye. To make sure I wasn't hallucinating - I alternated between my left and my right eyes. When I see with only my right eye, the room, even though dark, is like 5 shades lighter and crisper than my left eye. I felt panic rising because I thought I was losing my vision in my left eye.
I sat down on my bed and furiously massaged my eyes. Now get this paradox folks. I know to help my eyes, I have to relax them. But there's nothing like maniacally trying to relax your eyes while staving off a rising panicked feeling of gloom and doom. At one point, I even fancied that I was seeing different shades of color from each eye. Right eye - I see a bluish tint to everything. Left eye - I see a brownish tint to everything. Soon, my eyes equalized and I realize that, part of the problem was, momentarily, I was seeing BETTER with my right eye, and made my left eye seem all the weaker. Because, soon I was seeing a brownish tint from both eyes (now I was sitting in my room in pitch black while carrying this experiment out, hence the brownish look) and that's when I relaxed finally and told my silly self that I need to go to sleep.
I woke up this morning and to my relief, I seem to see okay as per my usual blind self. I do think though that I have to incorporate a system of training my left eye to see as good as my right, or else I become a physiological cyclops.
A curious thing happened after that. Shortly after, I turned off the lights to my room to turn in for the night. The first thing I noticed was, a feeling like a curtain had just dropped over my left eye. Suddenly I had unbelievable night blindness from my left eye. To make sure I wasn't hallucinating - I alternated between my left and my right eyes. When I see with only my right eye, the room, even though dark, is like 5 shades lighter and crisper than my left eye. I felt panic rising because I thought I was losing my vision in my left eye.
I sat down on my bed and furiously massaged my eyes. Now get this paradox folks. I know to help my eyes, I have to relax them. But there's nothing like maniacally trying to relax your eyes while staving off a rising panicked feeling of gloom and doom. At one point, I even fancied that I was seeing different shades of color from each eye. Right eye - I see a bluish tint to everything. Left eye - I see a brownish tint to everything. Soon, my eyes equalized and I realize that, part of the problem was, momentarily, I was seeing BETTER with my right eye, and made my left eye seem all the weaker. Because, soon I was seeing a brownish tint from both eyes (now I was sitting in my room in pitch black while carrying this experiment out, hence the brownish look) and that's when I relaxed finally and told my silly self that I need to go to sleep.
I woke up this morning and to my relief, I seem to see okay as per my usual blind self. I do think though that I have to incorporate a system of training my left eye to see as good as my right, or else I become a physiological cyclops.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Motivation
I would like to explore the topic of motivation. The way I see it, motivation is most effective when it is an unquestioned drive to reach a goal. Whatever your goal might be, you desire it enough to go to great lengths to achieve it. Therefore, your drive must be pure enough for that motivating force to be strong.
We all know what motivating forces typically are in this world: desire for wealth, status, to please those closest to us, to avoid failure, the pursuit of happiness. Is there one thing that encompasses everything else? Some would argue that everyone's penultimate goal is to achieve happiness, which all these other things are necessary stepping stones to.
While I'd argue that is not true, too many people before me have done that every same thing, so I don't want to rehash a very old and almost cliched idea. I'd like to argue in the opposite way. What if a person has reached the point where they no longer believe that wealth status and all those good material acheivements can bring you happiness? But since a person still aspires to happiness, what then is the motivating force to achieve?
For me, I have to admit that I still have a few "ties that bind." Meaning, I feel some pressure to achieve, not merely for my own sake (in fact, very infrequently for myself per se) but a desire to not disappoint those closest to me. Which, I'm told, is not exactly the best way to go about motivating yourself. Yet a part of me wonders, if those ties should break and I am liberated, what then will I become? Will I float away gently to the netherlands, unemcumbered and unweighed by neither drives nor ambitions or any singular passion to continue striving? Wow, if ever there is a junkie in the making, I think I have great potential to live in a cloud.
But that's the thing. I know it would never happen that way. My two feet are planted solidly enough on the ground and I have a solid network, social and otherwise, that keeps me grounded too. I also have a degree of status anxiety, much as I hate to admit it, and while I'm no Napoleon, I still desire to work hard enough to get that one slice of pie.
But back to my original question and it still remains: what then shall motivate us and drive us when we are no longer so "sure" that all paths hitherto to be thought to reach happiness will indeed get us there? Then perhaps, after struggling with this existential problem - we must each forge new meanings for ourselves on what defines happiness. And then we must still continue to strive for it. It is the human condition and without it, we are incomplete.
We all know what motivating forces typically are in this world: desire for wealth, status, to please those closest to us, to avoid failure, the pursuit of happiness. Is there one thing that encompasses everything else? Some would argue that everyone's penultimate goal is to achieve happiness, which all these other things are necessary stepping stones to.
While I'd argue that is not true, too many people before me have done that every same thing, so I don't want to rehash a very old and almost cliched idea. I'd like to argue in the opposite way. What if a person has reached the point where they no longer believe that wealth status and all those good material acheivements can bring you happiness? But since a person still aspires to happiness, what then is the motivating force to achieve?
For me, I have to admit that I still have a few "ties that bind." Meaning, I feel some pressure to achieve, not merely for my own sake (in fact, very infrequently for myself per se) but a desire to not disappoint those closest to me. Which, I'm told, is not exactly the best way to go about motivating yourself. Yet a part of me wonders, if those ties should break and I am liberated, what then will I become? Will I float away gently to the netherlands, unemcumbered and unweighed by neither drives nor ambitions or any singular passion to continue striving? Wow, if ever there is a junkie in the making, I think I have great potential to live in a cloud.
But that's the thing. I know it would never happen that way. My two feet are planted solidly enough on the ground and I have a solid network, social and otherwise, that keeps me grounded too. I also have a degree of status anxiety, much as I hate to admit it, and while I'm no Napoleon, I still desire to work hard enough to get that one slice of pie.
But back to my original question and it still remains: what then shall motivate us and drive us when we are no longer so "sure" that all paths hitherto to be thought to reach happiness will indeed get us there? Then perhaps, after struggling with this existential problem - we must each forge new meanings for ourselves on what defines happiness. And then we must still continue to strive for it. It is the human condition and without it, we are incomplete.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Portals
I was recently introduced to this new game that is mostly a series of puzzles. I approached this game rather gingerly in the beginning, awkward with the controls, nervous about the challenges. I suppose it's just a mental thing more than anything else. But once my brain was able to wrap its mind around the concept of portals, it became pretty fun. However when I played it last, I got a little nauseous from spinning around too quickly. I felt this way once when I played Quake back in college.
The game involves a series of challenges that you have to use portals in order to get through. There are certain tools at your disposal but you can't always get to them unless you manipulate the access. Now, I know I am no "lightning Steve McQueen" when it comes to solving the puzzles - but at my own pace, I do eventually get them. I think I'm five levels away from the final test.
In other news - I am so thrilled that Hillary got the New Hampshire primary!!! Way to go! The way I see it, Obama is a nice guy and all, but he's still a little young and green. He can afford to wait another four years, gain more experience, add more omph to his rhetoric. I won't mind having him as president, but ladies first, dude. A lot of people do not like Hillary but well, I am clearly not one of them. I am very interested in seeing what she has to offer as the first female president, and honestly, I have no doubt she would run this country as well as any man.
The game involves a series of challenges that you have to use portals in order to get through. There are certain tools at your disposal but you can't always get to them unless you manipulate the access. Now, I know I am no "lightning Steve McQueen" when it comes to solving the puzzles - but at my own pace, I do eventually get them. I think I'm five levels away from the final test.
In other news - I am so thrilled that Hillary got the New Hampshire primary!!! Way to go! The way I see it, Obama is a nice guy and all, but he's still a little young and green. He can afford to wait another four years, gain more experience, add more omph to his rhetoric. I won't mind having him as president, but ladies first, dude. A lot of people do not like Hillary but well, I am clearly not one of them. I am very interested in seeing what she has to offer as the first female president, and honestly, I have no doubt she would run this country as well as any man.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Getting Political
I watched the New Hampshire debates Saturday and it was obvious even to me, a complete idiot when it comes to politics, that Edwards had decided to join the good ol' boy's club and gang up on Hillary with Obama. It was almost a little sad because Hillary had attempted, a little lamely, at the very beginning to elicit Edwards' support to team up against Obama. Edwards very flatly rejected her entreaties and turned on her with a fair degree of viciousness and vigor. The look on Hillary's face at that moment was, maybe to my overwrought imagination, a barely contained seething. Yet she held her own against the two, coming across sharp, stinging, strong. She was getting political on their asses (I am Hillary, hear me roar)
Obama, because I have not heard him speak extensively until now, but have always heard good things about him, did not really impress me overly much. He was nice for the most part and did not attack anyone, he seemed to be very somberly listening to everyone's input and took everyone seriously. He seems afraid to show confidence and cockiness. Because of this, he was always very careful about what he says, but what he had to say was uninspiring. Still, he did come across as someone who is idealistic, nice, and decent at heart, it helps of course that he has a very symmetrical looking face that just APPEARS square and upfront and honest.
I also watched some of the republican debates and most of the guys there seemed to be more relaxed and spontaneous and ready to just jabber, gibberish most of the times, but still unafraid to mouth off. A lot of them ganged up on Romney, a thorough alpha male with a big square jaw and looks like American Dad with the same amount of "I am the shit) aura. I didn't like him very much either. All he wants to do apparently is to deport illegal immigrants, regardless of how impossible an undertaking it is and how futile this gesture is to the benefit of America. I would like to know how he plans to carry that out in reality because 12 million people and their families - you can't just uproot these people overnight, it's not only wrong, it's downright preposterous.
Giuliani carried a fair deal of weight, but I was introduced to a new guy I have never noticed before, Senator Paul. He's actually a sweet looking guy who likes to talk about economy. I liked him on a personal level but sadly, I feel like his chances of being elected nominee are slim if he's only resting on his winsome personality and cute in an old man kind of way looks. Certainly I like him more than the other Republicans but when it comes down to it, I still have a major soft spot for Hillary.
Obama, because I have not heard him speak extensively until now, but have always heard good things about him, did not really impress me overly much. He was nice for the most part and did not attack anyone, he seemed to be very somberly listening to everyone's input and took everyone seriously. He seems afraid to show confidence and cockiness. Because of this, he was always very careful about what he says, but what he had to say was uninspiring. Still, he did come across as someone who is idealistic, nice, and decent at heart, it helps of course that he has a very symmetrical looking face that just APPEARS square and upfront and honest.
I also watched some of the republican debates and most of the guys there seemed to be more relaxed and spontaneous and ready to just jabber, gibberish most of the times, but still unafraid to mouth off. A lot of them ganged up on Romney, a thorough alpha male with a big square jaw and looks like American Dad with the same amount of "I am the shit) aura. I didn't like him very much either. All he wants to do apparently is to deport illegal immigrants, regardless of how impossible an undertaking it is and how futile this gesture is to the benefit of America. I would like to know how he plans to carry that out in reality because 12 million people and their families - you can't just uproot these people overnight, it's not only wrong, it's downright preposterous.
Giuliani carried a fair deal of weight, but I was introduced to a new guy I have never noticed before, Senator Paul. He's actually a sweet looking guy who likes to talk about economy. I liked him on a personal level but sadly, I feel like his chances of being elected nominee are slim if he's only resting on his winsome personality and cute in an old man kind of way looks. Certainly I like him more than the other Republicans but when it comes down to it, I still have a major soft spot for Hillary.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
300
I finally got around to watching this film about Sparta. All those nice taut and tight bodies notwithstanding, I felt like half the time, I saw a lot of men snarling at a lot of other men. Actually the fight scenes in the film are nicely choreographed, but I thought the excessive beheading was a little lame. The captain's son gets beheaded, the big monster that has a perpetual snarl (most snarliest of all the snarls) was beheaded, and even one of Xerxes' generals was beheaded by some creature/human being? with large blades for arms. Where do they find these people?? The Asia portrayed in this film was exotic to the point of being a freakshow or traveling circus. All of this was feast for the eyes mind you but also raised some befuddlement and left me scratching my head.
The main guy, King Leonidas, he's got character and he reminds me of Hector. Up until his death, he was doing pretty well on the battlefield. But it seemed to me like after his failed attempt at killing Xerxes, he just gave up and assumed a sacrifical position (the crucifix position - a favorite with many filmmakers). I didn't understand why if they so easily dodged the first onslaught of arrows by assuming a Spartan military formation, shields up, covering left neighbor, they couldn't do that again the second time around, because most of the 300 died by arrows in the very end.
The Spartan code of warriordom is simple, brutal, but effective. They train for the military in almost the same way a monk trains to serve God. Life is simple, disciplined, pared down to the basics. A simple life leaves less room for doubt, even in the face of certain death. I would have liked to see some warriors actually show fear, as it would have been realistic but you can't help but admire a group of men who are so brainwashed as to become nearly invincible in their psyche.
The main guy, King Leonidas, he's got character and he reminds me of Hector. Up until his death, he was doing pretty well on the battlefield. But it seemed to me like after his failed attempt at killing Xerxes, he just gave up and assumed a sacrifical position (the crucifix position - a favorite with many filmmakers). I didn't understand why if they so easily dodged the first onslaught of arrows by assuming a Spartan military formation, shields up, covering left neighbor, they couldn't do that again the second time around, because most of the 300 died by arrows in the very end.
The Spartan code of warriordom is simple, brutal, but effective. They train for the military in almost the same way a monk trains to serve God. Life is simple, disciplined, pared down to the basics. A simple life leaves less room for doubt, even in the face of certain death. I would have liked to see some warriors actually show fear, as it would have been realistic but you can't help but admire a group of men who are so brainwashed as to become nearly invincible in their psyche.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Nana
Feeling bored last night, I scoured the internet for some amusement. First I went to Moorewatch, an anti-Michael Moore website that was mentioned in Sicko. I must say, this is a fascinating case in point of two people who sticks to the principles of things. One guy, who watches Moore's every move and criticizes him with zeal has apparently had some financial troubles and was likely to have to shut down his site because of it. Michael Moore sends him some money via anonymous donation. However later on, he tells the guy that he's the one who sent the money and the guy graciously thanks him of course and then with the new cash in hand, he proceeds to run his website bashing Michael Moore anyway. He's got a lot of enraged letters since, asking him how he could do it, but I think he's got a point that, the whole reason Moore sent him money in the first place is so that he could continue to exercise his right to free speech. Money shouldn't shut his mouth and put an end to it. From a principles standpoint, I can see why he does it. From a humanistic standpoint, I confess that it is difficult to comprehend. A guy takes another guy's money and then continues to badmouth him anyway. It's what it boils down to. I wonder if, despite all his principles, he will lose steam eventually.
Anyway, I began this post intending to talk about a Japanese film that I got hooked onto. It's called Nana and it's about two girls who are the same age and with the same name. They became friends under very coincidental occurences and though the two are as different as cats and dogs, somehow they become bonded through shared pain and mutual goodwill. I really liked the film because it is a simple one, but made with some heart. One girl is infectiously cheerful and bounds around like an eager puppy, hence her roommate calls her "Hachi" affectionately - apparently meaning "Doggie." The other one is cool, a bit insolent, very prideful but a decent girl all in all. She's one of those people who smolders under a surface of apparent calm, like a volcanoe, made all the more apt by her constant puffing on cigarettes.
I can't help but think that my roommate and I are somewhat similar to these two girls. Instead of having the same name though, we have the same or very same birthday and ethnicity. Yet we are very different animals, she and I. I think I am more girly than her, but she is more friendly than me. Still, I think as different as we are, we can still form a good understanding between us, at least, it's a work in progress.
Anyway, I began this post intending to talk about a Japanese film that I got hooked onto. It's called Nana and it's about two girls who are the same age and with the same name. They became friends under very coincidental occurences and though the two are as different as cats and dogs, somehow they become bonded through shared pain and mutual goodwill. I really liked the film because it is a simple one, but made with some heart. One girl is infectiously cheerful and bounds around like an eager puppy, hence her roommate calls her "Hachi" affectionately - apparently meaning "Doggie." The other one is cool, a bit insolent, very prideful but a decent girl all in all. She's one of those people who smolders under a surface of apparent calm, like a volcanoe, made all the more apt by her constant puffing on cigarettes.
I can't help but think that my roommate and I are somewhat similar to these two girls. Instead of having the same name though, we have the same or very same birthday and ethnicity. Yet we are very different animals, she and I. I think I am more girly than her, but she is more friendly than me. Still, I think as different as we are, we can still form a good understanding between us, at least, it's a work in progress.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
It's a new year once again
In the past I've always been inclined to make a big New Year resolutions list, celebrate the end of a year and the beginning of a new year with a decisive clink of the champagne glass, watch the ball drop, toast my loved ones. This year, 2007 slipped away quietly and 2008 glided in seamlessly. I went to bed around 11 PM and didn't even wait to greet the new year. I made no new resolutions and I didn't make a big to-do about celebrating its arrival. It's okay, I realize. I am not making any big decisions to turn my life around 180 degrees and become a new super powered emily. This year, I'm going to live through it as gracefully as I had let it arrive, quietly, steadily, softly. I don't want any big dramatic moments, but I do want a year of progressive steady developments, towards my career goals, towards my future life.
Last night I watched Sicko. It is a very humorous movie actually, lots of dry ironic wit Michael Moore style. Creative and acerbic and makes you go, "Yeah, why is that?" Jason keeps telling me it's biased and of course that is true, but I am glad he made this documentary anyway because it does highlight some glaring issues within our health system and why is it that a mere 30 some years go by and we are already accepting this as a fact of life, as something that is just how it is? We are reputedly the most powerful, the richest country in the world and this is how our citizens get by in life, this is what happens when one of our own gets sick? I am befuddled and I don't pretend I know what's wrong with the system and how it can even begin to be fixed, but I do think I owe it to myself to think more deeply about this issue because it is certainly going to involve me both on a personal level and a professional one as well.
Last night I watched Sicko. It is a very humorous movie actually, lots of dry ironic wit Michael Moore style. Creative and acerbic and makes you go, "Yeah, why is that?" Jason keeps telling me it's biased and of course that is true, but I am glad he made this documentary anyway because it does highlight some glaring issues within our health system and why is it that a mere 30 some years go by and we are already accepting this as a fact of life, as something that is just how it is? We are reputedly the most powerful, the richest country in the world and this is how our citizens get by in life, this is what happens when one of our own gets sick? I am befuddled and I don't pretend I know what's wrong with the system and how it can even begin to be fixed, but I do think I owe it to myself to think more deeply about this issue because it is certainly going to involve me both on a personal level and a professional one as well.
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