further proof that i date a nerd

Conversation via email between Emily and Jason.

J - I went to the casinos on Friday. I watched Derek play craps. And I lost $100... :-(

E - the more you go to the casinos, the more money you will ultimately lose.

J - I could have walked away with money. But the idiots at my table didn't know what the hell they were doing. I don't like N00bs.

E - don't blame other people for your own greed...  =P

J - Hey, me winning = more goodies for Emily.

E - fine.  jason losings = no goodies for emily either.

J - No, Jason losing = less goodies for Jason. The amount of Emily's goodies is only a function of Jason's winnings.
Emily's goodies = K + X*C

X = amount of Jason's winnings
C = percentage of winnings that goes to Emily
K = constant goodies Emily receive from Jason

Guess the song

I say, No no no no no no
and I say No no no no no no
You're not the one for me

special mention of scrubs episode

it's titled "His Story" and I really enjoyed it.

First, it's told through Dr. Cox's pov for once and gave us all a break from J.D. lovable dork that he is. It's downright hilarious at some moments, when you have the luxury of being Dr. Cox and seeing the world through his eyes.

Second, there's the story of Turk and Carla which has become really sweet. They are the real genuine article, the pair of them. I liked Carla's epiphany about commitment phobia and I sometimes wonder if they don't describe me as well. Hint: You might want to go watch this episode to understand me a bit better, imfu.

Third, it's genuinely sweet though, at the end of the episode, when Turk faces a possible new temptation but very quickly realizes what he truly wants. It's somewhat idealistic, somewhat romantic. Most guys don't have such a tour de clarity when it comes to relationships. Hell, most girls probably don't either.

I apologize

to a certain someone whom I tortured last night mercilessly while I spiralled into one of my existential crises and left him helplessly strangulated, choked on the gloom and doom that I expelled like car exhaust.

Sometimes you have to hit a low point, realize what this is all about and then slowly make your ascent once more.

I've said this before but I don't mind reiterating again. The truth is, everyday we have a choice. We can choose to mope and sulk and feel sorry for ourselves for problems, real or imagined, flaws, lacks, etc. We can also choose to focus on the positive. Which would be the better alternative? You don't have to be wicked smart to figure that one out...

Sometimes you have to let the darkness embrace you before you can appreciate the light again.

Actually, recently, I made an agreement with a friend that we will both try to think of one thing that we are thankful everyday. It's important to count our blessings. I think it's a good first step towards greater peace and fortitude and appreciation.

I guess part of what triggered the episode of this "acute glumness" is because I had a talk with my premed advisor at Penn. She made it pretty clear to me that it's still an uphill battle for me this year. It's not going to be easy and I can't expect everyone to welcome me to their school with open arms. Which is also to say that I should probably apply to more schools than I already have, to be on the safe side... Still, her last words to me were nonetheless, "stay focused, stay positive." After all, what else can I do?

Frances and Jason's Visit to DC

This past weekend Jason came to visit, also bringing Frances. It was good to see Frances again, after a long hiatus. She’s always interesting to talk to and she likes to ask thoughtful, occasionally jarring questions. At least talking with her makes me think harder about stuff. Jason…well Jason was just being Jason. At one point, he became a duck and started quacking nonstop at the lunch table because he saw it on Scrubs. We watched a lot of Scrubs this past weekend. It was a Scrubs themed weekend.

Highlights of the trip – going rock climbing AGAIN at Galyans/Dick’s. The guy who worked there that time looked like Scott Bailey Wolf, cute boy. A bit young for me though. I tried the next hardest route after the beginner one. I couldn’t make it to the very top. Frances is so athletic. She breezed through the same course. Jason wasn’t able to make it to the very top either. So essentially Frances kicked both our butts.

Another highlight was playing tennis after they left. I am starting lessons with a friend of my parents’. He’s very good. He has given me some good pointers. He told me that I have some power in my swings, but I need to work on control and consistency. Also, I tend to run away from the ball and thus making it difficult for me to hit the ball at the “sweet spot”. Tennis is starting to grow on me. I really enjoy and respect the sport. I guess I have my sweetie to thank for introducing the sport to me in the first place.

Oh yeah, we went to see Miami Vice Friday night. Wow, sexy Gong Li really heated up the screen with a retro-werewolfy Colin Farrell. Gong Li is probably pushing 40 at least, but she has aged really well. Aside from the love interest and some gruesome scenes of violence, the movie was only decent. Both Frances and I liked it for the hotness of the male lead more than anything else.

Morning musings et al.

Today while driving to work, I was listening to the song "Heal the world" by Michael Jackson. As I was singing joyfully to the lyrics, "Heal the world....make it a better place....for you and for me and the entire human race...." I was also simultaneously hellbent on tailgating the car in front of me so that the jerk in the white car in the next lane can't cut me off again as he had done about 15 seconds ago. I just had to chuckle at the oxymoronic moment.

Last night I went to a great tapas place with two friends. I parked at a 1 hr meter and thought I would remember to come back and drop more quarters. What a dolt I was. Of course the police that happened to be patrolling the area had to be super on top of things that night and hence ended up fining me $35 for an expired meter. Next time, remind me to just park my car in a garage, pay a little extra and not worry about the stupid meter running out? It's such a terrible ripoff.

Dinner was pretty good though. I had dinner with a girl that I had met at the retreat in May. She's an interesting person to talk to. Her background and experiences were all so very different from mine. I had the distinct feeling that even though she's the same age as me, she's way more experienced in life and in her dealings with people. The other thing she really loves to do is to travel. She's a fearless traveler and often go on long trips all by herself. Compared to her, i really feel like the domesticated little cat that never strays too far from home and food and comfort. Haha. My other friend, whom I met through Church, also came out and hung out. She's always very nice and pleasant to hang out with.

Jason and another friend, Frances are coming to town this weekend. I am still racking my brains to figure out how to entertain them. I've already done the kayaking, so I'm not too excited about trying it again. Maybe we will go to DC and do something. Maybe we can play tennis.

My presentation yesterday went well. I was nervous for about 5 seconds. Then I just relaxed. However, my heart kind of sank when one of the scientists asked me a question. I hate not knowing answers.

Addendum to previous post

So it's now 12:16 AM and I'm working on my Wed presentation with powerpoint. The one caveat to this is that I get to play with different features of powerpoint. Can I just gush for a second? I just LOVE love LOVE the animation feature. It is so fun to create a little movie of how the experiment went. I realize that it's no accident that I love films and that I thought seriously of becoming a film director at one point. It's because I love the creative process of making animation. I know this is a dorky thing to admit, but I was really very pleased with making even such a simple, bland office schematic animation. I almost clapped my hands. Okay I did, because I thought it was so nifty. Jason, I know you are probably groaning. What a dorkster of a gf eh?

Oh well, if you know me, it's hard for me to get excited about too many things in life. One would be finding a great bargain while shopping. The other would be making animated shorts. (i'll leave the rest to your imagination, but try not to dwell too long in the gutter)

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.

The Break-up

Last night Olivia and I went out and watched The Break-up. She was in town for business in the bustling metropolis of Reston, VA. It was good to hang out with her again.

The Break-up, overall, was a very realistic movie. Jennifer Aniston is good in the movie because she makes the story seem so accessible. Perhaps it's good acting. Perhaps it's just because she doesn't really have to act, she just had to be herself. Whatever the reason, I must say that the movie was actually rather unpleasant to watch. It was unpleasant because it really portrays the ugliness of a breakup, the aftermath where people are angry and bitter with each other and hurting inside. I also thought that once a couple breaks up, it's always particularly sad when they try again to be nice to each other, making lame jokes to lighten the atmosphere, saying things to be "helpful" when clearly, nothing will be the same again. I think my ideal breakup would be to just say Goodbye to my sig other and then turn the other way and get the hell out of there. No messiness. No chances for accusations, finger pointing, rehashes, tears, wringing of hands, bitter acrimonious name calling even. Maybe I'm just an escapist and I don't want to have to face horrible realities.

At the end of the movie, the two run into each other randomly on the street. They have obviously moved on with their lives and are over each other. In truth, they don't even harbor too much resentment against each other and they still care. So their chance meeting was a good one, with both of them being okay. On the other hand, when you chat with an Ex and you ask them how things are going, and they gush things like, It's going SO well, everything's SO great!. I don't know, maybe once the relationship is over, you lose a significant portion of your trust for that person. So it's hard to believe that person. In my experience, I have a hard time really believing anyone's life is so frickin fabulous all the time, as is clearly insisted by some people. At least I can take consolation in the fact that I don't ever try to dress up my life in the vain hopes of appearing better than I really am. I'm just such a square, after all.

Let's take a vote

While I can concede that name calling is in general not good form, I would like to ask this following question.

Is calling a guy Bastard as bad as calling a girl Bitch?

I personally think the latter is much worse and is misogynistic. However, I do admit that in the past, I have called guys bastard mostly in a joking manner. I don't even honestly think that if I were truly pissed off at someone and called him a "bastard" that it would be a strong enough put down. However, calling someone a Bitch is usually strong enough on its own as a real insult. Therefore, in my mind at least, the two are vastly different and serve different purposes in our everyday lexicon.

Furthermore, the dictionary terms are as follows:

bastard:
A child born out of wedlock.
Something that is of irregular, inferior, or dubious origin.
Slang. A person, especially one who is held to be mean or disagreeable

bitch
A female canine animal, especially a dog.
Offensive.
A woman considered to be spiteful or overbearing. A lewd woman.
A man considered to be weak or contemptible.
Slang. A complaint.
Slang. Something very unpleasant or difficult.

I will also concede that my opinion may be biased due to gender, however I am truly trying to analyze this question objectively.

Monsoon in DC

Lately it's been a lot like the tropics here in DC. Rain comes down hard and heavy for long stretches of time. I feel like I am in Myamar (at least according to one movie I watched)

It's kind of fun to stare at how fast the rain comes down. It's so powerful, almost angry. It would be no fun to be caught in the downpour though. Although looking out the window, we saw a few people caught in the rain. We laughed at them in a good natured mean spirited way. Is that an oxymoron?

Today I have had to grow cells repeatedly owing to technical difficulties. This is the third time I'm doing this and I sincerely hope, the last today.

It's raining too hard today and I probably won't get to play tennis. Too bad.... =(

Yoming and Dave came to town

It was fun talking and hanging out with them again. It felt like old times back in NYC when I hung out with them happily as the third wheel. We chatted as usual about deep consuming thoughtful topics such as hot guys, being attracted to someone who is not your significant other, etc.

Yoming was complaining how everyone sees her as so young. I feel that overall, it's not such a bad complaint to have. Most women will probably be very happy to have that "problem."

Dave was his typical self. He went to the bookstore and read Brokeback Mountain while he waited for us incorrigible shoppers to finish. We teased him that he was very comfortable with his masculinity because most guys won't be caught within 1500 feet of the movie or the book. I wonder if most people realize that a phobia, no matter what type, is really a mental disease?

Seminar on Inter-Sex Humans

I just attended an interesting topical seminar on what is traditionally known as hermaphrodites or individuals who fall into the nether region of being neither male or female. The historian scholar cum LGBT rights activist gave an entertaining talk on how traditional medicine viewed these people with a critical and judgmental eye. It has actually happened in the past that when a baby "boy" was born with a penis significantly smaller than average, surgeons would remove the offendingly small member and pronounce the baby a girl. Similarly, if a baby "girl" was born with an oversized clitoris, that too was removed. People get very nervous with boundaries are blurred and nice neat categories can not be established.

The speaker is now very much involved with individuals with gender issues, whether biologically derived or not. She also champions their rights and tries to enlighten health practitioners on the best way to deal with such individuals. It is no longer acceptable, she believes, to try and just pick one gender or another for the intersexual being and then surgically try to mold that person into that particular gender. To back up her claims, she gave some tragic examples of people ultimately committing suicide to escape the pain of feeling as if they were inferior due to their ambiguous sexual characteristics. More understanding, more communication and more sensitivity need to be applied when dealing with such complex issues.

I enjoyed the talk for the most part and it got me to think somewhat about my own ideas of gender. It seems that I have never truly questioned that I was a female and a girl and although I despise certain aspects of being a girl, I have more or less accepted it without too much internal agony. How much of my perceived gender and idea of self was nature? How much was nurture? If it is true and that on a biological spectrum of gender, with most of the people falling more or less in between the spectrum from being ultra female to being ultra male, where do I fall? Was I at one point more androgynous and only progressed towards being the girly girl that I am through years of being told (aka brainwashed) that I am a girl and I have to understand the roles that come with being a girl?

What if egads, I was born as a boy but with a small penis? And it was cut off? And now I think of myself as a girl without understanding my true origins?

Funny story - a person who by all accounts was a woman went to the doctor complaining of hernia. When the doctor opened her up, they discovered, not a hernia, but a pair of testes growing inside of her. They removed them promptly but thereafter decided that she is really a male. They pronounced her a homosexual pseudo-hermaphrodite because she was attracted only to males.

Where is the Juice?

Someone tell me how to become more energized.

1. Sleep more. Check. (7-8 hrs on avg.)
2. Eat more. Check. (I'm one of the biggest eaters I know)
3. Exercise. Semi check. (I exercise at least once a week, if not more)
4. Decongest my nose? Perhaps that's the key. Have more oxygen saturation in my blood. What a concept. I should take my zyrtec-D religiously from now on.
5. Have fun. Yeah, I remember having lots of energy when I went out to play. I guess the idea of work though, and all the accompanying drudgery has a way of sucking out the energy.
6. Get naughty. Hehe...
7. Take vitamins. What a drag....
8. Hm what else what else? Someone help me I need more energy in my system. Perhaps I should take up Tai chi.

The Big Score

I got my big score back yesterday! Suffice to say that I'm grateful for having made it over a certain number at least. I know my score is no wowser. It's not going to knock the socks off anyone. Yet I think my score is solid enough to demonstrate that I have what it takes to be in med school! =)

On to other news...

Yesterday after work I went to play tennis. Someone much much better than me has graciously offered to give me some lessons. He said I was pretty good! After being much abused by a certain someone else (whose name shall not be revealed) I'm very gratified to be told that I am quite above average for a beginner.

It's amazing too. Once he showed me a few tricks regarding how to hold the ball, I began to play so much better. There was more control in my strokes and I was able to keep up a decent volley. So anyway, I'm glad I went and hopefully I'll continue. I think I can make tennis a lifelong hobby. I see people in their 50's and 60's playing. I still have a good forty years to go.

Viola and Olivia came to town

This past weekend, two of my gal friends came to play. They arrived in DC late Friday night and earnest Emily was waiting for their call, what do the girls do? They shopped! They saw a sale at Benetton's and like a moth drawn to the fire, the two were lured into the store by potential bargain finds. 45 minutes later, they reluctantly boarded the metro to head over to Rockville, suburbia Maryland.

The next day, bright and early, we headed off to Viriginia and kayaked. It was my first time. We had a world class champion kayaker named John join us for the day's festivities. The kayaks sat very low on the water and were very stable. I really enjoyed propelling myself forward, although at times it was somewhat tiring. Also, Viola aka Jaws came bearing down me a couple of times, threatening with an evil grin to throw me into the water I had to use my paddle several times to push her away to avoid a collision. She was scary.

We saw a large bird, a blue herring. We also saw a beaver dam but no beavers. I sweated alot within my PFD (personal floatation device - a cool name for a lifejacket).

After kayaking, we had a sumptious lunch at a Thai place and then went shopping for the rest of the blissful afternoon. We all bought different variations of the same skirt at one store. Olivia had some good finds that day.

Sunday, we went rock climbing at Dick's. I made it all the way up to the top! For my efforts, I was rewarded a Rock On sticker. Viola and Olivia were pretty good for their first try. They made it about halfway up, with little effort, but then I think they got a bit scared. Viola especially was like a monkey at first, scampering up the wall with incredible ease. I was mucho impressed.

Anyhoo...I had a great weekend. Hope we get to do this again sometime!

I can sing!

Today I mastered a song. It's called Do Re Mi. I don't know how it ends because the song loops in on itself. So once I start singing this song, I can't seem to stop. But I can say that I wasn't half bad, for someone who was always musically challenged. =D

It goes like this:

Do, a deer, a female deer
Ray, a drop of golden sun
Mi, a name I call myself
Fa, a long long way to run!

So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note that follows So
Ti, I drink with gingham bread
and that brings us back to DO OH OH OH...

Do, a deer, a female deer...

You see how you can't really end this song? It goes on forever. But it was very entertaining bellowing the song at the top of my puny lungs as I sped down the freeway today. All the cars parted to let me through. There was no traffic today! I wonder why....?

At some point

one has to be true to herself and understand her limitations.

There are people out there who seem to do it all. They can live on four hours of sleep a day, eat like a mouse, and accomplish such grandiose achievements like publish a book, start a company, run a marathon, feed hungry children, travel throughout Africa, volunteer at a clinic, etc. etc.

I am not one of those people. I understand my limitations. Sigh.. yeah, I know, that's not much consolation to me either.

Oldies

As I was driving to work today, I was listening to some oldie love songs. These are songs from the 60’s. They’re surprisingly good. The lyrics are simple and clever, but at the same time, they capture a poignancy that many pop songs today simply lack.

One song “Tennessee Waltz” is about how a woman loses her love to another friend during this waltz. She was dancing with her lover to the music when they run into a friend of hers. Her friend cut in on them and began dancing with her lover. And that’s when she knows that she has lost him forever.

Another song is called “Dear John” a soldier, so happy because the war was over and he was able to go home at last. Then he gets a letter and it starts with “Dear John, it pains me to say that I have lost my love for you. Today I wed another.”

Yet another love song has a woman singing that she was attending an ex’s wedding. She sees him stride down the aisle, with a smile, in his dashing manliness (okay that line was cheesy). Then she sings, “Your mother was cryin’. Your father was crying’. And I was too./ The tears were falling because we were losing you./I say goodbye to my happiness” Okay that’s all I can remember of the exact lines, but the song is very good. Catchy but sad at the same time.

Many old songs deal with loss, change of heart, feelings that were once there but no more. I wonder…most of the people who wrote these songs are now in their old age. Does that change anything at all? When you look back on your life and all the people you may have come across and then lost, what extra wisdom does old age bring? Does it bring relief from sorrows? Does the knowledge of impending end bring relief, freedom, or does it in fact add to the sorrow, the feeling of having lost something irreparably and that you must carry that regret and pain to your grave?

Father's Day Gift Ideas

Father's Day is coming up and since I've been kind of a grouchy daughter, I think I should try to make it extra nice to make up for my snappish moods recently...

Here's a list of ideas I came up with.

1. Tennis racquet - so I can go play tennis with Dad sometime
2. Burning some of my favorite music CD's
3. Print out some of Dad's latest pictures and put together a photo album for him
4. Buy Laputa and Wallace & Gromit DVD and Shrek 1 & 2 - Dad likes animated films
5. Something to do with writing because Dad likes writing articles
6. Magnet of a dog bopping head plus any number of "bodies" to pop on the head. You could put a dog head on a firefighter or a doctor's figurine body. I think my Dad will like this. He likes dogs and he likes little knicknacks.

Not a comprehensive list by any means. I want to try to be more creative this year though. No ties, no stupid golf-themed gadgets, no shirts, no "manly man" tools and gizmos, I am always very disappointed by what the stores have to offer in terms of Father's Day gifts.

Scrubs

Perhaps in a lamo effort to gain some medical insights and inspirations for my essay, I have begun watching Scrubs.

This show, more than any that I could recall, has made me laugh out loud. I like how they don't go for the easy points and therefore the flat humor. They always try to throw something unexpected at you. Dr. Cox, of course, is pure genius. His groucho act is one that I suspect can be sustained for a long time to come. But he’s a skilled enough actor to make you like him without becoming a sentimental rag.

JD or Zach – I think this role was made for him. That’s how well he has come to dominate the character of JD. I also like how he’s this goofy character who wants to be seen as cool and on top of the game, but everyone likes him precisely because he’s such a dork. Love thy dorkiness, for it can be a strength.

Elliot (Sarah Chalke aka Roseanne daughter #1) she’s funny but her neurotic act can get a bit tiresome. It’s probably not entirely her fault as that’s just the way her character is. But she definitely has her moments of glory.

Turk, he’s solid. I think his teeth are a bit messed up so they’re somewhat distracting. A jarring juxtaposition to an otherwise cute, affable face. But he’s got smooth dance moves and has the energy of a bunny on speed. I like Turk.

The janitor sort of creeps me out. I liked his little soliloquys, but overall he’s just this menacing character that pops in and out of scenes. I’m sure he’s got a real fan base or they wouldn’t have kept him on episode after episode. The bonus program informs us that his part is almost never written or scripted, that he ad-libs most of his lines. If that is so, that’s pretty cool I guess. Even though he looks like a dunce, he’s definitely not empty up there. I admire people who quip well, it takes a spontaneity that I wish I had more of. Maybe I should take up my improv classes again.

Anyway, I’m just working my way through Season I. I know there’s lots more to go through. I hope every season is as fun as the first one.

More childhood adventures

A small, lanky girl lay stretched out on a bed, hands splayed, legs straight, too afraid to move, almost too afraid to breathe. From head to toe, she was covered with two-inch long slender needles inserted into her meridian points. She only breathed a little easier when the doctor finally left the room, signifying the end of the needle applications. I was that girl.

At eight years old, I underwent a traditional Chinese medicinal treatment. For several years and more often than I cared to, I was stretched out on the couch, holding a wad of tissue to my nose, and laying a cold compress on my forehead, requisite care for a bleeding nose. I had a nose-bleeding problem.

For one whole week, twice a day, I went to a renowned acupuncturist and received acupuncture. In between the treatments, I had to drink an extremely bitter herbal medicine, brewed to a shiny, viscous black beverage. It was a painful week for a child.

Yet, to my own amazement, my nose-bleeding stopped after that week and to this day, has never recurred. As far as I can tell, the acupuncture treatment was amazingly effective. While I can not say that I enjoyed my acupuncturing experience, I have developed a newfound respect for this ancient practice ever since.

Achy bones

I went to dance class on Monday and joyfully pounded my feet to the music for about 45 minutes. Result? I'm limping around two days after, feeling sore all over. When did I become so rickety? I'm like a decrepit, aging American car teeter tottering on its last legs.

Not only that, but I feel like my body needs so much sleep. I don't understand how I can go to bed at 12 and still be struggling to wake up 8 hours later?!? Am I regressing to infanthood again? Will I soon be sucking my thumb and crawling around on all fours?

I wish I knew the source of my lethargy. Maybe I have too many anxieties battling for my attention right now and I quelch them all by burrowing into my pillow and zooming into Emily wonderland. Ahh, escapism. To sleep and perchance to dream! Shakespeare, he's a good man.

If I had more guts...

this would be the essay I'd write to med school.

The Ultimate AMCAS Essay by Daniel Guttman

I felt fortunate to awaken from my weeks-long life-threatening coma in the Zimbabwe orphanage in which I was raised from infancy, until I realized the building was ablaze. After evacuating all the inhabitants including any stray insects who were drawn to the flames, I doused the fire with a water pump I had improvised from an old accordion bellows (on which I often played Bach fugues a la Albert Schweitzer) and a bamboo-like plant I had discovered in the jungle. I named the plant Medusa Abandona after my now forgiven American born mother, who forsook me in my cradle, only after it turned out to be an unknown genus and promised to have exciting anti-cancer medicinal qualities as well. When I was convinced that everyone in the orphanage was safe, I escaped the holocaust in the solar powered wheel chair I had developed to give myself more mobility after the unfortunate accident I had as a child, breaking my seventh vertebra while wrestling a lion that had terrorized the village.

When I was seven, the only doctor within a 300 mile radius took me under his wing. I shadowed him for ten years, which was quite difficult when you consider the dense jungle foliage and lack of sunlight at ground level. The fact that he was a witch doctor should in no way denigrate his skills nor the efficacy of his spells. If you accept me into your next medical class, I intend to teach my fellow students a series of hexes that will eliminate the need for Viagra, Allegra, Grecian Formula and Formula 409.

Most of my adolescence I spent draining swamps, eliminating mosquitoes and generally reducing the malarial plague in three contiguous countries in equatorial Africa. It was only after saving the lives of ten's of thousands of people that I decided to become a doctor in hope that over the course of my career I might be able to save just a few more. The journey to medicine was difficult. It was a choice between being a doctor and being a shoemaker, but after I taught everyone in my village how to make their own shoes there was no need to pursue this noble profession.

Harvard was reluctant to let me go after I got straight "A"s as the first graduate in their new correspondence bachelors degree program but with five majors and 12 books to my credit they finally acknowledged (see attached letter) that they had nothing left to teach me. My economics honors thesis was entitled "Grade Inflation at Harvard: The Great Hoax."

Given my academic prowess, imagine then how mortified I was to receive only a 44 aggregate AMCAS score. Those of you at AMCAS reading this, who may have contributed to writing the April exam, should be ashamed of yourselves. In the passage on "Halitosis" you referred to the sufferer as having "bad breadth". The patient could certainly be circumferentially challenged but I assumed a typo had been committed and that you meant he had "bad breath" and answered accordingly. My fellow hapless examinees' incorrect answers to question 39 should be stricken and the exam be recalibrated accordingly.

In short, becoming a doctor may seem humdrum and a come down compared to my life so far, but I am willing to unlearn a few things so I won't be so far ahead of my fellow medical classmates. And don't worry about my disability; I can still perform an angioplasty and thread several needles while doing 500 one-armed finger pushups.

This essay was written by Daniel Guttman, a long-suffering parent of a medical school applicant, and is reprinted here with his permission. He is also the proud father and creator of Cartoonjazz.com which has some of the best medical, educational and other downright hilarious cartoons this side of the funny papers. They make great gifts for graduates, would be graduates and slackers as well for anyone who knows or has ever heard of the above. Go to cartoonjazz.com and enjoy or call 732-283-8700 and kvell.

A happy childhood memory

So I was just whining (per usual) to my boyfriend about how stressed out I am about writing my application essay. And my precocious boyfriend responds with (what else?) "Why don't you become a doll fashion designer?"

Yes, non sequitur conversations practically are the essence of our relationship.

But as I thought more about it, I realize that designing doll clothes really is a lot of fun. I remember as a girl, I was about 9, my grandmother used to spend summers at our house and would keep my sister and me company. She was already in her 60's but she kept up with us with amazing vigor. She would play badminton with us, she taught my sister how to ride a bike (maybe she taught me too, but my sister was somewhat slower to pick it up than me) and we often took long walks in the park. On some days, we took a rolling suitcase with us and ambled to the public library to stock up on books. My grandma also liked to make zhong zi for us and other sweets. She was very conscientious about taking care of us and always nagged us to cover up our abdomens, so as to not "catch a cold drift." Curiously enough, whenever I didn't heed her advice and let my stomach be exposed to wind, I would shortly get a stomach-ache. It is still true today. Psycho-somatic or true Chinese pearls of wisdom? I still don't know.

On rainy days, Grandma would sit with us and help us sew clothes for our poor barbie dolls. Since we were not a rich family, my mom couldn't exactly afford to buy barbie houses and loads of barbie clothes. But we were still lucky enough. We were never deprived. We at least did have barbies. I remember that she'd, being a Grandmother, would sew very old-fashioned, stodgy clothes like a green vest and knee length shorts. Practical as ever, she figured her duty was done if she saw these dolls get clothed, looking good was another matter. Sometimes her eyesight would fail her and she would ask me or my sister to put the thread through the eye of the needle for her. It was always so easy for me, and it was hard to understand why it was difficult for her. I chalked it up to the fact that she was just old.

At night, sometimes we would watch Chinese soap operas. I remember Grandma had a habit of using the toothpick to pick her teeth after meal times. I don't think she was overly conscientious about dental hygiene otherwise, but she had really good strong teeth and never had to get dentures.

I also remember when Grandma sometimes laughed, and she doesn't laugh often, she would laugh until she teared up, her face collapsed in helpless giggles. She was always very soft to the touch and I liked grabbing her arm and then telling her, Grandma, how come your skin is so soft? She always seemed pleased and smiled and said, I don't know. Just because. I now realize that old age has made her muscles deteriorate until her flesh became soft and pliant. But despite her age, she remained very smooth and wrinkle-free. She had dark skin, but it was very good skin. I like to think that I have inherited some of that from her.

Now that I think back, Grandma was really very active and versatile for her age. Before the onset of a painful disc inflammation in her spine, she was always up and about and kept up with us kids with relative ease. She would stay up with me during the time when I was beset by coughing for a good two weeks. It always came on at night and would keep me up for hours. It was so painful. I went to see every pediatrician in the county. My grandma would help take care of me during those horrible nights and worried as much as my parents, if not more. Later when she had her disc inflammation, she was immobilized and bed-ridden. We were too young to do much but we tried to help, patting her with our ineffectual fists, trying to massage her pain away. She always told us that it helped, even though it may be more to ease us. She was in so much pain, she couldn't walk. We took her to California to have acupuncture done. While there, I was also forced to undergo acupuncture for the treatment of my nosebleeding. It was a very nightmarish week, but being the brave little girl that I was, I always got a lollipop after each acupuncture session.

Wow, talk about stream of consciousness. I have to admit that I haven't thought about these memories in a long time now. But I am still very grateful for having lived through them and having been loved by my Grandmother so fiercely, so protectively.

A mini-vacation at Messiah College, PA

This past Memorial Day weekend, I was away essentially at Bible Camp. It was a lot of fun actually, probably because I was dragging my feet at first and not expecting to enjoy myself there. The retreat was located at Messiah College somewhere in PA. Don't bother asking me where, I don't pay attention to such trivial details. My parents, me and a family friend packed and loaded the car on Saturday morning and arrived at the campus just in time for LUNCH. Over the course of the several days, I felt like the meals were nonstop. We were constantly feeding. I think I must have gained some weight, bringing back fond memories of college mess halls and the fab freshman 15.

I think for what it's worth, the retreat has served its purpose for me in that it has reawakened a desire in me to understand God more. I think it's only fair that if I want to persist as I am now, a lukewarm, kinda am, kinda not Christian, I should know why I'm being lukewarm and what it is I'm being lukewarm about. I don't know if I will ever becoming one of those Bible-thumping Christians who sing Glory Hallelujah to God every time some small thing occurs. (Sale at CVS on my favorite shampoo? Praise the Lord!) I just don't think I have it in me to be that effusive, about anything.

However I do hope that maybe I can become more serious and grounded in my faith. The least I could do for myself is to figure out once and for all where I stand in it. I should stop straddling the fence.

I also got to meet some new people and hang out with some old Church friends. It was very interesting because everywhere you turned for several days, all you see were Asians. Yet it was not Asia, because most of them spoke English. So it was an alternate reality for me and it felt surreal. I think the best vacations completely take you out of your everyday routine and let you live an alternate world for awhile. That's the true essence of "getting away."

Mushy Gushy Me

Yesterday was my birthday and there were two pleasant surprises. First, I realize that I’m not at all unhappy about my birthday. I’m not moaning and groaning about being one year older and losing one more year of my youth. I was genuinely happy that it was my birthday. Gosh, when was the last time I felt this way? Probably when I turned 16. Since then, I have treated all my birthdays with a blasé attitude, almost a sorrowful farewell to my youth as it becomes more and more distant. But yesterday’s birthday, I was actually very happy. That happiness is not easily explainable. Maybe I just realize that I have a lot to be grateful for in life and maybe it finally means I’ve matured emotionally.

Second pleasant surprise, Mom gave me a big fat kiss on my birthday. I was surprised by my mom’s effusiveness, as she and I are usually not always so physically demonstrative. But maybe that kiss reminded me how truly, deeply I am loved. Really, I am a very lucky girl and I know it. =)

Happy Birthday to Yu Yu

I read this book recently that was not too good nor too bad. The overall flavor of the book was bland. But the book served as a good cautionary tale. The story starts out with these girls in their giggly, early 20's, fresh out of college and in their first jobs.

One of the girls is a Samantha like character, sleeping wildly with anyone she cares to, because she's so attractive and is able to get men too easily for her own good.

The other two girls are plainer but still attractive, both of whom got involved with older, successful but married men.

A few more chapters down the road, the girls are in their late 20's. One of the men divorced his wife and proposed to the one girl. They got married and their lives played out in a fairy tale fashion over the next long years.

The other girl's man was not such an honest Abe. He promises her he will divorce his wife eventually, he keeps dangling the carrot in front of her. They stay together...five...ten...fifteen years. At the 10th year point, she got tired of waiting for him and started seeing this other guy closer to her age. He didn't work out. Eventually she went back to the first guy, as the dutiful mistress. You know when they finally got married?? WHEN SHE WAS 60.

This book, although not great by any measure, nevertheless really hones in a very important concept. Life can happen so quickly. Don't waste it waiting for someone to get their act together. Don't waste it pining away for one man or woman. You have to take your life into your own hands. So maybe for the girl that wedded at 60, she feels the wait was worth it. I don't know, but I can tell you that my eyebrows are raised pretty high about that.

I am 27 today. Happy Birthday to me!

My encounter with the angry female cop

I just had the privilege of speaking with a female cop with an amazingly bad attitude. She was rude, impatient, and angry. She refused or was incapable of comprehending a very simple fact (I'll get to that in a minute)

So we put her on speakerphone as my aunt could listen while I report her stolen vehicle. The cop first of all started asking for my aunt's name and then proceeded to ask for her phone number and address OR so I thought. So I dutifully gave her all the information and then proceeded to tell her where the car was last seen. Just as I said, "The car was last seen at Montgomery Mall..." she cut me off and goes, "Wait, you told me the car was at your home, on your DRIVEWAY."

HUH? When the hell did she ask me about a driveway??

So, still under the illusion that we are communicating here, I protested saying, "No, no, the car was stolen at the mall. I simply thought you were asking for the primary residence of my aunt." She started to make a BIG deal about how she specifically asked me where the car was and I specifically told her that it was last seen on my driveway. I protested again and said as loudly as I could, "I did NOT hear you ask me that question and if you thought I did, I'm sorry, because I simply misunderstood you." She said sharply, "Put your aunt on the phone. I want to speak with her." and she proceeded to say to my aunt (now she was on speakerphone remember), "YOUR niece told me that it was on your driveway until it was stolen." I practically yelled at her, "NO!! I DID NOT SAY THAT! I NEVER HEARD YOU ASK ME WHERE THE CAR WAS LAST SEEN." Really, how many times do I need to say the same exact thing? How much clearer could I be?

So she finally said, "Am I on speakerphone? Can you NOT speak to me on speaker please?" with a very hostile, snotty voice. I really almost said, "Fuck you asshole, it's not my fault you think you have a shitty job and a shitty life." Why can't she let go of the fact that we simply misheard her? Or that she herself was not clear?

Instead, being the loser that I was, I switched to a regular phone and as soon as I got on the phone, she said something in a snotty, cold tone of voice. Just to be annoying, I very sweetly asked, "Excuse me, what did you say? Can you say that again?" just to make her repeat herself. With a very exaggerated, annoyed sigh, she said, "A police officer will be coming by your house later for questioning. Okay?" I said, "Fine." Obviously she was done here and she was pretty useless to boot. Then she said, "Bye." And I said, "Bye." Coldly, abruptly, both of us glad to be off the phone.

My Jade Bracelet

I have to say with utmost sincerity that I am not the most pragmatic, down-to-earth individual I know. It is because I am easily given to flights of fancy and whimsical imagination that I am sometimes scared of letting myself go too much into the world of occult, a world that lies outside rationality, science and cool-headed logic.

Recently an event occurred that hit me quite deeply. Sunday, I broke my jade bracelet into four pieces. For seven years, it has been a part of me, attached to my left wrist, joined to me day and night. The Chinese says that the jade bracelet protects you, wards off evil. It stands guard between you and unfortunate events. Its general sheen and shine reflects the wearer’s health and happiness. Mine, I was pleased to note, always sparkled prettily.

It’s hard to gauge the true loss that I feel for the bracelet. This is where I cautiously tread the divide between my natural tendency and my more rational, educated side. On the one hand, I feel a bit lost, a bit panicky. I am separated from my faithful companion, one that has been with me for seven years. It has stayed with me through good times, through bad times and it always comforted me to see it, a warm reminder of a Grandmother much beloved. Finally, I think Jade in general is a powerful symbol in my life. I am, after all, named after Jade in Chinese. More specifically, my name reads, Heart of Jade. So it has always carried a strong resonance with me and may truly play a significant role in my life.

On the other hand, I tell myself, it’s really just a bracelet. A token reminder of your loved ones, but wearing it or not, you will not ever bring her back. Furthermore, there were things I’ve wanted to do that have been hindered by a jade bracelet. Jogging, doing push ups, lifting weights, all these are not activities a jade wearer can easily partake in. Practical matters aside, I don’t like contemplating too deeply about the ramifications of having broken my bracelet. Will I now suffer bad luck? Will I no longer be able to ward off evil?

A lady very much interested in jade told me that since the jade bracelet’s function is to protect me, it broke at that precise moment because it took a hit for me and protected me. I don’t think she meant the actual physical act of what happened to the bracelet. Rather, some metaphysical bad luck that was aimed at me was instead absorbed by my bracelet, and the bracelet broke, in self sacrifice and kept me safe. Hearing this awed me to some extent because it excited my deepest imagination about the mysteries of the universe and how all things are interconnected at a level hard to comprehend. The skeptic in me of course thinks it may be all hocus pocus. But if what she said was true, then I feel great pride in having had this jade, my noble protector, a guardian talisman. The same lady asked me to think hard about what it is I may have deflected from my life. I am truly and genuinely puzzled. I don’t know what “bad” thing was hence redirected from me. I truly don’t know. It may be a mystery that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

In any case, I hope to repair the jade bracelet next year and God willing, I may be able to be reunited with my bracelet once it is repaired.

Amy's Wedding

This past Saturday, I stood witness to the union of Amy and Victor. Amy, my good friend from high school looked regal and graceful in her bridal raiment. She has a very noble bearing, one that she usually hides in very down-to-earth attire and manner. It was a pity that I was 20 minutes late and had to miss the grand entrance of the bride, but I'm happy that I still caught most of the ceremony.

It was very fun to see some old high school and junior high school friends again. One of my old friends shocked us all by showing up with her husband. They had married last year, quietly, without fanfare, without telling anyone in fact. I was surprised, almost dismayed at first. But I soon decided that all that's important is that they are happy now. Having friends come to your wedding, giving you gifts, lavishing congratulations -- these are all great but not essential to a happy and long-lasting marriage.

Jason and I went up and danced at a time when nobody went up. It was just me and Jason, gyrating clumsily to some music I no longer recall the melody of. I was by then, three drinks down and much less inhibited. It was still awkward but I consoled myself that no one was really watching us. When I remarked that to a friend, she promptly retorted smartly that THEY were definitely watching us. Oops. So much for the self-consolation. Oh well, hopefully I didn't make a complete fool of myself and even if I did, so what? I'm only young once and there's no time like now to make a fool of myself.

Amy and Victor did a slow dance and it was very lovely to watch, against the backdrop of the sunlit floor to ceiling windows. They also had two rambunctious wedding singers who began to take on the job description of wedding dancers as the wedding reception wore on. I tried to request Lady in Red at first and unfortunately they didn't know the lyrics. Jason kept yelling "99 Red Balloons" for reasons I can not imagine. He refused to just go up to the wedding singers and request the song in a civilized manner. In short though, it was a very good wedding and I much enjoyed the drinks and the oyster bar. =)

My nails look like shyte

and that's AFTER I put on nail polish too.

So after deciding that the least I could do for my friend's wedding was get a decent pair of manicured hands and a decent pair of pedicured feet, I went to the drugstore to pick out some nail polish to work with. (Recently in random fits of renewed determination to live life in a minimalist fashion, I have made sweeping purges of my cosmetics and toiletries. Alas, the nail polishes usually didn't survive the cleansing campaigns) So I meticulously selected two colors that delighted me and with great excitement embarked on some DIY salon experience later last night.

Now giving yourself a good manicure require first of all, a decent canvas to work on. Your nails have to be smooth, the cuticles removed, the skin surrounding the nails need to be soft and pliant, not dry and cracking. My fingers really don't fit any of the above criteria as I consider putting hand lotion on my hands the pinnacle of pampering. (yes, I'm That lazy) Plus, there is the necessary hand-eye coordination skills required to apply just the right amount of polish to each nail in controlled strokes from one end to the other. For some reason, this simple physical act eludes my capabilities and my nail brush goes wild, splattering heavy color here, barely scraping by in other places from lack of polish. The end result? Uneven coating, bumpy veneer, streaked with airbubbles (from waving my hands in the air too vigorously) and polish spilling over on the skin. Good manicure it is not. If not for the fabulous color that my discerning eye picked out, my manicure would have to be classified as a complete failure. As it is, its irisdescent glow, its pearly sparkliness manages to still dazzle and somewhat pretend it's actually a good manicure job....until this morning when on another whim, I decided to streak some more polish on top of it. I thought, in salons, they always give customers at least two applications, so why not?

But then, Miss Genius here was running late for work and waved her hand frantically in the air again to dry it quickly. And after about 5 seconds, decided it was dry enough and rushed off. Out of curiosity though, I couldn't resist patting one of my nails and promptly placed a fingerprint indent on the polish, like embossing. On closer inspection, all my nails look pretty tacky, despite my best intentions and now it just bugs me to stare at them, knowing what an awful job I did of it all.

Yeah, even now as I'm writing them, I can't help but stopping every few seconds to inspect my nails. The verdict is the same everytime. They look like shyte.

Talk by Dr. Yewdell

I just attended a motivational talk by a scientist at NIH. Smart guy, MD-PhD forward-thinking, hip scientist. What was his talk on? On the importance of science, of the importance of nurturing a generation of scientists and preaching the gospel of science. I believe he is right though. Whatever our mixed feelings about the advancement of technology and our increasing dependence on all things scientific and technological may be, I do believe that we as a society must go forward in making more scientific discoveries and advance scientific knowledge. We can not go back, we can not stagnate, thus, we must go on.

I really enjoyed his speech for two reasons. For months now at NIH, I’ve been attending dry seminars delving into the nitty-gritty of scientific and genomic research. Most of the information seriously goes right over my head and I merely sit there, daydreaming about the day all this will become comprehensible, my day of enlightenment. Today, I got to listen to a talk that made complete and utter sense to me. Every word, from beginning to end, made sense. My level of enjoyment of a given talk is directly proportional to my level of understanding. However that is no big surprise, I’m sure it’s a common enough phenomenon.

The second reason I really enjoyed the talk was because it achieved what it set out to do. It motivated. The irony is I don’t even plan on becoming a scientist. Fortunately however, his talk on becoming a good, successful scientist can be applied to being a good post-bac intern (as I am now) and a good premedical student and a good medical student and ultimately, a good doctor.

Some of the contents of his talk are directly related to the field of science. Other parts of his talk focus on more universal principles and can be applied to any field. It is the language of success and how to achieve it. He keeps it real though. He admits that there are too many graduate students that come out of grad school every year to become PI’s, principal investigators. Not everyone has to be a PI however to have a successful scientific career and that’s the good news.

In the end, his basic point for people hoping to enter the scientific research field is, this is a noble career but a difficult one. There are things you can do to maximize or enhance your success at it and you get what you put in. Even when the going gets tough, scientists can take consolation and pride that they are part of the greater international scientific community, working to advance the collective knowledge of mankind.

Oh and he poked some jabs at the Bush administration, at the Intelligent Design jabberwokkees and some other foolish policymakers. Good fun.

Results of the challenge

I failed. =(

So Wendy gave me the following countries:

1. Cambodia
2. Venezuela
3. Algeria (maybe?)
4. Sierre Leone
5. Liechtenstein

And I got one of the border countries for Sierre Leone wrong! I thought it was the Ivory Coast, but I was one country off, it was Liberia!

But the good news is, I do know most of the countries in the world and also Jason backed out of the bet at the last minute. So I no longer have to be his slave for life nor do I have to cough up $100 to him. I do owe Wendy $10 bucks though, as per our agreement, so I guess I'll treat ya to lunch next time I see you eh Wendy?

Test me some more!! I will become a geography master yet!

Miss Softie's past weekend

Saturday was a fun-filled day. I woke up expecting a rainy downcast day and was greeted instead by a sunny one. I had made plans to have lunch with a friend and the prospect of socializing always brightens my mood – provided that I was socializing with desired company of course. So we had a delightful lunch at a Thai restaurant named a bit too cutely as Thai Tanium. The conversation was good although the food was only so-so.

After lunch, I went to CVS to pick up stuff and ran into a high school/college friend’s mom. She is so chatty! We must have stood in the parking lot and talked for over an hour, with me doing mostly nodding and murmurs of agreement as I am prone to do with chatty “adults.” She seemed to be in good spirits and the conversation flowed in all directions. I learned a few things about her that day that I didn’t know before and it made more sense now when I consider my friend and who she is. I think I never truly understood parts of her until now.

Finally, at night, over IM, I made last minute plans with another friend to go catch a movie. We went to downtown Bethesda, the place was fairly humming with people and for a while, you could almost trick yourself into thinking you were in the city again. We went to watch Water, by Deepa Mehkta (sp?) and it was all in all a truly enjoyable film. At the end, my friend was sobbing quite unreservedly and I remember affectionately thinking with a touch of amusement that she was such a softie. What I didn’t expect of course was that my reaction to the film would come, only somewhat later.

The next morning over breakfast, I recounted the movie to my mother. Everything was fine until I described the last scene, arguably the most powerful one in the film. Suddenly, inexplicably, tears filled in my eye and I bit my lips to keep from crying. I looked down and blinked back my tears and forced myself to gulp down some coffee. Inwardly, I was also tsk-ing myself, going, Emily Emily, when did you become such a leaky faucet? My mother may have noticed my sudden desire to cry, because she murmured some thing in a kindly way, but I was still too caught up in my emotion to fully understand.

Now some of you might be somewhat curious about what film I saw, as it made me, a veritable cold-blooded animal squeeze out some emotions. All I will say about the film is, some parts are clichéd and even Bollywood-ish, thus, a tad too melodramatic for my taste. But at the end of the film, there was indeed a very powerful moment which captured the essence of the film and I think, that one moment makes the film worth watching.

Oh and then for Mother’s Day, I went shopping for groceries and came home to produce a ten course meal for my family. I started shopping at around 12:30 PM and finished cooking around 4:30 PM. When my mom came home to the lavish display on the table, she grinned broadly and pronounced me marriageable. Heehee, not bad for a girl with a reputation for napping and no talent for cooking. The good news is, Mother’s Day only comes around once a year. The bad news is, my dinner was such a success that it has been unanimously decided that I will cook for all Sundays from now on!!! Picture the Scream picture. (Okay maybe that was a bit too melodramatic)

Anyway, a good weekend through and through. And oh yeah, Wendy postponed the test so that I get to fail tonight instead of last night. =)

Two mental challenges for myself

1. I want to learn all the countries of the world by name and know where they are in the world. I'll give myself one week to accomplish this task.

2. I want to begin honing my observation skills and eye for detail. I think a good way to start is to learn botany and specifically in flowers (since I've always been sucha girly girl and like flowers) I will start learning the names of common and uncommon flowers in BOTH English and Chinese, so that whenever I see a flower, I can confidently rattle off its name. I probably won't learn the scientific name though, that would be a bit too much for this novice in botany.

Saturday night a bomb went off

and that bomb was me.

For about two hours, I sat in between my mother and father, firing volleys back and forth. At times, the three of us talked simultaneously, no one was listening to anyone else. But most of the time, at least we were communicating, and not just seething with resentment and annoyance on a day to day basis.

But, I may be making it seem more serious than it was. The truth was, we had a good talk and really got some things out into the open. For some time now, my mum and pop would nag incessantly by my ear side that I need to find a good Christian man to be my husband because there is more of a likelihood that the marriage will succeed.

I finally threw down the gauntlet. I told them, dear parents, please don't worry about me any longer. The way I see it I have three options. A. I get married, my marriage is great, everyone is happy. End of story. B. I get married, the marriage stinks, we divorce, fine. I live on in blessed singlehood. C. I never get married and I live my life as I please. I am happy.
There are no fourth options. Unhappiness is a state of mind. My parents are so worried about me being unhappy in the future if I settle with some non Christian boy, that they refuse to see that happiness is or can be a state of mind. It doesn't hve to be so tied to one's external circumstances. I don't negate the possibility that external circumstances can affect happiness, but it should not be the end all be all causal agent.

And to make a long story short, I think maybe, maybe, I was able to get some of my message across to them. Yesterday for instance, I spent a lovely day with my mom. We went to Church, then after, we went to have korean food at a korean restaurant. The food was pretty decent and my mother was in a good mood. And we went shopping for food afterwards. After that, we hit the gym and I did a few laps in the pool before convening to my ultimate destination: the Spa and Sauna. aahh...bliss!

So hopefully I will continue to dialogue with my parents and let them know what I feel, as well as trying to accept some of their thinking, without being so quick to judge them as provincial or narrowminded or stodgy. I'll try try try until I succeed to bridging that supposed "generation gap."

**DISCLAIMER** This has nothing to do with current relationship with BF. In fact, the two are completely unrelated, as far as I'm concerned.

Interesting quiz

You Are a Blue Flower

A blue flower tends to represent peace, openness, and balance. At times, you are very delicate like a cornflower. And at other times, you are wise like an iris. And more than you wish, you're a little cold, like a blue hydrangea.

What Color Flower Are You?

My personal May 4th Movement

In modern Chinese history, there is a famous movement known as the May 4th Movement. It was a shakeup of traditional values and heralded the establishment of modern schools of thought in the new republic of China. I just realize that today is May 4th and I too need to revolutionize my life and shake it up a bit.

I think, slowly, gradually, I realize that I am truly responsible for all that happens to me or around me. No one else can take that responsibility for me. I have witnessed/experienced firsthand how disastrous it is not to be accountable for your life, to always let others to the thinking for you or tell you how to think. It means living life in a very slippery manner, always slipping out at the last minute when trouble arises, letting others take the brunt of it. I despise such living and I do not think highly of it. It also means not confronting your worst fears. Escaping -- it used to be my mode of operation. But at some point, a person has to face the facts squarely, brutally, in its ugliness, in its inescapable existence, one has to wake up no matter what.

My personal May 4th vow is just to be different. Step out of my comfort zone. Open up my mind and my heart and let others in, or I should say, let more people in. I think I've always been somewhat exclusive about who I let into my life and who I keep out. Also to be kinder. It has been brought to my attention that I can be very cold, very standoffish, very arrogant and stuck up. Never mind that these are just perceptions from others, I feel that perhaps to some degree, it's all part of the same package of my personality and my tendency to not "bother" with all things too annoying. So much as I hate to admit it, probably to some degree, it's a true assessment.

Hopefully I will get this "revolution" off to a start and begin proactively reaching out and making more of a difference in the people whose lives intersect mine. And btw, patience is one of the highest virtues and I will say with all humility that I have not yet mastered it.

Happy Birthday Jason

Yeah it's Jason's birthday and he will be 24. It's his year, the year of the dog. I still remember one of my earliest memories of him was him gloating that he was a golden retreiver in a dog quiz. I remember thinking that he was absurdly proud of this rather odd fact. For the record, I was a labrador or something.

Btw, dogs ARE really cute. I'm wondering if I should get a dog. I'm not too eager to clean up after its messes, but maybe it would be fun. Almost all my colleagues are pet owners, and I've never had a "cool" pet before. What do you guys think? Should I get a little puppy?

Due to the intermission known as MCAT study period, I stopped watching this show just short of the last four episodes. It was a long interlude too - about 2 months I think.

It's strange. 24 is not as good now. Maybe because I have grown emotionally distant from the cast and the storyline that the things that happen in the show engages me less now. I just watched two episodes last night and didn't feel much for any of the characters. I was almost bored, just waiting idly for whatever "heart-stopping" cliffhanger they would attempt to throw at me next. I know that a lot of people have worked very hard to make this show happen and that there are definitely very strong merits to the show, but I just couldn't get into it. Maybe tonight, the final two episodes will be more satisfying. I think I'm too jaded for my own good.

New York New York

This past weekend, I went up to New York to see friends. It was a lovely weekend, not counting the gusty winds and moments of chilliness. It was fun to hang out with BF again after a 12-week block of self-imposed separation. Central Park welcomed us eagerly decked out in its Spring loveliness. We walked by several bodies of glistening water and admired the visage of laughing children, sleepy babies and amiable benchwarmers. Jason bought this new game called Brain Age which amused us for the better part of our ride into New York. I clocked in at 61 my first time!! Thankfully, I quickly went down to a brain age in my 20’s after some practice.

After brunch on Saturday, a group of us meandered down to Battery Park, near the Statue of Liberty. At one point, a couple of us needed to go to the bathroom and we seized on the brilliant idea of choosing the Ritz Carlton. The bathroom was really nice -- they had cloth wash-towels, as befitting their ritzy status. At first I was feeling a bit sheepish, but then soon shrugged it off and just strolled in as insouciantly as I could manage. How would they know the difference?

Highlight of the trip: hanging out at this Korean bar/lounge in Korea town. Stuff was pricey but we all got a big kick over the ice cream which was served in a bowl made of pure ice and fruit. The whole ensemble was quite stunning, prompting members of our group to wax philosophically and entrepreneur-ally about starting an archaeologist workshop. I had a watermelontini which was delish. Poor Jason, by then, was suffering mightily from his allergy attack and taking pity on him, we retired early for him to take his medicine.

But overall, it was really great to just kick back and relax with friends.