This week marks the end of quarter 1. Students are quietly completing their English final assignments lost in a swirl of thoughts, and scribbling madly in transcribing them to readable form.
I am in the front of my classroom, thinking about what is for lunch while the students are working. Everything is going swimmingly, but then another student peeps his head inside my classroom and mutters something in Kosrean, their native tongue. Immediately, pencils are dropped and backpacks are gathered, and my students are literally fleeing the classroom. I peer outside the classroom, and my students have apparently joined in on a mass exodus as they leap onto the departing buses. Half finished final assignments lay about the room; some have already been blown onto the floor by the slight breeze.
By this point, I am no longer angry, but confused. Finally, I hear the English translation of what is going on:
“TSUNAMI WARNING!! TSUNAMI WARNING!! RUN FOR THE HILLS!!”
There WOULD be a tsunami warning on Kosrae during finals. Some places have snow days, we have tsunami days, where everyone makes a break for higher ground and prays that the huge moving water mass (started from an earthquake around neighboring islands) does not reach Kosrae and engulf the beach front homes. Lunch looks like a no go. Like the last time this happened, I start contemplating what to bring for my own clamor up the hill.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
teenage musings in Kosrae
Recently, my students read a story about first dates. We may be on an island in the middle of ocean, but these quickwrite responses show we’re not too far from any typical high schooler in the States. Oh to be young.
On being stood up and feeling insecure:
“Me myself, I just hate my skinny arms. I want to be a big guy, not just toothpick arms. This is why I never liked a girl before. Most of them beautiful girls are bigger than me.”
“Actually, I did have someone but it was generations ago, like 2 (two) months ago.”
“Some of the things that I feel insecure were my nose is too big, my hair is not so long and my face looks terrible, my butt’s too big for my size “I think so?” and also my clothes are not that fanzy.”
“I have met one girl once, and I stood up for her many times. I always told her how she looks, how she smells, or the way she smiles with shiny lip gloss on her lips. I didn’t think it would feel nice, but it was so good… there are some things that I don’t feel insecure (don’t like) about her. The “pinballs” (pimples) on her face. It wasn’t bad, but I don’t feel comfortable when she will pop out the pinballs and the liquid inside will come out. Eww that’s disgusting.”
“I’ve stood up a boy- just once. And it was really funny. I laughed my guts out when I heard he waited for me that day. He really thought I was going to show up.”
“I don’t have anything that I felt insecure about, because the lord is the one that create me, so even though others said that I look ugly, I will kept that face.”
“yes, it feels so sad and it makes me feel like I am lost. So what I’ve did was I stood there for almost 20 minutes waiting for her. I think it was when I was 15 years old just last year.”
On being stood up and feeling insecure:
“Me myself, I just hate my skinny arms. I want to be a big guy, not just toothpick arms. This is why I never liked a girl before. Most of them beautiful girls are bigger than me.”
“Actually, I did have someone but it was generations ago, like 2 (two) months ago.”
“Some of the things that I feel insecure were my nose is too big, my hair is not so long and my face looks terrible, my butt’s too big for my size “I think so?” and also my clothes are not that fanzy.”
“I have met one girl once, and I stood up for her many times. I always told her how she looks, how she smells, or the way she smiles with shiny lip gloss on her lips. I didn’t think it would feel nice, but it was so good…
“I’ve stood up a boy- just once. And it was really funny. I laughed my guts out when I heard he waited for me that day. He really thought I was going to show up.”
“I don’t have anything that I felt insecure about, because the lord is the one that create me, so even though others said that I look ugly, I will kept that face.”
“yes, it feels so sad and it makes me feel like I am lost. So what I’ve did was I stood there for almost 20 minutes waiting for her. I think it was when I was 15 years old just last year.”
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Leaving on a Jet Plane
My mother shipped a copy of the Economist over to Kosrae. It came packaged between anti-itch ointments and an external dvd drive. This was connection with the outside world, mosquito control, and entertainment. Essentially, it was Christmas in a box.
The Economist is one way of getting me to think of places other than Kosrae, but in truth, thoughts of faraway places are never far away. Namibia, the Netherlands, Oman, Ireland, Japan, Chile, and Singapore are frequent dinner conversation references with friends here.
Lately, it has been a season of coming and going. It took a lot to get to Micronesia, but a lot of us are starting to put in effort to getting out and going to other places. An unsurprising shared characteristic about the expats on the island is our willingness to propel ourselves into random, and not so random, corners of the Earth. Peace Corps applications to the Middle East and South America are frantically being completed via haphazard Kosrean internet. Grad School essays to international universities are being written. People are returning to Japan, getting married and moving on the next phase of their lives. Someone is ready to teach English in Macau (the land of my ancestors!), while another is ready to return back to America to recharge for Southeast Asia. Older volunteers are wrapping up their 2 year stint here and have thoughts on Africa.
For most of us, this island life is transitory. How transitory it is, well, that’s left up to the individual. We’re a bunch of travelers whose paths happen to cross on this tiny island; soon, we’ll be dispersed like dandelions, and going wherever the wind blows.
I think it’s great that many of my coworkers and friends have figured out what is best for them and are making plans to continue their adventure. However, I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to Asia (notice how I didn’t write America), or anywhere for that matter. It’s still a new relationship, me and Kosrae; it’s exciting to have no idea where things will lead. So far, we’re in the initial great stage of euphoric happiness. It’s super attractive, given its truly beautiful stretches of white sand and coconut palm façade. We have a lot of fun together, and our kayaking/snorkeling/hiking/swimming dates never fail to be amazing times that bring us closer together. But, having fun is not going to be enough (for me anyways, I don’t know about Kosrae) to turn this fling into a lasting, sustainable relationship. What is it going to take for me to stay with Kosrae for another year after this one? I’m definitely not ready to call it quits yet, and want to find out. More on this later.
Something entirely unrelated: I am now a SAT prep teacher. Fancy that.
The Economist is one way of getting me to think of places other than Kosrae, but in truth, thoughts of faraway places are never far away. Namibia, the Netherlands, Oman, Ireland, Japan, Chile, and Singapore are frequent dinner conversation references with friends here.
Lately, it has been a season of coming and going. It took a lot to get to Micronesia, but a lot of us are starting to put in effort to getting out and going to other places. An unsurprising shared characteristic about the expats on the island is our willingness to propel ourselves into random, and not so random, corners of the Earth. Peace Corps applications to the Middle East and South America are frantically being completed via haphazard Kosrean internet. Grad School essays to international universities are being written. People are returning to Japan, getting married and moving on the next phase of their lives. Someone is ready to teach English in Macau (the land of my ancestors!), while another is ready to return back to America to recharge for Southeast Asia. Older volunteers are wrapping up their 2 year stint here and have thoughts on Africa.
For most of us, this island life is transitory. How transitory it is, well, that’s left up to the individual. We’re a bunch of travelers whose paths happen to cross on this tiny island; soon, we’ll be dispersed like dandelions, and going wherever the wind blows.
I think it’s great that many of my coworkers and friends have figured out what is best for them and are making plans to continue their adventure. However, I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to Asia (notice how I didn’t write America), or anywhere for that matter. It’s still a new relationship, me and Kosrae; it’s exciting to have no idea where things will lead. So far, we’re in the initial great stage of euphoric happiness. It’s super attractive, given its truly beautiful stretches of white sand and coconut palm façade. We have a lot of fun together, and our kayaking/snorkeling/hiking/swimming dates never fail to be amazing times that bring us closer together. But, having fun is not going to be enough (for me anyways, I don’t know about Kosrae) to turn this fling into a lasting, sustainable relationship. What is it going to take for me to stay with Kosrae for another year after this one? I’m definitely not ready to call it quits yet, and want to find out. More on this later.
Something entirely unrelated: I am now a SAT prep teacher. Fancy that.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
To fan or not to fan-
-should never be a question in Kosrae. It is neither the howling puppy, nor the howling karaoke that commences upstairs. The single greatest complaint from the visitors who frequent our apartment is that our place is a human oven. That is true. Mackenzie’s and my place rivals a furnace.
Recently, Mack finally got on the ball and bought a fan. Sure, we had to duck tape it to keep it intact, but that’s normal in Kosrae, and a fan is a fan. I on the other hand, have been (irresponsibly) avoiding the logistical complexities of transporting a fan on a bike. We’ve rehearsed it, but the one handed lopsided bike ride sounds, and looks, so un-fun.
But like the grasshopper that played all summer, here I am, sans fan in the early A.M heat wave; while the roommate is sleeping with a light breeze. Normally, the heat is bearable; a winter when compared to a Cambodian summer. Cambodia however, did not have a puppy or karaoke within the vicinity of my living quarters. When heat is combined with howling coming from either source (in tonight’s case, karaoke to Clapton), it makes for a sleepless night. I think it’s another night on the (slightly cooler)couch for me. Tomorrow, booking it to Ace to buy the last fan there.
At this point, life in Kosrae has in a way, transitioned to level two. We’ve secured the fort: mental energy is no longer needed to grasp the basics of survival on this island. We know which rain catchments are safe for drinking, we’ve learned some practical easy high energy foods (like peanut butter and rice), become familiarized with the 2 or 3 stores and 2 or 3 restaurants, started some semblance of a teaching schedule, and relearned (very quickly) the merits of sun block and mosquito repellent. The question now is: what next? Some volunteers have begun to divert their attention elsewhere, like taking time to learning the fishing ways of the locals and successfully beginning to catch their own seafood. Some have taken up diving courses, while others (myself included) have grown fond of the ukulele, a popular instrument played here.
I can’t speak for others, but my days in Kosrae have been filled with activities that have been very restful. Even teaching is restful and therapeutic in a strange way. Ironically, all this restfulness is making me restless. Now that the fort has been secured, the question of what next? What next?- has been growing. For the first time, I am actually craving a math problem or two.
Recently, Mack finally got on the ball and bought a fan. Sure, we had to duck tape it to keep it intact, but that’s normal in Kosrae, and a fan is a fan. I on the other hand, have been (irresponsibly) avoiding the logistical complexities of transporting a fan on a bike. We’ve rehearsed it, but the one handed lopsided bike ride sounds, and looks, so un-fun.
But like the grasshopper that played all summer, here I am, sans fan in the early A.M heat wave; while the roommate is sleeping with a light breeze. Normally, the heat is bearable; a winter when compared to a Cambodian summer. Cambodia however, did not have a puppy or karaoke within the vicinity of my living quarters. When heat is combined with howling coming from either source (in tonight’s case, karaoke to Clapton), it makes for a sleepless night. I think it’s another night on the (slightly cooler)couch for me. Tomorrow, booking it to Ace to buy the last fan there.
At this point, life in Kosrae has in a way, transitioned to level two. We’ve secured the fort: mental energy is no longer needed to grasp the basics of survival on this island. We know which rain catchments are safe for drinking, we’ve learned some practical easy high energy foods (like peanut butter and rice), become familiarized with the 2 or 3 stores and 2 or 3 restaurants, started some semblance of a teaching schedule, and relearned (very quickly) the merits of sun block and mosquito repellent. The question now is: what next? Some volunteers have begun to divert their attention elsewhere, like taking time to learning the fishing ways of the locals and successfully beginning to catch their own seafood. Some have taken up diving courses, while others (myself included) have grown fond of the ukulele, a popular instrument played here.
I can’t speak for others, but my days in Kosrae have been filled with activities that have been very restful. Even teaching is restful and therapeutic in a strange way. Ironically, all this restfulness is making me restless. Now that the fort has been secured, the question of what next? What next?- has been growing. For the first time, I am actually craving a math problem or two.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Tonight, I made my first decent dinner meal. This is a huge milestone. In the past, my experience with dinner prep during the periods of independent living often consisted of saying the phrase “I’ll take this to go” and Styrofoam boxes in ThankYou plastic bags. In Kosrae, there aren’t many restaurants where you can say that, because there aren’t many restaurants, period. This leaves the hungry with two options: learn how to cook, or continue current plan of eating canned pork & beans.
I’m fairly spoiled by the fact that I get care packages of food sent to me. In all honestly, we don’t really need care packages of food to survive on this island; the basics are here. Severely limited and over represented by canned meats and ramen, but here. The unintended purpose of food care packages are to serve as reminders of my ineptitude in the kitchen.
Cooking is physically hard work. I blame food blogs like Tastespotting and people like Rachel Ray who somehow led me astray believing that cooking is an easy, beautiful process, and one can do it with nice hair and take wonderful pictures throughout the process. It’s false, false to the extreme.
Episode 1: Cooking ground beef with Nate, another WorldTeach volunteer.
With lofty goals of preparing a grand meal to thank the people who have been hospitable to us thus far in Kosrae, Nate and I instead nearly caused food poisoning to half the community. How ground beef can be burnt black outside, but bleeding red inside, is a feat that can only be accomplished by the most inept of inept. Two hours of cooking resulted in blood burgers and WWIII in the kitchen. Luckily, no one died that night, and we have not been excommunicated from the community.
Episode 2: Scaling a fish with Kristen, a roommate.
Kristen, one of my three wonderful roommates, just graduated from college in the East Coast and her arms are seasoned from her life’s commitment to athletics thus far. Still, with Kristen’s arms and my knife, we were no match for the fish we were trying to gut and scale. That night, the blood of three was taken: Hers, mine, and the fish. Gutting a fish is disgusting. There is nothing FoodNetwork-y or FoodBlog-esque about this part in food prep. Gutting, or rather, engaging in a tug of war battle with fish guts, resulted in gills and guts spewed about a blood spattered countertop. Still, this process was better than scaling, which was me dangling a fish upside down, trying not to gag, and causing scales to project themselves to distances that reached the dining table. Hours later that night, I was still picking scales out of my hair.
With these two episodes as the back story, you hopefully understand why earlier tonight was momentous. I took a chicken through the whole shebang: defrosting, washing, cutting, washing some more, marinating, cooking, seasoning to taste, eating. And it was good and edible. Sure, I forgot an ingredient or two, but the operative word is edible. On the stove is a pot of fully cooked chicken that can be eaten without fears of food poisoning, which is a lot more than what I could have said earlier. This moves mountains, because if a person can successfully cook a chicken, there isn’t much that she can’t do now is there? =)
I’m fairly spoiled by the fact that I get care packages of food sent to me. In all honestly, we don’t really need care packages of food to survive on this island; the basics are here. Severely limited and over represented by canned meats and ramen, but here. The unintended purpose of food care packages are to serve as reminders of my ineptitude in the kitchen.
Cooking is physically hard work. I blame food blogs like Tastespotting and people like Rachel Ray who somehow led me astray believing that cooking is an easy, beautiful process, and one can do it with nice hair and take wonderful pictures throughout the process. It’s false, false to the extreme.
Episode 1: Cooking ground beef with Nate, another WorldTeach volunteer.
With lofty goals of preparing a grand meal to thank the people who have been hospitable to us thus far in Kosrae, Nate and I instead nearly caused food poisoning to half the community. How ground beef can be burnt black outside, but bleeding red inside, is a feat that can only be accomplished by the most inept of inept. Two hours of cooking resulted in blood burgers and WWIII in the kitchen. Luckily, no one died that night, and we have not been excommunicated from the community.
Episode 2: Scaling a fish with Kristen, a roommate.
Kristen, one of my three wonderful roommates, just graduated from college in the East Coast and her arms are seasoned from her life’s commitment to athletics thus far. Still, with Kristen’s arms and my knife, we were no match for the fish we were trying to gut and scale. That night, the blood of three was taken: Hers, mine, and the fish. Gutting a fish is disgusting. There is nothing FoodNetwork-y or FoodBlog-esque about this part in food prep. Gutting, or rather, engaging in a tug of war battle with fish guts, resulted in gills and guts spewed about a blood spattered countertop. Still, this process was better than scaling, which was me dangling a fish upside down, trying not to gag, and causing scales to project themselves to distances that reached the dining table. Hours later that night, I was still picking scales out of my hair.
With these two episodes as the back story, you hopefully understand why earlier tonight was momentous. I took a chicken through the whole shebang: defrosting, washing, cutting, washing some more, marinating, cooking, seasoning to taste, eating. And it was good and edible. Sure, I forgot an ingredient or two, but the operative word is edible. On the stove is a pot of fully cooked chicken that can be eaten without fears of food poisoning, which is a lot more than what I could have said earlier. This moves mountains, because if a person can successfully cook a chicken, there isn’t much that she can’t do now is there? =)
Saturday, September 05, 2009
On laundry
While coconut trees and stunning sunsets over calm seas are part of daily life here in The Micro, one can't ALWAYS be thinking about trees and looking into the sky. One does, occasionally, get interrupted by the more immediate responsibilities she must tend to, and even those can be a handful. Take the example of doing laundry, a simple chore at most. Maybe it is medium hard if it was cashmere (non applicable in this region). It then never ceases to amaze me how this simple chore can cause such complex problems.
Let it be known that our laundry machine is a raging beast. It ingests perfectly normal clothing of typical proportions, chomps on it some, and then spits back a pile that resembles the original, but maybe stretched out, stained (where there weren't stains), ripped, bleached (when there wasn't bleach).
So now that my clothes are effectively over-stretched, spotted all over with mysterious black dots, ripped, and bleached in awkward places, I'm thinking that this doing laundry business needs to be re examined. Serious consideration is being placed on the hand washing route: time consuming, but perhaps the preventative solution to the black dot mystery.
It's possible that I may be the worst Micronesian laundry washer, ever. People who have a knack for it seem to possess an intuitive gift of timing. Taking the clothes off the line too early will lead to a moldy stench entrenched into the fabric that will decrease your likability at an exponential rate. Taking the clothes off too late will lead to it becoming re-drenched by the next onslaught of rain, thus ruining your efforts to produce clean clothes. Laundry timing skills are clutch for survival, and go hand in hand with cloud watching skills (something I also lack at the moment).
Cloud watching skills are equally, if not more important, than the former; mostly because skilled cloud watchers are able to reduce the number of sticky situations they find themselves in. Aside from producing consistent and excellent laundry results, a seasoned cloud watcher can reduce the occurrence of a larger situation, like getting stuck on the opposite side of the island because of a thunderstorm. At the very best, my cloud watching skills can be currently classified at the basic CloudRunner level. CloudRunners are not able to predict the movement or severity of the clouds at a preferable distance, but see the oncoming heavy clouds right about the cross over the island, acknowledges their presence, and then engages in a heart pounding bike vs. nature race home to see who can first get to the clothes on the laundry line.
Since we're on the topic of clothes, my tastes have changed considerably. Granted, I've never really had an affinity for fashion. Nonetheless, a recent desire to add more frills, sequins, and bows to the already colorful knee length potato sacks we call "nuk nuks" was nonexistent prior to arriving the Micro. A typical conversation exchange concerning daily attire goes something like this:
"Hey, I really like your nuk nuk. The two buttons at the bottom really complement the sewn apron at the collar."
“Thanks. Are you thinking of asking your host mother to make you another nuk- nuk?”
“Yeah, she’s great with frills at the skirt bottom. I bought the floral fabric yesterday. Do you think I should add more sequins across the top, or sew a flower across the skirt middle? Would doing both be too much?”
Clearly, it's a silly question, because we all know that there is no such thing as it being too much.
Let it be known that our laundry machine is a raging beast. It ingests perfectly normal clothing of typical proportions, chomps on it some, and then spits back a pile that resembles the original, but maybe stretched out, stained (where there weren't stains), ripped, bleached (when there wasn't bleach).
So now that my clothes are effectively over-stretched, spotted all over with mysterious black dots, ripped, and bleached in awkward places, I'm thinking that this doing laundry business needs to be re examined. Serious consideration is being placed on the hand washing route: time consuming, but perhaps the preventative solution to the black dot mystery.
It's possible that I may be the worst Micronesian laundry washer, ever. People who have a knack for it seem to possess an intuitive gift of timing. Taking the clothes off the line too early will lead to a moldy stench entrenched into the fabric that will decrease your likability at an exponential rate. Taking the clothes off too late will lead to it becoming re-drenched by the next onslaught of rain, thus ruining your efforts to produce clean clothes. Laundry timing skills are clutch for survival, and go hand in hand with cloud watching skills (something I also lack at the moment).
Cloud watching skills are equally, if not more important, than the former; mostly because skilled cloud watchers are able to reduce the number of sticky situations they find themselves in. Aside from producing consistent and excellent laundry results, a seasoned cloud watcher can reduce the occurrence of a larger situation, like getting stuck on the opposite side of the island because of a thunderstorm. At the very best, my cloud watching skills can be currently classified at the basic CloudRunner level. CloudRunners are not able to predict the movement or severity of the clouds at a preferable distance, but see the oncoming heavy clouds right about the cross over the island, acknowledges their presence, and then engages in a heart pounding bike vs. nature race home to see who can first get to the clothes on the laundry line.
Since we're on the topic of clothes, my tastes have changed considerably. Granted, I've never really had an affinity for fashion. Nonetheless, a recent desire to add more frills, sequins, and bows to the already colorful knee length potato sacks we call "nuk nuks" was nonexistent prior to arriving the Micro. A typical conversation exchange concerning daily attire goes something like this:
"Hey, I really like your nuk nuk. The two buttons at the bottom really complement the sewn apron at the collar."
“Thanks. Are you thinking of asking your host mother to make you another nuk- nuk?”
“Yeah, she’s great with frills at the skirt bottom. I bought the floral fabric yesterday. Do you think I should add more sequins across the top, or sew a flower across the skirt middle? Would doing both be too much?”
Clearly, it's a silly question, because we all know that there is no such thing as it being too much.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Perusing through old blog posts is an activity I highly enjoy. A high school friend once wrote on the back of a staged prom photo, “Pictures are worth a thousand words; pictures can be the greatest liars,” a thought I strongly agree with. In a way, though, I think writing can do the same. Maybe it’s because I’m (again, surprise, surprise) in a foreign country, or maybe the amount of sweat release rivals that of backyard sprinkler systems; whatever the reason, it’s making me revisit the days of Southeast Asia. In similar fashion to the staged poses, unnaturally white smiles, hair styled to perfection, my excessive use of the exclamation mark and the word “amazing” in describing the days of studying abroad kind of makes me vomit a little in the mouth.
But what’s done is done; it’s cheating to go back and edit. Beneath the façade, I guess a few remnants of what Southeast Asia was like at the time can still be extracted. Had one of those “wow, I’m really not in college anymore moments” when I realized that at that time, my responsibilities were twofold: putting in some semblance of an effort into passing class, and putting in maximum effort into living life to best of a 21 year old’s ability…which really isn’t that hard in that region of the world. Travels and escapades aside, I don’t think the actual region actually mattered in the larger picture.
I cringe at the cliché statement, “Studying abroad was life changing” and similar ones like it, but I wonder if it holds some truth. If I didn’t get on that plane to Asia the first time, would I have gone the second time next year? And if the second time didn’t happen, would there have been this time in Micronesia?
I’m tired of feeling like I made a series of bad decisions in the eyes of others. My roommate Mackenzie just got a puppy, I think we’re naming it Cabbage. She’s received about 20 “best ways to raise/train a puppy” lectures. The effective training strategy ended up being from Google, found by a search we conducted ourselves. The melodramatic teenager inside is screaming “let me live my life!” Except, I am nearing the mid twenties mark (scary). No, scary can be in a sentence by itself. Scary.
But what’s done is done; it’s cheating to go back and edit. Beneath the façade, I guess a few remnants of what Southeast Asia was like at the time can still be extracted. Had one of those “wow, I’m really not in college anymore moments” when I realized that at that time, my responsibilities were twofold: putting in some semblance of an effort into passing class, and putting in maximum effort into living life to best of a 21 year old’s ability…which really isn’t that hard in that region of the world. Travels and escapades aside, I don’t think the actual region actually mattered in the larger picture.
I cringe at the cliché statement, “Studying abroad was life changing” and similar ones like it, but I wonder if it holds some truth. If I didn’t get on that plane to Asia the first time, would I have gone the second time next year? And if the second time didn’t happen, would there have been this time in Micronesia?
I’m tired of feeling like I made a series of bad decisions in the eyes of others. My roommate Mackenzie just got a puppy, I think we’re naming it Cabbage. She’s received about 20 “best ways to raise/train a puppy” lectures. The effective training strategy ended up being from Google, found by a search we conducted ourselves. The melodramatic teenager inside is screaming “let me live my life!” Except, I am nearing the mid twenties mark (scary). No, scary can be in a sentence by itself. Scary.
Friday, August 28, 2009
A postcard arrived for me from Hong Kong yesterday, which was a treat of enormous proportions on several levels. Sent by Aga, my brilliant scientifically minded roommate who introduced me to Polish culture, the minute gesture of sending cordial greetings on a unassuming 4 x 6 served as a hello, a treasure from Asia, and mostly as a comforting reminder that there is a vast world beyond the horizon visible on this pacific island.
Aga is an adventurist. Ever since our freshman dormitory days of nerdishly cool parties with unforgivably poor vodka and musings of star constellations, Aga consistently transformed the terrain of Berkeley into a land meant for exploring and a setting for memorable stories. And so Berkeley became; whether it was chasing people in banana suits into the sunset, witnessing deer battles that commenced on the hillsides, hammock lounging on rooftops, biking in a “tour de Franzia” competition. Recently, Aga elected to take a train ride across Siberia and experience the traveler’s life from Eastern Europe- all the way to Hong Kong, China.
Here, story comes to an abrupt halt, a place of blank space. I have no idea how her trip went. I’ve been to some of the places in Asia she has; like Yangshuo, the place on the postcard, China’s Yosemite. When Bill Clinton visited China during his presidency, Yangshuo was on the itinerary, so you can bet this location is one of China’s winners both culturally and aesthetically. Yet, traveling is not just about aesthetics and Lonely Planet culture excerpts. Well, at least, I don’t like to think that is what makes it addicting, and definitely not why someone would endure an uncomfortable inter-country train ride for.
Aga’s returned from her travels and back at Berk, continuing on an academic track I can only watch movies about. The semester’s started, and the Campanile bells on campus are ringing three times a day again. Somewhere in the Pacific, I lost my voice yelling across a flooded classroom what the word “mandatory” means, as in “it is mandatory that you turn in your homework!” Our days have gone from being synchronized daily rituals of dining commons meals with slight variations in class scheduling, to waking up in different regions of the world. The postcard shatters the distance, and for a brief while brings out that familiar feeling of connection that only a postcard in the hand can muster.
Aga is an adventurist. Ever since our freshman dormitory days of nerdishly cool parties with
Here, story comes to an abrupt halt, a place of blank space. I have no idea how her trip went. I’ve been to some of the places in Asia she has; like Yangshuo, the place on the postcard, China’s Yosemite. When Bill Clinton visited China during his presidency, Yangshuo was on the itinerary, so you can bet this location is one of China’s winners both culturally and aesthetically. Yet, traveling is not just about aesthetics and Lonely Planet culture excerpts. Well, at least, I don’t like to think that is what makes it addicting, and definitely not why someone would endure an uncomfortable inter-country train ride for.
Aga’s returned from her travels and back at Berk, continuing on an academic track I can only watch movies about. The semester’s started, and the Campanile bells on campus are ringing three times a day again. Somewhere in the Pacific, I lost my voice yelling across a flooded classroom what the word “mandatory” means, as in “it is mandatory that you turn in your homework!” Our days have gone from being synchronized daily rituals of dining commons meals with slight variations in class scheduling, to waking up in different regions of the world. The postcard shatters the distance, and for a brief while brings out that familiar feeling of connection that only a postcard in the hand can muster.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Yesterday
Yesterday was June 17th. It was the closing of a 9 month chapter. It ended with ice cream, hugs, a final round of Around the World and Horse, a final parent meeting, a few thank yous, and a few goodbyes.
I guess I will miss my students after all. I know that even if I come back and visit, it won't be the same. Today as the last bell rang, each student came running to the snack area with a report card in hand. All had passed the 4th grade and were promoted to 5th. Their "4th gradeness" will soon fade into the memory of playground swings and monkey bars; soon they will take on new identities in their journey through life. Eventually, forgotten will be the incessant need for tattletelling and front/back cuts in line. Lost in the past will be the interest in telling scary stories and calling on spiritual bodies amongst avocado trees. Civilized as their manners emerge, hurt, and the intention to hurt, will be better covered with formality. While their raw honesty and sharp, unrefined words can cut like a sword, so can their compassion and love for life flood through gates of that elementary school.
Today, June 18th, marks the beginning of the next chapter.
I guess I will miss my students after all. I know that even if I come back and visit, it won't be the same. Today as the last bell rang, each student came running to the snack area with a report card in hand. All had passed the 4th grade and were promoted to 5th. Their "4th gradeness" will soon fade into the memory of playground swings and monkey bars; soon they will take on new identities in their journey through life. Eventually, forgotten will be the incessant need for tattletelling and front/back cuts in line. Lost in the past will be the interest in telling scary stories and calling on spiritual bodies amongst avocado trees. Civilized as their manners emerge, hurt, and the intention to hurt, will be better covered with formality. While their raw honesty and sharp, unrefined words can cut like a sword, so can their compassion and love for life flood through gates of that elementary school.
Today, June 18th, marks the beginning of the next chapter.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
love the roommate
I have a friend visiting Portland right now, and I think she's going to have a fantastic time.
Good times in the land of whitey McWhitersons with the awesome roommate, Slai!
Good times in the land of whitey McWhitersons with the awesome roommate, Slai!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Will I miss my kids?
The hallway outside my room resembles the aftermath of hurricane Katrina as my students' papers have literally covered wall to wall. I have 23 students, and throughout the course of the year, each student used roughly 1 ream of paper for their work. That's 23 reams of paper scattered about right now being sorted.
Sometimes I wonder if I will really miss my kids. Kids are really annoying. They smell funny, throw food, and tattletale on each other like no other. They rarely express gratitude, and complain about everything under the sun. They think the world revolves about them, and they are some of the germ-iest creatures alive. Everyday when I get home, I wash my hands at least 3 times; most days, 4. And even then, I STILL don't feel their cooties completely off me.
In regards to my kids in particular, here are some unprofessional quantitative and qualitative observations I've reached after being with them this year:
50% should be taken in for some serious therapy sessions (i.e anger management, getting a grip on reality, sexual confusion, depression, socialization)
80% should be pulled out of the after school program and placed into intensive 1-1 tutoring
30% should receive a beating
10% should buy deodorant
100% should be given hand sanitizer
My kids:
1. Love to fart in class. They absolutely love it. You would think that in wanting to be the center of attention, they would strive for higher goals and say, get a gold star for working hard. But nope, farting seems to suffice.
2. Love Chucky. They also love bloody Mary (who supposedly lives in the girl's restroom), zombies, blood, guns, and watching stuff blow up. But most of all, they love talk, draw, and write about Chucky. And yes, my kids turn 10 in 2009.
3. Love to play backpack wars. Why wearing your backpack in front of you and knocking everyone else out is not yet an extreme sport, I have not a clue.
4. Love "going to the bathroom" and "getting a drink of water." Two free chances to escape momentarily outside into freedom; away from homework, away from centers, away from Ms. Teresa's glaring eyes.
5. Love Sponge Bob. As this show only requires the attention span of 15 seconds to be fully engaged, it's no wonder why my kids love it.
6. Love Little Caesar pizza parties. We may have turned into pizza snobs. I know I have with my vegetarian fresh ingredient jazz playing co-op Cheeseboard collective pizza in Berkeley. But compared to the government funded after school snacks these kids usually get, Little Caesar's pepperoni pizza with coagulated cheese is KING.
7. Love making "banana splits." Not ice cream. A banana split is when two friends sit on two playground swings next to each other. They then turn to face each other, and each places both their legs near the other person's crotch, thus making a formation resembling a banana split. They then will call on two other (non swinging) friends to come and push them.
8. Love pelting balls at each other. If it's inside, it's called Silent Speedball. If it's outside, it's called Crossfire. Both (more so the outside one), involve the need to hurl balls at one another. I think it helps some with the anger management, serious.
9. Love to steal erasers.
10. Love catching bugs. Bees, rolie polies, butterflies, and lady bugs are poor victims of my kids' incessant need to collect insects and store them inside their pencil cases.
11. Love rain. Torrents of rain would send a sane person running for cover, but it sends my kids racing outside straight to the deepest puddles.
Sometimes I wonder if I will really miss my kids. Kids are really annoying. They smell funny, throw food, and tattletale on each other like no other. They rarely express gratitude, and complain about everything under the sun. They think the world revolves about them, and they are some of the germ-iest creatures alive. Everyday when I get home, I wash my hands at least 3 times; most days, 4. And even then, I STILL don't feel their cooties completely off me.
In regards to my kids in particular, here are some unprofessional quantitative and qualitative observations I've reached after being with them this year:
50% should be taken in for some serious therapy sessions (i.e anger management, getting a grip on reality, sexual confusion, depression, socialization)
80% should be pulled out of the after school program and placed into intensive 1-1 tutoring
30% should receive a beating
10% should buy deodorant
100% should be given hand sanitizer
My kids:
1. Love to fart in class. They absolutely love it. You would think that in wanting to be the center of attention, they would strive for higher goals and say, get a gold star for working hard. But nope, farting seems to suffice.
2. Love Chucky. They also love bloody Mary (who supposedly lives in the girl's restroom), zombies, blood, guns, and watching stuff blow up. But most of all, they love talk, draw, and write about Chucky. And yes, my kids turn 10 in 2009.
3. Love to play backpack wars. Why wearing your backpack in front of you and knocking everyone else out is not yet an extreme sport, I have not a clue.
4. Love "going to the bathroom" and "getting a drink of water." Two free chances to escape momentarily outside into freedom; away from homework, away from centers, away from Ms. Teresa's glaring eyes.
5. Love Sponge Bob. As this show only requires the attention span of 15 seconds to be fully engaged, it's no wonder why my kids love it.
6. Love Little Caesar pizza parties. We may have turned into pizza snobs. I know I have with my vegetarian fresh ingredient jazz playing co-op Cheeseboard collective pizza in Berkeley. But compared to the government funded after school snacks these kids usually get, Little Caesar's pepperoni pizza with coagulated cheese is KING.
7. Love making "banana splits." Not ice cream. A banana split is when two friends sit on two playground swings next to each other. They then turn to face each other, and each places both their legs near the other person's crotch, thus making a formation resembling a banana split. They then will call on two other (non swinging) friends to come and push them.
8. Love pelting balls at each other. If it's inside, it's called Silent Speedball. If it's outside, it's called Crossfire. Both (more so the outside one), involve the need to hurl balls at one another. I think it helps some with the anger management, serious.
9. Love to steal erasers.
10. Love catching bugs. Bees, rolie polies, butterflies, and lady bugs are poor victims of my kids' incessant need to collect insects and store them inside their pencil cases.
11. Love rain. Torrents of rain would send a sane person running for cover, but it sends my kids racing outside straight to the deepest puddles.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A pause from forgiveness
Quintessential K, the crazy bitch.
The backdrop: Today, one of my mischievous sexually curious children decided to use the school computer to look at a sex ed website when she should have been doing math drills. Then, she decided to frame an innocent classmate by telling me that he was the one who looked at the sex ed websites.
Obviously this little girl is not tech savvy at all, as a quick check in the Internet's history tab can immediately show which computer it was (and as I suspected, hers).
But, this little girl and her posse are apparently pretty good at working adults.
My 4:30pm began with K marching over to me and my framed innocent boy. This boy, who unfortunately does have a recent internet violation on his record (cussing another boy out), had to listen to K say,
"I've been given the information that you have been misusing the internet again."
Boy, with the most confused expression, goes, "huh? No I was just playing a math game."
"Are you telling me the TRUTH?! WHAT did we just talk about? WHAT did we JUST talk about. Are you even SUPPOSED to use school computers after what you did? NO!!"
"b-b-u-t-"
This poor boy is like stuttering for words, and I begin explaining that he's innocent because there is proof inside the Internet History tab and also multiple witnesses who say it was the girl. This boy just made an ideal scapegoat because of his less than stellar history with us teachers. And actually, he's been trying pretty hard to be better. The liar was not the boy, but the girl or her friends. They thought that by telling me and K, their alibi would be solidified.
So in order to get to the bottom of this issue and target the little culprit(s), I asked K, "Who was it that told you it was this boy?"
K, who by the way, is my self professed professional supervisor, replies coldly, "No, I'm not going to tell you who it was. Go deal with this yourself and tell me how it goes."
And then she turns around, walks away, and by 5:00pm she's playing Twister on the ground.
The backdrop: Today, one of my mischievous sexually curious children decided to use the school computer to look at a sex ed website when she should have been doing math drills. Then, she decided to frame an innocent classmate by telling me that he was the one who looked at the sex ed websites.
Obviously this little girl is not tech savvy at all, as a quick check in the Internet's history tab can immediately show which computer it was (and as I suspected, hers).
But, this little girl and her posse are apparently pretty good at working adults.
My 4:30pm began with K marching over to me and my framed innocent boy. This boy, who unfortunately does have a recent internet violation on his record (cussing another boy out), had to listen to K say,
"I've been given the information that you have been misusing the internet again."
Boy, with the most confused expression, goes, "huh? No I was just playing a math game."
"Are you telling me the TRUTH?! WHAT did we just talk about? WHAT did we JUST talk about. Are you even SUPPOSED to use school computers after what you did? NO!!"
"b-b-u-t-"
This poor boy is like stuttering for words, and I begin explaining that he's innocent because there is proof inside the Internet History tab and also multiple witnesses who say it was the girl. This boy just made an ideal scapegoat because of his less than stellar history with us teachers. And actually, he's been trying pretty hard to be better. The liar was not the boy, but the girl or her friends. They thought that by telling me and K, their alibi would be solidified.
So in order to get to the bottom of this issue and target the little culprit(s), I asked K, "Who was it that told you it was this boy?"
K, who by the way, is my self professed professional supervisor, replies coldly, "No, I'm not going to tell you who it was. Go deal with this yourself and tell me how it goes."
And then she turns around, walks away, and by 5:00pm she's playing Twister on the ground.
Lampton Elementary: On forgiveness, part 2
Part 2: where poop hits the fan
K would probably argue differently, but from my perspective, these are the reasons as to why I feel she is an ineffective leader.
1. Insincerity. Preaching ideals, forming ideas, making promises and not following through on multiple occasions will lead to people viewing you as an insincere person. With insincerity comes a lack of trust. A lack of trust will lead to you not being taken as serious as you would probably desire. Simple as that.
2. Inability to genuinely take constructive criticism. When your subordinates are honest and in multiple occasions, suggest (similar) solutions to (the same) problems, it isn't a threat or meant to insult you. It's just business in how things get done and improved. It isn't a time to come up with a rebuttal defending yourself.
3. Selfishness. It's more than fine to ask a lot from your subordinates, as long as you treat them with respect and give due gratitude where it is deserved. Asking your subordinates to do more than their job requirements to make you look good, and then treating them with coldness, that's taking a lot without giving anything back. That's being selfish. And no, a meal isn't a substitute for genuine gratitude. Saying we are all "one team" when things are going well, and then blaming everyone individually when things are bad, that is being selfish. Delegating responsibility that should ultimately be with you and blaming us for not doing it is selfish, and stupid.
When I think of K, I feel frustrated, sad, and angry. I feel frustrated when I think of all the things that could have been this year for the program, but wasn't due to our disinclination towards working together. I feel sad and disappointed that two otherwise nice people choose to show their ugly sides to each other instead of helping each other grow and learn. I also feel angry, both at K and ultimately myself, for letting a part-time job at a elementary school generate this much strife.
K would probably, and accurately, argue that there is a big missing piece to the puzzle. Where are my faults? What about MY laundry list of professional no-no's and K's list of grievances of my displeasing actions for the year? There is a lot to be sure.
And to be fair, there have been many a time when K has exhibited some very redeeming qualities and has been so helpful. But I'll have to save this for the final letter to her.
In the mess that is the relationship with me and K, I think the only thing left to do is forgive, learn, and move on. Forgive her and the multitude of ways this past year I feel she did wrong. Forgive myself for allowing myself to get entangled up in this silly mess. I can confidently say that come 6pm June 17th, K and I will go our separate ways forever.
K would probably argue differently, but from my perspective, these are the reasons as to why I feel she is an ineffective leader.
1. Insincerity. Preaching ideals, forming ideas, making promises and not following through on multiple occasions will lead to people viewing you as an insincere person. With insincerity comes a lack of trust. A lack of trust will lead to you not being taken as serious as you would probably desire. Simple as that.
2. Inability to genuinely take constructive criticism. When your subordinates are honest and in multiple occasions, suggest (similar) solutions to (the same) problems, it isn't a threat or meant to insult you. It's just business in how things get done and improved. It isn't a time to come up with a rebuttal defending yourself.
3. Selfishness. It's more than fine to ask a lot from your subordinates, as long as you treat them with respect and give due gratitude where it is deserved. Asking your subordinates to do more than their job requirements to make you look good, and then treating them with coldness, that's taking a lot without giving anything back. That's being selfish. And no, a meal isn't a substitute for genuine gratitude. Saying we are all "one team" when things are going well, and then blaming everyone individually when things are bad, that is being selfish. Delegating responsibility that should ultimately be with you and blaming us for not doing it is selfish, and stupid.
When I think of K, I feel frustrated, sad, and angry. I feel frustrated when I think of all the things that could have been this year for the program, but wasn't due to our disinclination towards working together. I feel sad and disappointed that two otherwise nice people choose to show their ugly sides to each other instead of helping each other grow and learn. I also feel angry, both at K and ultimately myself, for letting a part-time job at a elementary school generate this much strife.
K would probably, and accurately, argue that there is a big missing piece to the puzzle. Where are my faults? What about MY laundry list of professional no-no's and K's list of grievances of my displeasing actions for the year? There is a lot to be sure.
And to be fair, there have been many a time when K has exhibited some very redeeming qualities and has been so helpful. But I'll have to save this for the final letter to her.
In the mess that is the relationship with me and K, I think the only thing left to do is forgive, learn, and move on. Forgive her and the multitude of ways this past year I feel she did wrong. Forgive myself for allowing myself to get entangled up in this silly mess. I can confidently say that come 6pm June 17th, K and I will go our separate ways forever.
Lampton Elementary: On forgiveness, part 1
I don't know how to open this or end this long winded dense mess. All I know is that I have to forgive my boss, K.
Part 1: The backdrop
K and I have a fairly strained relationship. Funny thing is, in actuality, there isn't even that much time to strain the relationship. But in the little time we have together, it's evident. It's in how K never looks me in the eye, or really at all, when we have meetings. It's in how K never says hello or goodbye (unless I initiate it) when we arrive and depart from work, or asks how I'm doing or how the weekend was. It's in how we can walk down an entire school corridor together without exchanging a word. It's in how we can be the only two people representing our program at a conference, and not even sit together during lunch. It's in how K insinuates that every minor glitch (ie a paper missing) is due to me losing it without questioning if she was actually the one who misplaced it. Likewise, the strained relationship is in in how I try to stay in my classroom as long as I can before having to go to the office (where she is). It's in how I don't contribute in her meetings anymore. It's in how I show apathy to her new ideas.
It's no secret that a lot of things about K bother me. It REALLY bothers me that someone (who is more than twice my age and senior in position) cannot muster the decency to say hello first at least half the time. It bothers me that I know a lot of basic facts about her as a product of polite conversation questioning, and she does not know a single fact about me beyond my name and that I went to school somewhere in northern CA. It bothers me that she speaks in a demeaning tone to parents ("You ARE aware that the pickup time is at 5:30, right?"), and talks down about the custodian ("He's not used to people speaking in a soft, professional tone to him. That's why he yells."). It bothers me that her idea of leadership is referring back to scribbled notes from months past and saying "I've written down here that we discussed this matter, therefore I don't understand why you guys aren't acting accordingly."
For K, who is a champion advocate of "respecting our professionalism," I have never felt this disrespected in any work situation, ever.
But it wasn't always like this. Earlier, there was a time when I willingly worked extra at home, created and bought extra teaching materials, donated books and other supplies. Likewise, there was a time when K would (*gasp*) call me in the evening and ask if I was okay, if it seemed like I was having an off day. All of us worked together and turned the dysfunctional program into one that set the standard for the other 11 schools to follow.
What happened?
Part 1: The backdrop
K and I have a fairly strained relationship. Funny thing is, in actuality, there isn't even that much time to strain the relationship. But in the little time we have together, it's evident. It's in how K never looks me in the eye, or really at all, when we have meetings. It's in how K never says hello or goodbye (unless I initiate it) when we arrive and depart from work, or asks how I'm doing or how the weekend was. It's in how we can walk down an entire school corridor together without exchanging a word. It's in how we can be the only two people representing our program at a conference, and not even sit together during lunch. It's in how K insinuates that every minor glitch (ie a paper missing) is due to me losing it without questioning if she was actually the one who misplaced it. Likewise, the strained relationship is in in how I try to stay in my classroom as long as I can before having to go to the office (where she is). It's in how I don't contribute in her meetings anymore. It's in how I show apathy to her new ideas.
It's no secret that a lot of things about K bother me. It REALLY bothers me that someone (who is more than twice my age and senior in position) cannot muster the decency to say hello first at least half the time. It bothers me that I know a lot of basic facts about her as a product of polite conversation questioning, and she does not know a single fact about me beyond my name and that I went to school somewhere in northern CA. It bothers me that she speaks in a demeaning tone to parents ("You ARE aware that the pickup time is at 5:30, right?"), and talks down about the custodian ("He's not used to people speaking in a soft, professional tone to him. That's why he yells."). It bothers me that her idea of leadership is referring back to scribbled notes from months past and saying "I've written down here that we discussed this matter, therefore I don't understand why you guys aren't acting accordingly."
For K, who is a champion advocate of "respecting our professionalism," I have never felt this disrespected in any work situation, ever.
But it wasn't always like this. Earlier, there was a time when I willingly worked extra at home, created and bought extra teaching materials, donated books and other supplies. Likewise, there was a time when K would (*gasp*) call me in the evening and ask if I was okay, if it seemed like I was having an off day. All of us worked together and turned the dysfunctional program into one that set the standard for the other 11 schools to follow.
What happened?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Career lecture #38370
So I was able to see your 50 missed calls, Tammy, after having yet another heated night long discussion with my mother on the subject of career commitment.
While our champion Pentathler Danielle Lee didn't know much about Young Fu's plight in precommunist China, she certainly knew how to ask a relevant question that plagues many young Asians living in America today: "will it ever end?"
"Will it ever end?" Will the relentless pursuit to be on the competitive edge ever be over? Will the illogical pursuit of superficial success be put to a stop? Will the individual ever be given the time and space he/she deserves to fully actualize his/her being?
I don't doubt that my mother, as with any well intentioned mother, means well and places some excellent points on the table. But somehow, the meaning gets lost in the message. Time and time again.
Let's recap. M(other) feels like D(aughter) has 1. wasted a year by not engaging in any of the following: (a.) applying back to school (b.) taken vocational classes to neutralize her unemployable humanities degree (c.) worked full time (d.) taken initiative in learning the language of her homeland (e.) figured out her short term career/life plans in general.
D retorts points A, B, C, D, and E, respectively, by saying that she (a.) is not academically and financially ready to go back to school (b.) does not function like a machine where routine upgrades are conducted to maintain itself as a market commodity (c.) did try for over a year but we all know the story there (d.) will in the future but current preparations to leave for a Kosrean speaking nation may indicate now is not the most optimal time to being learning an Asian language (e.) does spend a significant amount of time thinking about careers, but it's a process in the making and cannot be done overnight if one is to do it thoroughly.
I give my mother fair representation on this, and I realize that her points are ultimately stronger in this drawn out argument that has come full circle in many multiple not-so-merry-go-round times. Yeah, I should have thought this out a little bit more. Yeah, I am in the wrong for not doing more. At best, my rebuttals have been a borderline excuse for inaction and a roadblock to progress.
The issue I have with my mother is not what she puts on the table, but the manner she lays it out and the way I am expected to react to it. This may be career lecture #38370, but it's really just an addendum to the J.D.I.O.B.A.F.I.L lecture series: Just Do It Or Be A Failure In Life.
The JDIOBAFIL lectures commence when the free spirited child/insolent teenager/embarrassed adult refuses to participate in enriching activities for whatever reason: she doesn't like it, she finds it disengaging, her interests lie elsewhere, time is of the essence. It's a shame that perfectly logical parents can fall so easily to the rat race of success and attempt to impose a top-down approach to upgrade their child. While the subject nature of the lectures change, they will always include clutch phrases and terms such as "falling behind", "waste of an education", "disappointing behavior", and of course, in true Asian fashion, multiple comparisons to other parent's (seemingly unnaturally successful) children.
When all is said and done, I believe we all want the same things: happiness, love, a peaceful society, a fruitful life in serving others. But the battle in getting there is like the Republicans vs. Democrats: two very different approaches in solving the same old problems.
My platform:
1. Promote understanding and not fear. Instead of employing scare tactics, parents should at least try understand the issues that could inhibit the individual from doing what they suggest.
2. Misery does not breed love/fulfillment in life. Misery breeds misery. Hard work does not have to be a miserable process. If it is backed with an passion or strong interest, it could be satisfying, gratifying, and worthwhile. Does passion, or did passion ever in the history of mankind, derive itself from feelings of inadequacy and threat? No. Therefore, like an LSAT analytical reasoning question, the premises support the conclusion that the promotion of threat and insinuations of inadequate behavior will not lead to hard work that is satisfying.
3. Recognize the difference between being stern and being damaging. Parents do have a responsibility to parent (I would be worried otherwise), but going overboard is just as bad as missing the ship. To be fair, kids need to meet them halfway and not be lazy bums. But at a certain point, you just have to let it go and let kids come into their own. Allow room for exploration, for success, for failure, for growth.
While our champion Pentathler Danielle Lee didn't know much about Young Fu's plight in precommunist China, she certainly knew how to ask a relevant question that plagues many young Asians living in America today: "will it ever end?"
"Will it ever end?" Will the relentless pursuit to be on the competitive edge ever be over? Will the illogical pursuit of superficial success be put to a stop? Will the individual ever be given the time and space he/she deserves to fully actualize his/her being?
I don't doubt that my mother, as with any well intentioned mother, means well and places some excellent points on the table. But somehow, the meaning gets lost in the message. Time and time again.
Let's recap. M(other) feels like D(aughter) has 1. wasted a year by not engaging in any of the following: (a.) applying back to school (b.) taken vocational classes to neutralize her unemployable humanities degree (c.) worked full time (d.) taken initiative in learning the language of her homeland (e.) figured out her short term career/life plans in general.
D retorts points A, B, C, D, and E, respectively, by saying that she (a.) is not academically and financially ready to go back to school (b.) does not function like a machine where routine upgrades are conducted to maintain itself as a market commodity (c.) did try for over a year but we all know the story there (d.) will in the future but current preparations to leave for a Kosrean speaking nation may indicate now is not the most optimal time to being learning an Asian language (e.) does spend a significant amount of time thinking about careers, but it's a process in the making and cannot be done overnight if one is to do it thoroughly.
I give my mother fair representation on this, and I realize that her points are ultimately stronger in this drawn out argument that has come full circle in many multiple not-so-merry-go-round times. Yeah, I should have thought this out a little bit more. Yeah, I am in the wrong for not doing more. At best, my rebuttals have been a borderline excuse for inaction and a roadblock to progress.
The issue I have with my mother is not what she puts on the table, but the manner she lays it out and the way I am expected to react to it. This may be career lecture #38370, but it's really just an addendum to the J.D.I.O.B.A.F.I.L lecture series: Just Do It Or Be A Failure In Life.
The JDIOBAFIL lectures commence when the free spirited child/insolent teenager/embarrassed adult refuses to participate in enriching activities for whatever reason: she doesn't like it, she finds it disengaging, her interests lie elsewhere, time is of the essence. It's a shame that perfectly logical parents can fall so easily to the rat race of success and attempt to impose a top-down approach to upgrade their child. While the subject nature of the lectures change, they will always include clutch phrases and terms such as "falling behind", "waste of an education", "disappointing behavior", and of course, in true Asian fashion, multiple comparisons to other parent's (seemingly unnaturally successful) children.
When all is said and done, I believe we all want the same things: happiness, love, a peaceful society, a fruitful life in serving others. But the battle in getting there is like the Republicans vs. Democrats: two very different approaches in solving the same old problems.
My platform:
1. Promote understanding and not fear. Instead of employing scare tactics, parents should at least try understand the issues that could inhibit the individual from doing what they suggest.
2. Misery does not breed love/fulfillment in life. Misery breeds misery. Hard work does not have to be a miserable process. If it is backed with an passion or strong interest, it could be satisfying, gratifying, and worthwhile. Does passion, or did passion ever in the history of mankind, derive itself from feelings of inadequacy and threat? No. Therefore, like an LSAT analytical reasoning question, the premises support the conclusion that the promotion of threat and insinuations of inadequate behavior will not lead to hard work that is satisfying.
3. Recognize the difference between being stern and being damaging. Parents do have a responsibility to parent (I would be worried otherwise), but going overboard is just as bad as missing the ship. To be fair, kids need to meet them halfway and not be lazy bums. But at a certain point, you just have to let it go and let kids come into their own. Allow room for exploration, for success, for failure, for growth.
Monday, June 01, 2009
June 1st
Today is June 1st.
June 17th will be a day of fireworks in the sky and champagne corks flying over the bridge. As bad as it is to say this (especially during this economy), June 17th will be the day I leave my job and dance off into eternal happiness (that is figuratively speaking; realistically, probably celebrate and be in joyful state of mind for a very, very long time).
Truth be told, I have never been this happy to quit a job. Even the end of summer '04, after donning a hideous neon green vest and wide leg pants at Knotts, wrapping Christmas ornaments, organizing stuffed animals, and retrieving over priced cowboy boots for people who are crazy enough to wear that stuff will not have produced the same amount of good riddance endorphins as this upcoming June 17th will. I know it.
As much as I am a chief complainer about the train wreck that I deal with everyday that are "push" factors pushing me away from ever wanting to get within a 5 mile radius of that elementary school, I would actually say that a good 65% of my expected happiness are the pull factors: primarily what the future- both far and immediate- beholds.
I haven't figured out how to write it, what to include, or how to organize it (thematically? chronologically?), but the next few blogs will be reflections of this past year spent at the local school, and maybe reflections of this year in general.
June 17th will be a day of fireworks in the sky and champagne corks flying over the bridge. As bad as it is to say this (especially during this economy), June 17th will be the day I leave my job and dance off into eternal happiness (that is figuratively speaking; realistically, probably celebrate and be in joyful state of mind for a very, very long time).
Truth be told, I have never been this happy to quit a job. Even the end of summer '04, after donning a hideous neon green vest and wide leg pants at Knotts, wrapping Christmas ornaments, organizing stuffed animals, and retrieving over priced cowboy boots for people who are crazy enough to wear that stuff will not have produced the same amount of good riddance endorphins as this upcoming June 17th will. I know it.
As much as I am a chief complainer about the train wreck that I deal with everyday that are "push" factors pushing me away from ever wanting to get within a 5 mile radius of that elementary school, I would actually say that a good 65% of my expected happiness are the pull factors: primarily what the future- both far and immediate- beholds.
I haven't figured out how to write it, what to include, or how to organize it (thematically? chronologically?), but the next few blogs will be reflections of this past year spent at the local school, and maybe reflections of this year in general.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Why, China, WHY?
Okay. If even suburban 6th graders across the Pacific at Los Coyotes Middle School have to learn about the city of Kashgar in WESTERN China, clearly it deserves some credit for being historically significant; maybe enough to not get demolished and built over with apartment buildings and fake replications of its unique culture. All in the name of earthquake protection? Yeah right.
Okay. If even suburban 6th graders across the Pacific at Los Coyotes Middle School have to learn about the city of Kashgar in WESTERN China, clearly it deserves some credit for being historically significant; maybe enough to not get demolished and built over with apartment buildings and fake replications of its unique culture. All in the name of earthquake protection? Yeah right.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Pretty
Looking pretty for Baby Lucas' baptism reception, May 2009. May our faces, and calves in particular, always look this good.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Brightness
In preparing for Micronesia, I've decided to take a break from the regular black and blue drab one can call my daily attire. I mean, how often is one going to get to spend a year on an island, thousands of miles clear of sight and sound from any high horsed fashion police? But then again, if I had cared about the fashion police at all during my time at home, I would have been behind bars a long time already. In the future, here's to hoping that my personal shopper will keep me jail free; you know, along with the personal chef who will make low cholesterol tasty meals and the chauffeur waiting outside. In the meantime(or reality), here's a preview of the tropical rainbow that will be me, or what is on me. Someday, bittersweetly, there will come a day for Chanel suits and Manolo heels. As for now, hypothetically owned nice suit and heels would mold after a week in Kosrae, so no. No, only flips flops and 100% thin cotton is allowed in this suitcase. After reviewing these, it is evident that I am destined to be in a Skittles commercial.
P.S- These were so ridiculous and silly, I knew they were "the ones" from like, 30 feet away. Goodbye, boring brown scratched and cracked old pair. Hello brightness!
P.S- These were so ridiculous and silly, I knew they were "the ones" from like, 30 feet away. Goodbye, boring brown scratched and cracked old pair. Hello brightness!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
and so it begins, again
Micronesia 2009 just became a little more real today, as the names and emails of the group going were just released. I think WorldTeach wants us to start communicating via email now to discuss the living situations (i.e who is bringing what), travel and lesson plans, etc.
So far it looks like there's going to be at least 7 people including myself. As I look at our new GoogleGroups/email list serve, I can't help but think: and so it begins, again. A new group for a new place, a new community and support network. Right now, it's 7 email addresses unfamiliar to each other; 7 people from all over the place, brought together by all electing to travel to the same remote island; 7 different life stories soon to be intertwined together for a brief while. Right now each person is equally unfamiliar; but I wonder by this time next year when we go our separate ways, how will we remember each other? It's pretty exciting.
Thinking about this (especially thinking about this at 5am) makes me think about the brevity and perceivable randomness of life's circumstances. We get thrown into situations- be it college, a new job, relocation post-college, re-relocation to a remote island- and while we can hypothesize outcomes of the situation, how it ends up playing out can be totally different. The people we get to meet along the way, who makes a lasting impression, and those who retreat back into the vast sea of memories- so much is not yet revealed.
So far it looks like there's going to be at least 7 people including myself. As I look at our new GoogleGroups/email list serve, I can't help but think: and so it begins, again. A new group for a new place, a new community and support network. Right now, it's 7 email addresses unfamiliar to each other; 7 people from all over the place, brought together by all electing to travel to the same remote island; 7 different life stories soon to be intertwined together for a brief while. Right now each person is equally unfamiliar; but I wonder by this time next year when we go our separate ways, how will we remember each other? It's pretty exciting.
Thinking about this (especially thinking about this at 5am) makes me think about the brevity and perceivable randomness of life's circumstances. We get thrown into situations- be it college, a new job, relocation post-college, re-relocation to a remote island- and while we can hypothesize outcomes of the situation, how it ends up playing out can be totally different. The people we get to meet along the way, who makes a lasting impression, and those who retreat back into the vast sea of memories- so much is not yet revealed.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
tacos and sriracha sauce
America, and California to be specific, is a smorgasbord of ethnic enclaves, religions, lifestyles, historically significant crossroads, etc. While it's around us all the time, its commanding presence can at times fade, becoming the background music to the tune of our American lives. We wake up, get dressed, drive, go to work, eat, play, sleep. Set that on repeat. For this reason, it is an absolute delight when the background music makes a momentous comeback and however briefly, reminds us all of its powerful existence. Today, I was reminded of that through the channel of food.
It started with noticing an innocent article on sriracha sauce in the Times this morning. Fast forward to dinner this evening, where I decided to give this little rooster labeled red bottle (which has sat untouched at SO many impromptu pho noodle meals in the past) a try.
At first bite, I totally got the ratio of sauce per bite wrong. Read: I basically lit on fire and melted. But, after a short learning curve, it got better. A LOT better. My confidence (and liking) in this sauce grew to the point where it can be placed for serious consideration to be a part of my all-star sauce lineup: Worcestershire sauce, ketchup, honey mustard.
According to NYTimes, the maker/genius of this concoction pulled ingredients from all over to make this; not adhering strictly to one ethnic cuisine or another. And while primarily marketed for Asian communities, the bottle also says that it's tasty with hot dogs, hamburgers, pizza, and pasta.
Its stated versatility that was praised by the Times was pretty cool, and I guess a decent example of food representing the melting pot of cultures. But what sealed the deal in this sauce's like-ability is that apparently, the famous (and still presently mysterious to me) Los Angeles Kogi taco truck uses Sriracha sauce as the ONLY complementing condiment to their Korean taco menu.
This popular traveling taco truck parks itself in various busy street corners around Los Angeles. For me, eating their Korean short-rib taco is a non-negotiable must do before a year of Spam and yams in the South Pacific.
I've decided that paying homage to the taco truck is vital to my education of Los Angeles. Yes, for the tasty tacos. But beneath its crunchy shell and a quick scroll down, these tacos were also able to elicit some heated comments, some which fiercely defended our fusion lifestyle that at times goes unnoticed, or is taken for granted. From a $2 taco, we can be reminded of who we are, who we live with in the greater community, our identities as Americans with ancestors from elsewhere, how far we've come, and however corny, the amazing stuff we've been able to accomplish through inspiring each other.- like a highly acclaimed taco truck that makes short rib tacos.
I love California, and I can't wait to try this place out!
It started with noticing an innocent article on sriracha sauce in the Times this morning. Fast forward to dinner this evening, where I decided to give this little rooster labeled red bottle (which has sat untouched at SO many impromptu pho noodle meals in the past) a try.
At first bite, I totally got the ratio of sauce per bite wrong. Read: I basically lit on fire and melted. But, after a short learning curve, it got better. A LOT better. My confidence (and liking) in this sauce grew to the point where it can be placed for serious consideration to be a part of my all-star sauce lineup: Worcestershire sauce, ketchup, honey mustard.
According to NYTimes, the maker/genius of this concoction pulled ingredients from all over to make this; not adhering strictly to one ethnic cuisine or another. And while primarily marketed for Asian communities, the bottle also says that it's tasty with hot dogs, hamburgers, pizza, and pasta.
Its stated versatility that was praised by the Times was pretty cool, and I guess a decent example of food representing the melting pot of cultures. But what sealed the deal in this sauce's like-ability is that apparently, the famous (and still presently mysterious to me) Los Angeles Kogi taco truck uses Sriracha sauce as the ONLY complementing condiment to their Korean taco menu.
This popular traveling taco truck parks itself in various busy street corners around Los Angeles. For me, eating their Korean short-rib taco is a non-negotiable must do before a year of Spam and yams in the South Pacific.
I've decided that paying homage to the taco truck is vital to my education of Los Angeles. Yes, for the tasty tacos. But beneath its crunchy shell and a quick scroll down, these tacos were also able to elicit some heated comments, some which fiercely defended our fusion lifestyle that at times goes unnoticed, or is taken for granted. From a $2 taco, we can be reminded of who we are, who we live with in the greater community, our identities as Americans with ancestors from elsewhere, how far we've come, and however corny, the amazing stuff we've been able to accomplish through inspiring each other.- like a highly acclaimed taco truck that makes short rib tacos.
I love California, and I can't wait to try this place out!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Lists
In the spirit of making lists, here's an attempt to get over the procrastination hill for preparing next year:
List #1: Things that absolutely have to get done, and get done soon, or else I will be booted from the group
- Retrieve my physical form from Dr. Wang + send two copies to WT
- Get immunizations in line
- Ask for a letter from teaching supervisor + send that in
List #2: Things I probably should do so I won't be screwed when I get to the island
- Visit the dentist
- Visit the optometrist and get a fresh supply of contacts + glasses
- Read over health/travel/life insurance policies
- Get prescriptions filled + purchase some over the counter drugs & vitamins
- Purchase a mosquito net/repellent/tiger balm/whatever works
- Load up on supplies (ie sunscreen, chap stick, contact water, etc) that may be hard to come by on the island.
- Make a separate packing list to make sure nothing that is needed is forgotten
- Research phone/internet options on the island
- Get finances in order
List #3: Things I also should probably do to avoid being a cultural no-no
- Purchase clothing that covers my legs and shoulders
- Being that this island is one of the top surfing destinations, I should at least garner some idea on how to surf
- Learn some basic Kosrean phrases
- Read up on the history, society, and customs of the Micronesia region, specifically Kosrae island
List #4: Things I think I could do to reduce the stress of teaching in unforeseeable circumstances.
- Review subjects I may be assigned to teaching (most likely elementary English)
- Prepare general ideas on lesson plans
- Read over the WT volunteer teaching resources provided
- Sign up for online ESL resources and collect teaching resources that could help
- Prepare boxes of materials to be shipped over just in case
- Talk to returned volunteers for advice
List #5: Things I want to do because they are the most fun and easy of the bunch.
- Purchase a new camera (because if you've seen mine, you would know that it is over due time)
- Purchase a hard drive
- Set up Picasa or renew Flickr account to prepare for the expected increase in photo storage
- Plan my vacation to New Zealand/wherever after
- Seeing as I will soon be sans car, I should not be lazy now and exercise
- Write an email to alert friends/family that I will not be in the States for the year
- Think of goals I want to accomplish for next year and possible side projects to do aside from teaching
List #6: Things in the far future, but in near future I should start thinking about to avoid being in a quarter life crisis upon return from the island
- Job or school?
- If grad school: when, how, what, and where?
- Return destination: ties in closely with grad school and job, but nevertheless deserves its own bullet. Socal, norcal or neither? Home or own apartment?
After reading my own lists, I now proclaim to be in panic mode. ah!
List #1: Things that absolutely have to get done, and get done soon, or else I will be booted from the group
- Retrieve my physical form from Dr. Wang + send two copies to WT
- Get immunizations in line
- Ask for a letter from teaching supervisor + send that in
List #2: Things I probably should do so I won't be screwed when I get to the island
- Visit the dentist
- Visit the optometrist and get a fresh supply of contacts + glasses
- Read over health/travel/life insurance policies
- Get prescriptions filled + purchase some over the counter drugs & vitamins
- Purchase a mosquito net/repellent/tiger balm/whatever works
- Load up on supplies (ie sunscreen, chap stick, contact water, etc) that may be hard to come by on the island.
- Make a separate packing list to make sure nothing that is needed is forgotten
- Research phone/internet options on the island
- Get finances in order
List #3: Things I also should probably do to avoid being a cultural no-no
- Purchase clothing that covers my legs and shoulders
- Being that this island is one of the top surfing destinations, I should at least garner some idea on how to surf
- Learn some basic Kosrean phrases
- Read up on the history, society, and customs of the Micronesia region, specifically Kosrae island
List #4: Things I think I could do to reduce the stress of teaching in unforeseeable circumstances.
- Review subjects I may be assigned to teaching (most likely elementary English)
- Prepare general ideas on lesson plans
- Read over the WT volunteer teaching resources provided
- Sign up for online ESL resources and collect teaching resources that could help
- Prepare boxes of materials to be shipped over just in case
- Talk to returned volunteers for advice
List #5: Things I want to do because they are the most fun and easy of the bunch.
- Purchase a new camera (because if you've seen mine, you would know that it is over due time)
- Purchase a hard drive
- Set up Picasa or renew Flickr account to prepare for the expected increase in photo storage
- Plan my vacation to New Zealand/wherever after
- Seeing as I will soon be sans car, I should not be lazy now and exercise
- Write an email to alert friends/family that I will not be in the States for the year
- Think of goals I want to accomplish for next year and possible side projects to do aside from teaching
List #6: Things in the far future, but in near future I should start thinking about to avoid being in a quarter life crisis upon return from the island
- Job or school?
- If grad school: when, how, what, and where?
- Return destination: ties in closely with grad school and job, but nevertheless deserves its own bullet. Socal, norcal or neither? Home or own apartment?
After reading my own lists, I now proclaim to be in panic mode. ah!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Updated countdown
Counting today, there are:
31 more days until work is over
22 more work days
4 more Mondays(+1 starting Tuesday)
5 more extended hour Wednesdays
If I were still in China, I would celebrate with one of these, arguably my favorite discovery in Beijing, aside from popsicles:
Like a true tourist description: Peculiarly sweet yogurt-like drink in ceramic cup. Covered by a square piece of wax paper held together by a rubber band. You pay the equivalent of roughly 25 cents to drink it. Then you return the ceramic cup and get the equivalent of 10 cents back. 25 minus 10 cents equals 15 cents for awesome.
31 more days until work is over
22 more work days
4 more Mondays(+1 starting Tuesday)
5 more extended hour Wednesdays
If I were still in China, I would celebrate with one of these, arguably my favorite discovery in Beijing, aside from popsicles:
Like a true tourist description: Peculiarly sweet yogurt-like drink in ceramic cup. Covered by a square piece of wax paper held together by a rubber band. You pay the equivalent of roughly 25 cents to drink it. Then you return the ceramic cup and get the equivalent of 10 cents back. 25 minus 10 cents equals 15 cents for awesome.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Fried goodness
Once in college, I met a girl who professed a zealous devotion to eating only vegetables and fruits. Serious. While she probably was fudging the truth a bit, there is something to be said about some girls thinking they need to constantly project an image of eating super healthy and well, always eat super healthily (although a vegetable-only diet really is questionable on healthiness). Well, like what my 4th graders say, vegetable girl can suck it. Here are some new and old foods I've recently had the enormous pleasure of devouring.
Foods #1 and #2: Haagen Daz Baileys and Coffee
Food group: Ice Cream
Calorie count: who cares
Comments: While vanilla bean ice cream remains in a resolute position for first place, the combination of Haagen Daz Baileys and Coffee ice cream put up a remarkable fight. The caffeine is at a tolerable level, and the taste is supreme.
Food #3: Smokehouse burger
Food group: Big Burgers
Calorie count: ate it too fast to count
Comments: This one was really good. It had chicken, ham, bacon, onion rings, cheese, tomatoes and lettuce with BBQ sauce. It was a really good night.
Food #4: Funnel Cakes
Food Group: Carnival food
Calorie count: probably the same number as the temperature of the oil it was deep fried in. but then again, that is probably erring on the conservative side
Comments: Due to its rarity and only seasonal appearance, I think the funnel cake can trump foods 1 to 3. In eat-ability, it should also receive the highest stars in being a "sometime food." I'm a little biased toward funnel cakes because eating one stirs up memories of carnivals (hence its food group categorization), theme parks, city fairs, etc. Today, on a beach in Oceanside, I was lucky enough to come across this:
5 minutes later, lo and behold (well, not really, you all knew it was coming), the fried mess of artery clogging goodness:
Sprinkled lightly (or heavily) with powdered sugar and maybe some strawberries, funnel cakes are without question one of the best foods created.
Foods #1 and #2: Haagen Daz Baileys and Coffee
Food group: Ice Cream
Calorie count: who cares
Comments: While vanilla bean ice cream remains in a resolute position for first place, the combination of Haagen Daz Baileys and Coffee ice cream put up a remarkable fight. The caffeine is at a tolerable level, and the taste is supreme.
Food #3: Smokehouse burger
Food group: Big Burgers
Calorie count: ate it too fast to count
Comments: This one was really good. It had chicken, ham, bacon, onion rings, cheese, tomatoes and lettuce with BBQ sauce. It was a really good night.
Food #4: Funnel Cakes
Food Group: Carnival food
Calorie count: probably the same number as the temperature of the oil it was deep fried in. but then again, that is probably erring on the conservative side
Comments: Due to its rarity and only seasonal appearance, I think the funnel cake can trump foods 1 to 3. In eat-ability, it should also receive the highest stars in being a "sometime food." I'm a little biased toward funnel cakes because eating one stirs up memories of carnivals (hence its food group categorization), theme parks, city fairs, etc. Today, on a beach in Oceanside, I was lucky enough to come across this:
5 minutes later, lo and behold (well, not really, you all knew it was coming), the fried mess of artery clogging goodness:
Sprinkled lightly (or heavily) with powdered sugar and maybe some strawberries, funnel cakes are without question one of the best foods created.
#26 and #21
Spotted on my morning cup of coffee from Starbucks. And by coffee, I really mean hot chocolate. But I can at least pretend to be grown up right?
Spotted on my friend's cup, which had real coffee in it:
Spotted on my friend's cup, which had real coffee in it:
Friday, May 15, 2009
Are "C"s the new "A"s?
As I sit here snacking on some good old fashioned instant oatmeal, I can't help but do what I do: contemplate over the recent events of life and try to make sense of the mess of it all. Not unlike traditional schooling and, well, in the spirit of final exam season, maybe it is time for an evaluation of post-grad life. How are we doing?
Unlike traditional schooling, I think it's time to throw out the As, Bs, Ds, and Fs. It seems like what a fair amount of twenty-somethings want (and some have attained) are "C"s. Big, fat, red "C"s written on the exam paper of life using the permanent marker of success so the whole world can see.
Come with me, let's sail the seven "C"s! (har har)
1. C for COLLEGE: College (or education in the way that best applies to your life) is like the freebie of the bunch. It's like the GO--> square on the Monopoly board. You've worked hard in school for 2 decades. You've paid your dues in pencil lead and all nighters. Hopefully, you got something in return. Despite the possible brain cell decline from excessive alcohol consumption in recent years, you know you're smart and you've made it to a level where you can contribute meaningfully back to the world. Good job. Go you!
2. C for CAR: Pragmatically speaking, as a working "adult" (because we totally are), it just makes sense to have our own vehicles; especially in our area since freeways basically strangle us from head to toe. Un-pragmatically speaking, do you honestly want your hot date to sit on top of a seat stain caused by you puking as a child on the way back from apple-picking? Or worse, fear that when he/she opens the car door, the handle will fly off? Then again, that's probably just my car.
3. C for CASH: It is inevitable that a twenty-something living in a metropolitan area is going to be introduced to some pretty cool young "adult" (again, the quotations) things to do. You're going to want to take your new, sexy car out to some places besides your office. Weekend trips to Vegas or San Francisco; clubbing in LA or SD; baseball, basketball, hockey games; wine tasting in Napa; a vast sea of untasted restaurants; concerts; traveling during vacation time; music and film festivals; the list can go on. But, what CANNOT go on, unfortunately, is one's attendance to such festivities if one does not have the cash.
4. C for CAREER: Okay, money and fun isn't everything. Hopefully, you would have built your work around a passion, a dream/ambition/cause you can devote your life working to achieve. It would be nice if the cash flow came from you doing what you actually loved; adding value to society, reshaping the landscape of your chosen industry, leaving the world a little better than how it was previously.
5. C for CONDO: Do I really need to touch on this one? Who WOULDN'T want to live in a place where IKEA threw up in a way that was conducive to your liking, martini glasses lined the windowsill, and 10 types of cereal sat on top the fridge? More important than aesthetics and autonomy over cereal control, having your own place (be it a condo, house, houseboat, shack, whatever) is often seen as a symbolic marker of true independence. You've officially moved out of the nest and are "on your own." Not in a college kid "I'm on my own but I have meal points and I still go home to do laundry" sort of way, but legit on your own.
6. C for CREW: Even if you have the hookups to the best hot spots in town, the sexiest bachelor(ette) pad ever, and an equally sexy car, it would be no fun if you didn't have some people to share it all with. As with pretty much everything on here, the definition of what constitutes as one's "crew" is subjective to the individual. For me, I think a good crew would be similar to the layers of the Earth: a small but awesome inner core core, a larger outer core of people to feel comfortable around at social gatherings, the quasi new people/friends of friends which make up the mantle, and the occasional contact with the crust: strangers, random cool people. Like a crust, they can flake all they want, but it doesn't really matter because they really aren't that important.
7. C for CUPCAKE: ... or Cutiepie, whatever you call your significant other. Twenty somethings can get by, and actually go a long way with just their crew. However, while friends are fun and all, it's unlikely you'll get your friends to hold your hand during a scary movie, take a bubble bath with you, or make you a candlelit dinner (you must be some amazing friend if you contest). But for the masses, I think that those activities are reserved for you and your Cupcake: your boyfriend, girlfriend, special friend with possible benefits, wife, husband, life partner, whatever.
So here are the 7 "C"s. It's eval time. Make like Monopoly and GO!!! How are we twenty somethings doing? Wait a second. Even after listing it down, it still isn't clear on HOW a proper evaluation should take place. Should grading be curved and just relative to how our peers are doing? Or should we take the aggregate score? Should the rigor of grading be directly proportional to the age of the twenty something? Can, and should we control bias?
So many questions, it is admittedly overwhelming. I think I'll have a cupcake.
Unlike traditional schooling, I think it's time to throw out the As, Bs, Ds, and Fs. It seems like what a fair amount of twenty-somethings want (and some have attained) are "C"s. Big, fat, red "C"s written on the exam paper of life using the permanent marker of success so the whole world can see.
Come with me, let's sail the seven "C"s! (har har)
1. C for COLLEGE: College (or education in the way that best applies to your life) is like the freebie of the bunch. It's like the GO--> square on the Monopoly board. You've worked hard in school for 2 decades. You've paid your dues in pencil lead and all nighters. Hopefully, you got something in return. Despite the possible brain cell decline from excessive alcohol consumption in recent years, you know you're smart and you've made it to a level where you can contribute meaningfully back to the world. Good job. Go you!
2. C for CAR: Pragmatically speaking, as a working "adult" (because we totally are), it just makes sense to have our own vehicles; especially in our area since freeways basically strangle us from head to toe. Un-pragmatically speaking, do you honestly want your hot date to sit on top of a seat stain caused by you puking as a child on the way back from apple-picking? Or worse, fear that when he/she opens the car door, the handle will fly off? Then again, that's probably just my car.
3. C for CASH: It is inevitable that a twenty-something living in a metropolitan area is going to be introduced to some pretty cool young "adult" (again, the quotations) things to do. You're going to want to take your new, sexy car out to some places besides your office. Weekend trips to Vegas or San Francisco; clubbing in LA or SD; baseball, basketball, hockey games; wine tasting in Napa; a vast sea of untasted restaurants; concerts; traveling during vacation time; music and film festivals; the list can go on. But, what CANNOT go on, unfortunately, is one's attendance to such festivities if one does not have the cash.
4. C for CAREER: Okay, money and fun isn't everything. Hopefully, you would have built your work around a passion, a dream/ambition/cause you can devote your life working to achieve. It would be nice if the cash flow came from you doing what you actually loved; adding value to society, reshaping the landscape of your chosen industry, leaving the world a little better than how it was previously.
5. C for CONDO: Do I really need to touch on this one? Who WOULDN'T want to live in a place where IKEA threw up in a way that was conducive to your liking, martini glasses lined the windowsill, and 10 types of cereal sat on top the fridge? More important than aesthetics and autonomy over cereal control, having your own place (be it a condo, house, houseboat, shack, whatever) is often seen as a symbolic marker of true independence. You've officially moved out of the nest and are "on your own." Not in a college kid "I'm on my own but I have meal points and I still go home to do laundry" sort of way, but legit on your own.
6. C for CREW: Even if you have the hookups to the best hot spots in town, the sexiest bachelor(ette) pad ever, and an equally sexy car, it would be no fun if you didn't have some people to share it all with. As with pretty much everything on here, the definition of what constitutes as one's "crew" is subjective to the individual. For me, I think a good crew would be similar to the layers of the Earth: a small but awesome inner core core, a larger outer core of people to feel comfortable around at social gatherings, the quasi new people/friends of friends which make up the mantle, and the occasional contact with the crust: strangers, random cool people. Like a crust, they can flake all they want, but it doesn't really matter because they really aren't that important.
7. C for CUPCAKE: ... or Cutiepie, whatever you call your significant other. Twenty somethings can get by, and actually go a long way with just their crew. However, while friends are fun and all, it's unlikely you'll get your friends to hold your hand during a scary movie, take a bubble bath with you, or make you a candlelit dinner (you must be some amazing friend if you contest). But for the masses, I think that those activities are reserved for you and your Cupcake: your boyfriend, girlfriend, special friend with possible benefits, wife, husband, life partner, whatever.
So here are the 7 "C"s. It's eval time. Make like Monopoly and GO!!! How are we twenty somethings doing? Wait a second. Even after listing it down, it still isn't clear on HOW a proper evaluation should take place. Should grading be curved and just relative to how our peers are doing? Or should we take the aggregate score? Should the rigor of grading be directly proportional to the age of the twenty something? Can, and should we control bias?
So many questions, it is admittedly overwhelming. I think I'll have a cupcake.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Thoughts on WoW from a non-WoWer
At the urging of friends and sheer curiosity, I spent a considerable amount of time the past seven nights killing vicious rats, collecting wolf pelts, and flying on mystical creatures through equally mystical lands. While these activities are normally not on a person's daily to-do list, they will be if said person signs up for a 10 day trial of the online gaming phenomenon that is World of Warcraft (WoW).
Writing as someone whose previous idea of an interactive computer game was Minesweeper, the introduction to WoW was, to say the least, intense.
Example:
"TEESA...DON'T JUST STAND THERE, SHOOT AT SH*T."
(Re-familiarized myself with designated shooting keys on the keyboard. Clicked on something/someone that could possibly be an enemy. Chose which shooting weapon to use- )
"LOOT THE DEAD MEN!!"
(Oh. okay. That's fine too. Abandon previous idea of shooting strange creature. Approach heap of dead men that supposedly have a commodity I would fancy plundering. OOO and yes they do! Sweet. Should I choose to get a cloak or leather pants- )
"TURN AROUND! TURN AROUND! THE ENEMY IS BEHIND YOU!"
(Damnit. Are you for reals? Okay. Screw the cloak and pants. Am now running for dear life.)
"NO, YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!"
(&%#&%%$%).
And with the aforementioned insanity, this game comes with plethora of opportunities to hone decision making skills. As with other MMORPGs (Something Something Online Role Playing Games), I was first tasked with creating a "virtual identity." Ultimately, I chose to be a middle-aged, 2 inch dwarf with a flaming red beard. I've designated that "BubbaGumpz'" purpose in life is to primarily hunt and shoot at things from a distance.
From then on, Bubba and I have been on an adventure in the WoW world. With the help and company of friends, we've killed an innumerable amount of creatures, collected pounds upon pounds of tough jerky, trained for an increase of weaponry and shooting skills, completed tasks known as "quests," and through it all, died about 289,383 times. While I'm still unclear as to how everything we do ties together, I've been told that it will all make sense when we reach Level 80.
The coveted, yet mysterious Level 80. The elite inner circle. The level known only by the true devotees to WoW-dom. All the deep and shallow questions we have in life will receive answers upon reaching this much desired, long awaited level. Why is there rampant inequality in many institutions across America? Why haven't we eradicated world hunger and poverty? Clearly, world leaders, policy makers and politicians have not been playing enough WoW.
Magic 8 Ball, will I EVER reach Level 80?
Let's see. Currently, I am at Level 20. And mostly, this is not by my own doing but by my WoW mentor. I suspect that most nights when we WoW together, he's shaking his head in utter disgust at my gross ignorance of the beautiful intricacies of the game. If WoW were a class, I would definitely not be setting the curve. Fo' sho'.
The consensus is that Level 80 is still pretty far away. Very, very far away. But, I'm a believer in celebrating milestone achievements along any long, arduous journey. So within these 7 days, here are some milestones I feel worth recognizing:
1. I now know that when the boys in my college dorm all disappear into a room together with their laptops, it wasn't to watch porn.
2. I now know that a LAN party does not involve the need to dress up to a theme and do your hair.
3. I now know where I can find a good amount of people between the hours of 8pm and 3am.
So even if I never make it to 80, I feel it has been a fruitful, and interesting journey thus far. Given my predisposed aversion to such channels of entertainment, it was definitely one I could not have foreseen taking. Nevertheless, as with any journey, it has been one that has brought some insight.
Go Bubba!
Writing as someone whose previous idea of an interactive computer game was Minesweeper, the introduction to WoW was, to say the least, intense.
Example:
"TEESA...DON'T JUST STAND THERE, SHOOT AT SH*T."
(Re-familiarized myself with designated shooting keys on the keyboard. Clicked on something/someone that could possibly be an enemy. Chose which shooting weapon to use- )
"LOOT THE DEAD MEN!!"
(Oh. okay. That's fine too. Abandon previous idea of shooting strange creature. Approach heap of dead men that supposedly have a commodity I would fancy plundering. OOO and yes they do! Sweet. Should I choose to get a cloak or leather pants- )
"TURN AROUND! TURN AROUND! THE ENEMY IS BEHIND YOU!"
(Damnit. Are you for reals? Okay. Screw the cloak and pants. Am now running for dear life.)
"NO, YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!"
(&%#&%%$%).
And with the aforementioned insanity, this game comes with plethora of opportunities to hone decision making skills. As with other MMORPGs (Something Something Online Role Playing Games), I was first tasked with creating a "virtual identity." Ultimately, I chose to be a middle-aged, 2 inch dwarf with a flaming red beard. I've designated that "BubbaGumpz'" purpose in life is to primarily hunt and shoot at things from a distance.
From then on, Bubba and I have been on an adventure in the WoW world. With the help and company of friends, we've killed an innumerable amount of creatures, collected pounds upon pounds of tough jerky, trained for an increase of weaponry and shooting skills, completed tasks known as "quests," and through it all, died about 289,383 times. While I'm still unclear as to how everything we do ties together, I've been told that it will all make sense when we reach Level 80.
The coveted, yet mysterious Level 80. The elite inner circle. The level known only by the true devotees to WoW-dom. All the deep and shallow questions we have in life will receive answers upon reaching this much desired, long awaited level. Why is there rampant inequality in many institutions across America? Why haven't we eradicated world hunger and poverty? Clearly, world leaders, policy makers and politicians have not been playing enough WoW.
Magic 8 Ball, will I EVER reach Level 80?
Let's see. Currently, I am at Level 20. And mostly, this is not by my own doing but by my WoW mentor. I suspect that most nights when we WoW together, he's shaking his head in utter disgust at my gross ignorance of the beautiful intricacies of the game. If WoW were a class, I would definitely not be setting the curve. Fo' sho'.
The consensus is that Level 80 is still pretty far away. Very, very far away. But, I'm a believer in celebrating milestone achievements along any long, arduous journey. So within these 7 days, here are some milestones I feel worth recognizing:
1. I now know that when the boys in my college dorm all disappear into a room together with their laptops, it wasn't to watch porn.
2. I now know that a LAN party does not involve the need to dress up to a theme and do your hair.
3. I now know where I can find a good amount of people between the hours of 8pm and 3am.
So even if I never make it to 80, I feel it has been a fruitful, and interesting journey thus far. Given my predisposed aversion to such channels of entertainment, it was definitely one I could not have foreseen taking. Nevertheless, as with any journey, it has been one that has brought some insight.
Go Bubba!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
I'm going to Micronesia!
It hasn't entirely hit me yet that I will be spending the next year (July 2009- May 2010), on an island that is over 5,000 miles away from home. This island is less than 50 square miles, has a declining population of 7,000, and is connected to the outside world by only 3 flights per week. In other words, it is like no place I have ever been to before.
Kosrae island is part of the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM). It's right in between Hawaii and New Zealand. The FSM is a collection of islands divided into four regions: Yap, Chuuk, Pohnpei, and Kosrae. It's fairly close to the equator, and the island does radiate many qualities that are typical snapshots of tropical island life. It's beautiful, "ringed by sandy beaches and pristine coral reefs," maintains a slow pace of life, and breadfruit, coconuts, and yams abound. However, that idyllic image is quickly altered by this place having one of the highest suicide rates in the world, and on the rise are other social problems like depression, alcoholism, and joblessness. There are issues like changing family structures, a dwindling population, and excessive foreign dependency that their leaders are currently tackling. While these islands are in a state of limbo about their future, one thing is clear: this place is on the brink of change.
Although during college I did develop an affinity for warm weather and attractive places while studying abroad in Southeast Asia, those factors cannot be further from why I chose to return, again, to the tropics. And on that note, I'm not as many may suspect and some mentioned, "taking a year off to mess around before getting serious." I find those comments rather insulting and a little ridiculous, considering the support I've always lent to their particular endeavors. While Southeast Asia WAS fun, a sizable amount of it was the polar opposite. Some images have a difficult time leaving my thoughts, like the legless boy begging in a street gutter, girls half my age pole-dancing in seedy bars, unwashed physician instruments strewn about on a decaying wooden table, children using a polluted street flood as a swimming pool, and an entire tribal community transformed into a human zoo for tourist dollars. Exotic cuisines may start to pale and stunning landscapes may eventually blur, but heartbreaking memories like the aforementioned remain vivid for a long time after. And for some, myself included, are forever changed.
I've long been fixated on the idea of deceiving perfection. Perhaps that is why several of my favorite books, movies, and television shows (Great Gatsby, American Beauty, Better Luck Tomorrow, Desperate Housewives [I know you're judging]) all contain themes of perceived success and perfection, with reality being otherwise. And perhaps, unfortunately, this theme has begun to ring true with some aspects of my own life as well. What is the point of things looking good, if an empty abyss lies behind it? Does inspiration come solely from pretty surfaces and gleaming facades? I choose not to think so, and ultimately not to act accordingly. Specifically, how can we move forward in humanity if we do not take the time to see, hear, feel, and taste what is really underneath the surface?
Undoubtedly, real beauty and the answers we seek can be found all around us, but I'm ready to venture out. I expect that life on a developing island will be pretty much the opposite of the Target-going, Starbucks addicted, suburban jungle I currently call home and like quite a bit. Kosrae is, in my humble opinion, an incredible opportunity to live, breath, and see what my college roommate so beautifully wrote, "faith, hope, and love." Especially in a region like Micronesia; so forgotten, but so critical. Really, what is not to gain but the world?
Kosrae island is part of the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM). It's right in between Hawaii and New Zealand. The FSM is a collection of islands divided into four regions: Yap, Chuuk, Pohnpei, and Kosrae. It's fairly close to the equator, and the island does radiate many qualities that are typical snapshots of tropical island life. It's beautiful, "ringed by sandy beaches and pristine coral reefs," maintains a slow pace of life, and breadfruit, coconuts, and yams abound. However, that idyllic image is quickly altered by this place having one of the highest suicide rates in the world, and on the rise are other social problems like depression, alcoholism, and joblessness. There are issues like changing family structures, a dwindling population, and excessive foreign dependency that their leaders are currently tackling. While these islands are in a state of limbo about their future, one thing is clear: this place is on the brink of change.
Although during college I did develop an affinity for warm weather and attractive places while studying abroad in Southeast Asia, those factors cannot be further from why I chose to return, again, to the tropics. And on that note, I'm not as many may suspect and some mentioned, "taking a year off to mess around before getting serious." I find those comments rather insulting and a little ridiculous, considering the support I've always lent to their particular endeavors. While Southeast Asia WAS fun, a sizable amount of it was the polar opposite. Some images have a difficult time leaving my thoughts, like the legless boy begging in a street gutter, girls half my age pole-dancing in seedy bars, unwashed physician instruments strewn about on a decaying wooden table, children using a polluted street flood as a swimming pool, and an entire tribal community transformed into a human zoo for tourist dollars. Exotic cuisines may start to pale and stunning landscapes may eventually blur, but heartbreaking memories like the aforementioned remain vivid for a long time after. And for some, myself included, are forever changed.
I've long been fixated on the idea of deceiving perfection. Perhaps that is why several of my favorite books, movies, and television shows (Great Gatsby, American Beauty, Better Luck Tomorrow, Desperate Housewives [I know you're judging]) all contain themes of perceived success and perfection, with reality being otherwise. And perhaps, unfortunately, this theme has begun to ring true with some aspects of my own life as well. What is the point of things looking good, if an empty abyss lies behind it? Does inspiration come solely from pretty surfaces and gleaming facades? I choose not to think so, and ultimately not to act accordingly. Specifically, how can we move forward in humanity if we do not take the time to see, hear, feel, and taste what is really underneath the surface?
Undoubtedly, real beauty and the answers we seek can be found all around us, but I'm ready to venture out. I expect that life on a developing island will be pretty much the opposite of the Target-going, Starbucks addicted, suburban jungle I currently call home and like quite a bit. Kosrae is, in my humble opinion, an incredible opportunity to live, breath, and see what my college roommate so beautifully wrote, "faith, hope, and love." Especially in a region like Micronesia; so forgotten, but so critical. Really, what is not to gain but the world?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Kitchen God's Wife
Finished 1/21/09.
I don't know if this book would make it in my top 5, but it was a great insight into the life and times of pre-communist China. It makes me think about the decisions of my ancestors. What if they did not have the foresight to go flee to HK/Macau before the communists took over? Or what if they lacked the courage to abandon their assets and leave their home. Even desert a town library they built for the community? How different would my life had been, if I were to even be born.
I don't know if this book would make it in my top 5, but it was a great insight into the life and times of pre-communist China. It makes me think about the decisions of my ancestors. What if they did not have the foresight to go flee to HK/Macau before the communists took over? Or what if they lacked the courage to abandon their assets and leave their home. Even desert a town library they built for the community? How different would my life had been, if I were to even be born.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Why, hello 2009.
In my last New Year post, I had predicted that 2008 was going to be a difficult year. Correcto.
In 2008, I started off the year feeling awful for walking away from a lucrative job I absolutely could not envision doing at the time, then proceeded to be turned down by one I really wanted. Then, I ended up graduating with no set plans after summer. I did make it back to Asia, but only to find out it wasn't what I had envisioned it to be. Then, I moved back home. Then, by chance I found work at my school district. This is the same district I had elected to transfer OUT of 7 years ago. Not to mention my net income some months doesn't even make it past 3 digits.
You're thinking, "and you graduated from where?"
Not going to lie, it's a hard place to be in when most of my friends have elected to choose paths that can actually pay back some loans (plus more), and they can afford to not eat government funded snacks intended for elementary school students.
In 2008, I tried so hard to do the right thing. Mainly, I tried to find a way to work with my own wants and practical obligations. Work around the world for travel and see other communities, or live an Office Space life but at least be able to be around to help my mother? What ended up happening could be named a hybrid. I am Starbuck-ed out in La Mirada while living at home, and I travel (for an entire 30 minutes) to work in a (somewhat) different community.
In a few months, I'm going to Micronesia; which could potentially be an amazing experience, or a disaster. But either way, I'm very interested in seeing where this would lead.
In 2008, I started off the year feeling awful for walking away from a lucrative job I absolutely could not envision doing at the time, then proceeded to be turned down by one I really wanted. Then, I ended up graduating with no set plans after summer. I did make it back to Asia, but only to find out it wasn't what I had envisioned it to be. Then, I moved back home. Then, by chance I found work at my school district. This is the same district I had elected to transfer OUT of 7 years ago. Not to mention my net income some months doesn't even make it past 3 digits.
You're thinking, "and you graduated from where?"
Not going to lie, it's a hard place to be in when most of my friends have elected to choose paths that can actually pay back some loans (plus more), and they can afford to not eat government funded snacks intended for elementary school students.
In 2008, I tried so hard to do the right thing. Mainly, I tried to find a way to work with my own wants and practical obligations. Work around the world for travel and see other communities, or live an Office Space life but at least be able to be around to help my mother? What ended up happening could be named a hybrid. I am Starbuck-ed out in La Mirada while living at home, and I travel (for an entire 30 minutes) to work in a (somewhat) different community.
In a few months, I'm going to Micronesia; which could potentially be an amazing experience, or a disaster. But either way, I'm very interested in seeing where this would lead.
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