So here's why the helicopters were flying so low last night -- I knew they were searching for someone (or someones)
I can't figure out how to get the video embedded, so click here
Friday, March 28, 2008
There's hope out there
No offense to anyone who went to an ivy league school for undergrad or grad ...
... But I just had a fabulous 30-minute conversation with an HBS grad who works for a top consulting firm and who didn't once mention his MBA alma mater by name. I've had so, so, so many informational interviews and chance meetings with folks in that category and I can't even tell you how rampant the name dropping can be.
Super refreshing! And he made a company that I hadn't seriously considered working for seem awfully appealing ...
So, while I'm still stressed out and a bit frustrated about having a number of summer opportunities fall through or fail to materialize, I'm having a moment of inspiration and encouragement.
... But I just had a fabulous 30-minute conversation with an HBS grad who works for a top consulting firm and who didn't once mention his MBA alma mater by name. I've had so, so, so many informational interviews and chance meetings with folks in that category and I can't even tell you how rampant the name dropping can be.
Super refreshing! And he made a company that I hadn't seriously considered working for seem awfully appealing ...
So, while I'm still stressed out and a bit frustrated about having a number of summer opportunities fall through or fail to materialize, I'm having a moment of inspiration and encouragement.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
It's good to reminisce
Decided to take the night off from working and instead did a load of laundry and tidied up my room. I know that doesn't sound like much of a day off, but it's amazing what you find when you actually clean up piles and clean out boxes that have been sitting around for awhile! It's been quite the nostalgic trip through my 21st century life:
First, I found a business card from a guy named Ashok, which brought me back to 2001 when I first moved to Boston, I quickly befriended the new grads who were in the finance leadership development program at Big Red. And I dragged a couple of them with me to First Friday at the Museum of Fine Arts. Supposedly, it was the place for Boston singles ... that is, if you're over the age of 35, as we quickly discovered. I spent a good portion of the night talking to a 60 year old Bulgarian man who repaired HVAC systems and the other part of night talking to some dude named Ashok. Thought he was a nice guy but he turned out to be a little stalker-ish.
Then, I re-discovered a series of pro-strong-and-independent-women postcards that a fabulous friend of mine diligently sent me every few days after I had gone through a tough breakup and was living temporarily and alone in Burlington. That would have been sometime in 2004, I think. I thought about the amazing friends that I left behind in Boston and how they looked after me and how much I miss them.
Later, I emptied out a cardboard box that has remained packed since I moved into DC last June. (What can I say? I hate unpacking ...) Surprisingly, I found a number of souvenirs from my family's trip to China, including a small bag of sand from the Gobi. It reminded me of riding a camel through the desert, eating kabobs in Urumqi and experiencing Tienanmen Square in the rain.
Unfortunately, my reverie was shattered by the exceptionally low flying helicopter that whirred past my house. That is definitely not normal and I'm wondering what I'll see in the news tomorrow ...
----------------
Now playing: Forro in the Dark - Asa Branca (feat. David Byrne)
via FoxyTunes
First, I found a business card from a guy named Ashok, which brought me back to 2001 when I first moved to Boston, I quickly befriended the new grads who were in the finance leadership development program at Big Red. And I dragged a couple of them with me to First Friday at the Museum of Fine Arts. Supposedly, it was the place for Boston singles ... that is, if you're over the age of 35, as we quickly discovered. I spent a good portion of the night talking to a 60 year old Bulgarian man who repaired HVAC systems and the other part of night talking to some dude named Ashok. Thought he was a nice guy but he turned out to be a little stalker-ish.
Then, I re-discovered a series of pro-strong-and-independent-women postcards that a fabulous friend of mine diligently sent me every few days after I had gone through a tough breakup and was living temporarily and alone in Burlington. That would have been sometime in 2004, I think. I thought about the amazing friends that I left behind in Boston and how they looked after me and how much I miss them.
Later, I emptied out a cardboard box that has remained packed since I moved into DC last June. (What can I say? I hate unpacking ...) Surprisingly, I found a number of souvenirs from my family's trip to China, including a small bag of sand from the Gobi. It reminded me of riding a camel through the desert, eating kabobs in Urumqi and experiencing Tienanmen Square in the rain.
Unfortunately, my reverie was shattered by the exceptionally low flying helicopter that whirred past my house. That is definitely not normal and I'm wondering what I'll see in the news tomorrow ...
----------------
Now playing: Forro in the Dark - Asa Branca (feat. David Byrne)
via FoxyTunes
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Maybe the tour guides tell funny jokes
There is something slightly sickening about potential home buyers taking a bus tour of foreclosed houses ... Check it out.
Or, go straight to the source -- http://www.repohometour.com/
Would an alpha female settle?
Two quasi-depressing articles came my way today.
The minor article of the two comes from a NY Times review on two diametrically opposed guidebooks for women who want to succeed in the business world. One book, entitled “Seducing the Boys Club: Uncensored Tactics From a Woman at the Top,” says flaunt what you got and leverage your sensuality and flirting abilities to manipulate men. The other, “What Men Don’t Tell Women About Business” (written by a "reformed alpha male") says don't be a man but be more ruthless. I didn't realize there was still a market for books employing such grossly over-used stereotypes.
The major article I want to draw attention to is from The Atlantic Monthly -- called "Marry Him!" In it, a 40-something single mother tells women in their 30s to settle for Mr. Good Enough and forget about Mr. Right. It wasn't quite the 30 minutes of soul crushing that I was warned about, but then again, I'm not exactly as thrilled to be single as I was before I read Ms. Gottlieb's piece. She does put forth valid and pragmatic insights -- for example, especially in light of the recent spendfest we call Valentine's Day, there is certainly something to be said about today's gooey, over-romanticized, Hallmark-propagated perception of love and marriage. And, since we all settle to some degree or another, we might as well settle while we're younger and have access to a larger pool of men. Then again, I don't quite understand why she is focusing her efforts on finding a man rather than focusing on how to live a fulfilled life as a single mom. Yeah, it's hard but no one says marriage is easy either. Both statuses come with pros and cons, so you might as well make the best of whatever situation you find yourself in.
Regardless of my thoughts on these books or this article, it still seems clear to me that we simply need better men ... and more of them. Or we could follow the advice that I sang oh-so-many year ago in my high school production of Guys and Dolls -- "marry the man today ... and change his ways tomorrow!"
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Aude Sapere: V-Day
So, the Saudis have banned the color red for Valentine's Day. An interesting spin on a mostly ridiculous "holiday."
But it got me thinking about other parts of V-day ... like what exactly we will buy with the nearly $17 billion that Americans are projected to spend tomorrow. Chocolates, for example. 40 percent of the world's cocoa is grown in Cote d'Ivoire, which also happens to employ 100,000 children in hazardous conditions on the fields. Between 5,000 and 10,000 of those children have actually been enslaved and trafficked into the country to work there.
Not so lovey-dovey, eh?
Still, I shall not leave you feeling guilty about wanting to shower your loved ones with something special (although, I will say that there are still 322 more days this year when your loved ones want to feel loved too). Thanks to the Brits at the Department for International Development, you can spend like the American you are and have a guilt-free conscience. Check out the chocolates from Ghana, produced under fair trade principles that support small farmers.
But it got me thinking about other parts of V-day ... like what exactly we will buy with the nearly $17 billion that Americans are projected to spend tomorrow. Chocolates, for example. 40 percent of the world's cocoa is grown in Cote d'Ivoire, which also happens to employ 100,000 children in hazardous conditions on the fields. Between 5,000 and 10,000 of those children have actually been enslaved and trafficked into the country to work there.
Not so lovey-dovey, eh?
Still, I shall not leave you feeling guilty about wanting to shower your loved ones with something special (although, I will say that there are still 322 more days this year when your loved ones want to feel loved too). Thanks to the Brits at the Department for International Development, you can spend like the American you are and have a guilt-free conscience. Check out the chocolates from Ghana, produced under fair trade principles that support small farmers.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
A good day
Despite a minor meltdown last night under the pressure of impending deadlines, summer internship hunting and a head cold, today was a good day.
I started out with a stop at my neighborhood polling place, where I was lending support to Barack Obama and encouraging folks to vote. And I brought folding chairs for the Obama volunteers to rest on. That was my civic duty of the day, seeing as independents can't vote in DC primaries.
On my way to the Metro, however, I saw a large group of people congregating on the corner. Rolling my eyes at the prospect of fighting through the crowd to reach the station, I steeled myself toward the center ... and then noticed the television cameras all around ... and then noticed that in the very core of the circle stood Barack Obama himself! Kicking myself for not getting a cell phone with a camera (and hating Blackberry for including one in my model), I waited to shake the man's hand. Which he did. Firmly. And with a piercing eye-to-eye gaze that kinda made my stomach flip in a good way. Seriously, the man has a way of making you feel like he would remember meeting you in this fleeting moment even months later. I excitedly texted the news to my sister, who then promptly called to say that she had been watching him on TV and had been looking for me in the crowd when she received my message.
The day at work was rather unremarkable, save for the fact that I met a man in his late 20s who has never been registered to vote. I just don't understand it. Voting is a privilege and even if you can't find a candidate to support, why would you so freely disregard or decline that privilege?
Classes were rather boring too. Except that during my last class of the night, my phone buzzed with the good news that Obama had won Virginia and Maryland and was likely to win DC (no surprise there). My camera-less but email-enabled phone redeemed itself.
Glad to be at home finally, I just came across a link to Senator Clinton's speech when she cast her now infamous vote for the President's Iraq resolution. And I just want to say that I'm so glad that the Democratic party has the luxury of choosing between two incredibly talented candidates (but please don't screw it up from here). Obama is hands-down the more inspirational of the pair, but reading this speech gave me a new appreciation for our first viable female candidate. And it helped counteract my exasperation with the Texas delegate system.
So, 24 hours after the mini meltdown, I'm not materially closer to landing a summer internship, my deadlines have not been pushed back, and my head is still clogged. But I'm glad to be here in the nation's capital during the most exciting U.S. election period that I've ever seen. It was definitely a good day.
I started out with a stop at my neighborhood polling place, where I was lending support to Barack Obama and encouraging folks to vote. And I brought folding chairs for the Obama volunteers to rest on. That was my civic duty of the day, seeing as independents can't vote in DC primaries.
On my way to the Metro, however, I saw a large group of people congregating on the corner. Rolling my eyes at the prospect of fighting through the crowd to reach the station, I steeled myself toward the center ... and then noticed the television cameras all around ... and then noticed that in the very core of the circle stood Barack Obama himself! Kicking myself for not getting a cell phone with a camera (and hating Blackberry for including one in my model), I waited to shake the man's hand. Which he did. Firmly. And with a piercing eye-to-eye gaze that kinda made my stomach flip in a good way. Seriously, the man has a way of making you feel like he would remember meeting you in this fleeting moment even months later. I excitedly texted the news to my sister, who then promptly called to say that she had been watching him on TV and had been looking for me in the crowd when she received my message.
The day at work was rather unremarkable, save for the fact that I met a man in his late 20s who has never been registered to vote. I just don't understand it. Voting is a privilege and even if you can't find a candidate to support, why would you so freely disregard or decline that privilege?
Classes were rather boring too. Except that during my last class of the night, my phone buzzed with the good news that Obama had won Virginia and Maryland and was likely to win DC (no surprise there). My camera-less but email-enabled phone redeemed itself.
Glad to be at home finally, I just came across a link to Senator Clinton's speech when she cast her now infamous vote for the President's Iraq resolution. And I just want to say that I'm so glad that the Democratic party has the luxury of choosing between two incredibly talented candidates (but please don't screw it up from here). Obama is hands-down the more inspirational of the pair, but reading this speech gave me a new appreciation for our first viable female candidate. And it helped counteract my exasperation with the Texas delegate system.
So, 24 hours after the mini meltdown, I'm not materially closer to landing a summer internship, my deadlines have not been pushed back, and my head is still clogged. But I'm glad to be here in the nation's capital during the most exciting U.S. election period that I've ever seen. It was definitely a good day.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Super Fat Tuesday is over
I still barely understand the whole electoral college setup and now I have to figure out this crazy delegate system!? Sheesh.
We hosted a last-minute Super Fat Tuesday party last night and lemme tell you, it was getting heated all up in the 764 Lounge! Supporters of various candidates all showed up and the healthy debate ensued. I think the most heated topic of the night was whether the Bill Clinton comment that dismissed Obama's victory in South Carolina and compared him to Jesse Jackson was cruelly calculated or innocently blurted out. I hope people who don't live in the DC metro area also host Super Tuesday parties. It makes us a little less dorky.
But I write for another reason! To share the Gang's 20 hour trip to Punxsutawney, PA to see Punxsutawney Phil the Groundhog last weekend.
Yes, dear readers, we went, we drank, we conquered!
Sort of.
Along the way, there was a 50-passenger bus with an ornery driver named Tony, multiple rounds of "Asshole" on the aforementioned bus, too many cans of bad beer, long johns, handwarmers and multiple layers in 20 degree weather, mullets (LOTS of mullets. Big mullets.), a Twist of Faite, 27 shots of Jaegermeister on a silver tray, a near-death experience with a gigantic groundhog cutout in a diner called Lily's Restaurant, and 30,000 crazy people on a big hill freezing our asses off for a 45-second glimpse of a bucktoothed rodent. You can barely even see the thing in the photo.
And after all that, the damn thing told the Grand Poobah of the Inner Circle that there would be six more weeks of winter. Yeah, evidently, that whole shadow thing doesn't really happen - according to the official Groundhog Day website, Phil predicts the weather and tells his forecast in "groundhogese" to some white guy in a top hat.
I say it here, once and for all: I will never again go to Punxsutawney. Ever. The town is made up of four streets, three bars, and many bright yellow school buses. That's about it. I'm wholeheartedly convinced that the city rakes in more money on that weekend than the rest of the year combined. I wonder where they spend it all. Groundhog food?
We hosted a last-minute Super Fat Tuesday party last night and lemme tell you, it was getting heated all up in the 764 Lounge! Supporters of various candidates all showed up and the healthy debate ensued. I think the most heated topic of the night was whether the Bill Clinton comment that dismissed Obama's victory in South Carolina and compared him to Jesse Jackson was cruelly calculated or innocently blurted out. I hope people who don't live in the DC metro area also host Super Tuesday parties. It makes us a little less dorky.
But I write for another reason! To share the Gang's 20 hour trip to Punxsutawney, PA to see Punxsutawney Phil the Groundhog last weekend.
Yes, dear readers, we went, we drank, we conquered!
Sort of.
Along the way, there was a 50-passenger bus with an ornery driver named Tony, multiple rounds of "Asshole" on the aforementioned bus, too many cans of bad beer, long johns, handwarmers and multiple layers in 20 degree weather, mullets (LOTS of mullets. Big mullets.), a Twist of Faite, 27 shots of Jaegermeister on a silver tray, a near-death experience with a gigantic groundhog cutout in a diner called Lily's Restaurant, and 30,000 crazy people on a big hill freezing our asses off for a 45-second glimpse of a bucktoothed rodent. You can barely even see the thing in the photo.
And after all that, the damn thing told the Grand Poobah of the Inner Circle that there would be six more weeks of winter. Yeah, evidently, that whole shadow thing doesn't really happen - according to the official Groundhog Day website, Phil predicts the weather and tells his forecast in "groundhogese" to some white guy in a top hat.
I say it here, once and for all: I will never again go to Punxsutawney. Ever. The town is made up of four streets, three bars, and many bright yellow school buses. That's about it. I'm wholeheartedly convinced that the city rakes in more money on that weekend than the rest of the year combined. I wonder where they spend it all. Groundhog food?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Today's Thought
Three things you should know about me:
1. I've been a Barack Obama supporter ever since I saw him speak at the Democratic National Convention (which was one of the coolest events I've ever attended) and very nearly quit my job at Big Red to move to Chicago and support his Senate race.
2. I would be thrilled to see a female president of the United States and want to believe that our nation is ready for this milestone.
3. I'm traveling on a rented bus with 20 crazy MBA students to Punxsutawney, PA to see Phil the Groundhog make his prognostication next weekend. In other words, I hardly profess to be an expert in politics and sometimes my judgment could be considered suspect.
With those three things said, let me also say that I'm annoyed by the heavy use of Hubby Bill in Hillary's campaign. I'm all for using the weapons you have in your arsenal to win a fight. But I guess I'd hoped that the first female president could win (or lose) on her own merit. Nancy Pelosi earned her spot as first female speaker of the House on her own, after all. The craziest part of the whole situation is that I believe Hillary does have merit ... but the overuse of Bill undermines it. In other words, could she win if she didn't have Bill? Of course, most of us know that no man could really survive life, let alone a presidential campaign, without his wife's support, but in our world of gender gaps, deserved or not, it doesn't mean the same thing the other way around.
Then again, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the important thing is to just get a woman in the Oval Office and open that door first.
1. I've been a Barack Obama supporter ever since I saw him speak at the Democratic National Convention (which was one of the coolest events I've ever attended) and very nearly quit my job at Big Red to move to Chicago and support his Senate race.
2. I would be thrilled to see a female president of the United States and want to believe that our nation is ready for this milestone.
3. I'm traveling on a rented bus with 20 crazy MBA students to Punxsutawney, PA to see Phil the Groundhog make his prognostication next weekend. In other words, I hardly profess to be an expert in politics and sometimes my judgment could be considered suspect.
With those three things said, let me also say that I'm annoyed by the heavy use of Hubby Bill in Hillary's campaign. I'm all for using the weapons you have in your arsenal to win a fight. But I guess I'd hoped that the first female president could win (or lose) on her own merit. Nancy Pelosi earned her spot as first female speaker of the House on her own, after all. The craziest part of the whole situation is that I believe Hillary does have merit ... but the overuse of Bill undermines it. In other words, could she win if she didn't have Bill? Of course, most of us know that no man could really survive life, let alone a presidential campaign, without his wife's support, but in our world of gender gaps, deserved or not, it doesn't mean the same thing the other way around.
Then again, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the important thing is to just get a woman in the Oval Office and open that door first.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
I'm coming home
Last day in the Middle East!
For now, that is.
Today, I had my last falafel pita lunch, my last hotel buffet dinner, took my last tourist photo. And I have to say, these elderly folk have really grown on me over the past 10 days. Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to spending time with people in my own generation again, but some (though not all) of my fellow travelers have turned out to be real charmers.
While I'm also looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again, I will miss so much about this fascinating, complex, endearing region. I'll miss the Turkish coffee, the chicken schwarma pita sandwiches, hearing the Muslim call to prayer, trying to learn Hebrew and Arabic, and most of all, I will miss getting offers of marriage and negotiating my price in camels. The bartender last night offered a million camels shipped to New York by boat, so he could "mate" with me. I told him that he probably was looking for the word "marry."
For now, though, I have a lot of valuable information and unforgettable experiences from this trip to digest and piece together. It's all been rather overwhelming, but the Middle East is a very special region and I hope to be back soon. Stay tuned for more reflections and photos.
For now, that is.
Today, I had my last falafel pita lunch, my last hotel buffet dinner, took my last tourist photo. And I have to say, these elderly folk have really grown on me over the past 10 days. Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to spending time with people in my own generation again, but some (though not all) of my fellow travelers have turned out to be real charmers.
While I'm also looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again, I will miss so much about this fascinating, complex, endearing region. I'll miss the Turkish coffee, the chicken schwarma pita sandwiches, hearing the Muslim call to prayer, trying to learn Hebrew and Arabic, and most of all, I will miss getting offers of marriage and negotiating my price in camels. The bartender last night offered a million camels shipped to New York by boat, so he could "mate" with me. I told him that he probably was looking for the word "marry."
For now, though, I have a lot of valuable information and unforgettable experiences from this trip to digest and piece together. It's all been rather overwhelming, but the Middle East is a very special region and I hope to be back soon. Stay tuned for more reflections and photos.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Even the lowest of valleys can be inspiring
We visited the Dead Sea today -- the lowest place on the planet at 1400 feet below sea level. When we first drove in, the thing I noticed immediately is the most beautiful azure blue of the water. I don't know why, but I think I've always imagined the Dead Sea as this sort of yellow-brown stagnant blob of water. After all, the salt content is so high that nothing can live in it. But oh, the blue! And the shades of blue change as the water approaches the shore -- I swear, it's almost like looking at the ocean in the Caribbean. The best part, however, was experiencing how the desert changes color as the day progresses. By the time we left, the sun was setting and it set the water and the desert mountains afire in a glowing orangey red, which was soon muted to lavender and then a deep, inky indigo. Unforgettable. I wish my pictures did it justice.
Will write up the two-day trip to Jordan some other time. I absolutely loved it and need to take some time to find the right words to describe it ...
At a hotel bar in Jerusalem and so far, have seen Germans, Italians, Greeks, Americans and other assorted nationalities sidle up to the bar. It is fascinating how the language of alcohol is a universal one. Forget David Beckham or Michael Jordan, I'm convinced that "Johnny Walker" is the most recognized personality around the world.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
The choiciest photos for you
Well, the old folk are still slow but they're becoming much more interesting. I decided that surely they must filled with all kinds of great stories, so I started asking them questions. Turns out, this one guy, Wayne, has been traveling to the Middle East for 60 years and he actually spent five months backpacking through Israel and living off the land -- in 1949! Israel didn't even declare statehood until 1948. World War II didn't even end until 1945. I was totally blown away. What an amazing story!
To add to the eye-opening moments of today's adventures, here are a few of the best photos from today and yesterday. The captions will tell you what you're looking at. Also, you should know that I'm currently sitting at the Sheraton Hotel bar in Tiberias, drinking a glass of local Israeli red wine (it's not half bad!) and listening to a wedding singer-type man croon out "No woman, no cry" with the help of his synthesizer.
To add to the eye-opening moments of today's adventures, here are a few of the best photos from today and yesterday. The captions will tell you what you're looking at. Also, you should know that I'm currently sitting at the Sheraton Hotel bar in Tiberias, drinking a glass of local Israeli red wine (it's not half bad!) and listening to a wedding singer-type man croon out "No woman, no cry" with the help of his synthesizer.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
From Elijah to Elmo
For as long as I can remember, people and places like Elijah, Ahab, and Solomon, Caesarea and Megiddo have merely been familiar names and vague images from the Old Testament. They are part of childhood stories that I’ve heard told again and again, recounted in Sunday school by teachers whose names I barely recall.
But today, all these names became real. Today, I tread upon the same path, the very same stones, leading to the city of Megiddo that the ancients walked and that King Solomon built. I stood where Elijah likely took his stand against the Baal priests. I passed through the remains of ancient halls where the apostle Paul was once imprisoned. In the distance, I saw the same mountain upon which Barak the army general went to Deborah (gasp! A woman!) and asked for her help going into battle. (She must have been a pretty kick ass woman). Now, how *cool* is all that?!
However.
(And there is always a “however” in my life).
Tomorrow promises to be just as enlightening -- we head up to the Mount of Beatitudes (of sermon on the mount fame), visit a kibbutz, and take a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee. All slowly, I’m sure.
Happy New Year!
Monday, December 31, 2007
The Rape of the Lock and other stories
I'm dashing off to the Middle East again; this time for a much-needed and anticipated vacation. Much has happened since I last blogged, including the theft of my sister's Christmas present, the rape of my locks, and the assassination of Benazir Bhutto (just to put things into perspective).
After many a long thought, I finally decided to buy my sister and new brother-in-law a yearlong membership to Costco. I figure that with a baby on the way, such a present could be well-used. Unfortunately, when the envelope finally arrived at my house via the trusty UPS man, it was empty! The ill-fated present was nowhere to be found and it took me weeks to get through to Costco to sort it all out.
As for the rape of my locks, Alexander Pope himself would have been sniggering in the background. I foolishly agreed to pay a visit to my mother's hair stylist in Houston -- I figured a women trained in China ought to know something about Asian hair. True though that may be, she sadly knew very little about listening to her client. I asked for the same cut, just two inches off. She lopped off FIVE inches and gave me a brand new style. It was like my own episode of What Not to Wear with Nick Arrojo - I couldn't see what she was doing and when it was finally over, my hair littered the ground and I was left with something about which I had not been consulted. I felt like a shorn sheep. (Which, by the way, is an actual sport in Australia. They compete to see who can shear the most sheep in a given amount of time. Amazing the things that are on late-night television).
The most interesting thing that I've learned through this harrowing hair happening is that people love misery. Everyone who hears the story immediately requests a picture. WHY?! I am grieving and they want to see pictures?! If I loved the cut, trust me, you'd see pictures all over my Facebook page. But I am in mourning. Pictures only serve to salt the painful wounds.
But in all seriousness, we humans do have a morbidly curious nature when it comes to devastation, tragedy and all manner of icky, do we not? I've been struck lately by the overflow of images from Pakistan regarding the ghastly Bhutto murder. The debates about whether she was shot or blown up first, whether that smudged image was a gun or not, etc., aren't in themselves inappropriate ... but I might take issue with the hungry way we (and the media) prowl the Internet and news networks for images, feeding this nasty habit of wanting to know every single little detail regardless of whether it illuminates what happened or helps a wounded nation heal. Can't say I know what direction this bit of rambling is heading in, but there's my thought for the day.
Farewell for now -- I'm off to Israel and Jordan, to walk the ancient lands of civilization, to see and experience (and blog) the places of the Bible firsthand. I shall keep you updated! Happy New Year!
After many a long thought, I finally decided to buy my sister and new brother-in-law a yearlong membership to Costco. I figure that with a baby on the way, such a present could be well-used. Unfortunately, when the envelope finally arrived at my house via the trusty UPS man, it was
As for the rape of my locks, Alexander Pope himself would have been sniggering in the background. I foolishly agreed to pay a visit to my mother's hair stylist in Houston -- I figured a women trained in China ought to know something about Asian hair. True though that may be, she sadly knew very little about listening to her client. I asked for the same cut, just two inches off. She lopped off FIVE inches and gave me a brand new style. It was like my own episode of What Not to Wear with Nick Arrojo - I couldn't see what she was doing and when it was finally over, my hair littered the ground and I was left with something about which I had not been consulted. I felt like a shorn sheep. (Which, by the way, is an actual sport in Australia. They compete to see who can shear the most sheep in a given amount of time. Amazing the things that are on late-night television).
The most interesting thing that I've learned through this harrowing hair happening is that people love misery. Everyone who hears the story immediately requests a picture. WHY?! I am grieving and they want to see pictures?! If I loved the cut, trust me, you'd see pictures all over my Facebook page. But I am in mourning. Pictures only serve to salt the painful wounds.
But in all seriousness, we humans do have a morbidly curious nature when it comes to devastation, tragedy and all manner of icky, do we not? I've been struck lately by the overflow of images from Pakistan regarding the ghastly Bhutto murder. The debates about whether she was shot or blown up first, whether that smudged image was a gun or not, etc., aren't in themselves inappropriate ... but I might take issue with the hungry way we (and the media) prowl the Internet and news networks for images, feeding this nasty habit of wanting to know every single little detail regardless of whether it illuminates what happened or helps a wounded nation heal. Can't say I know what direction this bit of rambling is heading in, but there's my thought for the day.
Farewell for now -- I'm off to Israel and Jordan, to walk the ancient lands of civilization, to see and experience (and blog) the places of the Bible firsthand. I shall keep you updated! Happy New Year!
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Finally reached my limit
Never again.
Never again will I accept two internships, enroll in five classes, sit on the board of a student organization, and represent all graduate students on student government -- all in one semester. Never. Ever.
I've always been involved in multiple activities at once. But I've never been this overwhelmed all the time -- to the point where I feel like most of work I've done this semester has been mediocre. And I hate being mediocre. The worst part about being totally crazed is that I start to shut down and just procrastinate, spending an hour on Facebook, another hour blogging, another hour reading the newspaper. Suddenly, it's 1am, I haven't been at all productive, and my blog entry is full of italicized print because my brain is too fried to write creatively.
So I'm swearing of blogging until my last paper is written, my last test taken. I'm weaning myself off Facebook too. But that's a bit slower going.
See you again in a few weeks!
Never again will I accept two internships, enroll in five classes, sit on the board of a student organization, and represent all graduate students on student government -- all in one semester. Never. Ever.
I've always been involved in multiple activities at once. But I've never been this overwhelmed all the time -- to the point where I feel like most of work I've done this semester has been mediocre. And I hate being mediocre. The worst part about being totally crazed is that I start to shut down and just procrastinate, spending an hour on Facebook, another hour blogging, another hour reading the newspaper. Suddenly, it's 1am, I haven't been at all productive, and my blog entry is full of italicized print because my brain is too fried to write creatively.
So I'm swearing of blogging until my last paper is written, my last test taken. I'm weaning myself off Facebook too. But that's a bit slower going.
See you again in a few weeks!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Dare To Know
I'm starting a new series that I'm calling Aude Sapere, which is Latin for "dare to know." I came across this phrase in a completely random manner and liked it so much that I filed it away in my head to bring back at the appropriate time.
And that time would be now.
Generally, whenever I read or hear about some significant happening that I want to share with you, I post it on the blog -- but I've discovered that it often gets lost among the silly little notes that I write about my life. So, in an effort to make the more meaningful entries stand out, I'm creating a new series and giving it a catchy name, like any good marketer and communications professional would do. This series is meant to reveal events, people, and trends that each of us should dare to know. I anticipate that most of the pieces will not be fluffy nor give you that warm-and-squishy-like-a-chocolate-molten-cake feeling. My goal is to be challenging, perhaps a bit controversial, and eye-opening. Don't worry, not everything will be a depressing story that breaks your heart -- there are many stories that can be difficult to digest, yet still encouraging and uplifting. I promise to try and strike a balance.
For the inaugural edition of Aude Sapere, I've chosen to feature a young boy named Joab. Born into the Kibera slums in Nairobi, Kenya, Joab faces the complexities and catch-22 choices that accompany his mother's death and a society that lets him down. I'll give away a bit of the ending, in the hopes that you will be encouraged to watch this very short film clip -- the telling of Joab's story lands on a positive note.
So, dare to know. Dare to know the lives of others who seem so distant yet whose very basic desires and needs match our own. Dare to know the flippancy with which we, as the elite few, treat our privilege and education. Dare to know the determination and the courage that can come from even the smallest boy living among the ruins.
Click here to play.
Link won't work? http://www.pbs.org/wnet/wideangle/shows/school2/vid/right2.html#
And that time would be now.
Generally, whenever I read or hear about some significant happening that I want to share with you, I post it on the blog -- but I've discovered that it often gets lost among the silly little notes that I write about my life. So, in an effort to make the more meaningful entries stand out, I'm creating a new series and giving it a catchy name, like any good marketer and communications professional would do. This series is meant to reveal events, people, and trends that each of us should dare to know. I anticipate that most of the pieces will not be fluffy nor give you that warm-and-squishy-like-a-chocolate-molten-cake feeling. My goal is to be challenging, perhaps a bit controversial, and eye-opening. Don't worry, not everything will be a depressing story that breaks your heart -- there are many stories that can be difficult to digest, yet still encouraging and uplifting. I promise to try and strike a balance.
For the inaugural edition of Aude Sapere, I've chosen to feature a young boy named Joab. Born into the Kibera slums in Nairobi, Kenya, Joab faces the complexities and catch-22 choices that accompany his mother's death and a society that lets him down. I'll give away a bit of the ending, in the hopes that you will be encouraged to watch this very short film clip -- the telling of Joab's story lands on a positive note.
So, dare to know. Dare to know the lives of others who seem so distant yet whose very basic desires and needs match our own. Dare to know the flippancy with which we, as the elite few, treat our privilege and education. Dare to know the determination and the courage that can come from even the smallest boy living among the ruins.
Click here to play.Link won't work? http://www.pbs.org/wnet/wideangle/shows/school2/vid/right2.html#
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Living single, living fabulous
Highlights and tips from the Asiatino/Mexinese wedding:
If there was one downside, it was that everyone seemed to want me to get married. The hair guy thought I was the bride. My own father accidentally referred to me as the matron of honor. The pastor asked the groom to take me as his wife during the rehearsal instead of my sister. Many, many, many people wanted to know when it was going to be my turn. I don't know if all this happened because it was my younger sister who got married, or if I'm getting old, or if it's some combination. I've never before been bombarded with this many inquiries about settling down -- and never before have I been fazed by it. I usually shrug off those comments, crack a joke, then forget about them. Me and marriage live in different zipcodes.
But I was fazed this time. Completely unsettled and left feeling like everyone was looking at my life and shaking their heads sadly. I began to wonder when or whether I'd find someone to marry me. I found myself really wanting the ring, the wedding, the settling down, the family thing. The situation worsened when we went to church on Sunday and, I kid you not, everyone I saw who looked my age was married or engaged! Feeling wretchedly demoralized, I followed everyone back to brunch -- only to have a woman I had just met tell me that I am intimidating to men. For a split second, I regretted nearly every aspect of my personality and the choices I've made -- having ambition, some degree of intelligence, education, opinions. If I had just toned it down a few notches, if I hadn't worked so hard at school or office, if I had subjugated my ambition to some man's, then maybe, just maybe, I'd be one of those girls with a gorgeous ring on her hand ...
Then I realized I was being stupid. And that Houston, where the average marrying age seems to be 21 and older women still talk about getting an "MRS" degree, is not good for my emotional health. I need to be around my fellow professional, urban, single women! And not in a man-hating, male-bashing kind of way -- in a living single and living fabulous kind of way. It's gotta be better than pretending to be a flight attendant to snag a husband, as Maureen Dowd wrote today.
So, crisis averted. I didn't run off with the first available male in a desperate attempt to marry into happiness and I harbor no bitterness toward anyone who suggested I settle down and get married.
Maybe someday ... but not today.
- Don't drink too many margaritas during the rehearsal dinner. It makes a 7am appointment with Peter for hair and makeup really really unpleasant.
- If you're supposed to bring Grandma to the church at 10am for an 11am wedding, don't go for a jog at 9:30am and show up at 10:50am. It makes the mother of the bride go INSANE.
- Make your guests figure out how to get themselves around town because juggling three cars and multiple airport pickups and dropoffs is not fun for anyone involved.
- Herding Asians and Mexicans for post-ceremony pictures is a Herculean task that most photographers are not cut out for
- Reassure the Caucasians that it's normal for brown people and yellow people to make a lot of jokes about their ethnicity.
- You can definitely write a quality maid of honor speech in the car ride to the church.
- Hire the Vietnamese Trio for your next Houston wedding -- one does the hair and makeup, another does the flowers, and the third does the cake. And it's all phenomenal.
If there was one downside, it was that everyone seemed to want me to get married. The hair guy thought I was the bride. My own father accidentally referred to me as the matron of honor. The pastor asked the groom to take me as his wife during the rehearsal instead of my sister. Many, many, many people wanted to know when it was going to be my turn. I don't know if all this happened because it was my younger sister who got married, or if I'm getting old, or if it's some combination. I've never before been bombarded with this many inquiries about settling down -- and never before have I been fazed by it. I usually shrug off those comments, crack a joke, then forget about them. Me and marriage live in different zipcodes.
But I was fazed this time. Completely unsettled and left feeling like everyone was looking at my life and shaking their heads sadly. I began to wonder when or whether I'd find someone to marry me. I found myself really wanting the ring, the wedding, the settling down, the family thing. The situation worsened when we went to church on Sunday and, I kid you not, everyone I saw who looked my age was married or engaged! Feeling wretchedly demoralized, I followed everyone back to brunch -- only to have a woman I had just met tell me that I am intimidating to men. For a split second, I regretted nearly every aspect of my personality and the choices I've made -- having ambition, some degree of intelligence, education, opinions. If I had just toned it down a few notches, if I hadn't worked so hard at school or office, if I had subjugated my ambition to some man's, then maybe, just maybe, I'd be one of those girls with a gorgeous ring on her hand ...
Then I realized I was being stupid. And that Houston, where the average marrying age seems to be 21 and older women still talk about getting an "MRS" degree, is not good for my emotional health. I need to be around my fellow professional, urban, single women! And not in a man-hating, male-bashing kind of way -- in a living single and living fabulous kind of way. It's gotta be better than pretending to be a flight attendant to snag a husband, as Maureen Dowd wrote today.
So, crisis averted. I didn't run off with the first available male in a desperate attempt to marry into happiness and I harbor no bitterness toward anyone who suggested I settle down and get married.
Maybe someday ... but not today.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Finally
The craziness has subsided. Mostly.
My sister has a new last name and we now have the first Asiatino marriage in the family. There were plenty of Mexican and Asian jokes flying around today and I was thoroughly entertained to see the white folk look all confused and somewhat shocked.
Will write more about the details later -- last night, I had too many margaritas, which made getting up at 7am for hair and makeup royally difficult. And tonight, I'm tired right down to the very marrow of my body. Suffice it to say that the Asians came out in full form -- even bringing in a DVD of a 1987 apple picking trip with many of the families that my sister and I grew up with in Chicago. And we watched it on my parents' flat screen TV in surround sound. Need I really say more?
My sister has a new last name and we now have the first Asiatino marriage in the family. There were plenty of Mexican and Asian jokes flying around today and I was thoroughly entertained to see the white folk look all confused and somewhat shocked.
Will write more about the details later -- last night, I had too many margaritas, which made getting up at 7am for hair and makeup royally difficult. And tonight, I'm tired right down to the very marrow of my body. Suffice it to say that the Asians came out in full form -- even bringing in a DVD of a 1987 apple picking trip with many of the families that my sister and I grew up with in Chicago. And we watched it on my parents' flat screen TV in surround sound. Need I really say more?
Friday, November 09, 2007
The Weekend of Insanity Begins!
I've made it to Houston, finally, for my sister's wedding. And I'm just now beginning to realize the full extent of the INSANITY that will ensue over the weekend. (Background note: The craziness is mostly caused by the fact that my sister only got engaged a month ago. My mother now considers herself an expert in planning weddings in three weeks.)
For the amount of time that I've spent on the phone with my parents and my sister, there is a remarkable amount of information that has NOT been communicated to me. Like how my sister made an appointment on Friday morning at the same time I had scheduled our mani/pedi date. And how my mom went ahead and scheduled a mani/pedi at a different place and didn't tell me.
I also arrived to find out that I'm sharing a room with my grandmother for a night. She snores. Why doesn't anyone realize that I need to be prepped for these kinds of situations?! Seriously, the last thing one wants after coming halfway around the world and working 20-hour days is to unexpectedly share a room with someone whose mere breathing shatters windows.
Sigh.
So, stay tuned to the Lady V Prophecy. I'm going to do my best to blog as things unfold during the weekend. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night; the wedding on Saturday; Asians everywhere.
For the amount of time that I've spent on the phone with my parents and my sister, there is a remarkable amount of information that has NOT been communicated to me. Like how my sister made an appointment on Friday morning at the same time I had scheduled our mani/pedi date. And how my mom went ahead and scheduled a mani/pedi at a different place and didn't tell me.
I also arrived to find out that I'm sharing a room with my grandmother for a night. She snores. Why doesn't anyone realize that I need to be prepped for these kinds of situations?! Seriously, the last thing one wants after coming halfway around the world and working 20-hour days is to unexpectedly share a room with someone whose mere breathing shatters windows.
Sigh.
So, stay tuned to the Lady V Prophecy. I'm going to do my best to blog as things unfold during the weekend. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night; the wedding on Saturday; Asians everywhere.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
I Know What I Need!
For years, I've been under the impression that I need a "wife." I totally need someone to keep my schedule straight, cook meals for me, tidy up the house so it's neat when I get home, fold and iron my laundry, and pick up my dry cleaning. I've literally been waking up in a haze these days, unsure of where exactly I'm supposed to go and how I'm supposed to dress. I think it's all a side effect of taking two internships along with five classes, traveling to the Middle East, midterms, and preparing for my little sister's wedding. Never mind trying to also juggle the emotional complexities of having a younger sister married off, worrying about what the heck I'm gonna do after grad school, and dealing with boy drama. These days, I just long for boredom. Seriously. I often wonder what it must be like to have a day with absolutely nothing to do, nothing to think about, no emails or phone calls to return, nothing.But I've suddenly realized that I've been wrong all these years. I don't need a wife.
I need an understudy.
Yep, a perfect clone or maybe someone that loosely resembles the Lady V. Just think -- I could send her out on the first date from a match.com adventure. Especially if I'm having a bad hair day or just want to sleep instead. The Lady V understudy could have studied for my econ midterm and taken it in my place. But instead, I had to take a two hour exam having only crammed for an hour beforehand. Just think of all those times you've wished you could be in two places at once! An understudy totally solves all these problems. She could be in my Finance class while I rake in money for a nonprofit as a guest bartender. She could be home cooking dinner while I'm studying. I could even send her out as my representative to hang out with those people that I don't want to make time for, but know that I need to. Okay, that would be sorta mean, but it would be such a beautiful thing ...
Now, I just have to find another Asian in D.C. I should hold a casting call. Oh! Even better, I should post a Craigslist ad and pay by the hour ... hmmmm ...
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Now playing: Glen Hansard - Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy
via FoxyTunes
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