I like watching certain people. In fact, I'll admit to it. I track them. Not in a stalker-like scary manner, no. But when they are around, I can't help but look at them. One of the people I look out for is this French girl who used to stay in my dorm building. At first I liked looking at her because she was French, and she seemed really cute like Amelie Poulain. She had slightly disheveled hair and glasses, and looked every bit the romantic French scholar/artist. And you wonder why I like looking at her.
She always wore black. Street clothes, comfy clothes. Always black. I thought it was a fashion thing, a fashion statement. She was someone I sort of knew, a person who would smile at me and whom I would smile at if we happened to meet. We had a mutual friend, but I never really got to know her. But I've always thought that she was adorable.
I finally saw her again recently, after the summer. I've seen her twice since school started and the first thing that I noticed was that she no longer wore black. No, she had very smart looking clothes, very colorful, very fashionable. Perhaps she finally decided to dress the French way: stylishly. It's not an overbearing stylishness. She still sticks to the simple cuts and fabrics. But it changed everything for me.
I'm sure she's her cute usual self, and nothing traumatic happened this past summer. But why was she in black every single day for a year? Was that the normal thing, or is the colorful clothing the normal thing for her? Was she in a phase? Was she in mourning? Is she in a phase now? I have to admit, I'm currently in a black phase, but I wouldn't wear too much black because I don't want my phases to look too obvious. I mean, what will I do with a ton of black clothes when it's over? And really, there was no trigger, but what if people started asking?
I'm doing to her exactly what I don't want people to do to me if I went into an overt black phase and got out of it -- wonder if there is a deeper reason. As far as I'm concerned, there is no reason for me to go into a black phase. Perhaps this is how it is for her. No rhyme, no reason. Just a passing fascination.
With fashion, we are allowed to be fickle. I must remember to not read too much into anything.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
The irony of life
It must be obvious and absurb that when a biologist is studying life, he often kills the organism he's working with. Yet, how much can we learn through pure observing?
On an unrelated topic, the tea bag labels have been very boring and I've pretty much grown sick of them. Ocassionally, I come across a gem and a recent one reads: Love, an ocean of emotions entirely surrounded by expenses. I disagree. But that's just me. It's not about the expenses, but how special it feels to be with someone, looking for new ways to create unique memories, only to want to erase them from your mind forever. I'm haunted by beautiful stories about heartbreak, like the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
I'm looking forward to the Science of Sleep. There is nothing quite like a man on a paper-mache horse with his sweetheart. And I'm sounding rather banal.
On an unrelated topic, the tea bag labels have been very boring and I've pretty much grown sick of them. Ocassionally, I come across a gem and a recent one reads: Love, an ocean of emotions entirely surrounded by expenses. I disagree. But that's just me. It's not about the expenses, but how special it feels to be with someone, looking for new ways to create unique memories, only to want to erase them from your mind forever. I'm haunted by beautiful stories about heartbreak, like the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
I'm looking forward to the Science of Sleep. There is nothing quite like a man on a paper-mache horse with his sweetheart. And I'm sounding rather banal.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
The power of braids
I braided my hair yesterday, and boy what a difference that made! It wasn't an experiment on the effects of braiding hair on the general public, but I made some interesting observations that may or may not be valid. I mean, I don't usually braid my hair. I just happened to have had a bad hair day waking up, and I finally decided to braid my hair sometime after lunch. The clothes I was wearing yesterday weren't special -- a black t-shirt and jeans -- so I'm totally assuming that they played no part in eliciting the response that I received from the general public. You can let me know how you feel about my observations.
Incident #1
Time: ~3:15pm; Location: on a street in a residential area just off a main road
What was I doing? I was walking home from a bbq. The weather was lovely, so some people were driving with their windows down. Along came a car with windows rolled down. It stopped at the stop sign, and the friendly driver called out to me, "Hey sexy!" What? Me?
There was no one else on that street, so I think he was talking to me.
Incident #2 & #3
Time: ~4pm; Location: at a housewarming
Upon stepping in, my friend's housemate asked me almost immediately how I braided my hair. The French braid is slightly complicated -looking, so it wasn't an out-of-the-ordinary type of question. I take a tour of the new apartment, and when I came out to join the group of people hanging out in the living room, a classmate said that she liked my hair and asked me how I did it. Another girl replied for me. "It's just a French braid."
Incident #4
Time: ~9:20pm; Location: at home
My roommate, her boyfriend, and 2 other friends were chilling in the living room. My roommate's boyfriend called out as I walked by. "I like your hair. Got a date?" "No, I woke up to a bad hair day." Everyone laughs. My roommate considered growing out her hair and getting braids as well, and her boyfriend said that he would love her despite whatever she might do to her hair.
Incident #5
Time: ~9:30pm; Location: on the street at the corner of the road I live on
There were still some people hanging out after the block party, sitting around in a circle while the children chalked the street. 1 man and about 5 women, all 30 and above. I don't know the neighbors, and I missed the block party. And I was just walking by, so I doubt they know me. I think they called out to me. I might have been mistakened. They called out something again, and I turned my head. "Yeah, we're calling out to you." Oops.
"How old are you?" They shouted at me. "Wanna guess?" "20?" "Close, I'm 23." "Too young for me," said the man. The women laughed. "Yeah, don't even think about it."
Incident #6
Time: ~4am; Location: walking home from a friend's place
It was late, it was dark. The waning moon was a beautiful crescent in the cloudless sky. A couple of cabs are prowling the street. An ocassional car drives by. A quiet night, an approaching car, a wolf-whistle, a departing car. It disrupted the peace of the night for a while. And then fled as the darkness chased it away.
I guess hair is like clothes -- they help attract attention and start conversations. Does it happen to you that often? I wonder what it might have been like if I didn't have braids yesterday. Would I look as friendly and approachable?
Frankly, I thought I looked awful in braids. I'm glad the world isn't as harsh on me.
An ode to French braids: a lengthy blog piece in many words.
Incident #1
Time: ~3:15pm; Location: on a street in a residential area just off a main road
What was I doing? I was walking home from a bbq. The weather was lovely, so some people were driving with their windows down. Along came a car with windows rolled down. It stopped at the stop sign, and the friendly driver called out to me, "Hey sexy!" What? Me?
There was no one else on that street, so I think he was talking to me.
Incident #2 & #3
Time: ~4pm; Location: at a housewarming
Upon stepping in, my friend's housemate asked me almost immediately how I braided my hair. The French braid is slightly complicated -looking, so it wasn't an out-of-the-ordinary type of question. I take a tour of the new apartment, and when I came out to join the group of people hanging out in the living room, a classmate said that she liked my hair and asked me how I did it. Another girl replied for me. "It's just a French braid."
Incident #4
Time: ~9:20pm; Location: at home
My roommate, her boyfriend, and 2 other friends were chilling in the living room. My roommate's boyfriend called out as I walked by. "I like your hair. Got a date?" "No, I woke up to a bad hair day." Everyone laughs. My roommate considered growing out her hair and getting braids as well, and her boyfriend said that he would love her despite whatever she might do to her hair.
Incident #5
Time: ~9:30pm; Location: on the street at the corner of the road I live on
There were still some people hanging out after the block party, sitting around in a circle while the children chalked the street. 1 man and about 5 women, all 30 and above. I don't know the neighbors, and I missed the block party. And I was just walking by, so I doubt they know me. I think they called out to me. I might have been mistakened. They called out something again, and I turned my head. "Yeah, we're calling out to you." Oops.
"How old are you?" They shouted at me. "Wanna guess?" "20?" "Close, I'm 23." "Too young for me," said the man. The women laughed. "Yeah, don't even think about it."
Incident #6
Time: ~4am; Location: walking home from a friend's place
It was late, it was dark. The waning moon was a beautiful crescent in the cloudless sky. A couple of cabs are prowling the street. An ocassional car drives by. A quiet night, an approaching car, a wolf-whistle, a departing car. It disrupted the peace of the night for a while. And then fled as the darkness chased it away.
I guess hair is like clothes -- they help attract attention and start conversations. Does it happen to you that often? I wonder what it might have been like if I didn't have braids yesterday. Would I look as friendly and approachable?
Frankly, I thought I looked awful in braids. I'm glad the world isn't as harsh on me.
An ode to French braids: a lengthy blog piece in many words.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Understanding Koreans
I knew that Korean people were serious about their kimchi, but did you know that they are also very serious about their red pepper powder?
I've decided to finally learn how to make Korean food, and one of my favorite dishes is Sundubu Chigae (Tofu stew). The recipe I found online called for 2 tbsp of red pepper powder, and another website warned that the New Mexico chili powder has a different level of spiciness than the Korean version. To be safe, I decided to get the Korean version.
I went to the Korean grocery store, and figured that I'll pick out the red pepper powder. I combed the aisles, and I did not see a single bottle of that powder. There were bottles of various Japanese spices, none of which were right. Plenty of black pepper, onion powder (is that a Korean or a Japanese thing?), hon-dashi. You name it. But no red pepper powder. But it's a Korean grocery store, so I must be missing something.
I went to the kimchi section, and found jars and pots of chili paste. "That could be a substitute I guess." I wondered if the shop assistants speak enough English so that I can ask them. There was a Korean girl, and a latin-looking girl at the counter, and I went straight up to the latin-looking one, thinking she might speak more English. She did understand me, but she didn't understand "red pepper powder". Was I saying it wrong? Comes the Korean girl to the rescue. She doesn't speak great English, but it was enough. She showed me to the aisle where the Japanese spices were, and found an obscure little bottle of something that was obscured by a huge label. "For udon," she said. I was disturbed. This huge Korean place sells one type of tiny bottle of wimpy red pepper powder for udon? "Is it spicy? I want to make tofu soup."
She led me to the next aisle, and pointed to the large packets at the bottom. "These are the Korean ones. We use a lot of red pepper powder, so there are no small packs." No kidding. The smallest was a 1lb pack. Most of the shelf was filled with 2-3lb packs. I saw then why I didn't find what I was looking for -- I was looking for the wrong thing. She left me to decide which brand I wanted. I decided that I wasn't going to eat 1lb of red pepper powder, so the cheapest pack would be good. It was a pack of coarse red powder. What's the difference really?
I took the pack up to the front and got ready to pay. The Korean girl beckoned to me, and she took a look at the pack of red pepper powder and shook her head. "This one is for kimchi." She flipped the pack to the back and sure enough, tons of Korean words, and 3 large pretty pictures of kimchi. I didn't see the back. I wonder if I would have understood the pictures. "You want the smaller bits." She meant to get the fine powder. Sure.
I went back and got something that said "fine" on it. I guess I didn't learn, because I didn't check the pack for instructions. I went up front and gave her the bag. "Not this one." What? I pointed to the word "fine" and she looked lost for a moment and pointed to the ton of Korean words in front. "You don't read Korean, but this one is for making chili paste. " Ah. Well. At least there were no pictures. She decided then that it was a better idea for her to help me find the right pack. So we went back to the aisle and got the right pack of red pepper powder finally.
What did I learn today? 1. There are at least 3 different types of red pepper powder. 2. Korean people eat red pepper powder by the pound. How long will my 1lb pack last me? I don't know, but I sure hope the Sundubu Chigae turns out well because that's a lot of Sundubu Chigae in that bag of red powdery wonder.
I've decided to finally learn how to make Korean food, and one of my favorite dishes is Sundubu Chigae (Tofu stew). The recipe I found online called for 2 tbsp of red pepper powder, and another website warned that the New Mexico chili powder has a different level of spiciness than the Korean version. To be safe, I decided to get the Korean version.
I went to the Korean grocery store, and figured that I'll pick out the red pepper powder. I combed the aisles, and I did not see a single bottle of that powder. There were bottles of various Japanese spices, none of which were right. Plenty of black pepper, onion powder (is that a Korean or a Japanese thing?), hon-dashi. You name it. But no red pepper powder. But it's a Korean grocery store, so I must be missing something.
I went to the kimchi section, and found jars and pots of chili paste. "That could be a substitute I guess." I wondered if the shop assistants speak enough English so that I can ask them. There was a Korean girl, and a latin-looking girl at the counter, and I went straight up to the latin-looking one, thinking she might speak more English. She did understand me, but she didn't understand "red pepper powder". Was I saying it wrong? Comes the Korean girl to the rescue. She doesn't speak great English, but it was enough. She showed me to the aisle where the Japanese spices were, and found an obscure little bottle of something that was obscured by a huge label. "For udon," she said. I was disturbed. This huge Korean place sells one type of tiny bottle of wimpy red pepper powder for udon? "Is it spicy? I want to make tofu soup."
She led me to the next aisle, and pointed to the large packets at the bottom. "These are the Korean ones. We use a lot of red pepper powder, so there are no small packs." No kidding. The smallest was a 1lb pack. Most of the shelf was filled with 2-3lb packs. I saw then why I didn't find what I was looking for -- I was looking for the wrong thing. She left me to decide which brand I wanted. I decided that I wasn't going to eat 1lb of red pepper powder, so the cheapest pack would be good. It was a pack of coarse red powder. What's the difference really?
I took the pack up to the front and got ready to pay. The Korean girl beckoned to me, and she took a look at the pack of red pepper powder and shook her head. "This one is for kimchi." She flipped the pack to the back and sure enough, tons of Korean words, and 3 large pretty pictures of kimchi. I didn't see the back. I wonder if I would have understood the pictures. "You want the smaller bits." She meant to get the fine powder. Sure.
I went back and got something that said "fine" on it. I guess I didn't learn, because I didn't check the pack for instructions. I went up front and gave her the bag. "Not this one." What? I pointed to the word "fine" and she looked lost for a moment and pointed to the ton of Korean words in front. "You don't read Korean, but this one is for making chili paste. " Ah. Well. At least there were no pictures. She decided then that it was a better idea for her to help me find the right pack. So we went back to the aisle and got the right pack of red pepper powder finally.
What did I learn today? 1. There are at least 3 different types of red pepper powder. 2. Korean people eat red pepper powder by the pound. How long will my 1lb pack last me? I don't know, but I sure hope the Sundubu Chigae turns out well because that's a lot of Sundubu Chigae in that bag of red powdery wonder.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
fortune cookies
There is something uncanny about the fortune cookies I get at Changsho. The most recent one said "Heroism is endurance for one moment more." I should have kept the last one that I got because that one was right on the money. I've been insomniac the past 2 months or so, and last month, the slip in the cookie said something about fear causing one to toss and turn at night, while faith makes a good pillow.
Oh, and they use chocolate-flavored fortune cookies.
"My “I” is puny, cautious, too sane. Good writers are roaring egotists, even to the point of fatuity. Sane men, critics, correct them — but their sanity is parasitic on the creative fatuity of genius." -- On Self, NY Times Magazine, Sept 10, 2006
I've never been a great performer on stage. That's why I quit dance years ago...that and because I wasn't good enough anyway. I don't know. I feel like it might have been psychological, feeling that I wasn't good enough. Most of the time, arrogance plays no part in distinguishing me from the rest of the crowd because I was more competent anyway (yes, I did say that. I am capable of being politically incorrect you know). Except when it came to dance. Perhaps I would be a better writer if I were a roaring egoist.
*Roar*
Oh, and they use chocolate-flavored fortune cookies.
"My “I” is puny, cautious, too sane. Good writers are roaring egotists, even to the point of fatuity. Sane men, critics, correct them — but their sanity is parasitic on the creative fatuity of genius." -- On Self, NY Times Magazine, Sept 10, 2006
I've never been a great performer on stage. That's why I quit dance years ago...that and because I wasn't good enough anyway. I don't know. I feel like it might have been psychological, feeling that I wasn't good enough. Most of the time, arrogance plays no part in distinguishing me from the rest of the crowd because I was more competent anyway (yes, I did say that. I am capable of being politically incorrect you know). Except when it came to dance. Perhaps I would be a better writer if I were a roaring egoist.
*Roar*
Saturday, September 09, 2006
A New Beginning....
Or so I thought. For a few days after I got back my computer, I was able to resist the temptation of carrying it around, and spending all night with it. I'm back to the old ways again...almost. I'm trying to read more these days. It's not really happening, but I'll try. I don't know how I used to read non-stop when I was a kid. It was good though.I seemed to have had plenty of time back in those days. These days, I wonder where my time's gone.
This next new book I have seems promising though. I should have opened it weeks ago. The foreword of Brave New World starts like this.
"Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean."
I have 5 days till the book is due back at the library. I hope that the rest of it is as fun.
This next new book I have seems promising though. I should have opened it weeks ago. The foreword of Brave New World starts like this.
"Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean."
I have 5 days till the book is due back at the library. I hope that the rest of it is as fun.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
she is happy
I haven't seen her in 4 years. The last time we met, we sort of knew that it'll be a long time before we would meet again. Back then, I didn't know that I'll be away from home for so long. She sort of knew that she wasn't going to be home often, if at all. And many things have happened these past 4 years.
I've known her for almost 10 years now. I don't know if I've ever seen her happy. There was always something going on in her life. Happiness, if it at all existed, was something nebulous and transient. I don't know how she held on, but she did. And she prevailed. She seems happy now.
I haven't heard her voice in 3 years. I usually IM her. They say that it's hard to really interact via IM properly. You can't see facial expressions, or hear the tone of the voice. But you can tell when someone's happy, happier than you've ever seen or heard her before. She'll talk about silly mundane, banal stuff that would be incredibly boring ordinarily, but somehow sound incredibly interesting because it's special to her. And because she has infused her words with feelings, you can feel them too. It's contagious.
When I think of her, I hear this song, This Melody by Julien Clerc.
This melody
Is a melody for you
Cette mélodie (this melody)
C'est l'océan entre nous (it's the ocean between us)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
D'eau salée et de mélancolie (of salty water and melancholy)
Dans ton pays (In your country)
Elle te revient parfois (she returns to you sometimes)
Comme ça, voilà, comme ça (just like that, voila, just like that)
Le vent d'ici (the wind of this place)
Fait voler tous nos oiseaux (steals all our birds)
Les champs d'ici (the fields of this place)
Font ce qu'ils peuvent pour les troupeaux (do all they can for our herds)
Les gens d'ici (the people of this place)
Qui ne connaîtront pas d'autre vie (don't know of any other life)
Dans ce pays (in this country)
Dont les fruits sont si beaux (where the fruits are so beautiful)
Qu'on se contente des noyaux (that we are placated by their seeds)
This melody
Is a melody for you
Les gens d'ici ne sont pas plus grands (the people here aren't bigger)
Plus fiers ou plus beaux (prouder or more beautiful)
Seulement, ils sont d'ici, les gens d'ici, (it's just they are from here, the people from here)
Comme cette mélodie (like this melody)
Les gens d'ici ne sont pas plus grands
Plus fiers ou plus beaux
Seulement, ils sont d'ici, les gens d'ici,
Comme cette mélodie
Tu est partie (you're gone)
Mais ton rève reste au chaud (but your dream remains warm)
Ce vieux soleil(this old sun)
Etait trop fort pour ta peau (is too strong for your skin)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
Qui reviendra parfois dans ta vie (that returns sometimes into your life)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
Dans ta ville s'est transformée en pluie, en pluie... (in your town is transformed into rain, into rain)
That's why
This melody is a melody for you
I don't know if the song makes sense to you, but that's this melody for me. Something that returns at times, whose memory in our old paradise remains a warm fuzzy feeling, but is no longer with me. Do I say "au revoir" or "adieu"?
I've known her for almost 10 years now. I don't know if I've ever seen her happy. There was always something going on in her life. Happiness, if it at all existed, was something nebulous and transient. I don't know how she held on, but she did. And she prevailed. She seems happy now.
I haven't heard her voice in 3 years. I usually IM her. They say that it's hard to really interact via IM properly. You can't see facial expressions, or hear the tone of the voice. But you can tell when someone's happy, happier than you've ever seen or heard her before. She'll talk about silly mundane, banal stuff that would be incredibly boring ordinarily, but somehow sound incredibly interesting because it's special to her. And because she has infused her words with feelings, you can feel them too. It's contagious.
When I think of her, I hear this song, This Melody by Julien Clerc.
This melody
Is a melody for you
Cette mélodie (this melody)
C'est l'océan entre nous (it's the ocean between us)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
D'eau salée et de mélancolie (of salty water and melancholy)
Dans ton pays (In your country)
Elle te revient parfois (she returns to you sometimes)
Comme ça, voilà, comme ça (just like that, voila, just like that)
Le vent d'ici (the wind of this place)
Fait voler tous nos oiseaux (steals all our birds)
Les champs d'ici (the fields of this place)
Font ce qu'ils peuvent pour les troupeaux (do all they can for our herds)
Les gens d'ici (the people of this place)
Qui ne connaîtront pas d'autre vie (don't know of any other life)
Dans ce pays (in this country)
Dont les fruits sont si beaux (where the fruits are so beautiful)
Qu'on se contente des noyaux (that we are placated by their seeds)
This melody
Is a melody for you
Les gens d'ici ne sont pas plus grands (the people here aren't bigger)
Plus fiers ou plus beaux (prouder or more beautiful)
Seulement, ils sont d'ici, les gens d'ici, (it's just they are from here, the people from here)
Comme cette mélodie (like this melody)
Les gens d'ici ne sont pas plus grands
Plus fiers ou plus beaux
Seulement, ils sont d'ici, les gens d'ici,
Comme cette mélodie
Tu est partie (you're gone)
Mais ton rève reste au chaud (but your dream remains warm)
Ce vieux soleil(this old sun)
Etait trop fort pour ta peau (is too strong for your skin)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
Qui reviendra parfois dans ta vie (that returns sometimes into your life)
Cette mélodie (this melody)
Dans ta ville s'est transformée en pluie, en pluie... (in your town is transformed into rain, into rain)
That's why
This melody is a melody for you
I don't know if the song makes sense to you, but that's this melody for me. Something that returns at times, whose memory in our old paradise remains a warm fuzzy feeling, but is no longer with me. Do I say "au revoir" or "adieu"?
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