a new word!

I learnt a cool new word today.

Anatidaephobia: The fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you.

thoughts about friendship

I was thinking about fatherhood recently. Yes, fatherhood. Not parenthood. But this post is not about parenting as the title already tells you. I am thinking about friendship tonight.

My question is who makes a better friend? The person who respects your views, or the person who actively looks out for you? That is how I am stating my question for now. Perhaps it requires some restatement, but for now it works.

Both people do care for you of course, but they show their concern in different ways. Would you prefer the girl friend who tells you that she doesn't like your boyfriend, or the girl friend who doesn't say much and still says nothing when you break up? Perhaps it is hard to decide.

Would you prefer the friend who tells you that you're heading down the wrong path, or the friend whose opinion you can sense but who doesn't say a thing? I think it's hard to decide. What if you are not headed down the wrong path? What if something good did come out of it?

I never figured out how to deal with such situations, but if you know me, I'm the one who says nothing. Most of the time, I hate to jinx anything in case it does work out. I trust my friends to take care of themselves as best as they can. I hope my trust is not misplaced.

Smells like Teen Spirit

I finally saw the MTV for Smells Like Teen Spirit today. I've always liked the song, but I heard it years after it came out and I've never been an MTV person. And I discovered another thing that makes me smile. Not the attractive face of Kurt Cobain (it's okay), but the very slow-moving janitor swaying to his music. Whoever casted that old man, that was genius!

I'm sorry

I was hanging around the exam room today in case the kids had any questions, and there she was: smart, blonde, black-framed glasses and pink ear plugs, writing.

I don't mean to use stereotypes. It's rather unfair to be blonde and have people take you less seriously. It's unfair when anyone has to go the extra mile to prove anything. But I couldn't help it when I noticed the bright pink ear plugs in her ears. An excellent exam strategy.

I looked back down to my copy of the New Yorker, and smiled.

Filing a Link

I can't help but notice that a certain article has remained in the top 10 most frequently e-mailed on the New York Times. You know which one I'm talking about -- Questions Couples Should Ask (Or Wish They Had) Before Marrying. It was first published Dec 17, 2006. 3 weeks is a really long time for an article to stay on that list. I am tempted to read more into why such an article stays on the list for so long but it would be inherently misleading -- news about events and happenings have a limited amount of time before they turn stale. There is little chance of those articles staying on for a long time.

There are also lists for the most blogged and the most searched items on the site. The most blogged articles this morning are recent news, mostly relating to the president. The most searched list is a mix of current and perennial topics, ranging from Iraq to college. Saddam's name comes up twice on this list.

It's all well and good to have most popular lists, but do they tell us anything? Before this morning when I committed my thoughts to paper (and in the process thought about it more), I was inclined to make something about the most popular e-mailed article list. I usually read the articles featured on that list first, because they are likely to be the more interesting articles. I was tempted to read more into what people find important and interesting to them, until I finally saw the most blogged list. Why don't the lists coincide at all?

I've seen at least one opinion about talking about politics, how it's becoming harder to talk about it with family and friends. I guess by extension, you wouldn't want to e-mail such an article. And since news is news, one also assumes that people have access to the same news whatever newspaper they read. Editorials, fashion and health articles don't usually show up simultaneously on all major newspapers.

Yay. I've spent my morning pondering the most popular lists on the New York Times. Time to get out and do some actual thinking that matters.

growing up

I've known him for quite a few years, but it was only today that I noticed how alive his eyes were. Eyes that are seeing the world, and eagerly drinking it all up. His posture was relaxed, and his facial features were composed. But his eyes, those eyes were alert and thinking. He's lost the naivete. Or perhaps I finally see him for who he is.

"It's not about how smart you are. You'll meet someone who is half as smart, but way more cunning."
"So you've become more cunning?"
"No, you just learn to watch out."

And I could picture him watching and waiting. He won't attack you because the ones who do move out of incompetence. He will do what his job requires of him. After all, it's just business. Watching and waiting.

The Unicorn Code

“If you go to Yves Saint Laurent or Prada or Tod’s or Chanel or Hermès this season, there are three different versions of the same bag: mini, regular and oversize.”

She said the last word as if she were describing seeing a unicorn — magical, beautiful, altogether perfect.

The New York Times carried an article almost 2 weeks ago about oversized bags and how they are all the rage and oh-so-bad for you. I like reading fashion news, but this little bit in particular jumped out at me because of the unicorn.

I've been trying to describe a unicorn for a while but I can't really find anything with google. I mean, what is a unicorn supposed to symobolize? What are the search terms that I need to use? Or does a unicorn not symbolize anything? Then one morning reading about how bad oversized bags are for you, I found a somewhat-description of a unicorn. Good enough for now. A fourth word to describe the unicorn, as implied in the context of the article, is "elusive". To me, that might be the most important word.

Why am I currently fascinated with unicorns? Someone once mentioned a unicorn for reasons unknown, and I promptly forgot about it. Months later, I was trying to find a birthday present, and I stumbled across a toy unicorn. It was a rather violent toy -- a unicorn impaling a human. The avenging unicorn. You get to choose the human and even the horn. I considered getting it for my friend, but didn't figure that he would like it. I ended up giving him a button that said "Unicorns are pretty sweet". I was also considering a "unicorns are real dammit" magnet from David and Goliath (they seem to have rather cool stuff), but figured that it was too in-your-face annoying. And while I was trying to buy a unicorn, I wondered about what it actually symbolized. I have no idea still.

Anyway, if you didn't click on the link above, there is a unicorn code. It's pretty simple:

1. Unicorns never lie.
2. Unicorns always lend a helping hand.
3. Unicorns are loyal.
4. Unicorns can keep a secret.
5. Unicorns don't use drugs.

I quite like it. I feel like I may know a unicorn. I want to know a unicorn. I want to be a unicorn. I'm currently fascinated by unicorns.

Finding true love online

I know of about two online dating sites: match.com and eharmony.com. For the longest time, I was under the impression that eharmony was a more serious site because they had a detailed questionnaire that you have to fill in before they generate matches based on some complicated algorithm that takes into account the 29 or so aspects of your personality. I have, on several occasions, wondered what that questionnaire was like.

A couple of days ago, a friend told me about this friend of his who was deemed "undatable" by eharmony's quiz. Wow, that sounds pretty serious. I also learnt that one can take the quiz and sign up for a trial subscription (limit of 10 matches) on eharmony -- in other words, I can take that very informative quiz for free if I wanted to. eharmony's advertising campaign (it's scientifically proven online dating!) worked: I found myself spending about an hour, answering 12-15 pages of questions (I almost gave up), and getting several matches. But I jump ahead of myself. For those who have never tried online dating sites, I thought it would be interesting to give a few more details so that you can find out what you're missing out on. My roommate suggests that I try match.com, meet up with a couple of guys and write a comparative article on these dating sites and the results. It sounds like a little more trouble than I'm willing to go through. But I've done the first part of the research, and I present you here with the preliminary findings.

The first thing that struck me was that eharmony only allows you to be a "man seeking a woman" or a "woman seeking a man". No queers. I wonder if you can sue them for discrimination. I was next disappointed by 3 pages of words that may describe me, ranked on a scale of 1 through 7 (1 being not at all, and 7 being very). I should have kept better notes about what followed, but I didn't. There were a couple (or maybe 3) pages on activities that I may find interesting (ranked again from 1 through 7), some short questions on what I'm most passionate about, and who has been a big influence on me, and what I can't live without and am thankful for, what my strengths are and what my friends think of me. Of course, there needs to be a few pages on what I think is important in a partner (again ranked on a scale of 1 through 7), what I am willing to accept for religion, drinking habits, smoking, ethnicity, whether I want children, my height, age and all that mundane things (no, they didn't ask for my weight). And finally, there is the page where I say that I accept their terms and conditions and they give me my personality profile and find me some matches.

First thing about the personality profile -- they don't give you a report in 20 parts. No. Instead, you get a report that describes you on 5 different levels: agreeableness, openness, emotional stability, conscientiousness and extraversion. I basically found out that I am who I thought I was (what a relief!) -- rather moderate in all aspects except for extraversion (I'm reserved in case you didn't know). From those 12 pages of question and answer, I got out about as much information as I would have if I had taken some random online quizzes -- since you are described by 5 criteria, you probably need to take 5 quizzes. Of course, those short questions I had to answer were displayed on my profile page for my matches to read and find out more about me. The next thing to do was to see my matches to see how well the matching algorithm worked.

I came up with 6 matches -- 3 asian and 3 white guys. It seemed to me that the asian guys were very brief with their short answers (about 1-2 lines) while the white guys wrote short paragraphs that were more descriptive. If you're a guy reading my blog and you ever try these dating sites out, my advice to you is that more is better. Write freely, and make sure you write well. While everyone is going to sound like a SNAG (is this term still used these days?), at least you won't get thrown aside immediately based on the fact that there are other guys who seem more open and interesting. Enough said.

In general, my matches were people that I wouldn't mind meeting, although the asian guys weren't as interesting because they wrote very little, and very concisely. Perhaps if you had a different criteria, you would have a different opinion. There was an obvious mismatch, and he must have realized it to because he closed communication with me the next morning. I was not impressed with spelling mistakes (typos are fine, like putting in an extra letter somewhere) -- one guy claimed to have been a playwright, except he spelt "playwrite". I might have considered clicking the "start comunicating" button, except that spelling mistake put me off. I pretty much ended my eharmony session on that note.

This morning, I woke up to find 7 e-mails from eharmony.com: 6 telling me that there was a guy they wanted me to meet, and 1 telling me that a certain Mr T wanted to start communicating with me. I actually used a real e-mail address with eharmony.com because you communicate via server e-mails, and I didn't want to bother with checking a fake e-mail account.

There are 2 options for comunicating on eharmony: guided communication, or open communication. The guided comunication process involves 2 rounds of mutual Q&A's, and sending a list of Must-Haves and Can't-Stands in between, before moving on to open communication. The fast track version is jumping straight to open communication. Mr T chose the guided communication track.

As far as the 1st round of Q&A's go, it seems that he selects 4 closed-ended questions from a list and sends them to me. If none of the above answers work, I can fill in a 4th blank answer. I think that the 2nd round of Q&A's probably involve selecting from a list of open-ended questions. It's quite like a beauty pageant, with different rounds and chances for elimination. So far, I like the guided communication track.

Since I wasn't aware of the option to close communication immediately last night, I now have to deal with my new cyber friend. I started using eharmony.com to see my personality profile (disappointing), and to see how it was possible for a guy to be "undatable" (seriously, ouch). Should I actually communicate with Mr T? There are several more layers of screening to go, and I could eliminate him, or he could eliminate me along the way. But what if we actually make it through the 2nd round of Q&A? I wasn't planning on looking for anyone, and it seems that people who sign up with eharmony.com are looking for more than just dating partners. Maybe I am over thinking this. It would be fun to try it out. I don't know.

So far, the online dating experience has been rather interesting -- I do think that it is a good way to meet a specific group of people with the same goals. In fact, it is efficient. I might actually try online dating someday, maybe someday soon if I decide to carry on communicating with Mr T (I'm using the word "communicate" a lot because it's eharmony jargon). But I've used up my 10 matches limit on the trial subscription, and that's about as far as I want to take it for now. Now what should I do with Mr T?

Addedum: It turns out that I can't start communicating unless I subscribe. I guess that's it with Mr T then. I closed communication, and I would like to tell him the truth, except I can't actually say more than check a box. I checked the box that said "Other" for reasons I'm closing communication since I can't write my own reply.

on completeness

It's funny how you can intuitively know when it's complete. "It" here refers to my room, but I could mean this in a more general way. The last piece falls in place, and you feel that whatever-it-is-we-may-be-talking-about is whole. I finally bought myself a chair yesterday, and my room is complete.

I've been resisting getting a chair for a while because I don't like chairs with wheels, and I don't like the sterile look of those office chairs that people usually get for their desks. So the last time I went shopping, I bought a white footstool to use as a stool. It was a little short, and I hardly sit at my desk as a result. Yesterday, I happened to find myself in Ikea again, and I was thinking of getting a chair but I changed my mind after seeing what was available. I couldn't get anything the first time, and things haven't changed so much in 5 months.

*pause* Well, you know it's untrue. A lot has changed in the past 5 months, and Ikea has changed a little.

Anyway, back to the story. We were getting ready to check out when there and then, I saw this red wooden chair, and I thought to check it out. I decided to get it even though I thought it wasn't quite right. I was going to run back to look for a cushion just in case, but there in the bin of red cushions right beside the aisle was one lone cream-colored cushion. And they all come together.

I finally assembled the chair today, and it strangely completes my room. I never thought of a desk chair as a crucial component of a bedroom, but it does have its role. I am now writing to you in my mostly-white room, sitting on the cream cushion on the red-stained chair, at my completely white and plain desk with a white iBook. I think it makes a lovely picture. I hope this is when other things start coming together for me as well.

One can never plan; things just happen. Does it really mean that we shouldn't bother to plan? It's not quite the koan about worrying -- if there is a solution, why worry? If there is no solution, what good does worrying do?

Water rushes into the heating pipes. Where there is space, it will flow.

Chasing Cars

I don't really like how I keep making references to pop culture in my entries. It makes my writing style so predictable, but that's what I like though, linking all the things around me up so that they look like one huge idea. It's true though, I think we are all one. One. I had my One Theory many years ago, and I haven't thought of it much. But it's not to say that I've forgotten it. It just seems so obvious, that we have a lot in common, all of us people, living things. Somehow, we just focus on the differences. It's for the same reason why we wonder why we are 99.99% similar to most animals on this planet, and we are obsessed with how that 0.01% difference translates into such a huge difference in body structure and brain functions. I agree that it is quite alarming how something so small becomes something so important. But it doesn't change the fact that we are built from a very similar blueprint.

We heard this song in class the other day, about how everything was really the same thing in biology. I think that song was about cell signaling and gene regulation. It went by the name of "Little Phosphatases" or something. How true and how insightful. Yes, I'm a biologist. I mostly catalogue things, and realize that they are all the same. But that minute difference is the punchline of every paper that I will write. Something was slightly different. But of course! If it were all exactly the same, then it's the exact same thing.

I'm not making too much sense. But it's fine. I get into such a mood when I'm reading something by Murakami. We're just killing time until the next big thing happens. I don't know what the next big thing is, but it's really not the best way to live, thinking that this moment is being killed so that I can get to the next. No wonder they say that youth is wasted on the young. Who's they? I don't know. But I think I am one of them now.

Chasing cars, since I shouldn't make obscure references without explaining them, is the title of a song by Snow Patrol. The line I'm thinking of goes something like this "Let's waste time, chasing cars in our head." The rest is self explanatory.

Pardon the recent lack of humor. I blame the sunny skies of the approaching winter.

My Man of the Year

Have the words stopped flowing? Have my ideas all dried up? Not quite, but I am tired. Ocassionally, I feel sad. Sometimes I feel happy. Perhaps it is time for a break. It is all very well to dream of escaping, to say "Anywhere but here", but it is not enough. I feel that it is important to say what you want. Unfortunately, it means that you have to know what you want. What do I want?

I wonder where he is right now, the guy who left his suitcase with me. He said that he'll be sure to pick it up if and when he returns. I haven't heard a peep from him, and I am tempted to call him up. But I am afraid that I am imposing myself on him, like I've done so many times. He said that he may take the time off and travel and work a little in some place other than here. Every so often when I feel lost and want to escape, I think of him and wonder what he is doing, and wonder what if it had been me instead. But he is not me, and he may not even remember who I am. I am still here, and I cannot escape.

For the few seconds he was around, he made a difference. At the end of each year, I like to look back and ask myself who the most important person I met was. It's still a little early, but I think I've named my Man of the Year.

Sleep

What will you make of it if I told you that the best thing that's happened to me recently is that I managed to sleep 8 hours straight? Yes, I'm slightly insomniac these days. There is unfortunately nothing romantic about it. Thankfully I'm not worrying about it.

I wonder if it has anything to do with getting older. An older person explained how he didn't need as much sleep as he aged when we marvelled at how he seemed to always be working. I have a friend who ocassionally suffers from insomnia. She thinks that deep down inside, something is bothering me. While I am bothered by a few things recently, I doubt that they are keeping me up 4 days out of a week. I could of course be totally wrong about this. Perhaps I am truly disturbed by recent events.

It is tragic that I have to think about sleep these days. Clearly, it's not something one should think about. One could appreciate being able to fall asleep and waking up refreshed, but when you can't actually sleep well, good sleep becomes something akin to a gift, a miracle. Something beautiful, surreal, not totally unattainable but rare.

Intrigued by the title (and other things), I watched the Science of Sleep recently. It's a beautiful movie, best watched by the silly romantic who is incapable of living normally. Because I identify with the childish and adorable lead, I thought the movie was touching and poignant. A more pragmatic person thinks that the lead is crazy and needs to be locked up. If only I could solve my problems in my dreams, I would want to be a sleepwalker. The lead didn't manage to solve his problem, but at least he's more proactive than I am. We're both cowards really.

Is it a problem that I identify with people who suffer from the same character weaknesses and that I am drawn to them as a result? Not just anyone with the same weaknesses of course, but someone attractive who shares my weakness. A tragic hero. I love it when things are juxtaposed. Being able to accept a weakness and turn it into something attractive is probably the wrong way to go about it. But we need our flaws to make us more human, more loveable. A perfect person isn't real. And so I will carry on with my misguided ways. Because tonight I am a defensive insomniac.

Northern Lights

An acquaintance from the past has come back into my life, and somehow he is automatically a friend now. It's amazing how things just happen on their own. For all our lack of conversation the 3 years I knew him, I associated things with him. Things that I haven't thought about recently -- like the Milky Way, the Northern Lights, mirror-grinding, telescopes. Things that made me happy once, that I haven't seen recently because they no longer seemed important. But it is important to hold on to happy thoughts.

I just saw a video of an aurora borealis on youtube, and if there is one more thing I need to do besides finally visit Paris, it is to see the Northern Lights. Colors. Bright vivid colors of the fall foliage, of the dark winter nights. Dog sleds.

First things first though -- where can I see the powdery white stars of our galaxy again?

fashion statements

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.

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.

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.

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.

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*

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.

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"?