The magical 3 year mark

Many years ago, I told a story of how the shoes I wear tend to be about 3 years old. (story) Recently, I finally found out why. I have problems wearing new shoes often. I mean, I will wear them, but not on a daily basis coz I take a while to adjust to shoes. And somehow by the 3rd year, I finally get used to the shoes, and they look worn enough to be used daily. I am one of those overly sentimental people.

I'm back....I hope

It has been a long while since I last wrote. It turns out that I am one of those awful people who disappear from the world once they get into a relationship. Yeah, I am a little old for that, but I've always been childish.

I am sick and at home. I have a ton of hobbies, but somehow I got to reading old e-mails, and eventually moved on to my blog. I like my blog entries. I am kind of sad to think of all the memories I could have captured on my blog the past 2 years if I bothered to write more frequently. Some of the early stories about my bff, P-chan, I did not even recall until I read them again.

This is the 2nd time I am majorly ill this year. Like major. Before, I used to get a cold/flu twice a year. This year, I caught the stomach flu (once is enough; never again!), and now some weird viral infection that gives me a fever 3 times a day, and gives me aches all over like an old lady. The annoying part is when the fever breaks, and I get sweaty, and I have to shower. But maybe I am finally getting better. I've been feeling cold the last 3 days, and finally it got warm enough for me to bring out the fan. (It is warm outside. I just happened to need a wool blanket.)

So many things to update. But instead of playing catch up, I'll just focus on collecting the memories to come. I wonder who even reads this blog anymore.

edit: I must be incredibly optimistic to be amused that I currently have a 5pm fever and a 10pm fever. Everyone seems to think that I should see a doctor.

When in a pinch 1

This goes out to anyone who has tried to find a 2L bottle of rootbeer in Harvard Square. It's impossible. I know coz I went to CVS, C'est Bon Convenience, and even 7-eleven (I didn't try the Marketplace). But I really wanted to bring a rootbeer float to a gathering, so here is what I did:

I bought a Double Gulp at 7-eleven.

You know how 7-eleven sells drinks in cups? Well, it turns out that the largest cup they have is 64 oz, which is 1/2 gallon, which is 1.89L. Perfect. And did I mention that they have about 8 flavors at least? One of them was IBC Rootbeer. You can find rootbeer at any drink dispenser, just not in stores in Harvard Square. It seems like the most likely sodas are Coke/Diet Coke (and their Pepsi equivalents), and Sprite and Ginger Ale. No rootbeer. And being Harvard Square, you pay $1.99 for your giant bottle.

I paid $1.46 for my 64 oz, and went over to the gathering while impressed onlookers stared at me. The Double Gulp was a big hit at the party too. Sadly, no one thought that it was the biggest rootbeer float ever.

I knew I was in the wrong place

For weeks now, I've been trying to convince myself otherwise. This morning, reality hit me in the form of a piece of paper with a teddybear design. It said "please remember to enclose $3 for shipping the teddybear to Africa".

My roommates have a weekly knitting circle where they are making teddybears to give to African children suffering from HIV/AIDS. They did not inform me about it, and I found out only accidentally. I was in shock for a while, but a friend suggested that maybe they were knitting teddybears to sell to raise funds for African children. I mean, knitting isn't cheap, nor is the weekly pizza or whatever takeout they purchase to feed themselves while knitting. How about using the money to send food or HIV retroviral drugs to those kids instead?

It's like me making fun of Spare Change all over again, except this time it's happening in my home. I can't believe they are in my PhD program. I know, on the bright side, it won't be so hard getting a good academic position if these are the people I am up against.

A best case scenario wisdom teeth extraction

I got my wisdom teeth out a week ago, and it was no way near the painful experience I thought it would be. It was really hard deciding to take 3 of my wisdom teeth out because of all the awful stories I heard about other people's experiences. However, I have weaker-than-average gums, and my teeth are in an awkward position for cleaning. Every so often, the gum gets painful around one of my tooth, and I know it's not because the tooth is growing out. It seemed like something I'd have to do eventually, so I finally decided to get my teeth out.

My dentist was a confident, tiny, middle-aged man who proudly declared that he almost never has to see his patients after surgery, and they all have little swelling. One could take this the wrong way, but I believed my dentist -- I saw his pride in his work. Even then, I was terrified.

Given my fear, you'd have imagined that I would get general anesthesia, but I actually got the local instead. There were 2 reasons:
1. my roommate told me a story of a guy who died of suffocation when a piece of gauze got stuck in his throat during surgery.
2. everyone else suggested local, because it had fewer side effects. These are people who have removed their wisdom teeth.

I was shaking when I sat down in the dental chair, and the dentist gave me my first dose of novocain in 3 places (this part stings a little). I told him that I was scared, and asked him if I should close my eyes, and he said "yes". Then he left while the anesthesia kicked in, which was for about 10-15 minutes. During that time, I talked to the nurse who assured me that my dentist is faster than average, so it'll be over very quickly.

When the dentist came back, he gave me another shot of novocain around one of my teeth and then I closed my eyes and he put something into my mouth, and before I knew it, he announced that one of my teeth was out. This tooth has mostly emerged and was bony (impacted and bony, according to the bill), but it was hard to clean. I'm not even sure if he stitched me up. It was all over in less than 2 minutes, and I opened my eyes.

For the next tooth, I closed my eyes and he went through the same procedure, except this time the tooth was a little more tightly lodged. I heard a little creak in my ear before he announced that the tooth was out. Again, less than 2 minutes. There was a little pressure, but it didn't hurt. This time, the thread touched the edges of my mouth so I knew he stitched me up. This tooth was impacted, but only partially erupted. I've never really had problems with it, and it surprised me when the dentist told me that it was already infected. There was pus and gunk beneath the tooth, and he had to clean things out a little.

The last tooth was much larger than the other 2. The dentist gave me a shot of novocain as usual, but I didn't feel my lips numbing, so he gave me another shot. Still, I didn't feel my lips numbing. I even used my fingers to poke around my mouth area to report the degree of numbness to the dentist. By this time, I was an engaged participant and no longer shaking, even though I closed my eyes when the dentist was working. He decided that it was still okay to proceed. He tried once but it didn't work -- I heard the creaking, and my head was following along. I said that it might have hurt slightly when he was pulling at my tooth, and he said that he was actually pushing ("I only push, never pull"). I still don't know if it was hurting, or if it was just pressure that I was feeling. He told me to keep my head still and gave a 2nd push, and for about 5 seconds I felt the pressure/slight pain again and then the tooth was free. Again he stitched me up, and it probably took less than 5 minutes really.

Let's recap: 50 minutes, 3 teeth. 5-10 min of waiting time before the dentist arrived, another 10-15 min of waiting for the anesthesia to kick in, and then an actual 2 min for each tooth, not counting the time in between each tooth (especially the 3rd which needed more anesthesia).

My care instructions were to ice the day of, take 3 ibuprofens instead of vicodin immediately, and also take penicillin for my infected tooth. (Vicodin only if ibuprofen doesn't work.) I should put gauze in my mouth when I'm oozing. I noticed that I was drooling a lot because of the gauze (I stopped drooling when I took the gauze out). I was in a chirpy mood, and I managed to drop by my lab to say hi to everyone and talk about my experience before I headed home to rest. At home, I noticed that the bleeding was slow, and 4 hours post surgery, I decided that I didn't need gauze. I managed to drink, eat yogurt and mashed sweet potato, and swallow my pills okay. I didn't notice any swelling. That night, I slept with a towel over my pillow in case of bloody drool. There was a drop of pink drool when I woke up.

Day 2: No swelling, but it's supposed to peak at 48 hours post surgery. I decided to lower my dose of ibuprofen because I was feeling pretty good, so I tried eating 2. That lasted me 5.5 hours, which is nearly regular dose (caveat: I'm 105lbs, so it might be a pretty high dose for a small person.) Again, I was on mashed sweet potatoes and yogurt, but I was back at work. I started my salt water rinses and it did not hurt my wound (to be continued for 5-7 days, 6-8 times a day). I completely stopped bleeding by the afternoon (24 hours post surgery). I took 3 ibuprofens before going to bed just in case, and I brushed my front teeth.

Day 3: Still no swelling. I started the day with 2 ibuprofens because my jaw was throbbing slightly on the infected side. I took out 2 healthy teeth on the other side, but I didn't feel any pain there. I decided that I could probably go 1 ibuprofen every 4 hours, so I lowered my dose of painkillers. I ate mushroom soup and bread (just the white part) fine. Just in case, I took 2 ibuprofens to bed.

Day 4: I'm down to 1 ibuprofen every 6 hours. For dinner, I started taking nibbles of softer food (there was a free buffet that night, so I tried everything that looked edible). I realized that I could chew on the uninfected side.

Day 5: I took my last ibuprofen after brunch. My brunch was pancakes and scrambled eggs. My dinner was salmon and bread.

Day 6 was much like day 5.

On day 7, I had a real dinner. I took a piece of fried chicken, and ate a spicy korean stirfy.

I think it was mostly fear that kept me from eating real food earlier, although I think it is a good idea to stay on soft and bland foods for a week. I feel mostly fine now, just a little scared when I yawn and open my mouth too wide.

Of course, I've had plenty of friends who had bleeding for 3 days, or had to take their teeth out in pieces, and who really needed general anesthesia. I feel like I got lucky with my teeth, and perhaps my choice of dentist. If you happen to be in Boston and need your wisdom teeth out, I have an excellent dentist to recommend.

Blatantly bad reporting

Saw this article on the New York Times, and the first reaction I got from reading the headlines was "duh". (Lower Gas Prices Don't make Americans Feel Rich)

The average price of gas in the country has gone down by about $2. For whatever reason, annual mileage per car is usually estimated at 12,000 miles. That means 12,000 miles/20mpg = 600 gallons of gas each year. (Okay, maybe 20mpg is too high an estimate. But poor people need to be smarter about buying their cars. The cheaper and smaller Ford cars do get ~20 mpg.) That translates to spending $1200 more each year for gas. Yes, it is a lot of money. But people are overreacting to this.

For instance, one lady talks about how she took on an extra 10 hour of work each week. Assuming she was going to work 40 weeks in a year, that is an extra 400 hours to get the extra $1200. She was probably overestimating the impact of the gas price hike, or driving a lot more than the average person.

And of course the farmers Ritchie are not going to spend "tens of thousands of dollars to furnish and landscape their new house" -- this reporter has ridiculous expectations. I do think that they may spend more on fuel related products coz they own a farm, but off the hat, I don't know if tens of thousands of dollars is too high an estimate.

The thing about gas is that we have been using it in a wasteful manner, even though most people need to get their tanks filled each week. They get used to paying $25 a week, and suddenly it goes up to $50. It feels painful, but we're overestimating the pain coz we're focused on this particular 100% price hike. Prices of other things have gone up, but not doubled. People need to realize that $25 a week was too much to begin with.

This is a poorly conceived article that tried to make a story about lower gas prices but failed. I am feeling the effects of reading Nassim Taleb's The Black Swan already. (He warns about how newspapers often try to impose a narrative on facts to get a story, but really just mess up.)

Fine, I'm magnifying the effects on his book on my judgment.v (^_^)

Does laying an egg hurt?

I've been fascinated by the idea of having a vegetable garden and my very own egg-laying chicken for a while. It's not actually feasible right now to embark on either project since it's getting colder, and I have to admit that I don't have the talent for farming. Fortunately, it is possible to dream a little, and to watch youtube to see what I'm missing out on. And then I stumbled upon this video




It shows you a hen laying an egg, and it does not look like fun. In fact, it looks like it hurts. But I couldn't be sure so I asked an experienced friend who grew up on a farm.

"Yes, of course it hurts."

Apparently, hens do not make pleasant sounds when they lay eggs. He then proceeded to tell me a story about how his favorite hen died after laying an egg the size of an ostrich's egg -- she died of bleeding. That egg had 10 yolks. A little more research later, I found out that eggs increase in size as a bird gets older -- think stretched uterus. The eggs we usually get in the grocery store come from young chickens, so we're unlikely to see an egg with multiple yolks. Hens become less productive after the first couple of years, and they are usually culled.

Why would a chicken keep laying eggs every day or so if it hurts? I don't know.

According to the same friend, birth is not the most painful experience (need to find a reference for this). It is less painful than breaking a bone, and passing kidney stones. Of course, birth is a more prolonged process, so I think it all evens out.

I was traumatized about eating eggs again. But they are so good. Laying eggs is natural for a hen. I think the moral issue, if you agree that there is one, is that we kill them after their productivity declines.

Fortunately for ex-battery hens in the UK, I read about millions of hens being adopted in London. They still give eggs, although not every day. And the eggs that they produce in your backyard are probably more nutritious since they now get TLC from you.

meeting my daily calcium needs

I had a doctor's visit last month. Because my old doctor quit, I have a new doctor who went through the initial checklist with me. He is not happy that I only drink half a glass of milk a day -- which is way more than what I used to consume before I came to the US (milk in Asia tastes bad). Apparently, I am only getting 1/4 of the required calcium, which is 250mg out of 1000mg. I don't really want to eat calcium supplements though.

So the doctor recommends that I drink more milk, or eat more yogurt. I wasn't convinced that milk was the only major source of calcium I am consuming; I remember hearing that broccoli is a good source of calcium. Fact check on the internet: broccoli has very little calcium -- only 50mg per 100g, so you need to eat 4lbs (2kg) of broccoli a day to get enough calcium. Tofu has calcium as well, but it depends on which brand you buy. Depending on the brand, you get 80 - 200 mg from 125g of tofu -- which means you need to eat at least 625g of tofu to get enough calcium. Bok choy is actually better than tofu or broccoli-- 150mg per 100g -- but it's hard for me to get bok choy here. Soy milk is also good. But the doctor is right that milk, yogurt and cheese are the best sources.

I decided earlier this week to start my new high calcium diet: fruit (lovely berries at the farmer's market) with plain yogurt and honey for breakfast, a sandwich with cheese and about 8oz of milk for lunch, and a hot chocolate made with milk before bedtime. I started my diet yesterday. I ate my yogurt this morning, but I was getting sick of it. I skipped my afternoon's 8z of milk although I ate my cheese-containing sandwich. I think I'm officially over this new high calcium diet.

It doesn't mean that I won't keep trying. But it's just so hard to eat according to regulations. I'm just going to keep eating because I want to eat something.

learning my heritage in a foreign land

I am ethnically Chinese, and I am also 3rd generation Singaporean. (Wow, this is about the first time I am revealing that much information about myself). Whatever they say about Singapore being a good place to raise bicultural and bilingual children, they don't mean it thoroughly. The children are raised with one foot in their parent's culture, another foot in the modern world. What results is usually an incomplete understanding of either culture or language. Yes, it provides a foundation for the children to quickly learn more about one culture/language. However, the child must make the effort to learn. And learning usually involves visiting another country, ideally living there for a while.

The way I've set it up, you'd think I learned to use chopsticks in Singapore, but learned to properly hold it in China. Well, not really. I learned to hold my chopsticks in a little Chinese American restaurant, following the directions printed in the paper sleeve holding my disposable chopsticks. At the ripe age of 12, I learned to hold my chopsticks properly while my classmates continued holding their chopsticks in what is considered a childish fashion.

Strangely, I have also learned to speak Chinese more fluently since coming to the US. In Singapore, there was never really a need to say more than a few words to convey a crude idea of what I want. Then I met my college roommate's parents for the first time and realized that I really could not speak Chinese even if I tried really hard. They speak mainly Cantonese and a little Chinese.

Around the same time, I met another friend's parents for the first time. They are Taiwanese, and they expected me to be able to converse with them in Chinese. I can usually get away with speaking English . By replying in English, I can usually persuade the other party to reply in English but not these people. The dad immediately demanded in Chinese, "Can't you speak Chinese?"

Taiwanese dramas were popular back in those days, and I checked them out of of curiosity. A few episodes into them, I realized that it was easy to pick up conversational Chinese even if I was barely paying attention to the dialogue. And my Chinese did improve.

While visiting Singapore over a recent break, I found myself watching a few local Chinese dramas. If the modern dramas bear any resemblance to the dramas I watched while growing up there, I think I can understand why I didn't learn much from watching them. The dialogue was usually brusque, involving a lot of emotional exchange. It is not strange that I failed to pick up complete sentences from them. I also happened to catch an early 1980's drama where the sentences were more complete, although the show was also more awkward. While the quality of speech in the dramas may reflect reality, the dramas are also guilty of reinforcing the downward spiral in the quality of language.

This is not all to say that I did not benefit from growing up with a foot in 2 cultures. I think that at some point, people, especially those in an isolated society, need to seek out a more complete source of knowledge to counter its gradual erosion. I recently read somewhere that there are more non-native English speakers than native ones, and this will change the form of the English language as we know it. Perhaps we can accept this. But to accept the downward spiral of a language such that it is no longer poetic: is this not reversing what the progress that we have made over years? There was once a time when not all native speakers were literate enough to appreciate literature. After all it is only very recently that mass education has equalized the playing field, such that even a bus driver like JK Rowling can write a best selling series.

A thought in progress, I have no conclusion.

PS. I am assuming that out of necessity, the non-native speaker has made the language simpler and less nuanced. My experience with non-native use of a language is that the first order approximation is made by injecting keywords without regard for how they are connected (since the idea can be broadly conveyed this way).

Rating girls from 1-10

Even though I am a girl, I appreciate girls. It's not that I'm checking out the competition. I just think that girls are good to look at. Unfortunately, I've been told that my taste is questionable. Lately I've been practising my rating, thus my fascination with the 1-10 rating system. I was naturally very excited when I saw this post on Reddit:

Screw rating girls on a 1-10 scale. This system is much better!

It turns out, of course, that my friend Jon has it all figured out even better -- he uses the Blackjack rule.
"If she's a 12 or lower, I'd hit it.
13-16, I don't know if I'd hit it or not.
Anything above I don't hit."

Spare Change: the numbers don't add up

For those who have never heard of it, Spare Change is a newspaper sold by people who are or were homeless. It sells for $1. I once bought a copy many years ago by accident, thinking the guy was trying to distribute a flyer. I browsed it, and it seriously did not have much content.

Today, I walked by a man selling Spare Change. There are a couple of them in Harvard Square, and this man was in a rather obscure spot (outside the Post Office, if anyone cares). It occurred to me that he would be better off working at something else than selling newspapers. I estimated a generous 1 copy per hour, which would earn him at most $1/hour. Based on my groundless speculations, the effort did not seem worth it.

Some numbers are available online here:
8000 copies sold every 2 weeks
60 active vendors
$0.75 profit per newspaper sold.

The math gives an average of 133 copies per vendor every 2 weeks or 10 copies a day. Sounds decent? Well, it depends on how many hours a vendor spends selling the papers. Think of it as making $7.50 a day. I hope no one spent more than 1 hour a day selling it.

If you were "sober, respectful and courteous" vendor, perhaps you would be able to get a job if you tried really hard. Any job would make you a few dollars an hour. Maybe the vendors should stop selling Spare Change.

Most expensive sandwich in Harvard Square

I was in Cardullo's for lunch yesterday -- I heard that they have good sandwiches. Their sandwiches are pricier than Darwin's by a couple of dollars (ranges $9-12), in case you were thinking about going there to try their sandwiches. My Italian sub was intensely flavorful -- hot peppers, balsamic vinegar, salty meats and sweet tomatoes.

The most extravagant sandwich is the caviar sandwich. It sells for $130. It also made me wonder what else I can get in Harvard Square that is tasty for $130.

how a conversation deteoriates

I first noticed the girl standing across the platform from me because of her dress. It was a short dress with one black strap going from one side to the other, and onto her shoulder. The dress was white, with huge bold brushstrokes of colors streaking across. In a sea of jeans and t-shirts, she stood out in her short and loose dress. She also had immaculate hair and looked fairly attractive.

I pointed her out to my friend. Since he was a guy, I decided that it would be futile to describe the dress in detail. "What do you think of that girl on the other platform across from us? With her boyfriend or something. I think she's kinda hot. Her dress looks like a pillowcase."

Oops, did I really say that? I wasn't really thinking but it was true. You can call it a short loose dress, or a pillowcase (the dimensions looked right). The sub-conscious is honest and brutal.

"She looks kinda of big."

"Really? I didn't notice. Hmm...come to think of it, her boyfriend is not so big. He might be shorter than her since she's in sandals and he's in dress shoes. Oh yeah, he isn't as wide as she is. I still think she's kinda hot though. He's skinny so that makes her look bigger."

"I don't really see a waist."

"It's a loose dress." On hindsight, the word "pillowcase" does work perfectly to describe how she looked in that dress.

"You have bad taste."


I think he was the first one to say the fat word. The train arrived, and we were going to get into the same carriage from different sides. "We're getting into the same door as the fat girl. Try not to stare."

Staring is a natural reaction for me if I'm curious about someone and trying to size them up. In other words, I was stealing glances at the couple while we were in the train. They were being affectionate, hugging each other and possibly kissing.

Then I said it. *Nudge* "Look, the fat girl is making out with the small guy."

"I can't believe you just said that."


Somehow, I just don't have the innate ability to check girls out. My picks don't ever agree with the guys. It was an interesting dress though.

Efficiency versus?

Shaw's at Porter Square has had their self checkout machines for a couple of years. Those machines were fun to use when they first came out, and they are still somewhat fun to use. However, they are not terribly efficient, at least not from the customer's point of view.

Perhaps for someone with a couple of items, the self checkout might look just as quick as having someone check you out if there isn't a line. Beep. Beep. And you're done. But when your basket has several items in it, it gets slow. Yourself aside, look at the other people in line. Someone will be trying to find the barcode, or trying to figure out why the machine insists that there is an unidentified item in the bagging area. You've probably faced those very same problems yourselves. Then you have to go through 2-3 screens while you try to pay. Because customers don't use the checkout often enough, they always seem to need to pause and read the screen again before pressing the right buttons. And I get the feeling that because the machines talk slowly, people feel obliged to hang around a little longer, or until the machine stops talking, instead of moving on.

I guess there is the one breed of customers who likes to take their own time to read the screen and make sure that every discount was taken. The girl at the checkout counter is usually too fast for you to take that thorough glance at the prices.

All that said, I still like using the self checkout for one reason: it's fun to check things out. I definitely could save a few minutes letting someone else check me out, but I'll be missing out on that little bit of fun. However judging from the flashes of annoyance from people experiencing difficulties at the checkout, I don't think it's all that fun for everyone.

The Homeless in Harvard Square

I went to college at Berkeley, and after 4 years I thought I was used to homeless people. When I first got to Cambridge, I remember joking with a college friend who also moved to the area. "Man, I feel uncomfortable here. Where are the homeless people?" I saw Harvard Square in the day as that tourist attraction it is, all clean and pristine. I wasn't being very observant.

I've recently become uncomfortable about homeless people. I'm not talking about the people who ask for spare change and have signs. Those people seem to disappear at night. I'm talking about the people who are homeless and do not ask for spare change. They fade into the crowd during the day, and at night if you care to look, you see them, snug in their very used sleeping bags.

I can tell you where to look -- right in front of the Coop, especially in the winter, and beneath stairs in the building at the bend of Brattle Square/Mt Auburn. Sometimes, you see a sleeping bag in Cambridge Commons when the weather is warmer. Don't forget to visit the ABP at the Holyoke Center -- I've realized that nearer where the bathrooms are, you see possibly homeless people hang around, trying to clean up at the public bathroom, especially at night. I think I saw an old man huddle in 7-Eleven this evening trying to get a bit of warmth. I hope he wasn't chased away.

These are a very different type of homeless people I'm now noticing. The ones I saw in Berkeley were kids in goth-ish clothes who looked like they were being homeless as an alternative vacation. Fine, there were some older people, but they were the ones telling jokes for money. There are the homeless people in Berkeley who gather in Sproul Plaza to drum at night, and sometimes students join in. I guess there were also those who stayed in People's Park and I didn't see those at all. I've heard of people who go through the trash cans on campus, although I've only seen people collecting cans, not looking for food.

These homeless people in Harvard Square don't seem to be asking for help. I once saw a woman chased a couple of guys away, furious that they tried to give her money. I remember her because I saw her a few days earlier near the same place, in an ATM center. I thought she looked like she might have just gotten off a plane, and was sitting in the ATM center while waiting for someone. I mean, I do that sometimes especially when it's cold outside. But seeing her again with her suitcase, I didn't think she was waiting for anyone.

I guess I'm bothered, and this is my first avenue for release. I'm hoping I'll eventually get around to trying to do something. With food prices going up and the economy going down, I'm reading about the increasing number of people turning up at soup kitchens. In the meantime, I fumble, trying to figure out how to cope with the real Harvard Square that really has vacant buildings and vagrants.

I haven't been noticing homeless people in other parts of Cambridge/Boston. Maybe I'm still not seeing the world as it is.

Female Forrest Gumps

Walking to school today, I was following behind a woman on wedge-heeled boots. I might as well have been following a woman handicapped in her legs. Her feet seemed totally disjointed from her shoes, which gave me the impression of watching someone with not one, but two twisted feet. She reminded me of the scene where young Forrest Gump was dancing for Elvis (I happened to see that on tv last night.)

After the woman with the wedge-heels and I parted, I found myself walking beside a woman with a double limp. It might have been badly-fitting sandals -- those chunky ones that shouldn't be too hard to balance on; she was dragging both sides of her shoes in turn. She was lifting her feet, but just not enough to compensate for her shoes such that she was dragging them both. It sounded like a terrible terrible limp.

All that said, I am guilty of wearing shoes that are not too comfortable at times. I only hope that I didn't look that ridiculous to onlookers. Someone forgot to teach women of my generation the importance of feigning comfort when wearing our chosen instrument of torture. After all, they were meant to make us look better, not worse.

Cracking the soup code

I found this out by accident -- you get free food if you speak Chinese at this particular Chinese restaurant near my school.

I've been eating at Chinese restaurants for years, and I've never really noticed any major difference in service speaking in English or Chinese. Sometimes you get a friendlier waiter if you speak in Chinese, but that's almost a natural response to speaking to anyone in their native language. Then, I went to this restaurant that I've ignored the past couple of years for no particular reason four times.

Visit 1: received free dessert of red bean soup.
Visit 2: received free soup, and free dessert of red bean soup.
Visit 3: no freebies
Visit 4: received free soup, and free dessert of red bean soup.

After Visits 1 and 2, we postulated that it was either the dish we ordered -- we had noodles the first visit, and a couple of main entrees the second visit -- or (unlikely) the time of the day -- visit 2 was rather late. Our 3rd visit there, we had noodles and there was no free soup. We also went during the regular dinner hours.

On the 3rd visit, we were wondering about the difference between receiving the starting soup and the dessert soup. While waiting for our dishes to arrive, I took a good look around the restaurant to see whether anyone else was getting free soups (and the answer is yes), and who was getting the free soups.

People getting free soups:
1. old white people who looked like they were regulars coz they had special attention
2. Chinese people who look like they speak Chinese (let's call them real Chinese people).

Of the people who ordered noodles, the real Chinese subpopulation definitely received soups.

We did not receive our free soups that 3rd visit, and I thought that I knew why. Analyze this:

Language used when talking to waiting staff:
Visit 1: Chinese
Visit 2: Chinese
Visit 3: English

Yeah, I thought it was a language thing. Naturally, the next thing to do is to test it out. For visit 4, I will order in Chinese.

Day of visit 4

The greeting staff that day was a young girl. She immediately spoke to us in English -- Argh! Foiled? I was worried about my experiment.

Fortunately, someone else served us water, and I made it a point to thank her in Chinese. Then I ordered dinner. I was slightly nervous about this because there were a few words that I couldn't read off the menu. I tried to fudge it, and I guessed the first 2 words right, but got the 3rd one wrong. The waitress corrected me, and I immediately felt extremely embarrassed and tried to mumble something in Chinese about not being able to read too well. It was so awkward that my non-Chinese speaking friend could tell I was totally bluffing at this point.

I sat nervously in my seat, wondering if I'd screwed up, trying very hard not to stare at the waitress. Then she appeared with 2 bowls of soup. But where was she heading? It was a heart-pounding moment. But I gave the answer away at the very start, so you know that those soups were for us. Score!

And we got our dessert soup too.

I haven't gone back to that restaurant since that time. Now that I know that it makes a difference what language I use, I'll feel cheap if I deliberately talk in Chinese to get free soups.

But what is in it for the restaurant that discriminates among their customers? Clearly they try to reward their regulars, so that might keep those regulars coming. I guess the Chinese customers (if they noticed) feel more welcome, so they may also return more often. But what about the people who notice the freebies, and did not receive them? I don't know if it makes a difference in terms of tips though.

In any case, I will be going back to the Chinese restaurant simply because it's the only real one in the area. The freebies certainly do help though.

My new food blog

I now have a new recipe blog! It's called K.I.S.S. Foods. For now, the plan is to record recipes that I've simplified for myself (don't you hate those long lists?). I don't know how often I'll be writing there, but recipes don't grow old.

The Irony of Being On the Other Side

I watch other people struggle for freedom and independence, keeping in mind how independence was forced upon my expelled country. Why do countries insist on keeping people who don't want to stay? Or is my example of a country too willing to give up land an anomaly?

Sustainable materialism

For my sister's birthday this year, I got her a book -- Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki. I chose this book for the following reasons:
1. I wanted her to think more deeply about money
2. I needed a book that she can read easily without getting bored

Nevermind that some friends of mine think the book is more fluff than substance. My goal was to make her reconsider her definition of being rich and her relationship to money. I was afraid she would become one of those many people who live paycheck to paycheck, no matter how large that paycheck is. I've seen a good share of people with more money than the average college student, who somehow had to borrow more money from their parents. I think it shows something about a person's character -- namely an inability to be disciplined and self-sufficient -- and I don't like that. I'm huge on being independent.

I don't mean to discourage her from wanting the material goods in life. Instead, I want her to go all out to get what she wants, on a sustainable self-reliant basis. I want her to realize that having a paycheck doesn't mean she can afford a big fancy something. Most people don't earn enough to buy that big ticket item.

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An aside: I hate listening to the radio these days.

Yes, the Fed is dropping rates and trying to inject liquidity, but that doesn't really mean that the liquidity is going to get to you. You hear these ads on the radio all the time -- "Mortgage rates are at an all-time low" Yes, but the money isn't going to get to you that easily. All the current financial mess is caused by a bunch of banks lending money to people who shouldn't be getting loans, the same people who are facing foreclosures and think they somehow deserve help because they got screwed. The truth of course is that they are screwing everyone else who is playing by the rules.

The worst ad must be the one that recommends getting a special loan to pay for that cosmetic surgery procedure that will change your life. It's appealing to people with poor self image and bad financial sense. I mean, how many people seriously really need cosmetic surgery to live a proper life? Breast augmentation is a totally different ballgame than reconstructive surgery for someone who's had a mastectomy.

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Anyway, about my sister and her financial intelligence. For her 19th birthday, I want to give her the gift of never becoming one of the dumb financially illiterate masses. I hope she realizes that the book I gave her is wanting. I hope it'll start her thinking about what it really means to be rich -- not to just appear rich, to have a car that you can barely pay for, dinners and vacations that you are paying for by credit card -- but to live without financial worry.