Last Samurai

Last Samurai

Had a really extensive entry on the viewing of this film, Last Samurai, and then something happened to the window I was working in. It shut down, and about 1000 words vanished into cyberspace, yet once again. I keep telling myself to work on a word processing program and copy and paste into blogger, but it's just not the same working that way!

So here's just one word, instead of a thousand: honor.

Mr. K. and I didn't get to meet again yet, but we did have a good lengthy convo, starting from the mundane things and then to more trancendental things. One of the things we touched was about life after death. Not really about our lives after death, but lives of others after our own deaths. Ideally, we'd live forever (or as I like to say, live young forever), but for the time being, that isn't quite possible. Sylvia Plath, above her poetry (which is very good itself), is remembered for sticking her head in the oven. How many of you would like to be remembered for something like that?

Mr. K. said that something like blogs and journals and date books and such things can provide insight to people (inquiring minds), especially if you're dead and can't be around to explain details of your life yourself. For many artists, it is the case; they write/create brilliant stuff, they die. But no one knows what kind of breakfast they would have, or if they had trouble potty-training their first born, or perhaps suffer from depression. It is these little tidbits we leave lying around that gives people a perspective.

I, personally, would like to remain anonymous. Well, not so anonymous, but at least mysterious. Perhaps like Shakespeare. Maybe people won't even know when I was born (this of course is assuming that people are inquiring about this after I am dead). They will do research on me and go on excavating trips to study my life. One can only hope!

In the 7th grade, we dabbled in the field of archaeology. We were given a sample of our teachers' trash (we were in cores, and students in the same core shared the same instructors), and we were to go through it and deduce some things about the teachers. What kind of food they ate, what brand of cereal they had for breakfast, and if they used quilted toilet paper or generic, and so on. The trash, of course, was artificially produced (nasty banana peels and rancid food products and such were not included) for the lesson. However, I learned that the things you have, and even the things you throw away, give quite a bit of insight on who you are. You are not what you eat. You are what you toss away. You are what you stock on your bookshelves.

So what do your possessions say about you? Mine? Well, from an objective point of view, I'd say that I am a person who loves books all too much; however, I don't nearly as much love reading them, as most are in perfectly new condition. No dog-eared pages for me. Also, aesthetics and visual pleasure is of great importance, because I possess many things for their outwardly appeal, rather than their function -- for example, I have a CD holder (one of those binder-like things that holds about two dozen CD's) that looks like the head of a stuffed monkey doll. It's adorable. The fact that it holds two dozen CD's is a plus. My cat is placed on a pedestal. While I sit on a simple wooden chair (my butt is aching), my cat is enjoying herself on my large black executive-style chair (plenty of cushions). You can tell she sits there quite a bit, because of the abundance of cat fur which doesn't seem natural to the chair's condition.

Perhaps this is why A always asks to see a photograph of my desk and room. And perhaps for the same reason I deny him this glimpse, because it holds secrets about me that I, myself, don't even comprehend fully.

There isn't an easy way to sum up this entry. I had already written a good 1000 words and here I have produced another 700 words (thanks, word count!) digressing about many things. Well. The Samurai's would like to be remembered for their honor, for their uncompromising sense of panache. What would you like to be remembered for?

Friday Funny

Friday Funny

Here's something slightly humorous for Friday (complete with Korean translations!) :

Titanic

Titanic

Click Here for the article.

Best Dinner and Coffee/Tea

Best Dinner and Coffee/Tea

I came back a lil while ago from having dinner and drinks with Mr. Crawford Kilian, previously mentioned word-guru. I always shy away from meeting new people, but this was definitely an exception. There are many adjectives to describe people: intelligent, handsome, humorous, tall, curvy, brunette, chicken-legged, etc.. But my favorite kind of people can be described as "sincere." And that is how Mr. K. came across to me. He was a sincere individual. Going back to my everything-and-anything-in-life-is-like-war extendend analogy, you can say that Mr. K. is very much like a war veteran. He's lived through some incredible times and I'm sure life contains many more excitement.

One of the high moments is when he showered me with gifts. Three of his books, including one children's book, Canada's most circulated newspaper with the biggest news story of the year (Canadian election... who knew they even discussed politics there? Makes me hang my head in shame that we are so immersed in our own world to recognize others), and a Salman Rushdie book (above left). This book has been on my Amazon wish list for ages, because I have enjoyed a few of Rushdie's short stories and was dying to get my hands on one of his longer works. To say that my frugality got in the way of purchasing one on my own would be a lie; part of it is my own indolence for not getting myself to the library and borrowing a copy. I'm sure I could have requested that they get one in. But nevertheless this book was something I've terribly wanted, and he's gotten me a copy. I went speechless, and I still sort of am. I'm officially putting Dumas on hold (sorry Dumas, but you've been dead for a good two hundred years... you could wait another two weeks) and plunging into my first Rushdie novel.

It CAN be Done

It CAN be Done

Click here for the LA Times article.

It appears that monogamy and fidelity can be induced by gene therapy! Although scientists would not speculate its effects on humans, I am sure it will affect us all someday. I don't know whether to shudder at the thought of genetically altered men, or feel all warm and fuzzy that they will lick their partners and huddle with them after sex. Maybe a reverse version of the "Stepford Wives" is in order? Perhaps, "Stepford Hubbies."

Cocktail Soju

Cocktail Soju

About 10% of my daily traffic is from people who go on to search engines and are looking for cocktail soju recipes, especially yogurt soju. I don't think I have featured such recipes on my blog, but since so many people (a handful) have dropped in for it, I will feature it now, especially since I am a self-declared amateur soju connosseur.

Basically, all cocktail sojus can be made in three parts. One part soju, one part flavor, and one part sparkly. What I mean by that is really simple. Say you're making yogurt soju, which is great for serving to people who enjoy alcohol and yet cannot tolerate high amounts of concentrated soju. You would add one part soju, and then one part yogurt -- and I don't mean yoplait. Go to your local Korean market, and you should find packets of liquified yogurt -- often in tiny milk-carton-looking packages. Sometimes there are different flavors, such as peach yogurt, pineapple yogurt, you name it. I like the brand Epoca, as their liquid yogurts are consistent and are high quality. For the yogurt soju, now that you have the soju and the yogurt, you need a zing to it. You need to add one part of 7-up or Sprite. I usually like to add just a bit more soda to dilute it a bit, but you decide on how concentrated you want your alcohol to be. But beware of putting too much soda, as it will taste more like soda than yogurt soju. On top of this concoction, you need to add just a bit of clear syrup -- you can even make this from home -- just boil a bit of water and add a tremendous amount of sugar and supersaturate it. It looks just like syrup! And now you have your mixed drink.

For other varieties of cocktail soju, just replace the yogurt with whatever flavor you want. For apple soju, instead of yogurt, add apple juice. Instead of sprite/7-up, use apple cider (martinelli's work best!). For strawberry soju, add strawberry juice (actually, I usually like the strawberry banana kind) and instead of sprite, use strawberry soda, (I recommend Welsh) and mix well (because the strawberry juice has sediments that will stay at the bottom). And so on.

So there you go. Enjoy your cocktail soju!

The Perils of Dating

The Perils of Dating

For you Spanish speakers out there, that means that dating is tan peligroso!

I don't know if I missed the memo on this topic, but how come I never knew about the perils of dating? Sure, I've dated in the past, but this never really happened to me before. Dating is kind of like a disease and causes bouts of euphoria, balanced out by episodes of hysteria. If I was living just a century earlier, someone might have given me a hysterectomy!

Dating wreaks havoc in your diet. I'm not talking dieting as in trying to lose weight or getting fit, but just in daily diet and intake of nutritions. There is a constant pendulum swinging, placing my mood in high anxiety and then anger, and then there's bouts of despondent depression, and during the peak points of these emotions, my appetite either sours or plummets, more so than the stock market. In the last few weeks, I've either had half a tub of ice cream or no junk food at all. There are nights were I barely pass things down my throat. I'm just not very hungry. Then the next day, I feel an urgent need to ravage my home and raid the fridge. Eating everything and anything. I should be banned from the kitchen.

Dating causes ADD. Seriously speaking, there are moments when I can't do anything to keep my mind on work. I fall into a daydream and can't get out of it. I was an avid TV watcher (I can never concentrate on one thing for over a long period of time, but I can do a marathon session with the TV without breaking a sweat -- must be the frequent commercial breaks that loosen me up) but now, even that skill and passion has deteriorated. I am thinking of other things when I am watching the Simpsons. This, for me, is a serious situation, because 2004 has been cataclysimic for me as far as TV-viewing goes; Sex and the City went down, then Friends, then Frasier, and the first season of the Apprentice left me just thirsting for the second season, which is still being made. There was a point where the Simpsons also could have gone off the air, due to the cast's strike, and there are news that the Sopranos will also blend into people's memories come next year.

It's not just TV. At work, I'll be on the phone with an activation department, and suddenly, I will have no clue what I had been doing and with whom I am speaking. It's scary. It's like losing your short term memory, or rather, have it violently ripped away from your brain. Like that movie Memento. The poor guy just couldn't remember, and that's all he wanted.

Dating makes you lose sleep. Also, lose want of sleep. I'm basically filming my own version of Sleepless in Seattle. Would it be bad to describe myself as Sleepless in Los Angeles when I call into the emergency psycho therapy hotline, or when I'm writing to Dear Abby? I know I've been saying that I'm still in my Final Exam mode, where I sleep late and rise early -- but it's been going on too long, and these days, I hardly miss the sleep. Normally I'll be sleeping in until noon on Sunday, but now, I'm up when the sun. I feel as though I don't really need the sleep either -- I'm not exactly walking around like a zombie, zoning out. It's a weird sensation, especially for me, because everytime I sleep less than 8 hrs a night, my body used to go haywire; all that is in the past.

Dating makes you anal. Now I just can't stand to have my phone be out of my sight. I can't lose touch with the outside world. I seem to understand why psycho-women sit by the phone, even growling at it. I used to think, gee, if they're so anxious to get that phone call, why don't they just call themselves? Well, now I know why. It can't be described or understood. It has to be experienced to be comprehended. It's crazy, I know. That's what I've become.

In the last few weeks, I've become crazy. Not so blatantly crazy that I need to be placed in a high-security ward, but just slightly. Ever so slightly that I occasionally scare a person or two. Dating makes you psycho. It really does. It makes the most rational of us irrational. It makes reasoning and logic jump out the window. It's chaos, destruction of order.

So what's my point? My point is... well, is there really a point in dating? I've had more to write about, because I'm gaining more human experiences. Which is great. I hate that it makes me become this monster, like Mr. Hyde, when I'm always like Mr. Jekyll, calm, rational, sweet, composed... It's horrific, but you know, it's not all bad. It's like what pregnant women say. It hurts like a bitch, you have to sweat and moan for hours, push a giant head out of a rather small orifice, a lot of blood involved, a lot of work and pain. But most women do it multiple times and seem to enjoy the fruits of their labor (so to speak). I think it is that way for me too. (not about having kids!) It's something to be experienced -- if for nothing else, just for the sake of its experience. I think I'm going to kick back and enjoy my insanity.

Where are the Ducklings?

Where are the Ducklings?

Oh, poor duckies!

Attention Canadians!

Attention Canadians!

Mr. Crawford Kilian over at Writing for the Web has left the country. I spoke with him just earlier today, and he is currently in the Los Angeles area. I will be meeting the word-guru soon enough -- I am very excited!

Lackluster Lakers

Lackluster Lakers

Now, normally, I'm not a great basketball fan. But when I heard about the b-ball team from my home, and their sudden change in performance, I had to see what's going on. Lakers are a great team. Sure, all I know is Shaq and Kobe, but the other guys are great too. They complement each other well and play harmoniously. However, this season, they just seemed really lackluster. Their one victory was a slim one. They didn't suck, but their game seemed very... lackluster. They weren't bushy-tailed and wide-eyed for victory. What happened to that zeal of getting a three-peat back in the day? Well, Kobe's had a rough year due to much scandal, and I'm sure that must be a bummer on the team's morale, but they're one lackluster team even so. Have I mentioned that they seemed lackluster?

Nostalgia of my Youth

Nostalgia of my Youth

I used to be a pretty darn good violinist. I was no child genius, but I was one of those really motivated types, who was willing to work hard to achieve a good quality sound on the instrument. I never had the same zeal for piano, because I was probably too young and it was too forced upon me. When I picked up the violin, I was mature enough to appreciate the sound it produced. In many ways I think the violin was a more suitable instrument for me.

I started like everyone else; I wasn't composing concertos for violin the minute I started playing this instrument. I started with Hot Cross Buns like all the other students and studied scales. I used the mnemonics taught by my music teachers: Every Boy Does Fine, Five Cows Go Down And Eat Barley (this one is the order of the sharps and flats). I started in the 6th grade, where music was about half an hour once a week or so. It was really basic instructions, but I absorbed all I could. In Middle School, it was one hour every day, but in an orchestra setting. Since I was practically a beginner, I sat waaaaay in the back in the second violin section, but quickly worked my way up. When I went to High School, it was the same deal. I sat in the back, and worked my way up to the very front.

I didn't get private lessons until much much later, I think I was in the 11th grade. I had already been playing for 5 years, pretty much self-taught. The private lessons were given by a wonderful woman whom I only remember as Ruth. (In fact, I had a really hard time calling her Ruth, because in my culture, we just don't call adults by their first name!) When my family's finances dwindled even lower, she offered to give me lessons at half price, and then later, some were even free. And I became good. I became so good, that I actually enjoyed hearing myself play. I had a cheap violin, but I was proficient enough to produce a pure sound from it. I loved seeing the strings vibrate so close before my eyes and the rosin dust, smoking from my bow. I was pleasant to the ear, almost musical.

As part of a duty in being a member of the school orchestra, I was required to play in the graduation ceremony. Imagine, playing Pomps and Circumstance at your own graduation! Of course, I skipped it (I didn't feel like lugging a violin around the graduation ceremony either!) and didn't play, and the teacher understood and forgave me. But since that day at graduation when I actually refused to play that violin, I have not played it.

Since I am doing much soul searching these days, I decided to revisit my childhood, or at least what's left of it, by picking up that violin. It's been six long years since I graduated, since I played the violin. And now, I suck. I tried to close my eyes and rekindle those savory moments, and let the magic work my fingers, but the magic wasn't there. I had lost my touch. I had lost the hard calluses on my fingertips that used to make my fingertips look squared. I had lost the perfect groove where my chin rested on the chin-rest. My shoulders no longer contoured itself to the shoulder-rest. I was not able to rest on the violin, and I found no solace.

Nostalgia is just nostalgia. You just can't hope to diminish by trying to grab whatever that remains, because there's a reason why you're nostalgic about it; that is because you can never have that moment ever again.

I have let my violin playing skills slip away in atrophy. I know that I can probably practice my way back into that music ascension in a year or so. But I learned something else: Not to let my other skills wither away; like my writing. Imagine if I didn't write for a few years. How desolate that life would be! And I would try to write, as I tried to play the violin tonight, and feel defeated and futile. I'm not letting that happen again.

"Language is always good"

"Language is always good"

Click here for the article

It's rare when a good thing appears on the news. This article is on the research showing a relationship between aging of the brain and being bilingual since childhood. To clarify, being bilingual since childhood delays aging, compared to the people who are monolingual. So hurray! More incentive to learn new languages (although the research excluded individuals who picked up a secondary language later, say in high school or even later in life). Which reminds me... I haven't been listening to my French CD's for a while... (in fear of losing some of the things stored in my short term memory for final exam time.)

Dialogue: The Art of War

Dialogue: The Art of War

I told A that I was reading The Art of War and he asked, "why?" Which is a valid question. I joked by telling him that I am going to war; in all frankness, that is not a joke. Sun Tzu's The Art of War is more than a textbook guide to fighting in wars. It can be interpretted as a guide for being triumphant in human interaction or daily situations. Anything and everything is like war; two or more opposing positions exist, one of which, you occupy. You must work out something to emerge victorious, whether it is a job interview, getting a raise, dealing with a slacking co-worker, being bridesmaid to a bridezilla, bargaining for an item at a flea market, getting a booth at a fancy restaurant, babysitting a spoiled brat, or even dating.

I was breezing through the first few sections when I realized that this isn't like Glamour or Allure magazines; it needs to be read and each line must be reflected upon and thought about and studied. Or else, I won't be reaping it's beneficial wisdom. So I went back and I'm studying it bits by bits (I think I said all this before). From this point onward, my blog will now feature "Dialogues." It will essentially be my discussion of various literature. Actually, a monologue, rather than a dialogue, but I'd like to think that someone does read all this, so Dialogue it is.

Sun Tzu said:

We may know that there are five essentials for victory:
1. He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.
2. He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.
3. He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
4. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
5. He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign.

Hence the saying: If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

This is from the third chapter, titled, "Attack by Stratagem." One of the points emphasized is to know yourself and know the enemy, which makes absolute sense, however we do not always do so. If you are marching into your boss's office to ask for a raise, you must know your worth. Are you a valuable asset to your company? Do you work hard? What are your accomplishments that have benefitted the company? Why should you receive a raise and rather than your co-worker? If you got fired, would you be able to get hired with ease? Then you must know your boss's side of the story. Why should he pay you more? What are the company's financial situation like (don't march in there for a raise when the boss is planning to announce the downsizing of the company!)? Has the boss been able to depend on you for stellar performances on the job? Does this boss like you? There are many things you must analyze. After much analyzation, you can decide whether you will emerge a victor and get that raise, or not wage war at all and remain the same. But either way, you will not march in there unknowingly and get fired and become a loser.

This books gives wisdoms like that. Even positive conflicts, are similar to a battle. Even, say, dating. Both parties must know and read each other well enough to get a feel for the timing of things; trying to hit third base when the woman is obviously not ready for that stage will surely get a man kicked to the curb. Same goes for the reversed situation. If Omega is not ready to commit to an exclusive relationship, but Gamma puts pressure on Omega about commitment, Gamma may get the opposite of the intended. Their relationship may get further away from each other.

So this is a handy book to read if you are interested in wisdoms about resolving conflicts. And we face conflicts everyday, some minor, some major. Knowledge is power. Learning a lot of the things stated in this book will give you more power, thus give you ample control of various situations in your life. For someone who craves predictability, security, and control, it's the perfect book. I bought this book at a time when I was a bit low on funds, but I have not regretted actually purchasing this one. And for the froogle of all frugal beings, that says a lot.

Well this "dialogue" will continue. I'm sure I'll be writing more about this one, and hopefully other fabulous reads as well. Maybe an article about Bush Senior's birthday ritual of skydiving...

A Whole New World

A Whole New World

That is what hangs on one of the walls of my bedroom. I taped it up today, hoping that it would provide some sense of inspiration.

The more expectations you have, the more hopes you have, the more disappointments you'll have. That seems very true to me. Even in times of difficulty, I have always said that if I don't dream and think big, I will never get anywhere; if I dream 200% but end up at 150%, that still would be 50% more than the necessary. The only way that I could get to a 150% would be by shooting for the stars. If you shoot for the stars and miss, it's dissappointing, but not too big of a deal; if you shoot and miss and the sky comes crashing down on you, you just caused chaos -- the primordial chaos.

I've decided to spend another couple of days thinking. Can I truly reach nirvana and cast away all worldly things like a college degree, fabulous job, misc. etc.? If true happiness comes from within and is independent of outside variables -- can I be happy? I really can't be too naive. I need to do some serious, philosophical, deep down thinking.