Saturday, July 10, 2004

Archive Page Gone

Archive Page Gone

Just wanted to see what the Archive page would look like for The Sage Wasabi -- Blogger gives a separate page from the actual blog where a links of past archived entries are stored. Actually, Blogger gave a separate page. Now Blogger no longer supports this feature. I guess the old users of Blogger has their own archive pages, but the new ones set up after 5/9/04 (The great Blogger upgrade) are not set up for that. Boo hoo. I guess I'll have to devote extra energy to the Archive Page on this blog. I have a 100 Things About Me list on it, and it's rather pleasant looking, if I may say so myself. It is made somewhat for resolution higher than 800*600, so those with that may need to scroll to the right a bit.

On a side note, I found a blog that was a delight to read: Nomilk.blogspot.com.

Just This and That

Just This and That

Have a post up at The Sage Wasabi, and realizing that it's harder to produce stuff out of nothing. I guess that is my on-going challenge. And that is why it is called art when something is made from nothing -- it is the only thing that defies the conservation law that no matter is created nor destroyed. Art is created, and it can be destroyed as well, and although it doesn't have an universal impact, it's impacts are monumental for the artist. For a struggling artist such as myself who has yet to overcome the blank-page-phobia, it is a steep uphill to climb.

Had an absolute battle with the fax machine today. I need an assistant at work to take care of my menial things, like faxing, filing, getting coffee... oh wait. That would be My job. Damned call kept getting disconnected! Why? GO THROUGH YOU STUPID PIECES OF PAPER!! GODDAMMIT! Frustration still lingers after 6 hours from departing from work.

Had another date. Pleasant. Not quite sure if there was any chemistry. May or may not see him again. I should keep a dating journal, if my dates all end up being "first" dates. Maybe somethin's the matter with me. But if so, I don't know what it is, and I sure ain't gonna try to fix what ain't broken (yet). He was nice, very well-cultured, interesting. He bought me alcohol and sashimi. Two of my absolute favorite things! But other than that, the conversation was nice, he told me a funny/scary/sad story which I wil not repeat. Even after several dates, dating is still difficult.

There is a korean word for what I'm feeling -- it's called ¿À±â or oh-ki(pronounced somewhere between oh-gi and oh-ki). I tried to find an English translation for that word, but all I got was "unyielding spirit." I have oh-ki but it's different from just an "unyielding spirit." Oh-ki is something like... let's say you're fixing a radio. It has a minor problem that can be fixed very easily, so you decide to do it yourself. You find out that after you've replaced the necessary parts, the radio still does not work. You are puzzled. Even after a few attempts, the damn thing still doesn't work. Rather than quitting, you are more frustrated and yet also more motivated to get the damned thing to work. That desire to triumph over something that seems so easily do-able and yet is stumping you -- that is oh-ki. I have oh-ki to triumph over this dating situation. I will rise above it.

Dating doesn't seem too difficult, but it is. I can write an 1500 word essay on Hamlet in an hour, with one hand tied behind my back. I can hand-write checks and pay bills faster than that soccer-mom-wannabe does on-line, on that Bank of America commercial. I am a remarkably talented and capable individual, and yet dating has me stumped. I must prevail.

Maybe oh-ki is a Korean thing. I mean, it's not exactly "unyielding spirit." What would be the English translation of that? It can be described as the determination one would feel to accomplish something when everyone tells him/her that he/she cannot do it. Hmm. I'm hoping that my oh-ki didn't come for no reason, or else, I'd be really frustrated. Argh!

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Perils of Dating, Addendum

Perils of Dating, Addendum

Technology has advanced so much in the world, that you can now get a date with a click of a mouse.

Well, if only it were so simple. Allow me to pick a bone that has been bothering me for weeks. Profiles. It's like a gawddamn resume. I hate it, yes, but if you want to play, you gotta follow the rules.

1. What is this thing with profiles, where basically everybody is "easy going?" I dare you to find one profile without that phrase. It's been killed. Put it to rest in peace people.

"I am easy going. Like someone who likes to have fun. I like to watch movies. Cuddling up on the couch. I can enjoy any activity as long as the person I'm with is having fun..."

"I'm new to the LA area from up noth and I'm looking for someone wonderful to spend time with. I'm mostly a care free and easy going person. I'm really good at listening and helping people, weather its advice or medical attention..." (I'm leaving the obvious spelling error. This person also is somewhat odd, as you can see.)

"...I appreciate people who can express their joy without irony or sarcasm. I am very focused on the things that matter to me, but I'm also very easygoing...."

I swear, these are really random picks, actual words written by actual people. I know people are very drama-queen-phobic, but "I'm easygoing" sounds more like "I'm a pushover." It's almost as bad as "I like long walks on the beach..."

2. About 95% of the profiles I've read indicates that the posters are very active. They are outgoing and loves engaging in heavily physical activities, such as inline skating or hiking or rafting. And they make it sound like they enjoy these things at least weekly, if not daily!

"Cycling, Dancing, Golf, Tennis / Racquet sports, Running, Swimming, Walking / Hiking, Other types of exercise, Baseball, Basketball, Billiards / Pool, Bowling, Football, Soccer, Skiing, Volleyball" is a list of just ONE man's interests.
Are these people just selecting random things? I swear, one person actually included sky-diving and bungi-jumping as their hobbies. Ok, it could be a hobby, but I'll have to seriously consider what kind of freak they are to spend so much money and time, jumping off of high places!

3. This should really be 2a. Outgoing people. People on dating websites CLAIM that they are outgoing, and also WANT outgoing people as their dates. OK. If you're so outgoing and actively pursuing pool, bowling, football, soccer, and skiing, there should be several things that follow that. A). You'll have to be extremely busy, working hard to support your lavish interests, or extremely well endowed financially. B). You are so outgoing, you probably won't have problems meeting people -- therefore should not be on a dating website.

There are some people who offer to unmask their income. Which is fine. However, if you earn less than $24,999/year, live on your own, and spend all your time windsurfing and whitewater rafting, you won't have enough to feed yourself on your date. Even more of a negative if you're still mooching off from parents without a valid reason (i.e. going to school, current home is being remodeled, etc.) Let's get real. If you don't go surfing every other day, say so.

Also on a side note, personally speaking, the sentence "I love to work out" just doesn't do it for me. While I appreciate a man who's physically fit, I'd rather tolerate a chunky man with an active and well-functioning mind, than a bronze god with half a brain. And I mean it.

Second side note: "I'm looking for a hot girl" or "looking for a playboy playmate type..." is going to get you no where, so why bother with something like that? Do you actually think a Victoria's Secret model is going to see a line like that and think, "wow, I must be his type!" I know this is very cynical, but if a man or woman is hot to the extremes, they will not have to resort to online dating. If they have, however, then that just indicates that there is some sort of deficiency which makes them undesirable. Not that online dating is just so un-cool, but it has its dangers and traps. It's not the traditional convenient method, but for busy professionals with realistic visions of themselves and realistic desires, it suffices.

Also, I don't respond well to the compliment, "you're hot." Because I'm not. I'm not hot, and nor do I wish to be. I'm homely, mousy, uber-geeky, and average, but I'm fabulous in spite of it, and attractive as hell because of it. So don't try to describe me with a mundane three-lettered word that describes temperature.

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Perils of Dating, Part 2

Perils of Dating, Part 2

Met a few people, had some interesting (to put it mildly) times, but nothing. A has perished now completely. I met J once, and found him mildly humorous. Nice enough, but somehow, not my type. He was a hip-hop listening, no musical, anti-geek sort of guy, and probably doesn't know who Coltrane or Chopin are. That's practically my gage in measuring a person's diverse intelligence. Everyone has these quirks that make or break the deal, and that is mine. It's alright if they don't like Coltrane or Chopin -- however, they must know them enough to make an informed opinion. I digress. I agreed to second date, because he was nice, had fairly good conversation skills, came from an interesting background, and I kept telling myself that if I keep quitting at the beginning, I'll get no where. So I agreed to a second date.

On the second date, he was late. But I had to overlook that because he came from a far away land, during mad traffic hour. Found out he doesn't eat tomatoes AT ALL, and does not eat sushi. I was almost at a loss for words, since sashimi/sushi is my ultimate favorite grub (albeit expensive grub) in the whole wide world, and it just broke my heart that there are people who do not eat sushi. I wasn't in a good mood -- I wasn't feeling quite up to acting overtly cheery and outgoing and friendly. I wanted to act like my rude self, and I did. I told him that I hated children and will probably never have them -- he then proceeded to ask, "what if your husband wants them?" I had to explain my present feelings about marriage and forming a nice nuclear family. It was all too much for a traditional, family-oriented, normal man who has lived a rather sheltered life, not too unlike the Brady Bunch or the Cosby's (or so I imagine).

I sensed that he felt very "eek!" by my unleashing of opinions. There is no way I would be able to hang out with someone who is afraid of my vocalizations. In fact, my vocalizations are very mild. I'm not one to break the waves or rock the boat or whatever the saying is. I'm no left wing protester, forming rally's infront of the White House. I don't do much protesting, in fact, despite my living situation (can you say SUCKY?). He wanted someone sweet and kind, gentle and nurturing, who shares similar interests, smiles a lot, and is easy-going. I hope he finds her.

Met M. M knows Coltrane and Chopin. Very opinionated. Well mannered. Handsome, in a dark, intriguing way. Well-educated, well-cultured. Well out of my league as far as intelligence goes. (Hey, I am not one who's afraid to admit that I am not as well-educated as some.) In previous conversation, stated that he is not one to leave loose ends, and not disappear off the face of the earth, leaving me hanging, wondering why. But he did.

At the closing of the first date, promised to have a second date listening to live jazz (which I've never done, admittedly and was eager to experience), called next evening to inform me of a slight illness. Afterwards, poof. My question is, why make suggestions for a second round when you're going to forfeit the match? So as far as this minute, in my book, he is not only a cad for "Disappearing Off the Face of the Planet™" but also for lying. I'll give the benefit of the doubt and leave the book open. However, virtually no excuse is good enough, unless it is something I'll feel bad about, aka death of someone close, i.e. dog caught plague, roommate spontaneously combusted, etc. Maybe he'll come up with something original.

I am continuing this process for another month. And then, that's it. I have no time to be messing around meeting one man after another when I'm about to plunge into another load of 15 units for the semester -- yep, even after last semester (which left me in a zombie-like state), I am doing it again. I just love school. I'm a nerd. I know.

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Click Here for article.

Under-10s are the fastest growing sector of mobile phone owners in the UK, reveals market research company MobileYouth. [...] 'Mobile parenting' is the key reason for this growing trend. 85% of parents who bought phones for their children or handed down their own felt their children were safer if they could stay in touch. Children's reasons for owning a mobile phone, however, were very different. Over half (59%) felt they would have fewer friends if they didn't have a handset. [...] MobileYouth predicts that in the next two years, one in three primary school children will have a phone.

Somebody slap me silly.

I'm Difficult to Dislike

I'm Difficult to Dislike

Out of sheer boredom, I took yet another personality quiz (as I am always searching for who I am exactly). Results:

Wackiness: 44/100
Rationality: 46/100
Constructiveness: 56/100
Leadership: 56/100

You are an SECL--Sober Emotional Constructive Leader. This makes you a politician. You cut deals, you change minds, you make things happen. You would prefer to be liked than respected, but generally people react to you with both. You are very sensitive to criticism, since your entire business is making people happy.

At times your commitment to the happiness of other people can cut into the happiness of you and your loved ones. This is very demanding on those close to you, who may feel neglected. Slowly, you will learn to set your own agenda--including time to yourself.

You are gregarious, friendly, charming and charismatic. You like animals, sports, and beautiful cars. You wear understated gold jewelry and have secret bad habits, like chewing your fingers and fidgeting.

You are very difficult to dislike.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Apparently I'm politician-material (yuck) and I'm "difficult to dislike." Gee. Thanks for that generous compliment.

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Hospital Visit

Hospital Visit

I had to start the day with a wake-up call from the hospital -- a friend's appendix had burst, and she had just gotten surgery. A mere appendicitis would have been a simple and mundane procedure, but alas, she had waited too long, and the organ had perforated by the time she had gone to the hospital, and now it has complicated the procedure. She looked very grim, but seem to be facing it all with much bravery. Hasn't eaten for days, and her body looked so frail and small -- not too unlike Paris Hilton's bony body. She may get to leave the hospital today -- either way, I will be seeing her again tonight. She is my best friend's younger sister, so to me, she is like my own sister, although we don't keep in touch often, we know what's going on. I'd like to think that I'm her surrogate older sister (since her own sister is living in Iowa, approx. 2000 miles away), but alas, I do so little. But it is times like these, that I really have to pull a muscle or two and play catch up.

On other minor news, my work-week has started very ordinarily otherwise. I had to take care of some advertising issues, and this is my first time doing this co-op thing. So every end of the month, I will be invoicing, and every beginning, advertising. I can see very little blogging in the last/first week of every month.

On comparing myself with my peers:
It's hard. It's really hard, when aforementioned current patient friend of mine is three years younger (I used to tutor her in math, I recall -- geometry, I think, since that was my specialty back then) and she will be graduating from UCSD next year. I will be graduating from a 2 year educational institution (not too unlike a mental institution, actually) this winter (not like that's an accomplishment) but still I won't be anywhere close to my nearest proximal goal. My bestest friend is also on a rather detour route to her goal, so she's kind of late in getting her pharmacy degree, which helps a little, since I know I'm not the only one in the trenches, but makes me fear a little more, since she will be a doctor of pharmacy before the turn of the decade, and I will probably still be waiting for that goddamned lottery for the nursing department.

While the fact that I am not on the traditional fast track to a BA/BS, Masters, Ph.D. or whatever acronym I may want to pursue does add on to my current state of frustration, it is not just my peers zooming by that disturbs me.

Take for example, my biggest rival (at least from my point of view) in high school. We'll call her S. S just came to the US during Jr High school. She's a year older than I am, but lowered her grade a year (which many immigrants do to buy time before getting popped out of High school -- to extend the amount of time to acquire the English language). Despite the fact that her English was broken, she was loved by all the teachers immediately. She was perfect. Quiet and reserved, but once she said something, it was just perfect -- not a vowel out of place.

At first, the competition was really friendly. We'd take turns getting the highest scores, and even help each other on various projects -- she'd usually help me out in algebra, and I would help her out in the more English oriented classes, like history or English. Then somewhere along the line, I soured. She didn't, but I did. I started to hold a grudge, because I was jealous, although I didn't admit it at the time. I wanted to be best, but with her around, that meant I had to work harder. I also knew her secret too; I was smart, and quick to be inspired. She was a perfectionist who had endurance and persistance on her side. But when something like AP Physics hit me like a brick wall, I found myself sinking deeper in a quicksand of misery I, myself, had produced.

Then things turned very grave. We were no longer friends, and my grudge stood in place. It was worse when I was denied admissions to Berkeley, my dream school, and she got accepted to Yale (I'd like to think that my dream school at the time was better than any Ivy League school -- but then their rejection soured me too). Then she said one thing that screwed me over and made my high school academic career the biggest sham.

I believe it was in some school paper interview -- she said that she doesn't compete with anyone, except her own self. I was blown away. Who knows if that's actually true or not, but that concept of striving to be better by being better than the person I was an hour ago, yesterday, or last year, was something I never conjured up in my own head. She was mature. I was not.

So that brings me back to my originally point of trying to understand my frustration by projecting it onto my blog and dissecting it. Have I digressed too much?

Since then, I've stopped competing with everyone else. Or at least I've tried. Only about 20-25% of my frustration is caused by my peers' advancement (and the image of myself breathing their dust, dumbfounded). The rest is because I am competing with myself (see, I am capable of learning, and put jealousy aside). I want to advance forward and move, whether it's slower or faster or in a skewed direction than anyone else. I want to say that I had a better day than I did yesterday (not because it was a day off from work, or because it was sunny versus cloudy, but because of how I spent the day). I want to say that I'm in a better place than I had been in last year. I want to say that since I finished high school, there has been improvement in my life.

Tomorrow might be a bad day. I may be lazy and not try to spend time wisely. But on the average, there should be an upward trend! Maintaining the status quo is not something I'm interested in; it may be the thing for other people, but not me. A graduate degree isn't going to get me the satisfaction I seek. It's more of a zen Buddhist crap thing -- it comes from within. Rather than have a crappy, run of the mill diploma, or a nursing license, or a green card, I have to be satisfied -- I have to be proud that I have taken the steps necessary to get where I am, and that I have worked hard, and that my life is going uphill and if you extrapolate it, it is a constant upward trend.

In that aspect, I am very frustrated. That is what I mean, when I'm about to have a mid-20's crisis. I'm not where I want to be, and I'm not going where I want to be any time soon. It's frustrating (key word of the week!). It's like golf. You gotta hit that dimpled ball into a little hole. The more times you have to hit it, the lower your score. Not everyone's a pro-golfer, so it's alright that you won't get an eagle or a par or a birdie or some crap like that. But when you're stuck in a bunker (that's the sand pit, and it's difficult to get a ball out of there) and you keep trying to get the ball out, but it ain't moving -- you're stuck -- can you imagine? If you can, imagine me in a trendy golf outfit with a fabulous visor to match; but I'm hopping mad and throwing a temper tantrum, throwing golf clubs at the caddy, and pushing over golf carts, and kicking the sand. That's kind of like a metaphor for what I am about to feel.

Why am I 'about' to feel it and not feeling it now? I'm beginning to feel it coming -- the frustration and the anger, amounting so high, it's going to activate a chain reaction of very unpleasant emotions (impossible to depict using Unkymood -- gotta get rid of that). I'm already in that bunker now, but at the moment, I'm just telling myself... "I can do this... come on, I can do this... (swing)... DOH! Sh*t! Mother of God! F**k! Damn!" and repeating this process. I'm very close to exploding, that's what it is.

Too much complaining, not enough 'doing something about it.' I better get back to work. Bills don't pay themselves, apparently. Sigh.

Monday, July 05, 2004

Success Finally

Success Finally

Well, not much success, as a minor accomplishment. I finally succeeded in getting out with my mom and walking/jogging around the neighborhood, as a form of exercise. We originally started sometime last year, and never did it again. Then we started a couple of months back, and realized we both need new pairs of athletic footwear if we are to continue with this. So in June, we finally got some nice comfy shoes, and I nagged and nagged and finally we made it outdoors. We did about 30-40 minutes of walking/jogging, up and down the streets of our neighborhood. I'm beat.

I am now well within the boundries set by the BMI index as normal, but I want to keep exercising. I really wanted to try to stay in that "final exam" mode and get up really early in the morning and get some exercise in before work -- I tried once and it had a completely invigorating effect and made the workday just a bit livelier. Also, I tend to have my brightest moments on the treadmill -- while some people manage to read the Wall Street Journal jogging, I can't -- I am reduced to either staring at one of the television screens blankly, or daydreaming. In some odd but harmonious way, the exertion of my muscles inspires my brain to create a similar amount of output -- if that makes any sense.

In other news, I am finding that there is a certain amount of torment that characterizes a person's mid-twenties. It is not unlike the turmoil of adolescence and the notorious mid-life crisis -- as people approach true "adult" age, they start to feel a sense of frustration, a loss of control, a loss in the sense of direction... I have met several people my age who feel similarly. And this mainly goes for college folks, people of a substantial amount of intelligence and drive. It seems that when college is done, and whether grad school happens or not, somewhere between 23-27/28, there is some time of frustration. It's hard to describe.

I can only say that I have yet to have truly arrived at this point of frustration. It may be tougher for me, as I have never truly experience the wild and crazy rebellion of adolescence, being the prodigal Asian immigrant girl, playing her violin. I've never gone partying or smoking pot or anything that puts a frown on people's faces. I've always been overtly polite and sweet, quiet, and never made a scene. I can sense that I will be facing at least two to three years of turmoil and rebellion and frustration. I feel its arrival and it's coming -- due to arrive very near abouts when I hit the quarter century mark. Intuition? Sixth sense? Whatever it is, I do have an extremely keen sense of things... not to say that I am psychic or anything. (That, by the way, would be extremely cool!)

It really doesn't help either when I heard that there was a science instructor teaching at my school, who is not even a full year older than I am. It's frustrating (key word of the day, I suppose) that other people are moving and I am just static as always. When will I ever play catch up?

Need Beer

Need Beer

I'm having one of those days where a beer is necessary. It can even be light beer, but a beer is a must today. It's ultra sun-shiny, rather warm, and I'm facing the reality of going back to work tomorrow...

Sunday, July 04, 2004

Feels Like July

Feels Like July

It's been oddly overcast in the AM with hazy afternoon sunshine in the PM for the last week or two. But today, no. The sun's rays are scorching, almost in celebration of Independence Day. I would love to join in on the fun and go barbeque something, but for once, I am questioning my liege. My allegiance to the US. Why? For a country that will not claim me as its own! And you know what the irony truly is? That most people, most citizens of this stinking country are out there, honestly without any regards for the value of an independent nation. How many hotdog buyers are thinking about the battles fought for the rights and freedom they enjoy today? How many red-white-blue bikini clad women on the beach think twice about what those stripes and stars mean? How many actually even know what they mean? None. They're just excited about the three-day weekend, the charcoal grilled meat, the russet potatoes, and all the pretty colors in the fireworks.

But I care. My love is real. My passions uphold the American ideology. The Statue of Liberty is my only goddess. I appreciate my freedom, my rights, and never take them for granted. I am immensely thankful for my right to speak my mind, for my right to write, for my right to happiness. Except that I don't have a right to be an American.

What does it mean to be American? For many it's just whatevers. How did you become American? I was born here. My parents were born here. I married one. Whatever. I wasn't born here, my parents weren't born here, and I'm not marrying an American at the moment. For a country originally made up purely of immigrants, you sure are haughty. Aren't you forgetting your roots?

Enough anger and ranting. I'm sure y'all are happily enjoying your day of red-white-and-blue, although y'all are regarding it more as an excuse to be commit fashion faux pas. Perhaps I should seriously consider learning French and moving to France and join them in condemning Americans and belittling Euro Disney.