Terror in the Skies Again? Follow Up

I am going to be on an airplane headed to the nation's capitol, in less than a week. So forgive me for being hypocritical -- for not checking up on this issue beforehand, and checking up on it only now that I am flying. I thought Anne Jacobsen, from the WomensWallStreet.com, had ended her story with that one article. But the tale is far from over, and far from its happy ending; it gets more and more gruesome, which, unfornately for yours truly, is bad news.

Jeanne M. Elliott, Security Coordinator for the Professional Flight Attendants Association (PFAA), which represents the flight attendants of Northwest Airlines, said, "By the uneducated eye, and to those who don't walk in our shoes, it may have been perceived that we were doing nothing, when indeed we were putting the safety and security of those passengers as our first priority."

In a letter sent to WWS, she also states, "...the needs of this nation's flight attendants to adequately perform aviation security functions have been delayed and/or ignored."

This whole situation has become a five article series. There are just more and more questions and more confusion created. For once in my life, I can agree with that the saying, "ignorance is bliss" is right in this situation.

I am partial to life and living it. I want to live, because I have so much for which to live. I'm too young to die. I have a bright future ahead of me, and I would love to see it -- be in it. And because I don't want to die, it is going to make me a bigot. It is going to make me point fingers at people, and accuse them, not only before they are proven guilty, but even before they commit a crime. I always believe that there has got to be a good middle ground for all sides, but in the circumstances we face today, it seems like a distant end of the rainbow. There is no middle ground. You either do a preemptive strike, or you lose. You die.

Would I rather accuse innocent people and participate in racial profiling? Sure. I want to live. Pardon my bigotry; I happened to be biologically conditioned to survive, with an irrevocable will to live.

Now, there's that whole thing about imagining if you were in their shoes and whatnot. First of all, I believe that as a minority, we have to bend over backwards to accomodate for the majority. We do. If you are a tall, built, African American (is African American PC or is it Black now?), and you're dressed in the most recently fashionable hip hop attire with a little bling around your neck, don't walk by a cop with your right hand inside your jacket, looking like you're holding a gun! If you are a latino kid, who look fresh out of TJ, keep your hands to yourself and don't attract attention. As an Asian, I am just thankful that there are not too many violent stereotypical generalizations. At the worst, people fear that I would bust out my kung-fu moves and knock them dead with a mysterious martial arts move.

So if you are from the Middle East, or your parents were from the Middle East, don't attract negative attention to yourself; don't congregate with your like friends in front of the bathrooms on airplanes. Don't stand around and make people nervous -- don't talk in loud voices in your native language. Don't whisper and make signals to your friends. Keep to yourself.

Don't call me a racist bitch; I am speaking to y'all as a fellow minority. Perhaps a day should come when North Koreans are terrorizing the US, the same way Al Qaida has been. Perhaps Koreans and other Eastern Asians will be the victims of racial profiling. By all means, make me take off my shoes. I will open my toiletry kit and I will remove my cell phone battery for you. Yes, it is extremely unpleasant, and it is unfair to have me singled out and searched while waiting for my plane. But if my minor discomfort can provide assurance for fellow passengers -- if my small sacrifice will ensure them of a safe trip -- by all means, search me. Do not confuse that statement as an open door policy to commit acts of racism on me. You don't need to round me up in a ghetto (WW 2 anyone?) to feel safe. There are definite boundaries that I can accept, as a security measure, and a fine line divides it away from a violence against inalienable human rights.

I am a little nervous to fly. But I will get on that plane -- if it's the last thing I do. But I really don't wish it to be the last thing I do.

Time for Everything

There is a time for everything, friends. And it has been great pleasure writing for such an intimate group of an audience and friends. But it is now time for a goodbye.

I've had a good run; I can't complain. Blogging was a great pleasure to me, as life has been. I have appreciated my life, even with all its pain and hiccups. So now, as I am about to lie down on my bed, with a full pink bottle of Pepto Bismo in my hand, I will prepare for the heartburn of a life time. I am truly sorry that I leave you with such news -- do not fret though, friends: the road to my imminent pain has been delicious to say the least. Some may say that I have cut my life short, but I don't think so. Couldn't have lived without Spam, and I wouldn't go any other way than to overdose on Spam. I love Spam. I really do.

So I brace myself for indigestion and possibly heartburn, as I said earlier. If I do not die from the gargantuan turmoil -- well, I will someday from hypertention and a blocked artery. But do not fear for me -- I go, completely in peace. Will miss you all; I hope to see you (when it is your time) at the place, where infinite consumption of Spam never harms anyone, if such a place exists. Good bye.

Novice Webmaster

Here at work, we have a company website. It's not really a company website, per se, but a webpage with information on a business thing -- anyways. Back in march, we hired a webpage designing company to make our website. They created the whole thing and did an ok job. We had been editing the contents of the webpage ourselves -- or rather, I made the editing at my boss' direction. Although I can't do high tech html asp perl mysql crap, I can do basic things like change links, delete a comma, move text around, upload images, etc. So I had been doing that. However, a time came when we needed more professional help -- we needed to create several new pages and do some heavy-duty updating, so we called the original designers to do a second job. It felt a bit iffy, because while their website was still there, the phone numbers were disconnected. I did track them down through e-mail, and they decided to do the job. It was still a bit iffy, because when I asked for the business phone number, they gave me bullshit excuses as to why I should contact them through e-mail instead. But we went through with the deal and they began working. We saw some progress, and it took over a month. I was waiting for a response about a correction I had requested -- they never responded. I sent another follow-up e-mail but no response! So we had to look for a new designer. And we did. He seemed like a guy who was on task, and came by asap. He began working right away, and updated me frequently. I was happy. The boss was happy. We were relieved. However, as we requested more and more corrections to be made, the web designer got more and more pissy. Not really a professional attitude. Basically, since my boss and I dont' know how to make webpages, we don't know how much work goes into, say, making a new link, or creating scripts. And when we requested something to be done that required more work, he gave me more attitude than my cat when I spray her with water. I accept the fact that if he does more than he originally agreed to do, he should let us know and we should either make a new arrangement for more payment or a new contract or whatever. But instead of informing me that the work would cost extra, he threw a hissy fit, basically saying that "this isn't part of the deal!" Finally, he told me, "you know what? Forget it. Just forget the whole thing!" I had to basically calm him and talk to him like a spoiled brat! So we basically halted the whole thing, just paid the dude. We did get some updates which were good, but still have a plethora of things we want to tear apart and start from scratch. I am NOT PLEASED. Am I just a tough client? Do I ask for too much? I don't know. But with the last two experiences with webpage designers, I am beginning to feel that these designers are a bunch of sissies with attitudes of a spoiled diva ("I said I wanted my ICE WATER with ICE ON THE SIDE!"). I'm beginning to feel that the only way I can get complete satisfaction is to do the damned thing myself! Of course I won't be able to do full-fledged designing anytime soon. But I have started back with the basics. I need to be able to do more so I can hire these fools less and less, and hopefully deal with less of their friggin 'tudes. So I took some time today to learn how to make tables. Which I hated originally, so never bothered with previously. I'm learning all the basics, because it seems, like most things, you can't just jump from knowing zilch to flying with PERL or ASP (I hate these acronyms that sound like other things). So I'm starting from the bottom, working my way up. Hopefully by 2019, I will be able to do everything. Of course, by then, no one will use the internet, as it would have become obsolete. Everybody probably will have wireless data cards attached to their brain and will access data wirelessly without any equipment. Yes. Then we'll all be primed to be easily dominated by anyone who wants to do that whole "take over the world" thing. But I digress. Tables... tr is table row... td is table data... D major has two sharps... mitochondria is the powerhouse of a cell... let epsilon equal any delta x blah blah blah... Here's an inspirational quote:

"... CGI scripts were usually written in Perl. Perl is a language that is about as easy to understand as differential calculus."

Gee, thanks guy. That makes me feel a whole lot better.

I Didn't Blog Yesterday

But I had a good reason, I swear! I was busy at work -- couldn't even check my e-mail at the usual frequency (which is probably a good thing, as all I seem to be doing is going in a deleting the SPAM). When I got home, I saw a movie (thank heavens for Netflix -- I am really beginning to love them). I was recommended the Japanese horror flick "Audition" -- it was supposed to be ultra violent and ultra scary. I saw it. It was like a strange melodrama with a psycho-twist. Not at all scary. I think it was kind of a sad ending, if you could think of it in such a way. It was strange. Confusing. The most memorable line from the film (this is of course translated from Japanese to English) is -- "metal wire can cut meat and bone easily." I also spoke to my bestfriend's mom for about an hour. My friend actually e-mailed me -- her cell phone had disconnected so it was probably time. Do I sound bitter? I'm happy that she's actually spoken to me (albeit in an e-mail) but depressed that I have to be happy about the fact that my best friend is willing to talk to me. I also filled out my first college application in years. In 6 years, to be precise. I clicked submit to the on-line application to CSULA. Wow. The power of the internet! Back in my day, the on-line versions of the applications were available, but no one really used them. It seemed risky, and practically nobody had high speed internet access, so it wasn't ideal. I was left feeling a bit puzzled though, as there wasn't a section for the personal statement, and there was no instruction on how to send my transcript. I mean, they should take a look at my transcript, right? Perhaps they'll just take a look at the info I filled out and do the admissions process, honor system style. I mean, I didn't lie or anything on my application, but the words "Academic Probation" stamped on the transcript makes reality just a bit more harsh than it is. But at least it is an upward trend -- started my first semester with a 0.25 GPA, and ended with a 4.0, and the overall GPA isn't looking too bad either. Well over 3.0, so while I don't feel extremely confident, I'm not feeling too pessimistic either. I could not believe that I actually had to dig out my high school transcript to fill this thing out! They asked for SAT scores and high school GPA -- my goodness that was a long time ago! Still remember how my neck ached while taking the SAT's (multiple times, I may add). I've always had this thing where I couldn't sit still at one place for very long -- about an hour or so, hour and half for movies, but about an hour in academic settings. So these standardized testing was really hard on me -- the SAT, the ACT, the AP's, the PSAT, etc. etc. Since I had refreshed my memory on standardized testing, I also remembered that I will be doing a few more of those in my life (hopefully). The NCLEX-RN, the GRE, perhaps the MCAT -- one never knows. But the NCLEX-RN, I will most definitely take, and perhaps the GRE also. I better build up tolerance to sitting once place for extended periods of time. Strangely enough, I can do it when I'm working on my blog template or writing in my blog, or watching back-to-back episodes of The Family Guy. My life, my physically tangible, real life (not the life I have with my computer) is getting exciting. Well, I suppose the definition of exciting varies between individuals, but for me, exciting. I am starting school in a week, visiting Washington DC, applying to colleges (I know applying doesn't guarantee admission, but it helps me feel like I'm actually motile in my life), debt free, very close to an iPod, getting a new cell phone (this month!), just turned 24, had my coffee this morning, etc. etc. Good times, people. Good times.

Zippidy Do Dah, Zippidy Day

My oh my, what a wonderful day! I got the itinerary (just realized that I couldn't spell itinerary -- had to look it up!) from my cousin by e-mail. I am leaving on the first Friday of September and never coming back to this hell-hole will return promptly on Tuesday afternoonish, and from there I will have to literally run to my evening class. Can't miss Shakespeare for the world, yanno? I love seeing new things and going to new places -- however, it is a hobby that causes fiscal deficiency syndrome. Yes, you can backpack across Europe with $5 or whatnot, but as you well know, I have to show up at work daily and I really don't understand how I can drive cross-country (without meeting any psycho-serial-killers on the way, a la Jessica Biel, minus the bra) when I need to be at work all the time. So needless to say, I don't get around much. You can say that my all-time best/only trip was to IL/IA back in 2002. It was my first trip alone, first trip alone on a plane, and first time in over a decade to see snow. So I'm pretty excited about this trip also -- it will be my first venture out into the East coast. It is the most East I will ever have been -- unless you consider the Orient the East. Then, I've pretty much been to the Eastern tip of the continent of Asia. I digress. I am super, super excited. My cousin mentioned museums and a renaissance fair in MD, and while I meant to ask if they'd be open over the weekend, Labor Day weekend no less, I was just too excited and completely forgot. I suppose the renaissance fair would be open. I haven't been to the museum in ages, much less one in DC. I almost feel as though my suffering this summer wasn't so bad, because I have gotten the greatest reward -- a ticket out of here! Although it is a temporary thing, I always felt that to become a bigger individual, you need to see more things, bigger things, and experience more life. As you know, I pretty much sucked life dry, here in SoCal. Or rather, life has been sucked dry from me. By whom or what, I don't know, but probably something down the line of Homeland Security and the god-forsaken nursing programs -- I keep typing pogrom instead of program -- I think that signifies something. It is the typed equivalent of a Freudian slip, perhaps. But I tell you, this immigration crap, disguised with the fancy schmancy title of "Homeland Security" doesn't fool me; I know bad news when I see it! But that's another topic for another day. I hate getting worked up to write in my blog right when it's time to go home from work. Unlike my last trip to IL/IA, I now am the proud owner of a digital camera. My fancy baby, the Canon S400, 4 mega-pixels of sheer goodness. I have purchased a bigger compactflash card as well, to accomodate more pictures. I hope to return with many photos. Finally! I will engage in photography with subjects other than Nabee! All I know is, it friggin better not rain! I know that Charlie guy busted through the Southeast, but no tropical storm/hurricane better stand in my way, or I'm going to get hopping mad! I spoke to my cousin earlier, and she says that it's extremely hot and humid. *Crosses fingers* Hope it doesn't rain. The humidity will terrorize my mane, but please. Don't. Let. It. Rain.

Ooooh YES oh YES oh YES!

Plans have changed. I was supposed to spend the next three days (Wed., Thurs., Fri.) off from work and just relax at home. However, I got a call from my cousin in Washington DC who wants to fly me out there for Labor Day! It is the best wake-up call (she called me about two minutes after I opened my eyes) ever! Wow! Yay! I haven't been this excited since ... well, I can't remember just how long it's been since I've genuinely been excited. So after I got off the phone with the aforementioned (fabulous) cousin, I was jumping up and down and yelping, "oh yes oh yes oh yes oh yes!!" Nabee quickly humbled me by promptly nipping me on my ankle. Yowch, kitty! Can't a girl get excited for once?

Here Kitty Kitty...

I got this fairly recent issue of TIME magazine. I love TIME, because it gives me concise and yet detailed news about a variety of subjects -- it makes me a well roundedly informed individual. This issue featured not only the gay New Jersey Governor's story (as the cover says, "Gay Governor Scandal: He's Out -- and He's Out"), but also the dangerous situation for big cats. Now, you know how much I love gay people (although I know none personally at the moment), but I love me some kitties. I'm the biggest animal lover, and I'm always tormented by the fact that I am such a hypocrite, as I do eat meat, and I need to come to terms with the fact that I am a meat eater, but I still need to work on supporting/eating meat/animal byproducts that were harvested in a humane manner (i.e. no growing cows in a crowded pen to plump them up). At least I try to keep away from wearing/using/carrying leather. One step at a time, I suppose.

This month's TIME featured the most gorgeous photographs of large members of the cat family -- lions, tigers, but no bears, of course. The photo on the right ---> here is shrunken down, of course, and it's not scanned (goddammit I need a scanner) so the resolution sucks, but in the actual photograph, I almost had to refrain from petting the tiger on the nose. The fur looked so luscious and soft! I think the tiger is one of the most marvelous animals -- cats in general, I suppose are. Tigers, unlike the lions, don't travel in groups. Those who have read (not watched animated films through Disney!) Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book know well of the tiger's charisma. He travels alone, and yet rules the jungle. He is the biggest of the cats, at about 550 lbs, more or less. Can't you just look into this tiger's eyes and get lost forever? It is so fierce and yet so steady, calm and sensitive, introverted and independent. There's always a little girly girl inside of me who wants to run to it and get it in a head lock and make baby talk to it -- "mommy's gonna take you home and feed you and hug you until you're all loved up!!!" Which is basically what I do to my cat, Nabee. Only, she is just a wee kitten of a thing who can't resist my overwhelming hugs.

And who can forget this photo? Of the guy who kept a pet tiger in his apartment secretly, and was found out. How does one keep an animal so large in his apartment? Does he live in a zoo? How do you feed an animal that can grow well over 500 lbs! And probably my biggest concern -- where do you buy this sort of pets? To my knowledge, keeping a ferret (in California) as a pet is illegal, as they can be a transmitter of rabies and other disease. How do you get a tiger? I'd get a tiger if I could. But it would probably eat me out of house and home, and I could only imagine the amount of waste products that this gargantuan creature would excrete. I have enough trouble cleaning up my Nabee's litter box!

But you know, the man, Sipek, and his pet tiger, do look rather cozy cuddled up in bed. It makes me wonder if... all a tiger really is, is an overgrown kitty with an overgrown appetite who just wants to be scratched under its chin. Zoologists say that the tiger is a natural man-eater -- not that they prefer man-meat, but if a man is at the wrong place at a tiger's meal-time, he may just become the happy meal that the tiger was seeking.

So if I had to decide, tiger vs. lion, as the king of the jungle, I'd definitely go with the tiger, despite the fact that I am a Leo. Lions got their whole "pride" thing going -- it's like a little clique. Reminds me of high school or the mafia (odd, yes). Also, the tiger just seems so graceful, and it's fur is so beautifully printed. It is truly a work of art.

Other members of the cat family are also pretty fabulous; the jaguar, shown right, is also pretty amazing, but also bordering extinction. The cheetah, the leopard, and the cougar -- they all seem so marvelous to me. I adore cats. Sure, dogs are intensely loyal and affectionate; I had been a dog owner a few times in my life, and would take up a dog if given the opportunity, but cats are simply art. Just my Nabee, for example. I can spend hours looking in to her gorgeous blue eyes. And she's got the most satin-like brownish creamy coat, with the slinkiest, the most sexiest dark tail -- so expressive of her mood. Truly, truly, remarkable animals.

As a child, I was always pretty much bringing animals home first, and then asking my mom, "can I keep it?" That's how I got my dog when we lived in Korea, and that's how I got my sixth grade teacher to give me her cat (the cat's name was Boris; she kept Natasha, but Boris had to go because she adopted a baby, and two cats were one cat too many, I suppose). It is how I got the hundreds of fish I ended up flushing down the toilet. It is how I got Jjang, the chihuahua I had in my early 20's, and it is also how I got Nabee. I just bring'em home.

If I could devote my life into caring for just three causes -- it would be as follows: one, to serve the massive amounts of people suffering from the AIDS/HIV epidemic; two, to fight for animal rights and the humane treatment of animals; and three, human rights, all over the world, including women, children, gays, lesbians, minorities, whatever. It is my belief that if everyone picked just one cause they feel inspired by and contribute, whether it be time or money, the world would be a much better place. The power of people is truly great.

Burning CD's -- a Scientific Approach

Click Here to have a new meaning of "burning a CD." It is written in Korean, but there are enough pictures to speak for itself.

Have you seen this Toilet?

Got this inspiration from the Tokyo Times. You know, I was very used to using these when I lived in Korea. The schools had them. While I had a normal (western) john at home, I still had to use the squat (eastern) latrine at school. You have to appreciate the toilet bowl of the west. It's a marvel, I agree.

Imagine trying to squat over that thing when the ground is muddy (as in the case after a rain). It's pretty slippery -- you'd be lucky not to slip and I'll just stop here. But there's also the concern of soiling one's clothes, if not with your own mess/poo, but from the contact it makes with the bathroom floor.

At least they don't need a sanitary toilet cover sheet. Eek.

I am the Dancing Queen

You are the Dancing Queen young and sweet only seventeen Dancing Queen feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah you can dance, you can jive having the time of your life see that girl, watch that scene dig in the Dancing Queen

I started to clean, and was pretty hyped up about it too. I was listening to a stream of music that I had carefully selected (cleaning music is especially important -- you have to make the energy grow a little, and then prepare a bit for a wind down). By the time I got to the Dancing Queen, I was dancing more than cleaning. Which would have looked weird to my cat, because I'm an awful dancer. I'm loving looking like a dork today. I can dance -- I can jive. Yep.

Motivated Sunday

I am having a motivated moment here, Sunday, noonish. It's almost inspirational, I guess. I had a sudden urgeful desire to turn my room upside down and clean it out. I want to embrace my inner organizational control freak, and clean my hell-like chaos, aka my room. I've been slacking in more ways than one this month, and it's time to start kicking myself in the rear end and get myself moving.

I've been depressed, and I've been sulking. I've been moping around about the poor, wretched status of my life. I've gone on one-time dates with men who made me feel like crap, all leading to nowhere. My bestfriend is not talking to me. I have a visa-application situation going on now, and I'm also applying for colleges, to transfer. I'm not having the most glorious summer ever, that is true.

But enough with all the moping. It doesn't become me. Feeling sorry for myself and thinking about how pathetic I am is just not me. I'm masochistic, that's what I am. I like whipping myself into better shape (not so much physically but emotionally and mentally). I am a brilliant individual. I have a high IQ. Heck, I had a 4.0 last semester! I'm bloody fabulous. And I like my Spartan lifestyle. Nothing is ever too good for me -- hell, nothing's ever going to be good enough. But that only has me reaching for something better and working for something more, and my hard driven motivation-filled life is the thing that I crave most.

In August, I've done crap. Literally crap. I don't think I've done laundry in the month of August yet. My first month of being 24, I've been lackadaisical. Sparkle-less. Mundane. Dead. I put down Salman Rushdie's The Moor's Last Sigh, just as it was getting good. Just as the story started picking up, I stopped reading it. I stopped reading the Bible. I am so close to finishing the old testament, (ok, I'm skimming, actually, and I can't remember whether Saul came before Samuel) but that, too, went into hiatus.

So last night, I had a sudden inspiration. A desire to make right all the wrongs in my life, including this friggin' immigration situation, the abominable nursing school applications, the constant lack of money situation! So I'm going to get my act together. I've become a slob. I need to read more, learn more, listen to more music, pet my cat, whatever it is that makes me me. No more zoning out in front of the television watching shows that I don't even like. No more googling high school classmates to compare myself with. No more comparing myself with anyone, except to compare myself with myself from yesterday. No more internet surfing. No more obsessive e-mail checking. Eat more chocolate. Etc. etc. etc.

So I got up relatively early (little before noon -- I have to pick up my brother from his work around 3 AM-ish, so I slept pretty late) and jump started my day. Instead of crawling to the kitchen for some coffee, I stood up, went to the bathroom, and brushed my teeth. I put on my glasses, and saw that I'm having the most excellent hair day. It's nicely curly, but not at all frizzy, and quite shiny and manageable -- ooh I'm digressing again.

I'm ready to jump start my day now, and remembered to go get the paper. It's the Sunday edition, which I kind of like, because I like seeing the comics, all in color, and I love the calendar section, and I love all the coupons, and I just love the great thickness of the whole bundle -- it's like a mini-gift, reserved for Sundays.

Actually, I got quite worried that the paper might have been swiped away by some neighbor -- sometimes when I go get the paper too late, I find that somebody had already decided to *steal* it. And it was already noon, so I darted out my door. I sighed a breath of relief to find the paper. But then... the plastic bag it comes in, was torn. A big hole. And the paper... didn't seem quite as heavy as it should have been. Skeptical, you can imagine, but I took the paper home, and sat down to read it. THE BASTARDS! The neighbor who's keen on stealing my paper has decided that he's just going to take the best part of it and leave the rest behind -- he took the front page! He took the front page, the local news section, the business section! He/She basically took out two-thirds of my reading material. Ugh. How rude!

If he/she had just taken the whole thing, I would have chucked it to the fact that someone might have thought that I wasn't getting the paper for whatever reason -- I'm sick, I went on vacation, I'm not at home this weekend, etc. But the thief proceeded to take only what he wanted, and left the rest for me to find. That's just a blatant display of inconsideration, I think. And the plastic bag clearly states that this paper is for unit #12, which would be me!

Just when I'm all geared up for a great Sunday, something like this happens. Ugh. I'm going to see if I can get that same energy back during the course of the day. Ugh.