I think I've made the wrong choice in deciding to go to Spain, when in fact I should be heading down under. To him. Forget the art of literacy. Give me the art of lust. Oh, Brodie Holland.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
164: To Lust Or Not To Lust
I think I've made the wrong choice in deciding to go to Spain, when in fact I should be heading down under. To him. Forget the art of literacy. Give me the art of lust. Oh, Brodie Holland.
163: "The Smithy Code"
Apparently there's humor in the British justice system, and thank God for it.
In Today's New York Times, there's an article about the recent copyright ruling of the lawsuit filed by two of the three writers of Holy Blood, Holy Grail against Dan Brown, the writer of The Da Vinci Code. The justice, Peter Smith, who is now my new hero, embedded a coded message, a puzzle, as the article reports, in his ruling. Throughout the 71-page ruling, he italicized certain letters. In the first 13 1/2 pages of the text, the first ten of those abberant typefaced letters spell out "Smithy Code." The next thirty are jumbled; and further clues hidden throughout the ruling are needed to crack the mystery. The fact that, as the article reports, "nobody seemed to notice anything unusual about it when it was first released," would have been "probably [a] disappoint[ment] for Justice Smith."
No doubt.
In this day and age of eletronic media, where we see less of allegories and parables, where we're too busy to read between the lines, I think, we've lost the fun in the art of literacy. 'We want clearly spelled out information NOW,' as the unspoken mantra goes. Where's the fun in that? A while back, I read a post in this one blog where the writer purposely chose not to use a certain letter, I don't remember which, but I think it was a vowel. Genius! Clever! I'd like to see more creative writing in blogs.
But then again, what do I know?
In Today's New York Times, there's an article about the recent copyright ruling of the lawsuit filed by two of the three writers of Holy Blood, Holy Grail against Dan Brown, the writer of The Da Vinci Code. The justice, Peter Smith, who is now my new hero, embedded a coded message, a puzzle, as the article reports, in his ruling. Throughout the 71-page ruling, he italicized certain letters. In the first 13 1/2 pages of the text, the first ten of those abberant typefaced letters spell out "Smithy Code." The next thirty are jumbled; and further clues hidden throughout the ruling are needed to crack the mystery. The fact that, as the article reports, "nobody seemed to notice anything unusual about it when it was first released," would have been "probably [a] disappoint[ment] for Justice Smith."
No doubt.
In this day and age of eletronic media, where we see less of allegories and parables, where we're too busy to read between the lines, I think, we've lost the fun in the art of literacy. 'We want clearly spelled out information NOW,' as the unspoken mantra goes. Where's the fun in that? A while back, I read a post in this one blog where the writer purposely chose not to use a certain letter, I don't remember which, but I think it was a vowel. Genius! Clever! I'd like to see more creative writing in blogs.
But then again, what do I know?
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
161: Appa
Our eyes are glued to the television set.
And the AC hums.
He is on his side, his hand propping up his bald head, his thumb caressing gently the ridges of his ear, him, lying on the tatami mat. Me, I'm sitting. The loose straws tickle my bare calves. I hug in my out-stretched legs, towards my body, as my hands caress the itch away; and I rest my chin on the kneecap, and glance, if for a fleeting moment, at the very first man I have ever loved... and hated, Abeoji, Father.
"You go fuck yourself," he yells. On the TV screen, Sam, Hayden Christensen's character, pleads, no, demands, that he'd not be sent away to his father's place for the summer. "I hate you," he growls.
But inside my Japanese bungalow, the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
The trace aroma of mapo tofu, a meal share between father and son, a meal prepared by the son... (was it a gesture of devotion from the son to his father?) the aroma, a trace of what once was, it seems to linger. Ephemerally. Transiently.
Our eyes are glued to the television set.
As father and son watch a movie about a father and a son, the both of us watching the both of them, fighting to reconnect, fighting to make right, us, we.., I... I think...
...About the man who was never there for me, about the man who made me see my mom's tears flow continents away, about the man who chose this country and his other family over ours. I think about my heart breaking.
Sam again rages at his father, George, played by Kevin Klein, "You are unbelievably stupid!"
I steal a glance. 'Does Abeoji realize the same rage is inside me?' I wonder. 'I hate Japan, I hate my sister, I hate him!'
But the beautifully calligraphed washi paper hanging down from a furin, a wind chime, flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
George is playing with his baby boy out in the ocean, bouncing up and down with the waves; I am hiding in the attic. The doorbell has rung, and this little boy is ready to surprise. The waves hit them both. Sam embraces George hard, too overjoyed to have his father near; I hear him ask for me. I throw open the trap door and jump. Into his embrace. Too overjoyed to have my Abeoji near.
That moment, George explains, was the happiest he had ever been. That moment, I recall, was my fondest memory of him.
And it's the last time I remember calling him, Appa, Dad. Just plain old Dad.
The furin chimes; the washi flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
And our eyes are glued to the television set.
And the AC hums.
He is on his side, his hand propping up his bald head, his thumb caressing gently the ridges of his ear, him, lying on the tatami mat. Me, I'm sitting. The loose straws tickle my bare calves. I hug in my out-stretched legs, towards my body, as my hands caress the itch away; and I rest my chin on the kneecap, and glance, if for a fleeting moment, at the very first man I have ever loved... and hated, Abeoji, Father.
"You go fuck yourself," he yells. On the TV screen, Sam, Hayden Christensen's character, pleads, no, demands, that he'd not be sent away to his father's place for the summer. "I hate you," he growls.
But inside my Japanese bungalow, the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
The trace aroma of mapo tofu, a meal share between father and son, a meal prepared by the son... (was it a gesture of devotion from the son to his father?) the aroma, a trace of what once was, it seems to linger. Ephemerally. Transiently.
Our eyes are glued to the television set.
As father and son watch a movie about a father and a son, the both of us watching the both of them, fighting to reconnect, fighting to make right, us, we.., I... I think...
...About the man who was never there for me, about the man who made me see my mom's tears flow continents away, about the man who chose this country and his other family over ours. I think about my heart breaking.
Sam again rages at his father, George, played by Kevin Klein, "You are unbelievably stupid!"
I steal a glance. 'Does Abeoji realize the same rage is inside me?' I wonder. 'I hate Japan, I hate my sister, I hate him!'
But the beautifully calligraphed washi paper hanging down from a furin, a wind chime, flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
George is playing with his baby boy out in the ocean, bouncing up and down with the waves; I am hiding in the attic. The doorbell has rung, and this little boy is ready to surprise. The waves hit them both. Sam embraces George hard, too overjoyed to have his father near; I hear him ask for me. I throw open the trap door and jump. Into his embrace. Too overjoyed to have my Abeoji near.
That moment, George explains, was the happiest he had ever been. That moment, I recall, was my fondest memory of him.
And it's the last time I remember calling him, Appa, Dad. Just plain old Dad.
The furin chimes; the washi flutters; the cool air wafts; the AC hums.
And our eyes are glued to the television set.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
160: Weekend Update
Enjoyable. (Stomach grumbling.) Exciting. (Stomach grumbling.) Exhausting. (Stomach grumbling.)
Those words pretty much sum up my weekend here in D.C. Oh, yes, by the way, I'm in my hotel room in D.C. ready to turn in, because, well, I'm exhausted. But before I do, let me give you the highlights.
Yesterday, I arrived in D.C. to an overcast sky, and took the Metro over to my old place. While I was away, a new Korean restaurant with a nice decor and delicious foods, something you'd find in NYC or in LA, had opened up, according to my roommate, and he took me there. What a vast improvement in Maryland's Korean food scene. While we ate our Soondubu Chige, we caught up. He regaled me with a story about his recovery from his recent addiction to on-line gambling; I bored him with a tale about my addiction to a masochistic tendency to take on more work than I should take on.
After my late lunch, I metro-ed back to D.C., through the wind and rain, to have the pleasure to meet a fellow blogger, Steven. We went to Halo for their happy hour, 2 for 1, special. Steven graciously bought my drinks. I had the caramel apple martini, which was very caramel-ly and not very apple-ly, for my first drink; and for my second one, I had the appletini, which was very 'tini-ly and not very apple-ly. Steven's friend, Robert, who is also a blogger joined us. The three of us later moved on to Logan Tavern for a late dinner, where two other friends of Steven, Ray and Joey, joined to make a Party of Five. The food was sumptuous, but I guess the alcohol had taken over too much room in my stomach, I barely finished half the plate. Yes, all in all, it was a sunny rainy night.
On my return home, my other roommate was waiting for me. We hung out for a bit, made a run to a 7-11, hung out a little bit more, and then I crashed.
This morning, my stomach was unhappy. And my drinking a god awful Mocha Latte didn't lessen my stomach's unhappiness. But we had made plans for lunch, so the three old roomies found ourselves at a Japanese restaurant eating raw fish. My uncooperative stomach prevented me from enjoying the goodness that was laid before us. But as is the rule, a good conversation can make any meal absolutely yummy.
After lunch, I trekked my way to the hotel. As soon as I got to my room, the porcelain goddess beckoned and I offered her up a sacrifice. I crashed. Again. Then, I woke up a couple of hours later, only to find my troublesome stomach grumbling for food. So, I went outside and walked around looking for a quick dinner. As I was walking around, I realized I was very near to Halo, Logan Tavern, and the Whole Foods Market! A healthy, light dinner from Whole Foods! Dinner, done.
Now, I must go to sleep. Work awaits tomorrow morn.
Those words pretty much sum up my weekend here in D.C. Oh, yes, by the way, I'm in my hotel room in D.C. ready to turn in, because, well, I'm exhausted. But before I do, let me give you the highlights.
Yesterday, I arrived in D.C. to an overcast sky, and took the Metro over to my old place. While I was away, a new Korean restaurant with a nice decor and delicious foods, something you'd find in NYC or in LA, had opened up, according to my roommate, and he took me there. What a vast improvement in Maryland's Korean food scene. While we ate our Soondubu Chige, we caught up. He regaled me with a story about his recovery from his recent addiction to on-line gambling; I bored him with a tale about my addiction to a masochistic tendency to take on more work than I should take on.
After my late lunch, I metro-ed back to D.C., through the wind and rain, to have the pleasure to meet a fellow blogger, Steven. We went to Halo for their happy hour, 2 for 1, special. Steven graciously bought my drinks. I had the caramel apple martini, which was very caramel-ly and not very apple-ly, for my first drink; and for my second one, I had the appletini, which was very 'tini-ly and not very apple-ly. Steven's friend, Robert, who is also a blogger joined us. The three of us later moved on to Logan Tavern for a late dinner, where two other friends of Steven, Ray and Joey, joined to make a Party of Five. The food was sumptuous, but I guess the alcohol had taken over too much room in my stomach, I barely finished half the plate. Yes, all in all, it was a sunny rainy night.
On my return home, my other roommate was waiting for me. We hung out for a bit, made a run to a 7-11, hung out a little bit more, and then I crashed.
This morning, my stomach was unhappy. And my drinking a god awful Mocha Latte didn't lessen my stomach's unhappiness. But we had made plans for lunch, so the three old roomies found ourselves at a Japanese restaurant eating raw fish. My uncooperative stomach prevented me from enjoying the goodness that was laid before us. But as is the rule, a good conversation can make any meal absolutely yummy.
After lunch, I trekked my way to the hotel. As soon as I got to my room, the porcelain goddess beckoned and I offered her up a sacrifice. I crashed. Again. Then, I woke up a couple of hours later, only to find my troublesome stomach grumbling for food. So, I went outside and walked around looking for a quick dinner. As I was walking around, I realized I was very near to Halo, Logan Tavern, and the Whole Foods Market! A healthy, light dinner from Whole Foods! Dinner, done.
Now, I must go to sleep. Work awaits tomorrow morn.
Monday, April 17, 2006
159: Breathe Me
(Breathe me by Sia)
Sigh...I swear my iPod can sense my mood. It's like a mood ring. Hell, my iPod is a moodPod. An evening spent chatting with a friend leaves me from being greatly melancholic to slightly melancholic.
Help,Why is it that when one part of your life goes well another part falls apart?
I have done it again
I have been here many times before,
Hurt myself again today,
And the worst part is there's no-one else to blame.
Be my friend,Seriously, breathe me. I don't smell bad.
Hold me, wrap me up,
Unfold me.
I am small, I'm needy,
Warm me up,
And breathe me.
Ouch,Maybe MyHeritage.com has a point when it says I resemble Asahara. I do suffer from some sort of messianic complex, where I feel I must take a lot more responsibility for events that, even though they're out of my control, somehow affect me, where I become a martyr. Seriously, if I hadn't coughed after I've returned home from a private lesson class I taught at back in Japan and turned on the TV to see the Twin Towers on fire, those towers would still be standing! I'm sorry. I am horrible. It was in bad taste. I take full responsibility for being so stupid. See, even my personality DNA, Part Deux, tells me that I've a high agency, "agency" defined as "how much you believe you determine your own outcomes. High means you believe that you have control over your life. Low means you believe that other factors—such as chance, fate, and powerful others—influence your life."
I have lost myself again,
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah, I think that I might break,
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe.
Be my friend,Seriously, breathe me. I don't smell bad. Well, maybe my breath.
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me.
I am small, I'm needy,
Warm me up,
And breathe me.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
158: My Personality DNA
So, I took a personality test, and at this very moment in time and space, I'm a...
It's telling me that I ain't confident, that I am shy, and that I'm a stereotypical woman! You know what? This gurl ain't happy. I'm going to take the test again, and get back to you. But you can read My Personal DNA Report in the meantime.
Okay, I took the test again. And I agree with this one. I'm a...
And this is what My Personal DNA Report Part 2 says I am. See! I ain't confident and I am shy. But you know what? I'm more stereotypically masculine than before. That's important.
*Sashays away from the computer*
*Looks back*
*Blows a kiss*
It's telling me that I ain't confident, that I am shy, and that I'm a stereotypical woman! You know what? This gurl ain't happy. I'm going to take the test again, and get back to you. But you can read My Personal DNA Report in the meantime.
Okay, I took the test again. And I agree with this one. I'm a...
And this is what My Personal DNA Report Part 2 says I am. See! I ain't confident and I am shy. But you know what? I'm more stereotypically masculine than before. That's important.
*Sashays away from the computer*
*Looks back*
*Blows a kiss*
Saturday, April 15, 2006
157: Meryl Streep and Bob Marley
A few days ago, I was watching GMA as I was getting ready for work, and Diane Sawyer, Charlie Gibson, and company were talking about MyHeritage.com. Then today I see in my friend's Xanga site that she's gone into the site, uploaded her picture, and reported what the site told her she resembled. I've gone and done the same and here's what it reports (the linked names are people I don't know):
Picture #1:
MyHeritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Picture #2:
My Heritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Picture #1:
MyHeritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Meryl Streep 61%Yes, yes, I know. The list reads like a line-up of drag persona I can take on, that is, should I ever do drag on Halloween, at Pride, or at work. But, you have to agree, those are some good iconic figures. And who am I to argue when they tell me I look like Antonio, Yonsama (the Korean actor who flamed the Hallyu boom in Japan), and Nicolas.
Hilary Swank 59%
Antonio Saboto Jr. 58%
Brooke Shields 58%
Madonna 54%
Bae Yong-Joon 54%
Nicolas Tse 54%
Gwyneth Paltrow 53%
Sammi Cheng 53%
Yasmine Bleeth 52%
Picture #2:
My Heritage.com tells me I most resemble...
Bob Marley 68%I think I like how this list reads better. it's a good mix: you have those who are hot (Bob) and those who are not (Ben), you have the talented (Rowling) and the talent-less (Ben), you have the fat one (Moran, I love you!), and yes, yes, yes, you have the messianic figure who ordered the deadly sarin gas attack on the Tokyo's underground (Asahara). Isn't that interesting?
Forest Whitaker 63%
Missy Elliott 60%
J. K. Rowling 54%
Shoko Asahara 53%
Margaret Cho 51%
Janica Kostelic 50%
Wu Yi 50%
Matthew Broderick 50%
Ben Affleck 49%
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
156: I Needs Me a Vacation
Today, I booked my flight for a long overdue vacation to the land of Flamenco, the bulls, the tapas, and el Sol.
Can I tell you how excited I am about this?
Now, the extensive planning shall commence. The budget, a loose itinerary with a plenty of room for deviation (because you know, you don't want to be too anal and plan for every second of the trip), what I need to take with me, etc., I need to figure them all out.
Although... just throwing a couple of T-shirts, a swim trunks, and the Lonely Planet in my bag, having nothing really planned out, and just taking off on a jet plane... that, THAT, appeals to me so much more.
But who cares?! I'm going to SPAIN, people! I'm going to SPAIN!
Can I tell you how excited I am about this?
Now, the extensive planning shall commence. The budget, a loose itinerary with a plenty of room for deviation (because you know, you don't want to be too anal and plan for every second of the trip), what I need to take with me, etc., I need to figure them all out.
Although... just throwing a couple of T-shirts, a swim trunks, and the Lonely Planet in my bag, having nothing really planned out, and just taking off on a jet plane... that, THAT, appeals to me so much more.
But who cares?! I'm going to SPAIN, people! I'm going to SPAIN!
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
155: Life, the Universe, and Everything
Firstly, I want to thank goblinbox and vuboq/enviroboi for their suggestions. I am currently crafting something to post, something personal. So, stay tuned. To be honest, I've kept myself from posting anything personal; but it became clear to me that if I don't share anything remotely personal, I have nothing, absolutely nothing, to write about. Seriously, blogging is indeed a very narcissistic exercise, and I would not have it any other way!
Secondly, while on a business trip to sunny SoCal, I've had a chance to hang out with an old friend at Downtown Disney. While we both bemoaned the fact that we were so close to the magic that is Disneyland, and were unable to partake in hugging Mickey Mouse due to budgetary and, especially, time constraints, we did, however, manage to share our own unique perspectives on life, the universe, and everything. She bitched about her stressful work life, I questioned my purpose in the universe, and we moped about everything. I tell you, it was somewhat depressing. No, no, no, I kid. It was absolutely depressing. I'm kidding. You know I'm kidding, right? Seriously, it was absolutely fantastic to catch up and hang out. I think it's truly amazing that, even though the number of friends I have, I can count with my two hands and, even though they are scattered in these U.S. of A., I can totally rely on them, and I hope, they, on me. So, here's to good friends!
Thirdly and lastly, I am going on another business trip towards the end of this month to DC. Hopefully, I'll reconnect with my old buddies, and most importantly, I'll get to chill out with a fellow blogger! I'm embolden by this blogger's invitation to meet and greet. So, if any of you, dear readers, in the DC area are inclined to favor and grace me with your presence, you will not find a naysayer in me; rather, you will find someone eager to meet and make new friends. I'll be in town on the 22nd. So, here's to new friends!
Secondly, while on a business trip to sunny SoCal, I've had a chance to hang out with an old friend at Downtown Disney. While we both bemoaned the fact that we were so close to the magic that is Disneyland, and were unable to partake in hugging Mickey Mouse due to budgetary and, especially, time constraints, we did, however, manage to share our own unique perspectives on life, the universe, and everything. She bitched about her stressful work life, I questioned my purpose in the universe, and we moped about everything. I tell you, it was somewhat depressing. No, no, no, I kid. It was absolutely depressing. I'm kidding. You know I'm kidding, right? Seriously, it was absolutely fantastic to catch up and hang out. I think it's truly amazing that, even though the number of friends I have, I can count with my two hands and, even though they are scattered in these U.S. of A., I can totally rely on them, and I hope, they, on me. So, here's to good friends!
Thirdly and lastly, I am going on another business trip towards the end of this month to DC. Hopefully, I'll reconnect with my old buddies, and most importantly, I'll get to chill out with a fellow blogger! I'm embolden by this blogger's invitation to meet and greet. So, if any of you, dear readers, in the DC area are inclined to favor and grace me with your presence, you will not find a naysayer in me; rather, you will find someone eager to meet and make new friends. I'll be in town on the 22nd. So, here's to new friends!
Monday, April 03, 2006
154: Tag Me!
Can anyone tag me to do a meme? I'm at a point where I just can't seem to get myself to write. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, but... well, maybe I don't have anything to write about... Dear Lord, I'm letting this blog die a slow death by neglect. That won't do. No, that just won't do. So, tag me, PLEASE!!!
If you don't want to tag me, tell me what I should write about. Don't say, "write anything that is in your mind;" because, isn't it obvious that I have nothing in my mind?
Dear Lord, what is going on here?
Should I worry? Should I care?
If you don't want to tag me, tell me what I should write about. Don't say, "write anything that is in your mind;" because, isn't it obvious that I have nothing in my mind?
Dear Lord, what is going on here?
Should I worry? Should I care?
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