I had dinner with some old friends this weekend, and the topic (inevitably) turned to setups and eligibility. So apparently there was the prospect of some tennis player, originally intended for H, but she was more than eager to pass him on based on the athletic potential.
me: "Is he Korean?"
P: "yes"
me: "Is he Christian?"
P: "yes"
(at which point H interjects, "AND he almost went pro! He understands that whole athlete thing! What more could you want???")
At this point, P interrupts with one, minor question...
"so...is it important to you if he's smart?"
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
champion
Although I did not earn a gold medal for fighting, there was one point in the trip where I was declared hands down the champion by official tournament personnel. I think I should have gotten a medal or some sort of proof that I am the 2006 champion for fastest anti-doping test. Not quite the champ I wanted to be, but...there it was.
Is there something about me that says "pick me for drug testing"? What is it, my incredibly jacked arms that indicate that I'm clearly on steroids? (And I'm completely kidding, if you've ever seen me struggle to do pull-ups, you're already on the floor laughing).
I've been picked for drug testing something like 3 times in the last year, when it's supposed to be a random selection. It's one of the most annoying feelings, when you just come back from losing a match and there's a volunteer with a clipboard waiting for you. The last thing you want is someone following you everywhere, trying to get you to pee in a cup. This year I literally saw the volunteer, threw up my hands and said "are you KIDDING me?!?!" (I know, not terribly gracious, but I hope they understood...)
I followed them into the anti-doping room, and there was a little Japanese girl there, looking absolutely miserable. I knew the look. It's the look of someone who's never had to do drug testing before - someone who's disappointed that they lost and dehydrated from sweating all day, who feels like they just can't drink any more water, but just doesn't have to pee. That was me 2 years ago in Greece, the first (and most traumatic) time I was selected for drug testing. You do everything you can to make yourself go...and then when you're finally done, you have so much water going through your system that you have to go every 10 minutes for the next hour. It ain't pretty...
I guess doping probably gets easier the more you do it, but I have to say, it's pretty gross that someone actually has to watch you. And woe to s/he who can't hit 80ml in one go - the whole procedure having to be repeated deal, with having to go back in the waiting room and redrinking all that water and juice...no good.
In any event - I was in and out of there in 20 minutes flat, including all the annoying paperwork. It was only Day 1, so I guess someone could've beaten me by the end of Day 4, but for a brief, shining moment...I was declared the champion. Including a pretty good conversation (in her broken English and my broken Japanese) with my new friend: Yamasi.
Is there something about me that says "pick me for drug testing"? What is it, my incredibly jacked arms that indicate that I'm clearly on steroids? (And I'm completely kidding, if you've ever seen me struggle to do pull-ups, you're already on the floor laughing).
I've been picked for drug testing something like 3 times in the last year, when it's supposed to be a random selection. It's one of the most annoying feelings, when you just come back from losing a match and there's a volunteer with a clipboard waiting for you. The last thing you want is someone following you everywhere, trying to get you to pee in a cup. This year I literally saw the volunteer, threw up my hands and said "are you KIDDING me?!?!" (I know, not terribly gracious, but I hope they understood...)
I followed them into the anti-doping room, and there was a little Japanese girl there, looking absolutely miserable. I knew the look. It's the look of someone who's never had to do drug testing before - someone who's disappointed that they lost and dehydrated from sweating all day, who feels like they just can't drink any more water, but just doesn't have to pee. That was me 2 years ago in Greece, the first (and most traumatic) time I was selected for drug testing. You do everything you can to make yourself go...and then when you're finally done, you have so much water going through your system that you have to go every 10 minutes for the next hour. It ain't pretty...
I guess doping probably gets easier the more you do it, but I have to say, it's pretty gross that someone actually has to watch you. And woe to s/he who can't hit 80ml in one go - the whole procedure having to be repeated deal, with having to go back in the waiting room and redrinking all that water and juice...no good.
In any event - I was in and out of there in 20 minutes flat, including all the annoying paperwork. It was only Day 1, so I guess someone could've beaten me by the end of Day 4, but for a brief, shining moment...I was declared the champion. Including a pretty good conversation (in her broken English and my broken Japanese) with my new friend: Yamasi.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
spain, part 1
A brief photo tour...*sigh* I lost some of my photos in downloading, I'm hoping other ppl have some of the good ones.
So here's the team. The hotel was right on the beach - awesome. Looking at my feet today, I realized that I got quite a tan...excellent.
Our boys are such clowns. No, but seriously, this was probably one of the best men's teams I've travelled with. Not perfect, but mostly good guys. And Bones was hands down the best male captain I've ever worked with - it's very rare that I'll feel comfortable enough to defer willingly and not feel like I have to pick up after someone else. I think this goes back to the whole role of men and women thing - I have no problem letting a guy lead, should he win my respect and prove himself capable.
My new dongsengs, J&J! I think it's just a part of me - I love being noona. Perhaps it's because I never had any younger brother types growing up, but ever since college I've been surrounded by little bros and I just love it when they call me "noona". It was so awesome having other Koreans on the team this year.
OK, that's the first half...
Friday, May 12, 2006
t-minus departure
A few exerpts from my favorite books/movies. If you know me well, it'll be obvious what they are. Or that you've watched a lot of PG movies.
Ready or not, here's Spain
* * * * *
"Ender Wiggin must believe that no matter what happens, no adult will ever, ever step in to help him in any way. He must believe, to the core of his soul, that he can only do what he and the other children work out for themselves. If he does not believe that, then he will never reach the peak of his abilities."
"He will also not reach the peak of his abilities if he is dead or permanently crippled."
"He won't be."
* * * * *
"To put your son in a position to care about winning and not to prepare him is wrong!"
* * * * *
"He's not afraid of losing. He's afraid of losing your love. How many ball players grow up afraid of losing their fathers' love every time they come up to the plate?"
"All of them!"
"He knows you disapprove of him. He knows you think he's weak. But he's not weak. He's decent. And if you or Bruce or anyone else tries to beat that out of him, I swear to God I'll take him away."
* * * * *
"If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great!"
* * * * *
Two days later the miracle was made complete. My boys defeated Finland to win the gold medal, coming from behind once again. As I watched them out there, celebrating on the ice, I realized that Patti had been right. It was a lot more than a hockey game, not only for those who watched it, but for those who played in it. I've often been asked in the years since Lake Placid what was the best moment for me. Well, it was here - the sight of 20 young men of such differing backgrounds now standing as one. Young men willing to sacrifice so much of themselves all for an unknown. A few years later, the U.S. began using professional athletes at the Games - Dream Teams. I always found that term ironic because now that we have Dream Teams, we seldom ever get to dream. But on one weekend, as America and the world watched, a group of remarkable young men gave the nation what it needed most - a chance, for one night, not only to dream, but a chance, once again, to believe.
* * * * *
Ready or not, here's Spain
* * * * *
"Ender Wiggin must believe that no matter what happens, no adult will ever, ever step in to help him in any way. He must believe, to the core of his soul, that he can only do what he and the other children work out for themselves. If he does not believe that, then he will never reach the peak of his abilities."
"He will also not reach the peak of his abilities if he is dead or permanently crippled."
"He won't be."
* * * * *
"To put your son in a position to care about winning and not to prepare him is wrong!"
* * * * *
"He's not afraid of losing. He's afraid of losing your love. How many ball players grow up afraid of losing their fathers' love every time they come up to the plate?"
"All of them!"
"He knows you disapprove of him. He knows you think he's weak. But he's not weak. He's decent. And if you or Bruce or anyone else tries to beat that out of him, I swear to God I'll take him away."
* * * * *
"If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great!"
* * * * *
Two days later the miracle was made complete. My boys defeated Finland to win the gold medal, coming from behind once again. As I watched them out there, celebrating on the ice, I realized that Patti had been right. It was a lot more than a hockey game, not only for those who watched it, but for those who played in it. I've often been asked in the years since Lake Placid what was the best moment for me. Well, it was here - the sight of 20 young men of such differing backgrounds now standing as one. Young men willing to sacrifice so much of themselves all for an unknown. A few years later, the U.S. began using professional athletes at the Games - Dream Teams. I always found that term ironic because now that we have Dream Teams, we seldom ever get to dream. But on one weekend, as America and the world watched, a group of remarkable young men gave the nation what it needed most - a chance, for one night, not only to dream, but a chance, once again, to believe.
* * * * *
It is 8:40pm on Friday night.
I am at work.
I am the only one at work.
My 1GB playlist has come back to the beginning.
I just saved over an important file and can't get to the backup because the architects' FTP site is down.
It's funny that it took me the last 3 weeks to figure out how to do 6 sets of calculations and diagrams. And now that I finally understand how to do it, they tell us that we absolutely need to finish and post something along the lines of 40 diagrams by tonight. And by we, that means me.
For someone who is only in her 3rd month at this company and in this INDUSTRY (read: I knew absolutely nothing about HVAC engineering prior to this job beyond knowing how to use a thermometer) - people seem to be OK with throwing important tasks with the risk of incompetance. I don't know when this happened, but people really need to stop presuming that I know what I'm doing.
I'm 80% finished with the ridiculous task at hand. I really ought to go home. But...I'm so close.
I am down to my last Milano cookie. I think I'll stay until my stomach rumbles again...I hope I can hold out till I finish.
I hope these calculations are correct or else people in Korea will freeze in the winter because I didn't buy a bigger stash of cookies...
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
rushed
The epitome of my week:
I woke up fried from having a bad practice the night before. I hit the snooze one time too many, and tried to catch a couple extra minutes of sleep by planning out what to wear in my head. After finally dragging myself down the ladder and rushing through the morning routine, I tried to remember everything I had to bring out the door that day.
Keys, cell phone, iPod, glasses...bills to mail, ID badge for work...belt, knee braces...Metrocard...
After a couple trips back and forth from the elevator to my door, I just had to go or else I'd be late for hand therapy. But somehow there was a nagging feeling that I'd forgotten something.
I get to the subway stop and fumble for my Metrocard, swiping it as the 1 train pulled away. The next one came, and when I crossed the platform to get to the express, I noticed it was empty. One must have just passed. And then the 1 train I'd just gotten off of closed its doors and pulled away. I finally get to Times Square and book it across to get to the shuttle - to watch that pull away too. What are the odds of missing all 3 trains??
So I finally get on the next shuttle, and I'm sandwiched in between a whole lot of people. There's barely enough room to fidget, that's how many people were crammed into that train. And when you're squeezed that tightly in small quarters, you really can't look anywhere because anywhere you turn your head, you're looking straight at someone. So I did the next natural thing, and looked down at my feet.
That's when I realized...I had put on my sneakers this morning instead of my dress shoes.
I woke up fried from having a bad practice the night before. I hit the snooze one time too many, and tried to catch a couple extra minutes of sleep by planning out what to wear in my head. After finally dragging myself down the ladder and rushing through the morning routine, I tried to remember everything I had to bring out the door that day.
Keys, cell phone, iPod, glasses...bills to mail, ID badge for work...belt, knee braces...Metrocard...
After a couple trips back and forth from the elevator to my door, I just had to go or else I'd be late for hand therapy. But somehow there was a nagging feeling that I'd forgotten something.
I get to the subway stop and fumble for my Metrocard, swiping it as the 1 train pulled away. The next one came, and when I crossed the platform to get to the express, I noticed it was empty. One must have just passed. And then the 1 train I'd just gotten off of closed its doors and pulled away. I finally get to Times Square and book it across to get to the shuttle - to watch that pull away too. What are the odds of missing all 3 trains??
So I finally get on the next shuttle, and I'm sandwiched in between a whole lot of people. There's barely enough room to fidget, that's how many people were crammed into that train. And when you're squeezed that tightly in small quarters, you really can't look anywhere because anywhere you turn your head, you're looking straight at someone. So I did the next natural thing, and looked down at my feet.
That's when I realized...I had put on my sneakers this morning instead of my dress shoes.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Sunday, May 07, 2006
normal
T-minus 7 days.
Normally that means # of days till the competition, in anticipation and preparation.
And I realize I need to snap out of this, but I've been counting down the days until it will be OVER and I can sleep and eat like a normal person. And not train, and not go to physical therapy, and not go to hand therapy, and see my friends...and take trips to go on vacation and relax instead of taking trips to be more stressed and come back injured...and spend my money on things other than athletic tape, Gatorade, medical copays, neoprene braces, and tournament expenses.
I know, I'm not supposed to be another faceless underachiever in the mediocrity something something something. But...does not being an overachiever mean being an underachiever? Where is "normal"? And how much do achievements matter in the end?
I never thought I'd be so tired as to say this but...I kind of want to just be mediocre. To go to work, come home, and sit in front of the tv and do nothing.
Ah, who am I kidding? The minute I had time, I would just pursue something else and my days would be just as full. But in the cost-benefit analysis...maybe it'd come up positive with something else.
And on a random note...I just can't stop eating Kasugai gummy candies. They're so good...
Normally that means # of days till the competition, in anticipation and preparation.
And I realize I need to snap out of this, but I've been counting down the days until it will be OVER and I can sleep and eat like a normal person. And not train, and not go to physical therapy, and not go to hand therapy, and see my friends...and take trips to go on vacation and relax instead of taking trips to be more stressed and come back injured...and spend my money on things other than athletic tape, Gatorade, medical copays, neoprene braces, and tournament expenses.
I know, I'm not supposed to be another faceless underachiever in the mediocrity something something something. But...does not being an overachiever mean being an underachiever? Where is "normal"? And how much do achievements matter in the end?
I never thought I'd be so tired as to say this but...I kind of want to just be mediocre. To go to work, come home, and sit in front of the tv and do nothing.
Ah, who am I kidding? The minute I had time, I would just pursue something else and my days would be just as full. But in the cost-benefit analysis...maybe it'd come up positive with something else.
And on a random note...I just can't stop eating Kasugai gummy candies. They're so good...
Thursday, May 04, 2006
register
Looking at my credit card bills over the course of the last month, I seem to have incurred a whole new category of spending. You know you're getting into the prime of young adulthood when a significant category for spending in a month is for registry gifts. And by registry I mean both weddings and (*eek*) babies.
My cousin just had her third child (Issac!) Two months ago my good friend of mine had her first child. Another one of my friends is pregnant. One of my students has a new brother, who I got to meet briefly when I went to go tutor the other day. Granted, I have some friends and cousins who are significantly older than I am, and people in NY have this tendency to have kids way late, but...babies, babies everywhere. It's a little crazy.
And for the generation 5-10 years younger than that, weddings, weddings everywhere. It's like this year is the boom (haha, well, for the class of '01, certainly). You turn around, and there's another "Save the Date!" thing in your mailbox. I remember teasing Ji a few years ago about how he was away for a wedding every month...and now I understand. Haha, I jest, but I'm looking forward to them. They're all great couples so it will be cool to celebrate with them, and a great opportunity to see old friends. Even if I have to dress up. =)
Interesting coincidence - this weekend I'm going (back) to Boston for Dan & Kathy wedding #1. In about 2 months I'll be going to NJ for Dan & Kathy wedding #2. No they're not getting married twice - I have two sets of "Dan & Kathy" friends who are getting married this year. And I do believe all of them are Taiwanese. What a small world...
It is a new era. Like it or not...everyone is growing up. Time marches on....
My cousin just had her third child (Issac!) Two months ago my good friend of mine had her first child. Another one of my friends is pregnant. One of my students has a new brother, who I got to meet briefly when I went to go tutor the other day. Granted, I have some friends and cousins who are significantly older than I am, and people in NY have this tendency to have kids way late, but...babies, babies everywhere. It's a little crazy.
And for the generation 5-10 years younger than that, weddings, weddings everywhere. It's like this year is the boom (haha, well, for the class of '01, certainly). You turn around, and there's another "Save the Date!" thing in your mailbox. I remember teasing Ji a few years ago about how he was away for a wedding every month...and now I understand. Haha, I jest, but I'm looking forward to them. They're all great couples so it will be cool to celebrate with them, and a great opportunity to see old friends. Even if I have to dress up. =)
Interesting coincidence - this weekend I'm going (back) to Boston for Dan & Kathy wedding #1. In about 2 months I'll be going to NJ for Dan & Kathy wedding #2. No they're not getting married twice - I have two sets of "Dan & Kathy" friends who are getting married this year. And I do believe all of them are Taiwanese. What a small world...
It is a new era. Like it or not...everyone is growing up. Time marches on....
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
rush hour
Nothing exemplifies the fast pace of New York to me more than Penn Station in the morning. My new job is right outside of Penn Station, a straight shot on the 1 train from my apt. What a great commute. Every morning I marvel at my commute and how I used to wait for the bus and rot 45-60 min to get to Queens.
And then my train pulls into Penn Station, I get out, and...madness hits.
And by madness I mean throngs upon throngs of people, walking frantically in all different directions - busy people with places to go as fast as they can. It's like BAM! There it is: entropy in human form. It's seriously a miracle there aren't more collisions.
In the 2 months since this job, I feel like I've changed. But I wonder if it's for the better. I think the first week, I was late to work every day because I just couldn't make it through the crowds. There is absolutely no order to the way people are walking, because there are so many different options - LIRR, NJ transit, subway, food courts, newstands...they're going every which way. So without a set "flow of traffic" to follow, I found myself hopping to avoid speedwalking people, shoved as people brush past, and generally migrating away from my final destination. Perhaps the Californian in me still walks too slow, or being polite doesn't get you anywhere...but it was grossly inefficient.
So after awhile, I realized that I had to adapt. Perhaps this is evolution in process. Survival of the fittest. Those who get to work on time don't get fired.
The whole method is actually just another application of my driving in NY theory: whoever has the most guts and blinks last gets the right of way. (In driving, these are usually cab drivers). So these days I noticed that I've adopted this theory for wading my way thru Penn Station. I stepped out of the subway turnstyles, put my head down, and started walking fast. My theory is - if you just walk fast enough and you don't show any signs of yielding, people will eventually get out of your way. You can't make eye contact because then there's some degree of politeness or courtesy that gets jumbled in there, someone inevitably stops, and crashage occurs. It seems to only add to the randomness, but somehow, this works. In the midst of it all, somehow people make it to their destinations.
I find that the worst sides of myself come up when I'm in a rush to get from Point A to Point B. Nothing peeves me more than tourists who walk too slow or don't know where they're going. And when someone switches direction, forget it. Tempers flare. Impatience runs rampant.
Sometimes I wonder if this is how grace is lost - in madness of the pursuit of getting from Point A to Point B.
And then my train pulls into Penn Station, I get out, and...madness hits.
And by madness I mean throngs upon throngs of people, walking frantically in all different directions - busy people with places to go as fast as they can. It's like BAM! There it is: entropy in human form. It's seriously a miracle there aren't more collisions.
In the 2 months since this job, I feel like I've changed. But I wonder if it's for the better. I think the first week, I was late to work every day because I just couldn't make it through the crowds. There is absolutely no order to the way people are walking, because there are so many different options - LIRR, NJ transit, subway, food courts, newstands...they're going every which way. So without a set "flow of traffic" to follow, I found myself hopping to avoid speedwalking people, shoved as people brush past, and generally migrating away from my final destination. Perhaps the Californian in me still walks too slow, or being polite doesn't get you anywhere...but it was grossly inefficient.
So after awhile, I realized that I had to adapt. Perhaps this is evolution in process. Survival of the fittest. Those who get to work on time don't get fired.
The whole method is actually just another application of my driving in NY theory: whoever has the most guts and blinks last gets the right of way. (In driving, these are usually cab drivers). So these days I noticed that I've adopted this theory for wading my way thru Penn Station. I stepped out of the subway turnstyles, put my head down, and started walking fast. My theory is - if you just walk fast enough and you don't show any signs of yielding, people will eventually get out of your way. You can't make eye contact because then there's some degree of politeness or courtesy that gets jumbled in there, someone inevitably stops, and crashage occurs. It seems to only add to the randomness, but somehow, this works. In the midst of it all, somehow people make it to their destinations.
I find that the worst sides of myself come up when I'm in a rush to get from Point A to Point B. Nothing peeves me more than tourists who walk too slow or don't know where they're going. And when someone switches direction, forget it. Tempers flare. Impatience runs rampant.
Sometimes I wonder if this is how grace is lost - in madness of the pursuit of getting from Point A to Point B.
victory
So I finally got around to filling out my new 401k forms for my new job.
So if you've tried to invest in stocks and studied the options...you know that it's confusing. Fortunately, the husband of my Jewish mother is a finance guy and was helpful with walking me through the garble of 401k packets. We weighed out the options, analyzed the past few years, diversified...and I still feel like I took a shot in the dark. It was an "educated guess" of sorts, but...really, it's still gambling. Being risk-averse, it didn't sit well with me to choose a portfolio that was extremely high risk...but that's apparently what you're supposed to do when you're young.
That being said (jumping to another topic which I'll relate back later), I really enjoyed another quality Bible study this Fri in small group. TGIF, how I've missed you. I suppose in light of the things on my mind as of late, it was a timely study. (Phil. 4:4-9). We spent a lengthy chunk of the time discussing what it means to rejoice, particularly in times of suffering. Looking at Paul, I think that the true source of his joy in times of hardship is hope. Even when he was imprisoned and alone, he's able to give encouragement to "rejoice always".
Sometimes I feel like I have to hit rock bottom to realize the power of hope over despair.
Mumbles said something interesting at the end of sg, talking about Revelations and what it's like when you know the ending of a story. Revelations - as confusing and potentially scary as it is - is knowing that we win and Satan loses. That despite whatever suffering and turmoil and injustice and sacrifice happens between now and then - that we win because Jesus has already secured the victory.
That's kind of crazy. It made me think about a quote I saw on one of those quotable mugs: "what would you do if you knew you could not fail?"
I guess that's what hope is...having faith that the outcome will be great, despite however difficult the path may be to get there.
I think all this 401k hoopla made this concept make more sense...how easy would it be to invest in a stock if you knew that when you cashed out at retirement, it would be successful? The investment advice that they give 20-somethings is to go high risk, despite market fluctuations and dips, because eventually it will compound higher than where you started. "Eventually".
Having eternal perspective is having hope. And hope is what leads to joy in times of hardship. So maybe when Paul is encouraging the Philippians to "rejoice always", it's another way to encourage them in faith...
So if you've tried to invest in stocks and studied the options...you know that it's confusing. Fortunately, the husband of my Jewish mother is a finance guy and was helpful with walking me through the garble of 401k packets. We weighed out the options, analyzed the past few years, diversified...and I still feel like I took a shot in the dark. It was an "educated guess" of sorts, but...really, it's still gambling. Being risk-averse, it didn't sit well with me to choose a portfolio that was extremely high risk...but that's apparently what you're supposed to do when you're young.
That being said (jumping to another topic which I'll relate back later), I really enjoyed another quality Bible study this Fri in small group. TGIF, how I've missed you. I suppose in light of the things on my mind as of late, it was a timely study. (Phil. 4:4-9). We spent a lengthy chunk of the time discussing what it means to rejoice, particularly in times of suffering. Looking at Paul, I think that the true source of his joy in times of hardship is hope. Even when he was imprisoned and alone, he's able to give encouragement to "rejoice always".
Sometimes I feel like I have to hit rock bottom to realize the power of hope over despair.
Mumbles said something interesting at the end of sg, talking about Revelations and what it's like when you know the ending of a story. Revelations - as confusing and potentially scary as it is - is knowing that we win and Satan loses. That despite whatever suffering and turmoil and injustice and sacrifice happens between now and then - that we win because Jesus has already secured the victory.
That's kind of crazy. It made me think about a quote I saw on one of those quotable mugs: "what would you do if you knew you could not fail?"
I guess that's what hope is...having faith that the outcome will be great, despite however difficult the path may be to get there.
I think all this 401k hoopla made this concept make more sense...how easy would it be to invest in a stock if you knew that when you cashed out at retirement, it would be successful? The investment advice that they give 20-somethings is to go high risk, despite market fluctuations and dips, because eventually it will compound higher than where you started. "Eventually".
Having eternal perspective is having hope. And hope is what leads to joy in times of hardship. So maybe when Paul is encouraging the Philippians to "rejoice always", it's another way to encourage them in faith...
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