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...
Sunday, April 30, 2006
poor customer service part 2
3, 2, 1.
1, 2, 3.
What the heck is bothering me?
(Name that show).
Caffe Swish. That is what bothers me today. It's the only place on the UWS where you can get boba, as far as I know - stinking overpriced not-as-good-as-Lollicup boba. I ordered dinner from there tonight, solely for the purpose of getting boba (let's face it - their menu is just like Saigon Grill, except they have boba). And they bring me my dinner and there's no bubble tea in the bag.
So I call them right away and tell them that they've left out part of my order. The lady promptly tries to persuade me into an option of getting a credit for bubble tea on my next order. That presumes that there will BE a next order - I see through your clever little scam. You're too cheap to send your delivery guy back here with my boba, which I ordered and PAID FOR - and now you're going to use your mistake to make me order again?
No way.
I can't stand New Yorkers that try to pull my heartstrings. It's like they know I'm not from around here so they can gimmick me. Well I've lived here long enough to be impatient when I'm getting my leg pulled...So I go through the guilt phase, and then squash it to demand that they bring me my bubble tea that I paid for. She apologizes for the mixup, and says they'll send it right away.
Apparently "right away" is a relative term. So I called back after an hour of waiting to see what the holdup was and got a vague answer of "it's on the way". At this rate, they'd better have hand packed each of those tapioca bubbles and boiled them separately, because it's nearing my bedtime and I'm awaiting the piece de resistance of my dinner. Another half hour goes by and now I'm tired and extremely peeved. I don't even want the tea anymore, the last thing I need is something to keep me awake when I need to sleep.
However, this is on principle. They offered me goods and services, I paid for it, and they will deliver what they promised. I know, it sucks from their perspective to have to make two trips to deliver something as trivial as bubble tea which costs like $3. But I will not be walked all over by bad customer service...again! (Note to self, write that letter of complaint to American Airlines).
I'm so stubborn. But...all I wanted was some bubble tea. Was that so much to ask? I'm going to open my own bubble tea shop if this doesn't resolve itself. Perhaps it can take a corner of my hakwon and the kids will supply the business as they study...
1, 2, 3.
What the heck is bothering me?
(Name that show).
Caffe Swish. That is what bothers me today. It's the only place on the UWS where you can get boba, as far as I know - stinking overpriced not-as-good-as-Lollicup boba. I ordered dinner from there tonight, solely for the purpose of getting boba (let's face it - their menu is just like Saigon Grill, except they have boba). And they bring me my dinner and there's no bubble tea in the bag.
So I call them right away and tell them that they've left out part of my order. The lady promptly tries to persuade me into an option of getting a credit for bubble tea on my next order. That presumes that there will BE a next order - I see through your clever little scam. You're too cheap to send your delivery guy back here with my boba, which I ordered and PAID FOR - and now you're going to use your mistake to make me order again?
No way.
I can't stand New Yorkers that try to pull my heartstrings. It's like they know I'm not from around here so they can gimmick me. Well I've lived here long enough to be impatient when I'm getting my leg pulled...So I go through the guilt phase, and then squash it to demand that they bring me my bubble tea that I paid for. She apologizes for the mixup, and says they'll send it right away.
Apparently "right away" is a relative term. So I called back after an hour of waiting to see what the holdup was and got a vague answer of "it's on the way". At this rate, they'd better have hand packed each of those tapioca bubbles and boiled them separately, because it's nearing my bedtime and I'm awaiting the piece de resistance of my dinner. Another half hour goes by and now I'm tired and extremely peeved. I don't even want the tea anymore, the last thing I need is something to keep me awake when I need to sleep.
However, this is on principle. They offered me goods and services, I paid for it, and they will deliver what they promised. I know, it sucks from their perspective to have to make two trips to deliver something as trivial as bubble tea which costs like $3. But I will not be walked all over by bad customer service...again! (Note to self, write that letter of complaint to American Airlines).
I'm so stubborn. But...all I wanted was some bubble tea. Was that so much to ask? I'm going to open my own bubble tea shop if this doesn't resolve itself. Perhaps it can take a corner of my hakwon and the kids will supply the business as they study...
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
peeves
So yesterday this random guy comes into my work area and does this slow karate style bow and says "I hear that I'm supposed to bow like this to you, since you're a martial arts master". And I'm thinking...who is this guy?? In my mind I can't help but stereotype him as just another white guy who's watched Chuck Norris one too many times. Or (pet peeve #1) someone who thinks that all martial arts are like karate. (Including people who call it karate, people who do wax on wax off motions, etc.)
However, I don't know who this guy is. For all I know he could be a client. A coworker. A vendor. Who knows? With the degree of suck-uppage unclear, I just had to humor him, so I struck up conversation with him.
He proceeds to go on and on about how his son did Taekwondo (eesh, he knew what it was and he STILL sounded like he was talking about karate) from when he was 5 and got his 3rd degree black belt by the time he was 11.
OK if you're in any self-respecting school that isn't totally out for money - that doesn't happen. By the rules in the actual governing body of TKD, you physically can't get your 3rd degree black belt in 6 years, not if you start from white belt. (pet peeve #2 - schools that let you buy a black belt and the parents who think this is meaningful).
Again, humoring the guy, I say "wow, that's pretty fast". And he responds with "well, you know, he was very dedicated, he went to class 2 or 3 times a WEEK!"
OK now I'm having a hard time controlling my facial expressions, which want to express..."EXCUSE ME??" The guy basically paid for a babysitting service for his kid and wants recognition for it? No way. (pet peeve #3 - parents who celebrate the mediocrity of their children and then expect others to recognize it for more than what it is - which is really just mediocrity. think "meet the fockers".)
He then proceeds to explain why his son quit at 11 "because they weren't giving him any guidance or incentive and he couldn't test for his 4th degree until he was at least 17". Now it grates. (pet peeve #4 - the fact that I've been doing this for 15 years, and have proven myself as an athlete, instructor, and coach, but am receiving little guidance and being held at 3rd degree for reasons unknown to me).
So I'm smiling and nodding, and wondering when he's going to leave me alone. (And that's pretty bad because I will welcome any distraction possible at work). So he gets around to his finishing line which is "so are you really going to go to the Olympics?" (pet peeve #5 - that very question. people who think that the only competition out there is the olympics, and implicitly make me feel that any other competition just isn't important.)
Turns out he was a sales guy. He wanted my card, gave me his card (good thing, bc I forgot his name the moment he said it). I suppose I should practice my fake smile and fake laugh and fake interest in inane conversations...but being the type to wear my heart on my sleeve makes these types of situations very difficult. The urge to roll my eyes was killing me...
However, I don't know who this guy is. For all I know he could be a client. A coworker. A vendor. Who knows? With the degree of suck-uppage unclear, I just had to humor him, so I struck up conversation with him.
He proceeds to go on and on about how his son did Taekwondo (eesh, he knew what it was and he STILL sounded like he was talking about karate) from when he was 5 and got his 3rd degree black belt by the time he was 11.
OK if you're in any self-respecting school that isn't totally out for money - that doesn't happen. By the rules in the actual governing body of TKD, you physically can't get your 3rd degree black belt in 6 years, not if you start from white belt. (pet peeve #2 - schools that let you buy a black belt and the parents who think this is meaningful).
Again, humoring the guy, I say "wow, that's pretty fast". And he responds with "well, you know, he was very dedicated, he went to class 2 or 3 times a WEEK!"
OK now I'm having a hard time controlling my facial expressions, which want to express..."EXCUSE ME??" The guy basically paid for a babysitting service for his kid and wants recognition for it? No way. (pet peeve #3 - parents who celebrate the mediocrity of their children and then expect others to recognize it for more than what it is - which is really just mediocrity. think "meet the fockers".)
He then proceeds to explain why his son quit at 11 "because they weren't giving him any guidance or incentive and he couldn't test for his 4th degree until he was at least 17". Now it grates. (pet peeve #4 - the fact that I've been doing this for 15 years, and have proven myself as an athlete, instructor, and coach, but am receiving little guidance and being held at 3rd degree for reasons unknown to me).
So I'm smiling and nodding, and wondering when he's going to leave me alone. (And that's pretty bad because I will welcome any distraction possible at work). So he gets around to his finishing line which is "so are you really going to go to the Olympics?" (pet peeve #5 - that very question. people who think that the only competition out there is the olympics, and implicitly make me feel that any other competition just isn't important.)
Turns out he was a sales guy. He wanted my card, gave me his card (good thing, bc I forgot his name the moment he said it). I suppose I should practice my fake smile and fake laugh and fake interest in inane conversations...but being the type to wear my heart on my sleeve makes these types of situations very difficult. The urge to roll my eyes was killing me...
out loud
this morning i went to hand therapy at the crack of dawn. so he hooks up my hand to the electric stim and goes to the other side to treat his other patient. they start making conversation and he and asks me what i do for work, and i say i'm an engineer. he asks what kind of engineering i do, and i say mechanical. he asks me what exactly i do.
so it's kind of hard to describe my job because saying you're an "engineering consultant" is such a vague description. but it's not like i'm a straight engineer the way i was trained to be. and everyone knows that engineering doesn't really exist in NYC.
so perhaps i was trying to be facetious or perhaps it really was just freaking 7am on a monday and i had no filters while i'm electrocuting my hand to try and stimulate healing...but when he asked me what my job is, my response was "we argue with architects and tell them they're stupid".
i know, it's not PC at all, and not terribly nice...but...yeah, that's what my company does. we do calculations and tell architects that their designs aren't going to work, and then argue with them for space so buildings can have things like pipes and hot water and air conditioning.
so the guy across the table looks up, and the therapist laughs and says "yeah, he's an architect".
open mouth. insert foot.
so then i try to save myself, but really, my foot is already firmly lodged in my mouth that it wasn't going to get much better.
note to self - don't talk to people before i'm fully awake. there needs to be some censoring off the cuff. can't have too many of these "wait, was that out loud?" moments.
so it's kind of hard to describe my job because saying you're an "engineering consultant" is such a vague description. but it's not like i'm a straight engineer the way i was trained to be. and everyone knows that engineering doesn't really exist in NYC.
so perhaps i was trying to be facetious or perhaps it really was just freaking 7am on a monday and i had no filters while i'm electrocuting my hand to try and stimulate healing...but when he asked me what my job is, my response was "we argue with architects and tell them they're stupid".
i know, it's not PC at all, and not terribly nice...but...yeah, that's what my company does. we do calculations and tell architects that their designs aren't going to work, and then argue with them for space so buildings can have things like pipes and hot water and air conditioning.
so the guy across the table looks up, and the therapist laughs and says "yeah, he's an architect".
open mouth. insert foot.
so then i try to save myself, but really, my foot is already firmly lodged in my mouth that it wasn't going to get much better.
note to self - don't talk to people before i'm fully awake. there needs to be some censoring off the cuff. can't have too many of these "wait, was that out loud?" moments.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
wedding
Best weekend I've had in a *long* time. Sometimes you have these moments when you see so tangibly that God really answers prayers. For anyone else who welled up when S&D did the traditional bows and the parents received them...you have to agree with me, God is so good. There's something about witnessing reconciliation firsthand that's just beautiful.
And despite all of my apprehension at having to be totally girlified - it wasn't so bad after all. Except the shoes - there really wasn't anything redeeming about wearing uncomfortable strappy shoes. But after all the dress and hair and makeup etc. was done...I was quite embarassed by people's reactions (I guess it was quite a shock). But I suppose it was flattering after the intial embarassment.
What a GREAT party. KCF/ACF over the generations spanning almost 10 years...it was so awesome seeing all the old friends, where time seems to stop and nothing seems to have ever changed. I must admit, I was initially hesitant at the bridal party duties of having to actually dance all the time and get people to do it to...but actually it was quite fun. Kudos to MC/DJ pyang!
Sunday I got to go to church, meet some of the new TKD frosh (they eensah'd...gosh I'm old. Class of '09. Eek...) and got to work out with my tBos friends. So good to be back, to be kicking out, sweating hard...with other people doing the same and encouraging you from the side. So good to be back.
aepark said something interesting in the car on the way back...maybe it was so good just because of the steep gradient of the everyday with which to compare it to. I think it's partly true...it was SO good. But alas...all good things must come to an end. Back to NY. Back to reality. Back to the job, the dojang and all that comes with it. I hope the weekend of fun and affirmation and community was enough to last for...who knows how long.
In any event - another one bites the dust and the class of '01 is just dropping like flies. Congratulations to dp and sly!
And despite all of my apprehension at having to be totally girlified - it wasn't so bad after all. Except the shoes - there really wasn't anything redeeming about wearing uncomfortable strappy shoes. But after all the dress and hair and makeup etc. was done...I was quite embarassed by people's reactions (I guess it was quite a shock). But I suppose it was flattering after the intial embarassment.
What a GREAT party. KCF/ACF over the generations spanning almost 10 years...it was so awesome seeing all the old friends, where time seems to stop and nothing seems to have ever changed. I must admit, I was initially hesitant at the bridal party duties of having to actually dance all the time and get people to do it to...but actually it was quite fun. Kudos to MC/DJ pyang!
Sunday I got to go to church, meet some of the new TKD frosh (they eensah'd...gosh I'm old. Class of '09. Eek...) and got to work out with my tBos friends. So good to be back, to be kicking out, sweating hard...with other people doing the same and encouraging you from the side. So good to be back.
aepark said something interesting in the car on the way back...maybe it was so good just because of the steep gradient of the everyday with which to compare it to. I think it's partly true...it was SO good. But alas...all good things must come to an end. Back to NY. Back to reality. Back to the job, the dojang and all that comes with it. I hope the weekend of fun and affirmation and community was enough to last for...who knows how long.
In any event - another one bites the dust and the class of '01 is just dropping like flies. Congratulations to dp and sly!
Friday, April 21, 2006
rough like sandpaper
"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." -Deuteronomy 31:6
Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision. But it's good to know that in the end, no matter who fails you or abandons you...God never will.
It's been a rough week.
In a way, I'm really looking forward to going to Boston this weekend. Not only in celebration of Susan and Danny's wedding (yay!), but also for the chance to enjoy the company of friends past and present. ACF and TKD both. Where everybody does indeed know your name. Getting to work out with teammates, catching up with friends.
It's funny...after this whole week...the randomest line made me feel cared for.
"E-mail with anything else you might need. You don't need to bring a towel, or shampoo or soap. I have liquid body soap, and Pantene Pro-V shampoo!"
As if Pantene could make things better. But it kind of does. I think it's because it's the first time in a long time that someone's offered something I needed without me having to ask. And it was nice.
Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision. But it's good to know that in the end, no matter who fails you or abandons you...God never will.
It's been a rough week.
In a way, I'm really looking forward to going to Boston this weekend. Not only in celebration of Susan and Danny's wedding (yay!), but also for the chance to enjoy the company of friends past and present. ACF and TKD both. Where everybody does indeed know your name. Getting to work out with teammates, catching up with friends.
It's funny...after this whole week...the randomest line made me feel cared for.
"E-mail with anything else you might need. You don't need to bring a towel, or shampoo or soap. I have liquid body soap, and Pantene Pro-V shampoo!"
As if Pantene could make things better. But it kind of does. I think it's because it's the first time in a long time that someone's offered something I needed without me having to ask. And it was nice.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
sleep deprivation
Sometimes you don't know how tired you are until you have a chance to take a nap. It's like your body can just keep going until it knows it's OK to stop, and then it just shuts down. I remember in college I was notorious for being able to fall asleep anywhere, anytime. In fact, I think I've managed to take a nap in everyone's room at some point or other...and on any random couch across campus...or sitting on the floor in a hallway.
Haha, I even remember in 2.007 lab, Woodie (my prof) was explaining something to our lab group on the chalkboard when suddenly a big piece of chalk flies across the table and hits me in the chest. Little did I know that he throws chalk at people who fall asleep in his classes. (And that embarassment was promptly an example to all not to doze off in that class). Well, that and as the class went on, we'd be machining and it'd be very bad to fall asleep at a saw or lathe.
Even at my old workplace, I was known as the narcoleptic. Tara seriously thought I had sleep apnia (whatever that means). 5 minutes into a meeting, and I'd glaze over. (Granted, these meetings weren't interesting, and I never really had to say anything). I think I even managed to zone out in a one-on-one meeting once.
I've been pretty good about not falling asleep at my new workplace, though it's required a lot of gum, candy, and the occasional soda and walk outside around the building to wake up.
So yesterday at 3pm, an announcement comes over the intercom saying "the office will be closing now". So those of us who came in decided to go home. I had some time to kill, got my glasses fixed, watched some tv...and around 6 decided to take a little nap before heading off to church.
And then I wake up, look at the clock and think "oh man, I overslept! I was supposed to be at church by 7!"
And then I realize...it's not 8pm. It's 8am.
I just slept for 14 hours.
Haha, I even remember in 2.007 lab, Woodie (my prof) was explaining something to our lab group on the chalkboard when suddenly a big piece of chalk flies across the table and hits me in the chest. Little did I know that he throws chalk at people who fall asleep in his classes. (And that embarassment was promptly an example to all not to doze off in that class). Well, that and as the class went on, we'd be machining and it'd be very bad to fall asleep at a saw or lathe.
Even at my old workplace, I was known as the narcoleptic. Tara seriously thought I had sleep apnia (whatever that means). 5 minutes into a meeting, and I'd glaze over. (Granted, these meetings weren't interesting, and I never really had to say anything). I think I even managed to zone out in a one-on-one meeting once.
I've been pretty good about not falling asleep at my new workplace, though it's required a lot of gum, candy, and the occasional soda and walk outside around the building to wake up.
So yesterday at 3pm, an announcement comes over the intercom saying "the office will be closing now". So those of us who came in decided to go home. I had some time to kill, got my glasses fixed, watched some tv...and around 6 decided to take a little nap before heading off to church.
And then I wake up, look at the clock and think "oh man, I overslept! I was supposed to be at church by 7!"
And then I realize...it's not 8pm. It's 8am.
I just slept for 14 hours.
Friday, April 14, 2006
stretch marks
When I was in high school, there was a teacher who made his classes do these things called "stretch marks". You had to complete a certain number of "stretch marks" per semester, where you get a "stretch mark" for doing something that you've never done before, or swore you'd never do. I guess the point was to make us more well-rounded people who've experienced different things, faced fears, or otherwise stepped outside the box.
Some of you may remember my entry a few weeks ago when I bought my first pink shirt. In high school, I fought it as hard as I could, but in the end gave in and went to my first dance. In a dress. Or how I swore I hated vocal music until I went to see Handel's Messiah and ended up taking Opera my senior year. Or how I said I'd never do a spinning hook kick at a tournament, and then I did.
Yes, compared to most people, who do things like go skydiving - my stretch marks aren't quite so pronounced. Haha, but if you know me, you know that...I like my box. I like it a lot.
So the other day my cousin Gina (who is about an expert in girl as you can get) took me to Sephora. (Sly, these are the things I do for you...) So along with the wearing the dress and shiny silver shoes thing, this whole bridesmaid thing apparently means you have to get made up and do your hair. As much as I dislike the whole getting girlified thing...I figure if I'm going to do it, may as well do it right.
I'm not a fan of putting chemicals on my face to alter my image. I suppose it will make me look nice, but...really, the only thing I like to have on my face is sweat. (I know, so totally attractive). Ironically, I have no problem ingesting chemicals INTO my body for the sake of practical things, like pain relief. But covering up stuff on the surface isn't really my thing.
That being said, I was absolutely floored by the store. So bok-jap-heh, I didn't know where to go during the 5 minutes I was wandering by myself before Gina got there. Some serious panic attack coming on with all the women pushing past me getting from one place to another, grabbing all these little bottles and pencils and whatevers along the way. Or the metro guys getting their fancy cologne or whatever else it is that guys apparently go into Sephora for.
After being whisked around by Gina and getting her expert advice, I emerged poorer but with a bag full of what is apparently the essentials of makeup. She even showed me (on my hand) how to apply it. It's so complicated, I had to take notes. Haha. But thanks geener, it was much less painful than I imagined! =)
By the way, if anyone thinks they're repiercing my ears, there is no way that a sharp metal object is going through my flesh....I've been stretched enough for awhile.
Thank you, Sly, for making your bridesmaids' dresses blue...
Some of you may remember my entry a few weeks ago when I bought my first pink shirt. In high school, I fought it as hard as I could, but in the end gave in and went to my first dance. In a dress. Or how I swore I hated vocal music until I went to see Handel's Messiah and ended up taking Opera my senior year. Or how I said I'd never do a spinning hook kick at a tournament, and then I did.
Yes, compared to most people, who do things like go skydiving - my stretch marks aren't quite so pronounced. Haha, but if you know me, you know that...I like my box. I like it a lot.
So the other day my cousin Gina (who is about an expert in girl as you can get) took me to Sephora. (Sly, these are the things I do for you...) So along with the wearing the dress and shiny silver shoes thing, this whole bridesmaid thing apparently means you have to get made up and do your hair. As much as I dislike the whole getting girlified thing...I figure if I'm going to do it, may as well do it right.
I'm not a fan of putting chemicals on my face to alter my image. I suppose it will make me look nice, but...really, the only thing I like to have on my face is sweat. (I know, so totally attractive). Ironically, I have no problem ingesting chemicals INTO my body for the sake of practical things, like pain relief. But covering up stuff on the surface isn't really my thing.
That being said, I was absolutely floored by the store. So bok-jap-heh, I didn't know where to go during the 5 minutes I was wandering by myself before Gina got there. Some serious panic attack coming on with all the women pushing past me getting from one place to another, grabbing all these little bottles and pencils and whatevers along the way. Or the metro guys getting their fancy cologne or whatever else it is that guys apparently go into Sephora for.
After being whisked around by Gina and getting her expert advice, I emerged poorer but with a bag full of what is apparently the essentials of makeup. She even showed me (on my hand) how to apply it. It's so complicated, I had to take notes. Haha. But thanks geener, it was much less painful than I imagined! =)
By the way, if anyone thinks they're repiercing my ears, there is no way that a sharp metal object is going through my flesh....I've been stretched enough for awhile.
Thank you, Sly, for making your bridesmaids' dresses blue...
Thursday, April 13, 2006
sumo wrestling
All I have to say is...sumo wrestling has got to be the most spectator unfriendly sport to be on ESPN. Today Y and I convinced the boss to go to ktown for lunch instead of the chinese place we always go to, and keumkangsan had this huge tv on the wall showing ESPN. Seeing as how I eat lunch every day with middle-aged and old-aged men, I frequently end up twiddling my thumbs or daydreaming as they read the paper or talk amongst themselves about work. So I welcomed the prospect of Sportscenter.
Until they started showing this world sumo tournament that took place at MSG. Now I have to say - whatever it is those guys are wearing, it's not flattering and it doesn't look too comfortable. Considering that it's a perfectly legal move to grab the loincloth (let's face it, that's what it is) and yank on it to try and pick the opponent up or move them around...I was just thinking, do you just end up accustomed to a perpetual wedgie?
And then...the cloth thing...isn't very well designed. Meaning, these are big guys. Anywhere from 200-500 lbs. (Yes, they listed their weights, and there were guys well into the 400's). There can only be so much muscle before you just end up with a whole lot of fat.
It really wasn't doing much for my appetite to watch these massive guys with massive man-boobs and buttcheeks grunting and trying to push each other out of the ring. Somehow I just don't see the strategy in a sport that lasts about 30 seconds. I found myself rooting for the "little guy" - the 230 lb dude who ended up just getting picked up by the 411 lb dude and shoved and landed on. I gotta hand it to him for getting back up.
But seriously...how do you live through all the wedgies?
Until they started showing this world sumo tournament that took place at MSG. Now I have to say - whatever it is those guys are wearing, it's not flattering and it doesn't look too comfortable. Considering that it's a perfectly legal move to grab the loincloth (let's face it, that's what it is) and yank on it to try and pick the opponent up or move them around...I was just thinking, do you just end up accustomed to a perpetual wedgie?
And then...the cloth thing...isn't very well designed. Meaning, these are big guys. Anywhere from 200-500 lbs. (Yes, they listed their weights, and there were guys well into the 400's). There can only be so much muscle before you just end up with a whole lot of fat.
It really wasn't doing much for my appetite to watch these massive guys with massive man-boobs and buttcheeks grunting and trying to push each other out of the ring. Somehow I just don't see the strategy in a sport that lasts about 30 seconds. I found myself rooting for the "little guy" - the 230 lb dude who ended up just getting picked up by the 411 lb dude and shoved and landed on. I gotta hand it to him for getting back up.
But seriously...how do you live through all the wedgies?
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