너 팔싸움 할주알아? (do you know how to arm wrestle?)
예... (yes...)
힘 많아? (are you strong?)
여자 하고 하면 괜찮을걸요... (I'm probably decent against girls...)
나랑 한번 부트자...점심 내기할래? (do you want to go against me? wanna bet lunch?)
uhhh.... (uhh...)
My boss is really funny sometimes. So today at lunch, this conversation happens, and I'm thinking...
what???
Did my 60 year old boss just challenge me to arm wrestle him for lunch?
Apparently so.
We agreed to do it later (ie. not in the restaurant), but...now I have a dilemma. If there's one thing I've learned it's that you just shouldn't challenge a man's masculinity, particularly through strength. Nothing good can come of it. There's no benefit to you, and it's lose-lose on him. Double the stakes if said guy is Korean. Quadruple if he's over 30.
Then again, I'm not the one who challenged anything.
I mean, he might be stronger than me. He's a guy. I had little upper body strength to begin with, and I haven't done pushups for 6 months since I broke my finger. However, he's not a big guy, and he's old.
So my question is this: what do I do if I'm stronger than he is? Do I let him win? Or do I just let the match happen, and whoever wins wins? (Perhaps it's moot and I'm being overconfident and he's just going to crush me from the get-go...)
Monday, July 31, 2006
Thoughts from the weekend - not in any semblance of order or profundity:
Funny: You know how you can get free laser engraving when you buy an iPod? JP's iPod says "Thou Shalt Not Steal". I thought it was awesome.
Fun: Went to noraebang in celebration of HJ being done with the Bar (that would be the law exam, not the drinking establishment). I haven't been in a long time, but it was so therapeutic. I seriously think karaoke is all about who you go with, and how free you're willing to be about putting your voice out there. Apparently I get really really impressed by people who can rap in Korean. No idea how they read so fast, but...impressive.
Entertaining: Spent the day with JAAC in celebration of him being done with the Bar. (For him this includes both the exam and much drunken revelry). The Devil Wears Prada was hilarious. Highly recommend it.
Yummy: Beard Papa's Mango Ice Shower (it's like bingsu without the red bean but just lots of real mango goodness).
Funny: You know how you can get free laser engraving when you buy an iPod? JP's iPod says "Thou Shalt Not Steal". I thought it was awesome.
Fun: Went to noraebang in celebration of HJ being done with the Bar (that would be the law exam, not the drinking establishment). I haven't been in a long time, but it was so therapeutic. I seriously think karaoke is all about who you go with, and how free you're willing to be about putting your voice out there. Apparently I get really really impressed by people who can rap in Korean. No idea how they read so fast, but...impressive.
Entertaining: Spent the day with JAAC in celebration of him being done with the Bar. (For him this includes both the exam and much drunken revelry). The Devil Wears Prada was hilarious. Highly recommend it.
Yummy: Beard Papa's Mango Ice Shower (it's like bingsu without the red bean but just lots of real mango goodness).
Sunday, July 30, 2006
So the boys and I were in the park the other day, doing our workout routine. These days, we've been finishing up with pushups and dips on a bench. Basically, A has been going to the gym all summer and went from scrawny with crappy pushups to broader shouldered and Mr. Pushup King. The difference is really kind of ridiculous - it gives hope to the squishy armed out there.
So he's started this routine, which S (who is 13 and 90 lbs - a little guy) and I (much older, much heavier, but unfortunately a girl and therefore with a disaproportionately small amount of upper body strength) have just been pathetic at. Pathetic, I say.
Basically we line up on a bench and we do some number of dips. Then we turn around and do some number of pushups. Repeat some number of times. (I'm being vague, because all these numbers vary - if you do more in a set, then you do less sets.) So at first, A wanted to do the pushups the hard way - with your legs up on the bench. S and I can barely do them properly on the ground, so I made him change it to regular (or easier, since we're on the bench).
So today some jerk walks by, and says "those are girly pushups. You can't do them on the bench. SHE can, but what are you doing?"
Sometimes I really dislike freedom of speech.
So A, after getting mad and grumbling under his breath "well, I don't see YOU doing it" and going on about how we should use him as a kicking bag, turns himself around and does them the hard way. For the sake of productivity, S and I stayed the same.
But now that I think about it, I think I'm offended. Girly pushups? I'll show him girly pushups. Hrmph.
My new goal for the end of the summer is to do all the pushups and dips without assistance or modification, and be able to see the line between bicep and tricep.
So he's started this routine, which S (who is 13 and 90 lbs - a little guy) and I (much older, much heavier, but unfortunately a girl and therefore with a disaproportionately small amount of upper body strength) have just been pathetic at. Pathetic, I say.
Basically we line up on a bench and we do some number of dips. Then we turn around and do some number of pushups. Repeat some number of times. (I'm being vague, because all these numbers vary - if you do more in a set, then you do less sets.) So at first, A wanted to do the pushups the hard way - with your legs up on the bench. S and I can barely do them properly on the ground, so I made him change it to regular (or easier, since we're on the bench).
So today some jerk walks by, and says "those are girly pushups. You can't do them on the bench. SHE can, but what are you doing?"
Sometimes I really dislike freedom of speech.
So A, after getting mad and grumbling under his breath "well, I don't see YOU doing it" and going on about how we should use him as a kicking bag, turns himself around and does them the hard way. For the sake of productivity, S and I stayed the same.
But now that I think about it, I think I'm offended. Girly pushups? I'll show him girly pushups. Hrmph.
My new goal for the end of the summer is to do all the pushups and dips without assistance or modification, and be able to see the line between bicep and tricep.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
my career in show business
Perhaps if this engineering thing doesn't pan out, I'll take my career as a choreographer/backup dancer on the road. And by dance I mean accidentally kick Rich in the face halfway through the song. I was watching some old videos and getting really nostalgic this week. I really miss MIT and my old teammates and friends.
So in spring '04, we were doing a demo for the pre-frosh weekend activities fair. Besides the usual stuff (forms, board breaking, self-defense skit...) I had this silly idea to choreograph a routine to pop music. And by pop music I mean kpop.
Oh man, that was so fun to make. Took forever to get the coordination down, but after we did it at the fair, Tim thought it'd be really funny if we entered in AXO's Lip Sync contest. This sorority did an event every year where various groups could enter by performing a lip singing routine, and the winners got prizes. So we thought, hey we have a routine, we just need someone to go up there and dance and pretend to sing while we do this in the background. It just might be original enough to win!
Well, we didn't win anything, but it was a fun thing to do, and the crowd seemed to like it. I was really proud of my team for being able to put it together and pull it off. I miss that sort of collective goal...perhaps that sort of community won't come again after college.
Anyways. I'm not sure if Bobby's site works, but here's the 'music video', to one of my favorite songs: 숨은 그림찻기 by 엄정화. Note - I am not the girl dancing around in the front and lip singing - that's Sandra. Haha, I only wish I could be so bold.
Perhaps I should stick with my day job...
So in spring '04, we were doing a demo for the pre-frosh weekend activities fair. Besides the usual stuff (forms, board breaking, self-defense skit...) I had this silly idea to choreograph a routine to pop music. And by pop music I mean kpop.
Oh man, that was so fun to make. Took forever to get the coordination down, but after we did it at the fair, Tim thought it'd be really funny if we entered in AXO's Lip Sync contest. This sorority did an event every year where various groups could enter by performing a lip singing routine, and the winners got prizes. So we thought, hey we have a routine, we just need someone to go up there and dance and pretend to sing while we do this in the background. It just might be original enough to win!
Well, we didn't win anything, but it was a fun thing to do, and the crowd seemed to like it. I was really proud of my team for being able to put it together and pull it off. I miss that sort of collective goal...perhaps that sort of community won't come again after college.
Anyways. I'm not sure if Bobby's site works, but here's the 'music video', to one of my favorite songs: 숨은 그림찻기 by 엄정화. Note - I am not the girl dancing around in the front and lip singing - that's Sandra. Haha, I only wish I could be so bold.
Perhaps I should stick with my day job...
Friday, July 28, 2006
because I was tagged...
Life's 10 Simple Pleasures (in order of simplicity)
- Laughing with children
- Hugs
- That moment when your student says "Ohh...I get it!"
- Taking a shower after a good hard workout. Best part of my day.
- The look on someone's face when they open a present they really like.
- Afternoon naps (except the kind I take at work...)
- Jamba Juice Mango-A-Go-Go
- Getting mail
- "Hi noona!" - When Daniel grins and runs across the room to greet me with a big hug and 뽀뽀. (Daniel is 5, and that's a little-kid kiss on the cheek - don't get too excited). OK that rivals #4 for the best part of my day.
- Casual Fridays. No one should ever have to wear dress shoes against their will.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
identity crisis - part 4
"Hey you look good - have you been losing weight?"
"Naw... it's probably just because I'm wearing black".
* * * * *
Sometimes you learn the darndest things about yourself from seemingly insignificant comments.
So these days, when I walk into hand therapy (at freaking 7am, when I'm usually tired and not necessarily looking very happy or cheery), Dave my therapist greets me with a big smile and something along the lines of "Good morning! How is the lovely Miss Christina today?"
The first time he did that, I literally turned around, thinking "there's another Christina that has a 7am appointment today? What a coincidence!" - before realizing that he was talking to me. And perhaps it's because he has 3 daughters himself (one who shares my name, in fact) that he's just a warm and nurturing type who showers compliments - but it definitely caught me off-guard.
Over the course of the last couple months he's been treating my hand, we've gotten to know each other decently well. And one thing that Dave's been commenting frequently on as he gets to know me better is "you're such a girl!"
Good observation, Sherlock.
The thing is, he usually says it while he's chuckling and smiling at something I said or did. He means it in a good way. Huh? It surprised me at first, since my reaction to such a comment is usually to get defensive, like "what's that supposed to mean?" Typically, references to being "such a girl" have always been told to me in a context of weakness or inferiority.
Growing up, I think I was constantly trying to prove that I could do anything a boy could do - and if possible, better. Coming from a culture where some still think my greatest skill should be cutting fruit didn't really help things. I never wanted anyone to treat me differently or make things easier for me just because I was a girl. I played kickball with the boys in recess instead of playing on the bars like the rest of the girls. I've always had boys as training partners. Even now, most of what I hear being described as "like a girl" is often negative, such as constantly being told not to "punch like a girl", "throw like a girl" or do "girly pushups".
But I wonder - has this image kept me from being free to be the woman God has made me to be?
Don't get me wrong - I think that the role of women is very important, and that God made us to be strong and intelligent and talented to glorify Him, just as men do. But I think one thing that I often overlook is that God also made women to be beautiful. (Ref. Genesis and all that bone of my bones flesh of my flesh reaction from Adam at the sight of Eve). I think this is precisely why so many women are plagued with image issues and eating disorders, as we believe the lies that are planted to make us insecure in what God gave us.
In my reactions, I realized that maybe I just don't know how to take a compliment when it's not in an area that I'm confident in (ie. an identity I have worked towards and forged for myself). I've been praised for being smart, or athletic, or talented - essentially, for the things I can do. And I've been proud of and confident in my accomplishments to recognize that there was at least *some* truth to these compliments, so that they weren't just saying the words for the sake of making me feel good.
But when people give me adjectives like "lovely" and "pretty" and "cute" - I don't know how to take it. I've gotten better at hiding my skepticism, or immediately disagreeing with them - but there's a tiny part of me that's like "eh???"
I think that a plain woman is as insecure about her beauty as a skinny guy is insecure about his strength. But beauty is not just measured by how you look, just as strength is not just measured by how much you can lift. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm going to go out and enter a beauty pageant (unless it's something along the lines of Miss Congeniality) - but it did make me think.
I have to give credit to the guy, he keeps trying. Despite my reluctance to really accept his compliments, he's wearing me down and it's not as bizarre as it used to be. It's a pretty great skill, to be able to affirm someone without being sketchy or somehow have a motive - perhaps therapy is more than for just my hand.
Sometimes I think receiving is more difficult than giving. But it's still an important skilled to be learned, not just for yourself, but for affirming the giver.
Though I still think that that particular black shirt has a slimming effect...
"Naw... it's probably just because I'm wearing black".
* * * * *
Sometimes you learn the darndest things about yourself from seemingly insignificant comments.
So these days, when I walk into hand therapy (at freaking 7am, when I'm usually tired and not necessarily looking very happy or cheery), Dave my therapist greets me with a big smile and something along the lines of "Good morning! How is the lovely Miss Christina today?"
The first time he did that, I literally turned around, thinking "there's another Christina that has a 7am appointment today? What a coincidence!" - before realizing that he was talking to me. And perhaps it's because he has 3 daughters himself (one who shares my name, in fact) that he's just a warm and nurturing type who showers compliments - but it definitely caught me off-guard.
Over the course of the last couple months he's been treating my hand, we've gotten to know each other decently well. And one thing that Dave's been commenting frequently on as he gets to know me better is "you're such a girl!"
Good observation, Sherlock.
The thing is, he usually says it while he's chuckling and smiling at something I said or did. He means it in a good way. Huh? It surprised me at first, since my reaction to such a comment is usually to get defensive, like "what's that supposed to mean?" Typically, references to being "such a girl" have always been told to me in a context of weakness or inferiority.
Growing up, I think I was constantly trying to prove that I could do anything a boy could do - and if possible, better. Coming from a culture where some still think my greatest skill should be cutting fruit didn't really help things. I never wanted anyone to treat me differently or make things easier for me just because I was a girl. I played kickball with the boys in recess instead of playing on the bars like the rest of the girls. I've always had boys as training partners. Even now, most of what I hear being described as "like a girl" is often negative, such as constantly being told not to "punch like a girl", "throw like a girl" or do "girly pushups".
But I wonder - has this image kept me from being free to be the woman God has made me to be?
Don't get me wrong - I think that the role of women is very important, and that God made us to be strong and intelligent and talented to glorify Him, just as men do. But I think one thing that I often overlook is that God also made women to be beautiful. (Ref. Genesis and all that bone of my bones flesh of my flesh reaction from Adam at the sight of Eve). I think this is precisely why so many women are plagued with image issues and eating disorders, as we believe the lies that are planted to make us insecure in what God gave us.
In my reactions, I realized that maybe I just don't know how to take a compliment when it's not in an area that I'm confident in (ie. an identity I have worked towards and forged for myself). I've been praised for being smart, or athletic, or talented - essentially, for the things I can do. And I've been proud of and confident in my accomplishments to recognize that there was at least *some* truth to these compliments, so that they weren't just saying the words for the sake of making me feel good.
But when people give me adjectives like "lovely" and "pretty" and "cute" - I don't know how to take it. I've gotten better at hiding my skepticism, or immediately disagreeing with them - but there's a tiny part of me that's like "eh???"
I think that a plain woman is as insecure about her beauty as a skinny guy is insecure about his strength. But beauty is not just measured by how you look, just as strength is not just measured by how much you can lift. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm going to go out and enter a beauty pageant (unless it's something along the lines of Miss Congeniality) - but it did make me think.
I have to give credit to the guy, he keeps trying. Despite my reluctance to really accept his compliments, he's wearing me down and it's not as bizarre as it used to be. It's a pretty great skill, to be able to affirm someone without being sketchy or somehow have a motive - perhaps therapy is more than for just my hand.
Sometimes I think receiving is more difficult than giving. But it's still an important skilled to be learned, not just for yourself, but for affirming the giver.
Though I still think that that particular black shirt has a slimming effect...
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
let us pray, let us pray...
I would venture to say that there is no greater temptation than...a really really itchy mosquito bite. The thing is, if you scratch it, it feels really awesome for about 2 seconds, and then it does one of two things:
1) It hurts. Perhaps even bleeds.
2) It itches more. Exponentially more than before you scratched it.
Cut and dry reasons why one should not give in to temptation.
I should have known that working out in Riverside Park in shorts would be exposing myself to the risk of being bitten. *sigh* I don't know how and when these happened, but they're mosquitos on crack, because these bites are huge-mungous. I must be really allergic to bites or something, because the reaction is ridiculous.
After Jodie-Ann returned early from Peru missions and gave us an update on how the team is doing, these bites have been a strange reminder to me to pray for the missions team. So I got through my day by thinking to myself "every time I feel the urge to scratch, I'm going to pray for missions, especially for the strength for them to withstand the conditions and mosquitos and other annoyances/difficulties associated with being in the jungle."
This is the most I've ever prayed in one day. I'm so serious.
Talk about dying to yourself...go missions teams! You guys are awesome. Don't scratch!
1) It hurts. Perhaps even bleeds.
2) It itches more. Exponentially more than before you scratched it.
Cut and dry reasons why one should not give in to temptation.
I should have known that working out in Riverside Park in shorts would be exposing myself to the risk of being bitten. *sigh* I don't know how and when these happened, but they're mosquitos on crack, because these bites are huge-mungous. I must be really allergic to bites or something, because the reaction is ridiculous.
After Jodie-Ann returned early from Peru missions and gave us an update on how the team is doing, these bites have been a strange reminder to me to pray for the missions team. So I got through my day by thinking to myself "every time I feel the urge to scratch, I'm going to pray for missions, especially for the strength for them to withstand the conditions and mosquitos and other annoyances/difficulties associated with being in the jungle."
This is the most I've ever prayed in one day. I'm so serious.
Talk about dying to yourself...go missions teams! You guys are awesome. Don't scratch!
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
nothing in life is free
What is it about me? Am I wearing a sign on my back or something that says "scam me"?
I was walking down the street, minding my own business and trying to get to yet another freaking therapist appointment (this one's a sports chiro - promising) - when this guy jumps in front of me and starts talking really fast.
Normally I just tunnel vision right by people trying to get my attention with flyers or what-not (and in the process have frequently not noticed my friends trying to catch my attention on the street...) - but this guy literally jumped in my path.
"Excuse me, where do you get your hair cut?"
"Um. Supercuts?"
"Well, we're running this awesome promotion in conjuction with MTV [some show name] and [some fancy salon]. If you look in this brochure, you can get all these services, valued at $300, for only $60! I've got two spots left and I need to find Asian women for the filming."
Um - you're on the corner of 34th and Broadway. You're next to k-town. I find it really hard to believe you haven't been able to find Asian women yet.
"Uh, no thanks"
"Can I ask why not? This is a great deal! You could pamper yourself, this is so much more than a haircut! Look there's also a massage by a hot Italian guy - but don't get too excited, they're all gay."
Dude. My idea of pampering myself is letting myself sleep for more than 7 hours and having Scottie (my Jewish brother) walk on my hamstrings. I'm not hard to please. And hot Italian guy? I've met a fair share of Italian guys - cut athletes to boot - and never have I thought they were hot. Sorry dude - wrong plug.
"Yeah, I don't think so. I'm not comfortable with giving out my credit card information"
"You don't have to! That's just optional. Here's the form, you fill it out, you have 6 months to go to the salon, and you can get any of these services you want."
"So I just fill out the form? What information do I have to give you?"
"Just your name and email address"
Eh, I can give him a throwaway address. Fine, and it'll be faster than trying to get him to leave me alone. And if I can just pay there, then this could be a legitimate deal. And I'd have time to think about it. Why not?
"Fine. I'll fill out a form."
"Great! So you'll be paying by cash?"
"What?"
"Well the $60 - you didn't want to pay by credit card, so will it be cash?"
"I'm not going to give you cash."
"Can I ask why not?"
"Why would I give cash to a stranger on the street?"
"I can see why you'd be concerned. Look. Here's the phone number, you can call them and verify that they are a legitimate business. You can use my cell phone."
"And then you want me to give you cash? Uh, no thanks. I'm late for my appointment"
"Well, where are you going to get your hair done?"
"I can go to Supercuts for $16."
I'm walking down the street with my hair in a ponytail. Do I look like I spend a lot of money getting my hair done? If he only knew that the way I decide I need to get my hair cut is when I back kick and it hits me in the face - perhaps he would have stopped another girl. Nevertheless, he was a persistent one.
"This is your only chance, I only have two left and I'm sure I'll be able to find others to take it"
"Well then, your job will be done. There are plenty of Asian women who walk down this street. Excuse me, I'm late for my appointment."
Dude. Asians are cheap. We go to Flushing and pay like $10 for a haircut. Or we get it for free because our aunt or someone our moms know owns a mi-jang-won. (Hair salon).
Now that I think about it...if I'd had the time, I would have made him escort me to the salon, and tried to redeem my coupon for all $300 worth of services right there. I mean, if that was the case and my cynicism had proven wrong - I would gladly fork over the $60 and just splurge for a nice haircut or something. But I suspect it was a scam...
This is the second time this week someone's tried to con me into giving my credit card info. Not to mention the whole Louis Vuitton fiasco that went down in Paris my junior year...a story for another time, but let me just say that flying to London and running into the American embassy to report Chinese smugglers and confessing being gullible enough to help them without knowing how stolen traveler's checks work was...stressful. I think I went from super gullible to super suspicious whenever anyone approaches me with something for nothing.
Hrmm...I'm not sure how I feel about that.
I was walking down the street, minding my own business and trying to get to yet another freaking therapist appointment (this one's a sports chiro - promising) - when this guy jumps in front of me and starts talking really fast.
Normally I just tunnel vision right by people trying to get my attention with flyers or what-not (and in the process have frequently not noticed my friends trying to catch my attention on the street...) - but this guy literally jumped in my path.
"Excuse me, where do you get your hair cut?"
"Um. Supercuts?"
"Well, we're running this awesome promotion in conjuction with MTV [some show name] and [some fancy salon]. If you look in this brochure, you can get all these services, valued at $300, for only $60! I've got two spots left and I need to find Asian women for the filming."
Um - you're on the corner of 34th and Broadway. You're next to k-town. I find it really hard to believe you haven't been able to find Asian women yet.
"Uh, no thanks"
"Can I ask why not? This is a great deal! You could pamper yourself, this is so much more than a haircut! Look there's also a massage by a hot Italian guy - but don't get too excited, they're all gay."
Dude. My idea of pampering myself is letting myself sleep for more than 7 hours and having Scottie (my Jewish brother) walk on my hamstrings. I'm not hard to please. And hot Italian guy? I've met a fair share of Italian guys - cut athletes to boot - and never have I thought they were hot. Sorry dude - wrong plug.
"Yeah, I don't think so. I'm not comfortable with giving out my credit card information"
"You don't have to! That's just optional. Here's the form, you fill it out, you have 6 months to go to the salon, and you can get any of these services you want."
"So I just fill out the form? What information do I have to give you?"
"Just your name and email address"
Eh, I can give him a throwaway address. Fine, and it'll be faster than trying to get him to leave me alone. And if I can just pay there, then this could be a legitimate deal. And I'd have time to think about it. Why not?
"Fine. I'll fill out a form."
"Great! So you'll be paying by cash?"
"What?"
"Well the $60 - you didn't want to pay by credit card, so will it be cash?"
"I'm not going to give you cash."
"Can I ask why not?"
"Why would I give cash to a stranger on the street?"
"I can see why you'd be concerned. Look. Here's the phone number, you can call them and verify that they are a legitimate business. You can use my cell phone."
"And then you want me to give you cash? Uh, no thanks. I'm late for my appointment"
"Well, where are you going to get your hair done?"
"I can go to Supercuts for $16."
I'm walking down the street with my hair in a ponytail. Do I look like I spend a lot of money getting my hair done? If he only knew that the way I decide I need to get my hair cut is when I back kick and it hits me in the face - perhaps he would have stopped another girl. Nevertheless, he was a persistent one.
"This is your only chance, I only have two left and I'm sure I'll be able to find others to take it"
"Well then, your job will be done. There are plenty of Asian women who walk down this street. Excuse me, I'm late for my appointment."
Dude. Asians are cheap. We go to Flushing and pay like $10 for a haircut. Or we get it for free because our aunt or someone our moms know owns a mi-jang-won. (Hair salon).
Now that I think about it...if I'd had the time, I would have made him escort me to the salon, and tried to redeem my coupon for all $300 worth of services right there. I mean, if that was the case and my cynicism had proven wrong - I would gladly fork over the $60 and just splurge for a nice haircut or something. But I suspect it was a scam...
This is the second time this week someone's tried to con me into giving my credit card info. Not to mention the whole Louis Vuitton fiasco that went down in Paris my junior year...a story for another time, but let me just say that flying to London and running into the American embassy to report Chinese smugglers and confessing being gullible enough to help them without knowing how stolen traveler's checks work was...stressful. I think I went from super gullible to super suspicious whenever anyone approaches me with something for nothing.
Hrmm...I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Monday, July 24, 2006
ingredients of a good drama part 1
THE CHEESE FACTOR
There is good cheese and bad cheese. And I'm sure there are people out there who like really strong cheese, but...your cheesy moments have to be well-timed and...natural. There is a fine line between "aww" and "barf". If you find it, you're golden. But if you cross it, game over.
AWW: She's coming out of working late to find it pouring rain - and the guy is standing there waiting with an umbrella. Good job, dude. Plus, even if she's mad at you (which is often the case in k-dramas) - it's pouring buckets. She's not that stubborn - she'll let you walk her home.
BARF: Labelling her as "my cutie" on his cell phone. His name is "Jin-Hun" and she calls him "my hunny". Gag. Gag. Ew.
AWW: He remembers her birthday when no one else does. And he brings her miyuk-gook in a thermos. Double points for you, dude. You can add or subtract points for whether you think it's romantic or unrealistic that he climbed a mountain to get it to her. In the rain.
BARF: Couples intentionally wearing matching clothing. Dude, you're walking around holding hands - don't confuse people by making them think you're abnormally close twins or something. I do think it's kind of cute when couples mistakenly match, but that couple clothing trend in Korea really weirds me out. (Do they still do that?)
Just finished Samsoon. I liked it a lot - definitely makes my top 3. I thought it was going to be the one to challenge "Tomato", but...nope. I'm still faithful to my favorite! (Well, in the genre of mini-series-in-16-episodes-or-less)
There is good cheese and bad cheese. And I'm sure there are people out there who like really strong cheese, but...your cheesy moments have to be well-timed and...natural. There is a fine line between "aww" and "barf". If you find it, you're golden. But if you cross it, game over.
AWW: She's coming out of working late to find it pouring rain - and the guy is standing there waiting with an umbrella. Good job, dude. Plus, even if she's mad at you (which is often the case in k-dramas) - it's pouring buckets. She's not that stubborn - she'll let you walk her home.
BARF: Labelling her as "my cutie" on his cell phone. His name is "Jin-Hun" and she calls him "my hunny". Gag. Gag. Ew.
AWW: He remembers her birthday when no one else does. And he brings her miyuk-gook in a thermos. Double points for you, dude. You can add or subtract points for whether you think it's romantic or unrealistic that he climbed a mountain to get it to her. In the rain.
BARF: Couples intentionally wearing matching clothing. Dude, you're walking around holding hands - don't confuse people by making them think you're abnormally close twins or something. I do think it's kind of cute when couples mistakenly match, but that couple clothing trend in Korea really weirds me out. (Do they still do that?)
Just finished Samsoon. I liked it a lot - definitely makes my top 3. I thought it was going to be the one to challenge "Tomato", but...nope. I'm still faithful to my favorite! (Well, in the genre of mini-series-in-16-episodes-or-less)
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Spent the day with my boys. We watched Cars (a bit disappointing, I must say) and went out to dinner. It was fun, they're good kids.
Perhaps I'm just meant to spend time with people who are younger, and have lots of pseudo brothers and sisters and take care of them. And in a way, juniors take care of you as well. They will be silly and rag on me, but...I guess that's what having brother-types is. It's a constant, loyal kind of love. The little annoying jerks that make fun of you and you slap upside the head - but those who you know will take it.
As we were walking uptown, though, I was met with the same dilemma. I always ask them what they want to eat, and they tell me "whatever you want". My passive boys...*sigh* Well, A never has an opinion, S just says "something yummy!" However, when the decision is always in my hands, I feel responsible if they don't like the restaurant of my choice.
I still feel like I'm wandering. And these Korean dramas are so freaking engrossing that I can't get any sleep at nights. I really should limit myself to 1 a day...or 2 a day...eesh.
Perhaps I'm just meant to spend time with people who are younger, and have lots of pseudo brothers and sisters and take care of them. And in a way, juniors take care of you as well. They will be silly and rag on me, but...I guess that's what having brother-types is. It's a constant, loyal kind of love. The little annoying jerks that make fun of you and you slap upside the head - but those who you know will take it.
As we were walking uptown, though, I was met with the same dilemma. I always ask them what they want to eat, and they tell me "whatever you want". My passive boys...*sigh* Well, A never has an opinion, S just says "something yummy!" However, when the decision is always in my hands, I feel responsible if they don't like the restaurant of my choice.
I still feel like I'm wandering. And these Korean dramas are so freaking engrossing that I can't get any sleep at nights. I really should limit myself to 1 a day...or 2 a day...eesh.
million dollar question...
Have you ever wondered to yourself
"If Helen and Jooho had to dial Melissa's phone number on a Motorola Razr phone using only their feet, who would win?"
Yeah, me neither. =) But since the million dollar question was put on the table...place your bets before reading on...(a packet of sugar, perhaps?)
A little pre-game trash-talking...
And they're off! (remarkably, the most difficult part appears to have been opening the phones with their toes).
Jooho frantically searches for the "back" button, as he was in the lead, but in his eagerness punched in the wrong number...Helen's catching up as time is running out...
And the answer to the million dollar question is...shmellipooh!
Wait actually, the million dollar question is...why do Helen and Jooho have monkey feet, and why did Timo and I volunteer our phones for this experiment?
Congratulations Helen, and an upstanding performance of punishment by Jooho. (Eating a sugar packet - paper and all). You took it like a champ.
"If Helen and Jooho had to dial Melissa's phone number on a Motorola Razr phone using only their feet, who would win?"
Yeah, me neither. =) But since the million dollar question was put on the table...place your bets before reading on...(a packet of sugar, perhaps?)
A little pre-game trash-talking...
And they're off! (remarkably, the most difficult part appears to have been opening the phones with their toes).
Jooho frantically searches for the "back" button, as he was in the lead, but in his eagerness punched in the wrong number...Helen's catching up as time is running out...
And the answer to the million dollar question is...shmellipooh!
Wait actually, the million dollar question is...why do Helen and Jooho have monkey feet, and why did Timo and I volunteer our phones for this experiment?
Congratulations Helen, and an upstanding performance of punishment by Jooho. (Eating a sugar packet - paper and all). You took it like a champ.
Friday, July 21, 2006
had a bad day
*sigh*
So one thing I've been trying NOT to do is vent via blogging. However, as an external processor and an emoter...sometimes it's the only means around. And quite therapeutic at that.
It's been one of those days. One of those playing-Daniel-Powter-on-repeat and wanting to sing along with the lyrics of
Note to self - sleep 6 hours per night or else you will be very very tired and consequently grumpy at the first thing that goes wrong. And something will go wrong by 9am.
So it's Friday. After a fun adventure to NJ last night (it's always an adventure with JP - that guy is freaking hilarious. I was pleasantly surprised as well.) - I was dead tired in the morning. We have coordination meetings every Friday with the architects and other engineers, but usually they only go for about 4 hours. Today took almost all freaking 8 hours. You know it's bad when you're falling asleep while someone's talking to you.
It also didn't help (or maybe it did) that my boss was running on 4 hours of sleep and a massive hangover from entertaining our Korean clients last night. It would have been quite amusing, if not for the fact that I was too tired to pay attention.
So today was one of those days where when it rains, it pours. Literally. I'm talking flash flood, useless umbrella in gusts blowing sideways squish squish go my shoes saturation. On my way back to the office (while carrying reams and reams of drawings, which were all soaked and consequently heavier) I was caught in a downpour. One so bad that people were just standing in doorways and overhangs waiting for it to pass. In the 2 blocks to the subway station, I managed to get completely soaked. Once I got back to the office, I decided to call my physical therapist and cancel my appt for today. There was no way that I was going to be able to work out in those shoes and socks - I was so wet, my pants were clinging to my legs in a spandex fashion that I do not endorse. The last thing I wanted to do was take my socks off and put them back on.
So I called, and talked to the receptionist.
"Hi, this is CP, can you tell Jerry that I'm completely soaked and don't have time to go home and get new shoes and socks for my appt today?"
"Um, OK. Do you want to come in at 7.30? He has an opening"
"Well, I have Bible study at 7.30, so I think I have to cancel for today"
"OK I'll let him know"
Fine. All well and good. I'm finishing off my emails, getting ready to go home, shower, breathe, and go to small group.
5 minutes later, my phone rings.
"Hi, this is RPT - I told Jerry you can't come in and he said 'that's no excuse!' and wants you in the gym"
"Does he underSTAND how wet I am, and that I'm going to fall OFF the treadmill?"
"I don't know, he says you have to work out"
I couldn't believe it. Fine. I made a commitment, and no one's going to accuse me of making excuses to get out of doing something. I thought it was a good reason, but if he wasn't going to take it, then I'd just have to go in.
But I was in a foul mood. Not good. And nothing upsets me more than working out and being goaded when I'm not in the mood. Especially since I had to wade through the Friday 5:15pm rush hour crowd in Times Sq and Grand Central to get to the really crowded unairconditioned trains - in my now sticky soaked clothes.
So finally I storm into PT (squish squish) and Jerry starts giving me crap about being late, and trying to make excuses. I was sucking it up fine until he starts goading me with 'is that the attitude of a champion?' and all this other Vince Lombardi-esque stuff.
And then I lost it. I took of my shoes, threw my nasty socks on the ground, and exploded with
"Well, I'm NOT a champion. Clearly I've TRIED and I've FAILED and I'm never going to be better than second best so don't expect me to be one because I'm NOT. You wanted me to be here, I'm here. But I'm wet and tired and I'm not putting my socks back on, so do whatever you want."
I think he felt bad. Whatever.
So after that, I had to figure out how to get home. I just couldn't make myself put my pants back on, they were still saturated. And my socks, they were beyond that - they were still dripping. Jerry did have a pair of socks around that he gave me, but they were really thick knee socks. Along with my running shorts, I looked extra awesome. Putting my soggy shoes back on made me feel extra awesome. And this is how I made it home.
And now I'm too tired to leave my apt, so I didn't even get to go to small group. Rawr.
It probably didn't help that I've had a relatively bad week and am just realizing that I'm having a quarter life crisis. What am I supposed to do with my life? Is my body ever going to heal? And WHAT is going on with Sabs and why is it that I have no one I can count on?
How is it possible that in a city that's overcrowded with this many people, that you can be so very alone? Why is it that I don't have peers? Or seniors? I love all my juniors dearly - but how long can you go on taking care of others when the ones who you counted on to care for you are now gone? Some reasons legitimate, some less so - but the fact is...you can't wish anyone to care for you or be there for you. Perhaps I should just accept that relationships cannot be made on my efforts alone. But it's kind of sobering to see the reality that, if I stop making ridiculous efforts - that they die.
OK this is getting too negative. Enough. It's 8pm on a Friday night and I'm going to sleep. Or something.
So one thing I've been trying NOT to do is vent via blogging. However, as an external processor and an emoter...sometimes it's the only means around. And quite therapeutic at that.
It's been one of those days. One of those playing-Daniel-Powter-on-repeat and wanting to sing along with the lyrics of
They tell me your blue sky's faded to greyexcept for the fact that you're not alone in your room where no one can hear you belt them out, so even the good songs are internalized.
They tell me your passion's gone away
And I don't need no carrying on
Note to self - sleep 6 hours per night or else you will be very very tired and consequently grumpy at the first thing that goes wrong. And something will go wrong by 9am.
So it's Friday. After a fun adventure to NJ last night (it's always an adventure with JP - that guy is freaking hilarious. I was pleasantly surprised as well.) - I was dead tired in the morning. We have coordination meetings every Friday with the architects and other engineers, but usually they only go for about 4 hours. Today took almost all freaking 8 hours. You know it's bad when you're falling asleep while someone's talking to you.
It also didn't help (or maybe it did) that my boss was running on 4 hours of sleep and a massive hangover from entertaining our Korean clients last night. It would have been quite amusing, if not for the fact that I was too tired to pay attention.
So today was one of those days where when it rains, it pours. Literally. I'm talking flash flood, useless umbrella in gusts blowing sideways squish squish go my shoes saturation. On my way back to the office (while carrying reams and reams of drawings, which were all soaked and consequently heavier) I was caught in a downpour. One so bad that people were just standing in doorways and overhangs waiting for it to pass. In the 2 blocks to the subway station, I managed to get completely soaked. Once I got back to the office, I decided to call my physical therapist and cancel my appt for today. There was no way that I was going to be able to work out in those shoes and socks - I was so wet, my pants were clinging to my legs in a spandex fashion that I do not endorse. The last thing I wanted to do was take my socks off and put them back on.
So I called, and talked to the receptionist.
"Hi, this is CP, can you tell Jerry that I'm completely soaked and don't have time to go home and get new shoes and socks for my appt today?"
"Um, OK. Do you want to come in at 7.30? He has an opening"
"Well, I have Bible study at 7.30, so I think I have to cancel for today"
"OK I'll let him know"
Fine. All well and good. I'm finishing off my emails, getting ready to go home, shower, breathe, and go to small group.
5 minutes later, my phone rings.
"Hi, this is RPT - I told Jerry you can't come in and he said 'that's no excuse!' and wants you in the gym"
"Does he underSTAND how wet I am, and that I'm going to fall OFF the treadmill?"
"I don't know, he says you have to work out"
I couldn't believe it. Fine. I made a commitment, and no one's going to accuse me of making excuses to get out of doing something. I thought it was a good reason, but if he wasn't going to take it, then I'd just have to go in.
But I was in a foul mood. Not good. And nothing upsets me more than working out and being goaded when I'm not in the mood. Especially since I had to wade through the Friday 5:15pm rush hour crowd in Times Sq and Grand Central to get to the really crowded unairconditioned trains - in my now sticky soaked clothes.
So finally I storm into PT (squish squish) and Jerry starts giving me crap about being late, and trying to make excuses. I was sucking it up fine until he starts goading me with 'is that the attitude of a champion?' and all this other Vince Lombardi-esque stuff.
And then I lost it. I took of my shoes, threw my nasty socks on the ground, and exploded with
"Well, I'm NOT a champion. Clearly I've TRIED and I've FAILED and I'm never going to be better than second best so don't expect me to be one because I'm NOT. You wanted me to be here, I'm here. But I'm wet and tired and I'm not putting my socks back on, so do whatever you want."
I think he felt bad. Whatever.
So after that, I had to figure out how to get home. I just couldn't make myself put my pants back on, they were still saturated. And my socks, they were beyond that - they were still dripping. Jerry did have a pair of socks around that he gave me, but they were really thick knee socks. Along with my running shorts, I looked extra awesome. Putting my soggy shoes back on made me feel extra awesome. And this is how I made it home.
And now I'm too tired to leave my apt, so I didn't even get to go to small group. Rawr.
It probably didn't help that I've had a relatively bad week and am just realizing that I'm having a quarter life crisis. What am I supposed to do with my life? Is my body ever going to heal? And WHAT is going on with Sabs and why is it that I have no one I can count on?
How is it possible that in a city that's overcrowded with this many people, that you can be so very alone? Why is it that I don't have peers? Or seniors? I love all my juniors dearly - but how long can you go on taking care of others when the ones who you counted on to care for you are now gone? Some reasons legitimate, some less so - but the fact is...you can't wish anyone to care for you or be there for you. Perhaps I should just accept that relationships cannot be made on my efforts alone. But it's kind of sobering to see the reality that, if I stop making ridiculous efforts - that they die.
OK this is getting too negative. Enough. It's 8pm on a Friday night and I'm going to sleep. Or something.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
liberty, and justice?
The justice system is interesting. I spent the last 2 days in jury duty, where I was actually taken into the final stages of jury selection before they didn't choose me.
Well, if there's one thing being terrorized by my 2 coach-attorneys (who I do love dearly) is good for, it's making me think. I suppose it wouldn't have worked to answer the question of "is there any reason that you would be unable to serve inpartially as a juror" with "because I'm regularly traumatized by arguing with two lawyers and losing, not because I'm necessarily wrong, but because they're better at arguing than I am. So I have an innate sympathy for the lesser eloquent and more frequently bullied side."
Haha, perhaps they'd let me off on insanity.
I think that being a juror is indeed a civic duty (however inconvenient it may be). However, as a candidate for deciding a criminal case, I really wondered at my ability to be absolutely impartial and make a decision by the court's rules alone. I had reservations with that, which I voiced, and apparently ultimately confused everyone, including the judge. It's not like I did it on purpose to be taken off, but I really wanted clarification on the system.
As a juror, or as anyone in the justice system, I would hope that the purpose would be to determine right from wrong. That my participation in the justice system would be productive towards releasing the innocent and convicting the guilty. However, I didn't necessarily see this principle as one and the same as what they were pitching to me: that based on the evidence presented by the prosecution alone, as the burden of proof, to decide whether there was enough evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt, or there was not - by the methods of the court.
Ideally, it would not depend on the eloquence, competance, and savvy smooth talking of your attorney. But it does. And I'm sorry, but I don't agree with the possibility that just because one side has the more convincing, more aggressive lawyer who can box arguments together to corner you into making an argument seem true when it may or may not be - that I should choose their side. That doesn't necessarily mean to me that we've reached the truth.
So in the end, I had reservations, especially with the particulars of this case (details of which I'm not at liberty to disclose). I didn't think that I could judge a case - particularly where the defense would not testify and the burden lay solely on the prosecution - based on the evidence alone, without any logical inference or deduction, should the need arise. I'm not saying the prosecution were idiots. What do I know about their abilities? But there is a possibility that they just might be.
I suppose I can thank Sabs for this - but I absolutely do question or grapple with what anyone says or presents before me. I refuse to be cornered into arguments for argument's sake - and above all, I think that it comes down to right and wrong and determining THAT, rather than whether someone did a good enough job proving it or not. Ideally they would be the same thing - but what if it isn't?
Why is it so difficult to get to the truth? Why is it expected that someone will get on the witness stand, put their hand on the Bible, swear to tell the truth - and then lie? (Basically a point that one of the attorneys brought up - rather disappointing, but I suppose reality)
Do they want jurors that can be swayed? I think so. Each side looks for potential people who can be convinced (and by convinced it could mean tricked) into believing their arguments.
The judge made an analogy in answer to my questions. He said "this is not a civil case - it's not as if you're handling a dispute between two children who are quarreling and you hear both sides to determine whose fault it was." I was uncomfortable with the fact that I would not hear both sides, or get the complete story.
It felt to me that what was on trial was not the crime or the defendant himself - but the abilities of the prosecution. And I would hesitate to say that I would follow completely along without my own analysis running concurrently, to leave the judgement of right or wrong upon the skills or lack thereof of an attorney, which is basically what they were asking me to do.
Perhaps I'm just too cynical of the motives and intentions of attorneys, whose job it is to paint a picture, regardless of how accurate that picture is. I think it's because as I've been in NY and met quite a few in the law profession, it seems to me (as a sweeping generalization, mind you) that they are oftentimes focused on being 'right' than necessarily finding the truth. Makes sense, that is what the profession is. You win when you've proven your side is "right". Attorneys that actually believe in their clients and their cause 100% - that I can respect. But not everyone I meet is like that.
I'm guessing the judge didn't like me because after I talked, apparently seeds of doubt were planted in others in the jury box. (All of these people, including myself, were not ultimately selected). But I must say this - if these people could be swayed to doubt their own psychological state of impartiality and ability to judge based on the arguments of one fellow juror with no background in law whatsoever, then who knows how easily they might have been influenced by the actual people in the trial?
It's like when Daniel and Ryugo were fighting over the Pokemon Gameboy game, each saying it was his. I have the word of two 5-year-olds - clearly the game has to belong to one of them, and one of them only. One of them is either lying or honestly mistaken (should they both own the game). Wouldn't I want to hear both sides of the story and get as complete a story as possible before making a judgement? And if one of them refused to tell me his side, could I really put that aside and separate it in my mind, not question his motives for silence, and in the end, make a final decision based on whether the other boy had sufficiently proven it was or was not his? Is it fair to make Ryugo, whose second language is English, prove that it's his or else by default give it to Daniel? Is that the best way to make the right decision?
What if someone who is guilty is put through a trial and found not guilty? Would they understand that they have received grace, and act accordingly? Or would it spur them to toe the line further, seeing that the system was flawed to their benefit?
How do you know what is true, and how do you get to the truth?
I'm curious as to how the case will turn out (though I will never find out). But it was eye-opening as to the process of justice we try to set up, to control or discipline our own sinfulness, when that even plays a role as to how it turns out. Not that I know more than anyone else, because clearly I don't. But something about the last 2 days didn't quite sit well with me...can't exactly put my finger on it, perhaps it's bothering me for nothing.
Well, guess I'll find out in 4 years when I get my next summons.
Well, if there's one thing being terrorized by my 2 coach-attorneys (who I do love dearly) is good for, it's making me think. I suppose it wouldn't have worked to answer the question of "is there any reason that you would be unable to serve inpartially as a juror" with "because I'm regularly traumatized by arguing with two lawyers and losing, not because I'm necessarily wrong, but because they're better at arguing than I am. So I have an innate sympathy for the lesser eloquent and more frequently bullied side."
Haha, perhaps they'd let me off on insanity.
I think that being a juror is indeed a civic duty (however inconvenient it may be). However, as a candidate for deciding a criminal case, I really wondered at my ability to be absolutely impartial and make a decision by the court's rules alone. I had reservations with that, which I voiced, and apparently ultimately confused everyone, including the judge. It's not like I did it on purpose to be taken off, but I really wanted clarification on the system.
As a juror, or as anyone in the justice system, I would hope that the purpose would be to determine right from wrong. That my participation in the justice system would be productive towards releasing the innocent and convicting the guilty. However, I didn't necessarily see this principle as one and the same as what they were pitching to me: that based on the evidence presented by the prosecution alone, as the burden of proof, to decide whether there was enough evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt, or there was not - by the methods of the court.
Ideally, it would not depend on the eloquence, competance, and savvy smooth talking of your attorney. But it does. And I'm sorry, but I don't agree with the possibility that just because one side has the more convincing, more aggressive lawyer who can box arguments together to corner you into making an argument seem true when it may or may not be - that I should choose their side. That doesn't necessarily mean to me that we've reached the truth.
So in the end, I had reservations, especially with the particulars of this case (details of which I'm not at liberty to disclose). I didn't think that I could judge a case - particularly where the defense would not testify and the burden lay solely on the prosecution - based on the evidence alone, without any logical inference or deduction, should the need arise. I'm not saying the prosecution were idiots. What do I know about their abilities? But there is a possibility that they just might be.
I suppose I can thank Sabs for this - but I absolutely do question or grapple with what anyone says or presents before me. I refuse to be cornered into arguments for argument's sake - and above all, I think that it comes down to right and wrong and determining THAT, rather than whether someone did a good enough job proving it or not. Ideally they would be the same thing - but what if it isn't?
Why is it so difficult to get to the truth? Why is it expected that someone will get on the witness stand, put their hand on the Bible, swear to tell the truth - and then lie? (Basically a point that one of the attorneys brought up - rather disappointing, but I suppose reality)
Do they want jurors that can be swayed? I think so. Each side looks for potential people who can be convinced (and by convinced it could mean tricked) into believing their arguments.
The judge made an analogy in answer to my questions. He said "this is not a civil case - it's not as if you're handling a dispute between two children who are quarreling and you hear both sides to determine whose fault it was." I was uncomfortable with the fact that I would not hear both sides, or get the complete story.
It felt to me that what was on trial was not the crime or the defendant himself - but the abilities of the prosecution. And I would hesitate to say that I would follow completely along without my own analysis running concurrently, to leave the judgement of right or wrong upon the skills or lack thereof of an attorney, which is basically what they were asking me to do.
Perhaps I'm just too cynical of the motives and intentions of attorneys, whose job it is to paint a picture, regardless of how accurate that picture is. I think it's because as I've been in NY and met quite a few in the law profession, it seems to me (as a sweeping generalization, mind you) that they are oftentimes focused on being 'right' than necessarily finding the truth. Makes sense, that is what the profession is. You win when you've proven your side is "right". Attorneys that actually believe in their clients and their cause 100% - that I can respect. But not everyone I meet is like that.
I'm guessing the judge didn't like me because after I talked, apparently seeds of doubt were planted in others in the jury box. (All of these people, including myself, were not ultimately selected). But I must say this - if these people could be swayed to doubt their own psychological state of impartiality and ability to judge based on the arguments of one fellow juror with no background in law whatsoever, then who knows how easily they might have been influenced by the actual people in the trial?
It's like when Daniel and Ryugo were fighting over the Pokemon Gameboy game, each saying it was his. I have the word of two 5-year-olds - clearly the game has to belong to one of them, and one of them only. One of them is either lying or honestly mistaken (should they both own the game). Wouldn't I want to hear both sides of the story and get as complete a story as possible before making a judgement? And if one of them refused to tell me his side, could I really put that aside and separate it in my mind, not question his motives for silence, and in the end, make a final decision based on whether the other boy had sufficiently proven it was or was not his? Is it fair to make Ryugo, whose second language is English, prove that it's his or else by default give it to Daniel? Is that the best way to make the right decision?
What if someone who is guilty is put through a trial and found not guilty? Would they understand that they have received grace, and act accordingly? Or would it spur them to toe the line further, seeing that the system was flawed to their benefit?
How do you know what is true, and how do you get to the truth?
I'm curious as to how the case will turn out (though I will never find out). But it was eye-opening as to the process of justice we try to set up, to control or discipline our own sinfulness, when that even plays a role as to how it turns out. Not that I know more than anyone else, because clearly I don't. But something about the last 2 days didn't quite sit well with me...can't exactly put my finger on it, perhaps it's bothering me for nothing.
Well, guess I'll find out in 4 years when I get my next summons.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
oh happy day!
I decided to treat myself to a completely frivolous purchase that has no productive value and shall lead to nothing more than entertainment:
내이름인 김삼순 & 러브레터. (My Lovely SamSoon and Love Letter).
We shall see if SS is as good as everyone says it is...and whether I can get thru a drama series without my parents to explain the idioms.
Speaking of which, I need to work on my Korean typing skills. Once my boss figured out that I could type in Korean, I suddenly had more secretarial-type work to do. Too bad he doesn't realize that typing and speaking doesn't mean I necessarily know how to write and spell properly. Korean is easy because it's phonetic, but...it doesn't mean I know where all the breaks are and when you use 애 vs. 에.
I wonder if those are requirements to being "the man". (See July 13)
내이름인 김삼순 & 러브레터. (My Lovely SamSoon and Love Letter).
We shall see if SS is as good as everyone says it is...and whether I can get thru a drama series without my parents to explain the idioms.
Speaking of which, I need to work on my Korean typing skills. Once my boss figured out that I could type in Korean, I suddenly had more secretarial-type work to do. Too bad he doesn't realize that typing and speaking doesn't mean I necessarily know how to write and spell properly. Korean is easy because it's phonetic, but...it doesn't mean I know where all the breaks are and when you use 애 vs. 에.
I wonder if those are requirements to being "the man". (See July 13)
Sunday, July 16, 2006
another one bites the dust...
Congratulations are in order for Mr. and Mrs. shiau_d! It's so hard to believe that he's married...MITKCF 01's are dropping like flies. 4 of them in this year alone!
Got back from the wedding last night, it was really nice to see shiau_d so happy and...grown up. Classic IV statistic, they met at Urbana when they were serving on staff at completely different campuses but assigned to the same task. Crazy, huh? His parting words to students? "Join staff and go to Urbana!" Haha...
So the night before the wedding, the happy couple graciously hosted a BBQ for hundreds (I'm not joking) at Kathy's parents' house in NJ. When the invitation said "the driveway only fits 12 cars, so please park in the high school nearby unless you have families with small children" - I should known that they'd either live in a nice neighborhood, or like, a farm.
After parking the car, walking to the house was an exercise in self-restraint. From what, you ask? Good question. It's not like I was going to run up to the houses and go inside. But as I walked along the street, I couldn't help but admire the nice, new, huge-mungous houses and their beautifully landscaped lawns.
Seriously, I know we're not supposed to want comfort and luxury...but really nice, newly developed houses just make me happy. I think it's because it reminded me so much of home. My parents' house is neither huge nor extravagent, but it does have a lawn and central heating/AC in a cul-de-sac where children can ride bikes down the street. Perhaps I'm getting older, or all these weddings are indicating that life moves forward and it's time to settle down...but especially in contrast to the space atrocity that is Manhattan living, and the ridiculous cost of my pre-war apartment in all its 350 sq ft glory - the suburbs of NJ weren't looking half bad.
(thou shalt not covet, thou shalt not covet, thou shalt not covet...)
Whenever I meet people and they find out I'm from California, they always ask me whether I intend to move back, or why I'm here in NY. Huh. Good question.
I think there's always a tugging in my heart to return, and I've been saying since day 2 of my freshman year (even before I experienced my first Boston winter) that I was moving back to the good old Bay Area right after I graduated. But clearly, 8 years later...I'm still here. (Holy cow, 8 years??)
As much as I love to plan and would have loved to have kept doing so, I've kind of given up on detailed long-term planning. (For now...). The flow charts have been put on hold. (Ack, my beautiful, color-coded flow charts!) As I sit and run my fan in my AC-less apt on a humid sticky NY summer day, trying to remember what I have to do at my oftentimes inane job tomorrow...it's pretty clear that God doesn't always give us the life that we thought we wanted. But I do think that He gives us the lives that He wants, in a Jeremiah 29 sort of way.
So whose fault is it if I can't tell the difference between what I want and what He wants?
Sometimes when I'm teaching class and I want to pre-empt any crying and wimpy-ness and excuses, I'll ask the kids "whose fault is it if you get kicked in the face?" The ones who are regularly in my sparring class know they've got about 5 seconds to shout out "mine, for not blocking it!" The hard part of teaching is getting the kids is to stop them from making excuses and passing blame on each other - to not feel mean or think they're mean for doing things like kicking each other in the face. Getting them to understand that in doing so, they're helping their teammates get better at defending, while in the safety of supervision and in working with their friends.
Perhaps a strange analogy, but a useful one to me for seeing how I pass blame or make excuses. I think sometimes God does that - throws a kick to the face when you're really not paying attention to the match at hand. Maybe it's meant to be helpful. Maybe if you're not looking at the subtleties, that's the only way He can get your attention.
If there is a theme to my post-college life thus far, it's been seeing the value of learning to listen rather than driving to the point of needing to have doors closed to make choices obvious. Doesn't mean I've actually gotten good at that listening itself - clearly the desires of my heart are what they are. But I think that as we move closer to God, those desires actually do change to mesh, and the differences slowly become more recognize-able. (Yes, I make up words left and right).
So back to the question of how long I plan to be in NY or the East Coast...I guess I don't know. I have a gut feeling I'll find my way back someday, but if not today or ever, then there must be a compelling reason, and it must be good. Perhaps it would be more productive to focus on those reasons are that guide the choices, rather than the choices themselves.
Funny how some things just make you think...haha, how did I get all this from envying some really nice houses in the boonies of Jersey?
Got back from the wedding last night, it was really nice to see shiau_d so happy and...grown up. Classic IV statistic, they met at Urbana when they were serving on staff at completely different campuses but assigned to the same task. Crazy, huh? His parting words to students? "Join staff and go to Urbana!" Haha...
So the night before the wedding, the happy couple graciously hosted a BBQ for hundreds (I'm not joking) at Kathy's parents' house in NJ. When the invitation said "the driveway only fits 12 cars, so please park in the high school nearby unless you have families with small children" - I should known that they'd either live in a nice neighborhood, or like, a farm.
After parking the car, walking to the house was an exercise in self-restraint. From what, you ask? Good question. It's not like I was going to run up to the houses and go inside. But as I walked along the street, I couldn't help but admire the nice, new, huge-mungous houses and their beautifully landscaped lawns.
Seriously, I know we're not supposed to want comfort and luxury...but really nice, newly developed houses just make me happy. I think it's because it reminded me so much of home. My parents' house is neither huge nor extravagent, but it does have a lawn and central heating/AC in a cul-de-sac where children can ride bikes down the street. Perhaps I'm getting older, or all these weddings are indicating that life moves forward and it's time to settle down...but especially in contrast to the space atrocity that is Manhattan living, and the ridiculous cost of my pre-war apartment in all its 350 sq ft glory - the suburbs of NJ weren't looking half bad.
(thou shalt not covet, thou shalt not covet, thou shalt not covet...)
Whenever I meet people and they find out I'm from California, they always ask me whether I intend to move back, or why I'm here in NY. Huh. Good question.
I think there's always a tugging in my heart to return, and I've been saying since day 2 of my freshman year (even before I experienced my first Boston winter) that I was moving back to the good old Bay Area right after I graduated. But clearly, 8 years later...I'm still here. (Holy cow, 8 years??)
As much as I love to plan and would have loved to have kept doing so, I've kind of given up on detailed long-term planning. (For now...). The flow charts have been put on hold. (Ack, my beautiful, color-coded flow charts!) As I sit and run my fan in my AC-less apt on a humid sticky NY summer day, trying to remember what I have to do at my oftentimes inane job tomorrow...it's pretty clear that God doesn't always give us the life that we thought we wanted. But I do think that He gives us the lives that He wants, in a Jeremiah 29 sort of way.
So whose fault is it if I can't tell the difference between what I want and what He wants?
Sometimes when I'm teaching class and I want to pre-empt any crying and wimpy-ness and excuses, I'll ask the kids "whose fault is it if you get kicked in the face?" The ones who are regularly in my sparring class know they've got about 5 seconds to shout out "mine, for not blocking it!" The hard part of teaching is getting the kids is to stop them from making excuses and passing blame on each other - to not feel mean or think they're mean for doing things like kicking each other in the face. Getting them to understand that in doing so, they're helping their teammates get better at defending, while in the safety of supervision and in working with their friends.
Perhaps a strange analogy, but a useful one to me for seeing how I pass blame or make excuses. I think sometimes God does that - throws a kick to the face when you're really not paying attention to the match at hand. Maybe it's meant to be helpful. Maybe if you're not looking at the subtleties, that's the only way He can get your attention.
If there is a theme to my post-college life thus far, it's been seeing the value of learning to listen rather than driving to the point of needing to have doors closed to make choices obvious. Doesn't mean I've actually gotten good at that listening itself - clearly the desires of my heart are what they are. But I think that as we move closer to God, those desires actually do change to mesh, and the differences slowly become more recognize-able. (Yes, I make up words left and right).
So back to the question of how long I plan to be in NY or the East Coast...I guess I don't know. I have a gut feeling I'll find my way back someday, but if not today or ever, then there must be a compelling reason, and it must be good. Perhaps it would be more productive to focus on those reasons are that guide the choices, rather than the choices themselves.
Funny how some things just make you think...haha, how did I get all this from envying some really nice houses in the boonies of Jersey?
Saturday, July 15, 2006
taming the tongue
"With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water." -James 3:9-12
Tonight's Bible study on taming the tongue got me thinking about how what we say subconsciously or off the cuff is telling of what's on our hearts. You know, those moments where you say something without thinking, and then have a moment of "wait...was that out loud?"
When I was a freshman I was a little crazy. (OK, a lot crazy). It must have been before the overachiever was beaten out of me. I distinctly remember the devastation after my very first college exam, when I was really depressed and thinking I was going to fail out of college, not realizing what a curve was. Thinking I was a hotshot only lasted about 3 days before I realized what it felt like to look at a problem and have no idea how to start.
So this class was really intense - 5.12 (Organic Chemistry) with Prof. Kemp. He had this crazy military approach to orgo. He was notorious for his colored chalk and had the best chalkboard lecture technique of anyone I've ever encountered - and basically just bombarded us with materials and gave us a test every other week. Sounds normal...but his method of teaching was all problem solving and no memorization. You learned to either get it, or not.
So by November, I got completely caught up in the class. It was totally consuming me. Not to mention the fact that I had too much on my plate and didn't sleep enough as is. My roommates began to know me as the girl who would sleep anywhere, anytime I got a chance.
So one day I came home after a 5.12 review session and collapsed on my bed. Apparently it was still pretty early in the evening, and my roommates were in the room, either studying or hanging out. A few hours later when I woke up, Cze Chao said to me:
"dude. you were talking in your sleep. about hydrocarbons and benzenes. and you kept saying 'the bromide doesn't go there!' what's WRONG with you??"
Haha...they wouldn't let me forget that until we graduated. (Yes, I fully realize that it is pathetic that my obsession that night was chemistry). But seriously...what would happen if the thoughts in your heart were suddenly on display for others to see, without any filters? (Haha...totally dangerous). While it's important to control what we say, perhaps James is saying that the more appropriate course of action would be to think about controlling the source.
Definitely easier said than done. And if you've ever tried to drink salt water...it's pretty nasty stuff.
Tonight's Bible study on taming the tongue got me thinking about how what we say subconsciously or off the cuff is telling of what's on our hearts. You know, those moments where you say something without thinking, and then have a moment of "wait...was that out loud?"
When I was a freshman I was a little crazy. (OK, a lot crazy). It must have been before the overachiever was beaten out of me. I distinctly remember the devastation after my very first college exam, when I was really depressed and thinking I was going to fail out of college, not realizing what a curve was. Thinking I was a hotshot only lasted about 3 days before I realized what it felt like to look at a problem and have no idea how to start.
So this class was really intense - 5.12 (Organic Chemistry) with Prof. Kemp. He had this crazy military approach to orgo. He was notorious for his colored chalk and had the best chalkboard lecture technique of anyone I've ever encountered - and basically just bombarded us with materials and gave us a test every other week. Sounds normal...but his method of teaching was all problem solving and no memorization. You learned to either get it, or not.
So by November, I got completely caught up in the class. It was totally consuming me. Not to mention the fact that I had too much on my plate and didn't sleep enough as is. My roommates began to know me as the girl who would sleep anywhere, anytime I got a chance.
So one day I came home after a 5.12 review session and collapsed on my bed. Apparently it was still pretty early in the evening, and my roommates were in the room, either studying or hanging out. A few hours later when I woke up, Cze Chao said to me:
"dude. you were talking in your sleep. about hydrocarbons and benzenes. and you kept saying 'the bromide doesn't go there!' what's WRONG with you??"
Haha...they wouldn't let me forget that until we graduated. (Yes, I fully realize that it is pathetic that my obsession that night was chemistry). But seriously...what would happen if the thoughts in your heart were suddenly on display for others to see, without any filters? (Haha...totally dangerous). While it's important to control what we say, perhaps James is saying that the more appropriate course of action would be to think about controlling the source.
Definitely easier said than done. And if you've ever tried to drink salt water...it's pretty nasty stuff.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
identity crisis - part 2
This is a public service announcement: I am female. Please take note.
1) On work: today, my boss told me I'm "the man".
1) On work: today, my boss told me I'm "the man".
Recently at work, I noticed recently that for some reason, people keep coming to me with questions about the project. And by people I mean associates, not interns. Where can I find this file, what's the latest on the meeting schedules, are we going with this version or that, what's the size of this, etc etc etc. Keep in mind that I had zero experience in this field prior to starting here 4 mos ago and zero specialization in this field while I was in school - what do I know? I'm flying by the seat of my pants as it is!
So I was having lunch with my boss today, and it was made clear to me:
"The electrical and plumbing people keep coming to me with questions...it's like they think I'm in charge or something."
"That's because you're the man! You ARE in charge!"
I'm "the man"? What does that mean?
2) On working out:
"Stop punching like a girl!"
"I AM a girl!!!"
You'd think they'd have noticed by now.
3) On working out II:
"I don't kick you in the crotch when you don't have a cup on, why do you punch me in the chest when I don't have a hogu??"
I think that speaks for itself.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
haha
Dorky line of the day:
"Oh, you think you can beat me? Prove it!"
"Prove it? I'll prove it like a theorem!"
Hahaha... Name it and I'll give you a cookie.
"Oh, you think you can beat me? Prove it!"
"Prove it? I'll prove it like a theorem!"
Hahaha... Name it and I'll give you a cookie.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
white vs. asian
I think I'm racist.
So I was in physical therapy a couple weeks ago, like any other day. My therapist is pretty cool, I've been seeing him for about a year and a half. Part of the reason that I like him is because he's aggressive, and he's gotten me back in the ring in record time after some big injuries. He knows his stuff.
So we were lifting quads and he proceeded to jack up the weights. I looked at him in disbelief. But there's no slack with Jerry, so there wasn't much use protesting. We usually do 3 sets of 15's, but with the added weights I started fading halfway through the 2nd set.
Jerry has a lot of different modes of motivation - sometimes he's a drill sergeant, sometimes he's a cheerleader, sometimes he's somewhere in between. So this time he starts yelling at me to stop being a wuss and proceeds to egg me on.
My reaction? I wanted to stop. It was totally not motivating.
But...when I'm in Taekwondo and I started fading, Sabs always yell at me. Negative reinforcement generally gets me fired up to go harder and faster - to dig a little deeper. (Well, except when I'm mad at them, but that's a whole different topic). But my point is that it's not like being yelled at and goaded is something new or to feel bad about.
I was thinking about this for awhile, and observing my reactions to the various ways Jerry and others around me motivate - and I came to one conclusion that my perception and the way I respond to white people and asian people differs.
I must expect white people to express themselves in a positive, non-personal manner. I respond best to Jerry when he's Mr. Cheerleader. When he's telling me I can do it and he believes in me. When he jacks up the weights, increases the cardio, adds on the squats and gives me the high-five.
Whereas with Asians, it'd just be bizarre to high-five Sabs. I expect to be yelled at, to be smacked down when I'm dogging it - I expect to be told what I'm doing wrong, not what I'm doing right. I mean, let's face it - if they're not satisfied I'm getting smacked on the head with the paddle. If they're pleased, I'm getting an affectionate smack on the head with the paddle. My coach is the man I had to place a bet with - the most glorious bet I've ever won in my life. (The bet was if I won the US Open, he'd have to be nice to me for a month). I've never been so motivated for anything.
Anyways, I just thought it was a telling gut reaction...who knows if my analysis of what it means is correct or not...
So I was in physical therapy a couple weeks ago, like any other day. My therapist is pretty cool, I've been seeing him for about a year and a half. Part of the reason that I like him is because he's aggressive, and he's gotten me back in the ring in record time after some big injuries. He knows his stuff.
So we were lifting quads and he proceeded to jack up the weights. I looked at him in disbelief. But there's no slack with Jerry, so there wasn't much use protesting. We usually do 3 sets of 15's, but with the added weights I started fading halfway through the 2nd set.
Jerry has a lot of different modes of motivation - sometimes he's a drill sergeant, sometimes he's a cheerleader, sometimes he's somewhere in between. So this time he starts yelling at me to stop being a wuss and proceeds to egg me on.
My reaction? I wanted to stop. It was totally not motivating.
But...when I'm in Taekwondo and I started fading, Sabs always yell at me. Negative reinforcement generally gets me fired up to go harder and faster - to dig a little deeper. (Well, except when I'm mad at them, but that's a whole different topic). But my point is that it's not like being yelled at and goaded is something new or to feel bad about.
I was thinking about this for awhile, and observing my reactions to the various ways Jerry and others around me motivate - and I came to one conclusion that my perception and the way I respond to white people and asian people differs.
I must expect white people to express themselves in a positive, non-personal manner. I respond best to Jerry when he's Mr. Cheerleader. When he's telling me I can do it and he believes in me. When he jacks up the weights, increases the cardio, adds on the squats and gives me the high-five.
Whereas with Asians, it'd just be bizarre to high-five Sabs. I expect to be yelled at, to be smacked down when I'm dogging it - I expect to be told what I'm doing wrong, not what I'm doing right. I mean, let's face it - if they're not satisfied I'm getting smacked on the head with the paddle. If they're pleased, I'm getting an affectionate smack on the head with the paddle. My coach is the man I had to place a bet with - the most glorious bet I've ever won in my life. (The bet was if I won the US Open, he'd have to be nice to me for a month). I've never been so motivated for anything.
Anyways, I just thought it was a telling gut reaction...who knows if my analysis of what it means is correct or not...
on the flip side
Going off my last entry - there seems to be a lot of controversy over Zidane getting red carded off the field for his headbutt to [insert Italian guy here]. However, I think that the blame should not just be on Zidane for his expression of anger, but on the Italian player who obviously instigated it and then cried about it.
Perhaps it's because of the Italians' history of blatant fakery (ie. how they got the penalty kick against Australia, how the same player attempted the fake crying in 2002 against Korea but was caught for it and yellow-carded, how they attempt to fall over themselves and everyone else to get an advantage). And I don't know what was actually said, and probably never will. But in my gut, I suspect that this was all a ploy on the Italian side, to get inside the head of their captain, their best player - and remove him from play.
Yes, he should have had self-control. Clearly he was not mentally strong enough to just walk away and be the bigger man. But I don't think that it makes the guy crying on the ground because he provoked someone to headbutt him in the chest a hero. On the contrary - I think it makes him a coward.
I just don't think it's fair to solely condemn a man for his outward actions without understanding the cause. Who knows, perhaps the cause really was that petty and the Italian guy really was the victim. But somehow, I doubt it.
In any event, he got what he wanted. Italy won the World Cup. But it seems to me that it was through this cunning maneuver to take out the best opponent, and a bit of luck. Their goalie was excellent, to be sure. His save in overtime was ridiculous. Their defense was tight. But France played a better game, and Italy was barely hanging on as they looked tired the whole 2nd half onwards.
I mean, whatever - France has done its fair share of fake crying to get penalties as well, so they're no victims themselves. Just seems that there are 2 sides to every story...
Perhaps it's because of the Italians' history of blatant fakery (ie. how they got the penalty kick against Australia, how the same player attempted the fake crying in 2002 against Korea but was caught for it and yellow-carded, how they attempt to fall over themselves and everyone else to get an advantage). And I don't know what was actually said, and probably never will. But in my gut, I suspect that this was all a ploy on the Italian side, to get inside the head of their captain, their best player - and remove him from play.
Yes, he should have had self-control. Clearly he was not mentally strong enough to just walk away and be the bigger man. But I don't think that it makes the guy crying on the ground because he provoked someone to headbutt him in the chest a hero. On the contrary - I think it makes him a coward.
I just don't think it's fair to solely condemn a man for his outward actions without understanding the cause. Who knows, perhaps the cause really was that petty and the Italian guy really was the victim. But somehow, I doubt it.
In any event, he got what he wanted. Italy won the World Cup. But it seems to me that it was through this cunning maneuver to take out the best opponent, and a bit of luck. Their goalie was excellent, to be sure. His save in overtime was ridiculous. Their defense was tight. But France played a better game, and Italy was barely hanging on as they looked tired the whole 2nd half onwards.
I mean, whatever - France has done its fair share of fake crying to get penalties as well, so they're no victims themselves. Just seems that there are 2 sides to every story...
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