Monday, December 7, 2009

Seoul Seeking

Sorry, I'll try to keep the puns to a minimum. Since I'll be abroad, I thought I'd start a blog specifically for my adventures as a teacher in Seoul. It is located here.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Words of the Week*

or, Similar Words, Very Different Origins
*Compliments of the OED

ginger |ˈjinjər|
noun
1) a hot fragrant spice made from the rhizome of a plant. It is chopped or powdered for cooking, preserved in syrup, or candied.
2) a Southeast Asian plant, which resembles bamboo in appearance, from which this rhizome is taken. • Zingiber officinale, family Zingiberaceae.
3) a light reddish-yellow color.
adjective
(chiefly of hair or fur) of a light reddish-yellow color.

ORIGIN late Old English gingifer, conflated in Middle English with Old French gingimbre, from medieval Latin gingiber, from Greek zingiberis, from Pali siṅgivera, of Dravidian origin.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

An Encounter

[I'm tired of my NaNoWriMo story already and so procrastinating. This is the first paragraph of an old NaNo novel, heavily edited.]

Arnold’s intention had been not to step on the lowly leaf, but to avoid the left front paw of a shaggy, black-and-white Australian shepherd, who had strayed from her owner.  The dog looked up at Arnold with clear, blue eyes as if to ask for directions, yet the animal’s gaze pierced the human’s soul as if to prove to both that they were not such distant relatives.  The dog’s owner, a woman in her twenties of medium height and a thin, yet awkward frame, walked sternly with the indignation of a parent whose teenager had just defied her.  She moved her arms briskly but made no extra effort with her legs and the effect was, thought Arnold, probably not far off from that of a windmill, although the purpose and placement of windmills always eluded Arnold.  “Lily!” shouted the woman, her voice loud yet restrained.  The dog looked over at its owner, and then back at Arnold, pleadingly.  Arnold didn’t budge, temporarily taking guardianship of the dog, though he had the keen foresight to know that the woman’s ire was probably to befall upon both parties.  And so it was.  “Excuse me, sir, that’s my dog,” said the woman possessively, avoiding Arnold’s eyes.  She was three inches shorter than him, and although that was rather tall for a woman, Arnold noticed that she had a rather shorter than average torso.  Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing Converse sneakers with blue jeans and a purple long-sleeved shirt.  She had a brown purse over one shoulder, throwing her entire lanky body slightly off-balance.  “I was just making sure she didn’t stray,” he said with a smile.  She looked up at him.  She did not smile.  A few strands of hair fell in front of her face and she quickly put them in their place, just behind her right ear.  “Thanks,” she mentioned quickly and then said, “Lily, come.”  The dog suddenly remembered which of the two was the master and left her foster parent without even a goodbye, trotting off happily into the descending late afternoon sunset.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

SD, AFT: part 3

On my final day in San Diego I met up with E, C and A. E drove down from Walnut and while C and A, who were driving up (west?) from El Centro, got a flat tire, E and I caught up. We commiserated about moving back home and dealing with parents on a daily basis for the first time in four years.

The four of us headed to Old Town and got lunch at this great Mexican place. I had a burrito bigger than my head, C got some green flautas, and A was chastised by the waiter for drinking too much water. Our bellies full, we went for a walk around this mission-type place to burn a few of the many thousands of calories we'd ingested. As we were looking around an old stable, we were suddenly hit with a conundrum. It was an age old question that had confounded Americans for generations. What was the capital of Kentucky? Seriously, we discussed this for a while, ignoring the lovely exhibits and wax horses and instead racking our geeky brains for the answer. After a little while we came to the consensus that the answer was Louisville. A quick iPhone check told us we were wrong.





It was a perfect day, not too hot, not too cool, and a light breeze ushered us along.

Next we headed to the beach for a stroll (in reality it wasn't so much a stroll as an epic trek that spanned hours and culminated in a much needed IHOP pit stop for various types of lemonade and more water for A). As the four of us walked along the soft sandy beach, we giggled. It was just one of those days. But before long we realized that it was getting very difficult to lift our feet in the sand. It was a workout and although the sidewalk was just feet away, we had an unspoken agreement that the four of us would make it to the other end of the beach in the sand. We did come across an astonishing sand castle, which was a nice distraction, but by the time we reached the end we were exhausted, sweaty, and in need of the aforementioned lemonades (in case you're wondering, I had a cherry lemonade, E had an Arnold Palmer, and C insisted that she have a strawberry lemonade even though IHOP doesn't technically have strawberry lemonades (apparently they put the strawberry goo from the Rooty Tooty Fresh N' Fruity in a regular lemonade which sounds questionable to me, but that's what she wanted and, frankly, what are you gonna do?)). While we sat at our table, giggling, discussing what "guay" meant in Uruguay and Paraguay, and alerting each other of our demises (E "accidentally" said I had died), we also cleaned out our shoes on the floor. And so we left a little part of ourselves as we walked out the door, four small sand mounds just under the table.

In need of caffeine and something chocolatey we decided we'd head to a patisserie or chocolaterie. Indeed. I remembered that N had mentioned a fantastic dessert place called Extraordinary Desserts so a quick Yelp check later and we had an address. We got there and couldn't believe our eyes. I decided right there on the spot that "extraordinary" was apt for once. First of all, the front door was huge and it was a little spectacle watching C march right up and open it by herself. Inside, the most wonderful array of sugary, chocolatey, fruity delights awaited us. It was a sit-down dessert restaurant, I'll have you know, complete with a waitress and beverages. I had the cafe viennese while I marveled at their sugar (crystalline, rather than granular). The four of us shared two pricey slices of cake. They were both chocolate but that didn't bother any of us. We dug in and had no mercy; two empty plates, four empty mugs, and the show was done.




Goodbyes are weird so I'll just say that it was nice to see E, C, and A again, and even nicer to finally visit N in her San Diego. One citrus mint hookah and a Japanese beer later, and I was back in San Jose, where the past three days felt like nothing more than a passing dream.

Friday, October 30, 2009

NaNoWriMo

Partly because I've got writer's block and partly because it's time to pay credit where it's due, I thought I'd explain where "NovNov" came from. It's based on a 30-day writing event called National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo) where people all over the world write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. The Office of Letters and Light, the non-profit organization that puts it on, is not and has no affiliation with a publisher, so these NaNo novels are purely for the entertainment of their writers.

There are many reasons why NaNoWriMo is cool, but I think the most important is that it brings people together to do what is almost always a solitary activity. They are an extraordinarily motivated and optimistic people who spend at least 3 hours a day for 30 straight days to accomplish something that really has no prize except a feeling of accomplishment.

[In order to "win" NaNoWriMo, you must write 50,000 words of original fiction. As a 4-time participant (2-time loser, 2-time winner), I can tell you that it's a fantastic use of one's time for a month, winner or not. ]


Sunday, October 18, 2009

SD, AFT: part 2

The next day we dragged ourselves out of bed by noon and headed to this lighthouse/tidepool preserve somewhere in or around San Diego (I wasn't fully awake by that point). It was another lovely clear day and the ocean was miraculously blue.



We got pretty lost but made our way down this winding road to some tidepools. The rocks had been worn down in interesting ways by the waves. It was awesome and my friend pointed out that it would have been very romantic to be there with someone other than me.














We hadn't given up on looking for the lighthouse so we drove back up that winding road and followed some other cars to a large parking lot. We still couldn't find the large white house sitting on top of a hill with a huge light on top despite the fact that there were dozens of people heading up that way so we wandered around the visitor's center a bit.

Finally, we followed the multitudes of people and found the lighthouse. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Lighthouse (err...I can't remember their names) and their three children had lived inside it. It was so narrow and tiny and the rooms so short I was feeling a bit claustrophobic just thinking about anyone actually living there.

Next we headed back to PB, the Berkeley-esque place, for some sushi. I ordered the "PB sushi" and my friend got this deep-fried spicy mess. Next headed over to Trader Joe's for some mochi and peach Lambic and then went back to N's for a nap.

Later that evening, we went over to N's friends' (J and K) apartment to play some Rockband. J and K, being the college dudes that they were, had set up a projector and the video game took up the whole living room wall. We played for a while and at some point they mentioned this Mexican place J loved called Cotixan (I believe pronounced "koh-dee-kan"). I got a huge taco and three of us split a plate of nachos. J was also kind enough to let me mess with his guitar, which he tried unsuccessfully to teach me how to play.




We got home around 0200 again and this time I fell asleep with an enormously distended tummy. Another good day.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

San Diego, a foodie tour: part 1

I made a trip down to San Diego to visit my friend N who goes to UCSD, and my friends E and C who each live about an hour and a half outside the city. N was nice enough to host me at her swanky apartment in UTC (University Town Center, I think), which is where all the UCSD students who aren't in the dorms live.

N picked me up from the airport at around 1400 and we went for a drive. We crossed this enormous bridge where water surrounded us on both sides and then my friend got lost and we ended up on a naval base somewhere. I didn't mind though, it was really nice to see clear, blue water everywhere I looked.

After turning around and getting off the base, we went to UCSD for a quick campus tour. I'd been there four years ago when I was looking at colleges, but all I could remember was a UFO, talking trees, and something about a beans-for-notes exchange.

The first thing that stood out to me about the campus was how different it was from Cal. It's absolutely sprawling, with a large vet hospital on campus, numerous small dorms, and what seems like endless space between buildings. Shuttles carry the students around campus, and those who don't live in the dorms need cars to get to school. Fortunately, there was ample parking.

My friend showed me the "dungeons" which are the computer labs where she often spends entire days. It looked miserable. She also took me to the quad, which was pretty damn sweet. I often forget that other schools have chain restaurants, cafes and other cool stuff to make campus convenient and whatnot. There was a huge sushi place with a pool hall in the back, an actual movie theater, and countless lounges. We went to the top of the UFO-looking library named for Dr. Seuss (how awesome is that) and saw a view of San Diego that convinced me that no one studying up there could ever get any work done.

I was starting to get hungry and N had told me about this amazing burger place called Big Kahuna's so we headed out to PB (Pacific Beach, perhaps), which is the less trendy, more grungy part of town, or as my friend described it, the "Berkeley" of San Diego.

She was right about the burger, it was huge and delicious and we also had this appetizer called Big Kahuna's Balls that were pretty amazing.


We waddled back to the car and my friend drove to the top of some hill that reminded me a lot of Grizzly Peak and we had a lovely view of San Diego by night.

After the pleasant drive, we went back to her apartment, a huge, new, clean, two-bedroom, two-bathroom place with a balcony and an elevator in the building that she shared with one other person. College living? I don't think so. My friend and I got dressed up, I borrowed some shoes and then headed to the Gaslamp part of downtown San Diego.

I have to admit, I never knew SD was so happening. The Gaslamp was a four-block by two-block area of clubs, bars, pubs, and great restaurants. It was a Saturday night and it was packed. As N circled the area looking for parking, I people-watched in amazement. There was the 21+ crowd dressed up for a night of clubbing, but also numerous families, perhaps just leaving after dinner at one of the amazing eateries. There were rickshaws carrying high-heeled customers from wherever they parked their cars to their place of choice, and plenty of very nice-looking cars, limos included.

We finally found a parking lot and headed to a pool hall we'd found on Yelp. After playing for a couple of hours, we went to an Irish bar called Patrick's II (what happened to Patrick's I, I didn't ask) where there was a live blues band playing. It was an odd joint but we enjoyed the atmosphere. A rather large saxophone player jumped off the stage and wandered around the pub playing for tips. Later, an older German gentleman offered us some of his nuts. Peanuts are supposed to bring out the flavor of beer, he said.

We were home by 0200 and finally got to bed by 0300. I sank into N's very comfortable leather couch and fell into a deep sleep.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Sometimes people ask me which Korea I'm going to...

...so I decided to make a compare/contrast list to help distinguish the two.




Technology

South Korea: Dubbed "the most wired country in the world" South Koreans enjoy their internet at four times the speed than that of the United States.

North Korea: Unlike other oppressive regimes which ban certain websites they don't approve of (I'm looking at you, China), North Korea simply doesn't get internet. According to the New York Times North Korea's domain suffix .kp remains unused.

Electricity

The top half of this picture is North Korea at night, the bottom half is South Korea.

Communication

South Korea: 90% of South Koreans own a cell phone, which they use to watch TV, buy stuff, and play those nerdy online videogames. South Korean companies Samsung and LG are two of three largest cell phone companies in the world.

North Korea: Cell phone were banned in North Korea until 2004. In 2008 a mobile phone service was launched but hardly anyone in North Korea can afford a cell phone anyway.

Transportation

South Korea: A fast, efficient subway system in each major city transports the busy population around; the Seoul Metropolitan Subway is one of the most used subway systems in the world. Signs in the cosmopolitan SK subways are written in Korea, English and sometimes Chinese. South Korea is the world's fifth largest automotive manufacture.

North Korea: Cars are a luxury in North Korea, with only around 20,000 cars in the entire country (less than 1 per 1,000 people). In fact, bikes are luxury in North Korea.

Government

South Korea: Full democracy with three branches of government not unlike our own.

North Korea: Oh boy. Officially led by the "Korean Worker's Party," North Korea is actually run by (Dear Leader) Kim Jong-il, son of the Eternal President Kim Il-sung. He can apparently control the weather with his mood.
 

Tourism

South Korea: With the best airport in the world just outside capital city Seoul, South Korea welcomes around six million tourists a year. Popular spots include historic Geongju,




tropical Jeju Island



and urban Seoul.




North Korea: The North Korean government recently imprisoned journalists Laura Ling and Euna Lee for accidentally crossing the border into the country. Tours are available for people who want to visit North Korea, excluding South Koreans. This is actually a really interesting firsthand experience of the guided tour at the DMZ (demilitarized zone).

Stuff they have in common:
They both speak Korean (albeit very different dialects).
They both qualified for the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

So in summary: South Korea is a technologically advanced, first-world nation which welcomes tourists and has a healthy relationship not only with fellow Asian countries, but with the UN and the Western World alike. North Korea is a totalitarian regime that imprisons people in labor camps who happen to step across its border.

Can you guess which Korea I'll be going to?


Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Beach Day Haiku

Warm day on the beach.
Can this be San Francisco?
I guess summer's here.

A towel, a sandwich,
And I brought a big dog too.
Well, I got a bite.

A dead pelican.
People wonder how it died.
But I think something:

Death, here by the sea,
With these waves as one’s last sight,
Doesn’t seem so bad.

Monday, August 31, 2009

London

The ground is wet, it smells like exhaust, and although it looks cold it doesn’t feel too bad. It’s humid. Ben strikes a few times, but I don’t keep count. It’s quiet but the squeaky breaks of a double-decker remind you that this city takes cat naps at night.

London doesn’t really rhyme. You can walk around late at night safely, and people do. The whole place seems to heat up after the sun sets, especially over summer, with late walks along the embankment. But pubs close at midnight. Maybe those things are connected somehow.

The tube is cool. It’s fast and efficient and people take it. There are strikes but not as often as France and it’s a little pricey but not as bad as America. It’s nice when a smaller tube stop looks all old-fashioned with cracked tiles and whatnot. The Baker St stop is a little like that. And the voice on the intercom just can’t be beat. “This is the Bakerloo line.” “Mind the gap.”

“Queues” are what they call them. The tidy alternation of vowels speaks to what they are. Whether it’s waiting at a bus stop or on an underground platform, Londoners are always civilized.

Except when it comes to football. That’s right “football,” the sport you play with your feet. Conflicting loyalties make men crazy. London has three top football teams (Chelsea, Arsenal, Tottenham). And that’s not to mention the overflow of Manchester United fans in the city, or the people (arseholes) who follow teams based on something like talent or consistency and choose to root for Barcelona or Real Madrid.

The best thing to do after watching a match at the pub is to get fish and chips, with a gherkin. They give it to you with vinegar on top, but you gotta pour a little more on and add salt before you even try them. You eat them while walking.

You might stop at a park. They have great parks, real nicely manicured. Londoners don’t really litter and there aren’t a whole lot of dogs, so the problems that plague American and French public spaces don’t affect London. It’s never really warm enough during the day to have a picnic in comfort, but a walk through the park is always nice. You could even stop by Speaker’s Corner and hear the crazies go on about Imperialism.

Their money is worth more than anyone else’s in the world. They reject the euro because they can. One coin in London is worth about two bucks.

London is not, though it seems like it, in the middle of Britain. It’s actually a little left of center and pretty far south, so it doesn’t snow in the winter.

Britain may not be known for its cuisine but the ethnic stuff in London is the best in the world. “Chinatown” (and I put it in quotes because it’s more like a little plaza they set up so that London could have a “Chinatown” like many large American cities) has this restaurant called “Won Kee’s” which is like three stories and always packed with people. They’re famous for having extremely rude waitstaff. “Upstairs! Upstairs!” they yell at you when you walk in. And sometimes when you get to the top floor they scream “Downstairs, downstairs!”

They eat this thing in Chinese restaurants in Britain called “seaweed” that’s actually fried cabbage with sugar sprinkled on top. It’s pretty good. They practically invented Indian food in London and curry after a crazy night is like the thing to do. Actually, some fish and chip shops have this spicy curry sauce you can pour over the chips that’s so weird but good.

Friday, August 28, 2009

On the Arts and the Sciences

"Science provides an understanding of a universal experience and art provides a universal understanding of a personal experience." -Mae Jemison

Astronaut (and dancer) Mae Jemison has this great Ted talk (and if you don't know what Ted is by now, please begin watching immediately*) about how the arts and sciences are more similar than people (both artists and scientists) are willing to admit, and as such, should be taught together in schools. I really enjoyed this talk, not because she provided any kind of solution to the art/science dichotomy (one minor flaw to her speech) but because it comes from someone with both exceptional analytical skill and artistic talent. She explains that both analytical and creative skills are manifested in scientific and artistic disciplines and that to denigrate one or the other is to ignore the fact that humans both use and need both to function.

I think one reason I felt so drawn to this video is because it is a rebuttal to what I hear all too often now: that students should pursue math and engineering and, if not intelligent enough, they should go to trade school. Perhaps it is just my math/economics/computer science-heavy family, but it does seem that the arts (which includes, in my mind, the social sciences, politics, languages and others) are being quickly thrown to the wayside. I think this is a huge mistake (and not just because I recently graduated with a degree in the liberal arts). In an age where computers and brilliant Chinese and Indian students can outsmart us and do everything we do cheaper and more efficiently, we will need to harness the creativity that us dumb art majors have in order to stay afloat in the next century.

In fact, many people are now saying that it will be right-brained thinkers that lead us into the next generation. Dan Pink, Al Gore's former speechwriter, has a book called A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brained Thinkers Will Rule the Future where he argues that "inventiveness" and "empathy" will be the qualities needed for future success. Pink also has a great Ted talk, which he begins by sheepishly admitting that he went to Yale Law School, a huge mistake in his mind (and something that hit a little too close to home for me).

I think artsy, creative people can rejoice. Not only are they beginning to get a little respect, but this economy is the perfect opportunity to have creative pursuits. In an age where many are unemployed and a college degree, even in something useful, no longer entitles its bearer, the opportunity cost is lower than it has been in a long time (OK, thank you econ).  So I say, go for it. Funemployment here we come.

*Ted! Start with the "Most Favorited of all Time" (particularly Jill Bolte Taylor, Hans Rosling, and Malcolm Gladwell), then try out the unconventional "talks" by Rives, David Gallo, Arthur Benjamin, and Jennifer Lin. They'll blow your freaking mind.

Love Letters to No one

Dear vast abyss known as the Internet,

How are you? It's been far too long since you've written.

I was watching a movie yesterday about a historical figure many of the details of which depended on the historical figure's letters she wrote to a friend. And for a second I lamented the fact that people don't write letters anymore (no thanks to the postal service) but then I realized that something had taken the place of letter writing: blogs. Are blogs the new letters? And if so, who are they addressed to? Have we become such a self-obsessed culture that instead of writing letters to real people, we simply write letters to...no one?

Perhaps, but much like the letters in the movie I watched, blogs play an interesting role in recording history. No longer can history be written solely from the perspective of one (Western) historian. Instead, the thousands of blogs (and perhaps Twitter tweets) from around the world comprise an interesting and multi-faceted view of the world we live in.

But there are so goddamn many of them, you say, how can blogs (1) be trusted, (2) be consolidated into one story? I suppose they can't and won't be. Maybe we're simply entering into an era of subjective history, where we each choose to believe what happened based on what other people tell us (not that that's so different from how it works now). Liberals can read the the Huffington Post, Conservatives can follow The Weekly Standard, while I'd probably choose something like McSweeney's.

And what of those individuals who write only for the sake of writing, those who know few if any actually read their blogs, who contribute very little to recorded history? Well, I guess we'll just wait and see. Maybe one day the internet will write back.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Schadenfreude

schadenfreude |ˈ sh ädənˌfroidə| (also Schadenfreude)
noun
pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune.
ORIGIN German, from Schaden ‘harm’ + Freude ‘joy.’

I’m thinking about these raucous health care forums and the anger and distrust of those against national health care. It’s a shame because I doubt that these people are dumb or ignorant or uncivilized, though they are portrayed that way on TV. They are, however and unfortunately, being needlessly provoked by political pundits who disagree with Obama’s politics. I’ll be the first to admit that this probably isn’t so different from the way anti-war liberals approached Bush and the republicans when we went into Iraq. We all remember the innumerable protests, the calls to action by liberal pundits, and the anger and name-calling by protestors, even as Bush was inaugurated for the second time. I suppose, in a way, being anti-war is sexy while being anti-health care is…well, I don’t think anything health care-related can ever be sexy.

So I wonder why people like Sarah Palin are trying their best to delay and obstruct the progress of this health care bill. Each day wasted on dispelling untrue rumors is merely an added expense. And the longer this draws out, the further away from Obama’s original plan we get. No one wants an expensive, ineffective national health plan.

What does this have to do with the German word schadenfreude? Well, I’m struck by how certain republicans are hoping that Obama’s plan fails (and not just in health care, I’m reminded of the Fox news guest who said he hoped that the United States got attacked by terrorists so that Obama would get serious about national security).

No one, not even us godless liberals, went into the Iraq War hoping for it to fail. No one wanted the war to drag out, for it to cost billions of dollars, or for thousands of Americans to die. Anti-war may be sexy, but pro-failure never is.

I think the key word in the definition of schadenfreude is “other” (well, it’s hidden in “another person” but you know what I mean). These national health care opponents are approaching this from the perspective of the other, as if we are not one country. They seem to think that if the national health care plan fails, then they somehow win. As if billions of wasted dollars can ever be considered a win. They should keep in mind that a failed national health care plan hurts us all (and a successful one helps us all). So how could anyone wish for their country to fail? (Perhaps the answer lies in the opposite of schadenfreude, envy…) Why don’t they propose an alternative health plan if this one is so bad? Our current health care system is broken, inefficient, and hurts those who need it most. Ignoring the problem certainly doesn’t do anything.

When Obama was elected he stated boldly that "we are not a collection of Red states and Blue states, we are the United States of America.” I just hope that those who disagree with his politics can at least agree with his words. We need a unified front against an unjust system, not a war of ideals that helps no one. It boggles the mind that Americans can take pleasure at the pain of their own government.

I like to think that a nation’s culture is reflected in its language, and that the lack of an English word for schadenfreude perhaps means that the sentiment doesn’t exist in our country. I hope I’m right.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Words of the Week

swash |swô sh; swä sh |
verb [ intrans. ]archaic (of a person) flamboyantly swagger about or wield a sword : he swashed about self-confidently.

ORIGIN mid 16th cent.(in the sense [make a noise like swords clashing or beating on shields] ): imitative.

buckler |ˈbək(ə)lər|
noun historical
a small, round shield held by a handle or worn on the forearm.

-Oxford American Dictionary

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Why I love Live Music

I went to a concert recently and saw three bands I'm quite fond of. Of the three, the headliners were mediocre, the second opener was spectacular as always, and the first band to perform, the youngest and most inexperienced of the three, was the one that reminded me why I love live music.

This is a band that has only one CD and whom, pre-concert, I would have described simply as "Vampire Weekend-esque." Their performance was nothing out of the ordinary, they were fairly casual and being the first band to perform didn't have the audience's full attention. No matter though, there were other things that made them stand out. The first was group cohesion. They were from Syracuse, and while I don't know much about Syrcause, I can say with certainty that the sockless loafers, boots with skinny jeans, and all-around bohemian hipster look is the one popular there right now.

The lead singer was in his own bubble, as lead singers tend to be. When he sang, he grasped the mike firmly with both hands as if clutching it were like squeezing a stress ball, and tilted his head to sing to the blue sky above. Like most indie performers, he couldn't dance, but instead moved back and forth in a rhythmic pace, following the cadence of his own voice. To his left (my right) was the violinist, who played eyes closed and with the seeming love for her instrument only violinists have. To his right (my left) were the guitarist and cellist, who played to each other as if in a world apart from the stage, as if unwatched. (The drummer drummed as drummers drum).

The actual set sounded identical to the CD, which is usually disappointing, but I gleaned something from seeing them perform. Now when I listen to the CD, I don't just think of Vampire Weekend. Instead, I see them perform in my mind and I think, when the violin solo comes on, about the shut eyes of the violinist. When I hear the cello and guitar working in harmony I think of them facing each other instead of the audience, playing for themselves in a private symphony. And the lead singer's sweet cords take me to a mild beach day in Syracuse with sockless loafers.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

How to Run for lazy people


1. Ipod. Get one.

2. Don't think in terms of miles. I find a mile to be a daunting distance, so instead I listen to music while I run and think in terms of songs. How long can I run without stopping? One song? Two? If I can run three songs without stopping, I've run approximately one mile (3 minutes/song-->9 minute mile).

3. Run when you really don't want to. That way, when you do want to it will be even more fun.

4. Buy a new CD and then don't let yourself listen to it until you go running.

5. If you're having a hard time setting a pace, find someone else who's running and run behind them, using them as a pacesetter. (Helpful hint: don't run too close or they might get creeped out). Try to stay a certain number of seconds behind them, or if they're running too fast, try to keep them in your line of sight. If they slow down or stop, run past them and keep running as long as you can, while telling yourself that you just beat them in the marathon. Or something like that.

6. Don't worry if you're slow or can't run far, I can't either. As my old track coach used to say, "As long as you're out there..."

Sunday, July 12, 2009

The gift that keeps on giving

I think the summer heat is melting my brain:

Seen in a campus building: "This lobby space given as a gift by Mr. and Mrs. Phil Ann Thropist.

Wondered silently: "How does one give a lobby?"

"Happy birthday, I got you....a lobby!"
"Thanks...uh...I don't have anywhere to put it."
"How 'bout here?"
"Hmm, I was hoping to get a living room for Christmas, and I was gonna put that here."

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

The Coldest Winter


Fog stumbled in over the hills today...

Haha just kidding. Although it did, and it made me wonder about this Berkeley that has such breezy springs, mild autumns and dry winters. So why the sad summers?

Monday, June 22, 2009

So, uh...Why South Korea?

1. The threat of nuclear attack excites me.
2. I'm actually half-Korean.
3. I love pickled cabbage like nobody's business.

Actually, number 3 is pretty true.

I've been asked the "Why South Korea" question a lot lately so I thought I'd address it here. For those of you who don't know, I'm going to teach English in Seoul, South Korea for a year. I like to travel and have never been to Asia so I started looking into teaching gigs in the East. What I found was interesting: there are tons of jobs for inexperienced college grads in Korea.

While many people flock to Japan to teach in their JET program, Korea has steadily built up its EPIK (and GEPIK) programs for teaching in public schools, and recruitment agencies have sprung up everywhere hiring for private schools (called hagwons). Because there is such high demand for English-speaking teachers and because of the relative popularity of the JET program, Korean teaching jobs (1) pay more, (2) cover round-trip airfare and sometimes housing, and (3) accept a very high percentage of applicants.

So I applied to a couple of recruitment agencies and was accepted. The next thing I know, I'm being offered a job teaching at a hagwon. I might blog more about the differences between public schools and hagwons later (or at least what I've heard about them) but for now I'll just say that my hours are pretty sweet (4-10:30 pm) and my vacation time is pretty awful (7 days, unpaid).

I know what you're thinking: "Whaaaa? 7 days unpaid vacation in a year? I'd kill myself!" But wait, it gets worse...Not only is it 7 days, but they must all be taken consecutively which means that it's really 5 weekdays and 2 weekend days I'd already be getting off. Sounds pretty awful, no? AAAnd I can't take any vacation until after the first 6 months. Sucks. So to battle moderate clinical depression I came up with an ingenious (read: sketchy) plan to make it better. And it is this plan that makes me giddy with excitement about my 12-month adventure to Korea.

Sunday, June 7, 2009


(Today college ended. FML)

Friday, May 22, 2009

Oenology and Oh-no-logy

I went wine tasting today with a couple of friends and was amused, as always, by the descriptions of the wines provided by the vineyard:

Luna Vineyard 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon
"The deep blackberry color carries through on the nose, mingled with cedar and tea leaves. On the palate, there are more black fruits and graphite combined with excellent intensity..."

Mmm graphite.... Then I figured, I can write that! Here goes...

2006 Pinot Grigio
Deep euchre with a few streaks of chartreuse, this wine looks like a Middle Eastern sunrise in the springtime. With the scent of a newborn golden retriever puppy, it approaches the tongue tentatively, tantalizing the tip with three or possibly four types of cherry, before dominating the palate with creme de cacao and cinnamon. It has a strong, dusty finish that leaves the mouth feeling both dehydrated and extremely satisfied. This wine peaked like two years ago and should no longer be consumed.

2007 Cabernet Sauvignon
With the somber carmine color of gingivitis-ravaged gums, this wine approaches the nose with verve and anticipation. It leaps into your nostrils with the scent of powdery old people and then softens into the chalky nostalgia of childhood. Upon the tongue it is a creamy rendition of eggnog gently mixed with crunchy under-ripe papaya. It ends on sour gummy bears and tears. Thirty seconds later, it restarts with a chewy coda of caramel and cotton candy, before once again descending into the bitter taste of despair. This wine continues to age despite its overstay and should peak around 2050 when you've forgotten you even have it.

2004 Merlot
Although deceptively quiet, when given a brisk swirl this wine has the legs of a Las Vegas showgirl. Its rich infrared color and thick syrupy texture make for a curious contradiction only matched by the juxtaposition of the scent of blueberry nectar and the stings of honeybees. The tongue appreciates this wine best with pie, especially rhubarb pie.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

my favorite local band

When I was in high school I went to shows instead of going to see movies. My (only) three friends and I fell in love with this one-man band called Dave Smallen (later a real band called Street to Nowhere that got signed by Capitol Records and then broke up to become, once again, Dave Smallen.) We pretty much followed him around the bay watching him perform. So, in high school I wrote what I now know is called "flash fiction" (a short story usually fewer than 700 words.) Here goes:

You’d walk into the club and it’s stuffy and crowded and loud and Who’s playing right now? and What? and Let’s go to the back and They’re really good, you wanna check out their merch? Everyone would be bumping into each other and pushing and looking at the people pushing and bumping and Hey he’s cute and What? and Nevermind. Then the band you came to see would go on stage and the atmosphere would change. Expectation. Did he cut his hair? and Is the bass player new? and then More on the monitors, less on the violin and Check, check, cheeeeeeeck just to see what it sounds like while he’s singing. And then the he’d talk and say Hello and Thank you for coming out and the music would start and everyone would kinda mumble the words and then they’d say them louder and then, at the climax, One, two, three, one, two, three, Yeah! And for the first time, just for a moment, while everyone is jumping and singing at the top of their lungs and its hot and everyone’s bumping into each other and pushing and What? he’d open his eyes, just the once, just to take it all in and you’d see him open his eyes, only you’d notice and for that one moment you felt like you knew him.