At an orphans' thanksgiving dinner, people invariably talk about other halves, or the lack thereof. This year's conversation revolved around someone's cousin getting engaged.

Me: H is getting married? To whom?
J: Some lawyer
S: Didn't she already have a boyfriend?
J: Yea, but that was long distance. Hard to work stuff like that out you know
Me: Wow... so this lawyer basically jumped the line huh?
J: It's not like that.
S: If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.

Almost every couple that I know, notwithstanding the ones already married, is in a long distance phase of their relationship. It seems these days, no one under the age of 30 (or above for that matter) can stay in one spot for 2 years or more. They leave behind, other than friends, significant others. It used to be that the only people in such circumstances were wives and girlfriends of military personnel, but this trend seems to have spread.

This orphans' dinner that I went to, those who had significant others were in LD relationships (hence the orphans' dinner). H's upcoming wedding was a big topic, primarily because it embodied the dilema everyone was in. Do you settle for someone close by, or wait for that possibilty of being with the one you really love?

People always need to be with other people. Yes, it's hard to sleep alone, it's hard to be surrounded by couples at parties, it's hard to be surrounded by singles at parties. You're in neither position. You have a significant other, but that person's not there. You're technically not single, and yet you are. You lament the distance, but it cannot be helped. In Woody Allen's movie, Hollywood Endings, the character he plays, Val, has a nitwit of a girlfriend after his super smart and beautiful wife leaves him. When asked why, he simply says, I can't sleep alone. And so the temptation in long distance relationships I suppose is to trade your LD relationship with that someone you love for the comfort of simply having someone there now.

A friend of mine has two theories: the infamous 500 mile rule and the revolver theory. If your significant other is going to be 500 miles or more away, it ain't gonna work. And the revolver theory simply states that you should keep multiple interests at all times. In short, diversify your interests so you don't get burned too badly. This person's S/O btw, lives across the pacific ocean. There is no verdict out yet, on the status of their relationship. I suppose my version of the theory would be that if your S/O is going to be 500 miles or further away, you better have that revolver going or you will go crazy.

I just called over 50 students of mine to remind them about finals, to study, to touch base with our office etc etc...

I guess this all comes with going to a private school... Personlized services from yours truly.

Wow...

Finished opening paragraphs and structure of essay. Can't really decide what to call it. Every title that I give it seems cheesy. I suppose I'll decide when I get to my conclusion, otherwise will pervasively ruminate over this detail and won't be able to finish essay. My life the last few weeks has been about this essay. About foreign investment in China and why socialist national planning is key strategy to promoting growth (as opposed to open door liberalization policies).

Went to class last night. Prof K. needs to teach a class just on cocoa in Ghana. Forget the economic models. Just focus on what happened to Cocoa exports in Ghana since 1890. Did you know that Ghana began exporting only 80lbs of cocoa in 1890, but production expanded so fast that in 20 years they were exporting 30 000 tonnes? Do you know also that Hersheys, Ghiradelli and Nestle are all dipshits because they refuse to let Ghana export cocoa as a staple (ie: chocolate or roasted beans) because they claim they have some secret formula for roasting the beans? Oppressive capitalist MNCs determined to keep Ghana as a low income agrarian economy instead of letting it develop the capital and linkages to increase growth. Now you know why you see all these starving babies on TV and why they keep defaulting on their World Bank loans.

Yes, I'm going through a very Marxist phase this semester.

Went to dinner with G and her boyfriend at Burma Superstar.

While waiting for table, heard an undoubtedly Singaporean accent in the house. Turned around to see well manicured, groomed, typically skinny and flat chested Singaporean girl with huge rock on her ring finger, chatting on cell phone. She was apparently trying to tell her boyfriend that she had arrived at restaurant already. He appeared 2 minutes later, all cheery and even more typically Singaporean and worse still yuppie. Then began expounding on Akerlof's Lemon Theory to brag to girlfriend about how he managed to use that theory to solve problem at work.

I tried hard not to gag or roll eyes. Also put on very American accent when talking to friends so I would not be associated with them. Could not decide why I was so annoyed, but think that it's probably cos they remind me so much of who I am not and how estranged I am from other young Singaporeans my age.

I most certainly do not appreciate the Singaporean male simply because of his egocentric ways, and possibly also cos I can barely be turned on by his physique and manner of speech (sorry, but the accent does not do it for me at all). I care not for new lexus or mercedes c-class, unless of course yours truly won it in a lottery or something, nor do I care for the latest stock price. I simply cannot stand some Singaporean women for being ever so self righteous and risk averse and always choosing the route that seems ever so fail safe, such as a stable man with a lexus. But mostly, I think it's their Kate Moss figures and petite size (I seem to be infinitely taller by just being 5'5") that make me feel most threatened.

And yet I too, like the annoying ones today at the restaurant, was born and raised there, ate the same food, fed the same propaganda and possibly even went to the same schools. How did this apple fall so far from the tree? I don't know.

This weekend is the big Cal-Stanford game. Won't say the rivalry is as vicious as Florida and Florida State, but it's always fun watching the two sides get at each other. One Ivy League one public, both equally reputable in the academic circle.
Crashed a Cal party at the Royal Exchange. Talk about frat party, except it was a bunch of mid twenties, early thirty year olds, reliving their days of wild parties and drunken stupor that pervades most college days. Or so I have been told. The Cal marching band was there, playing outside the Royal Exchange. People were dancing on the streets, occasionally bumping into pedestrians and other classmates they have not seen for forever.
Cal has got to be the most diverse school ever, perhaps outside of UC Davis. Given that affirmative action was scrapped years ago at this school, it has managed to maintain its diversity. I looked around and could not see or count a majority... any majority. There was an equal spread of browns, whites, and blacks. Of course one could argue that this is hardly an accurate sample. But even if all the people were not from Cal, it is a great reflection of this city to say the least.

Diversity.

Not divided, not a melting pot. I wish there were another word for diversity, since it always seems to imply some form of division.

Different, but still partying together. Perhaps not the most eloquent way of putting it, but I think you get the drift.

Isn't that great? Especially in this world so divided.

I think my Marxist roots are showing through. Just read article about death of society due to Multinational firms. Find myself nodding in agreement. And then realize that I cannot be a liberal Marxist, or Marxist liberal.
Will need hours of therapy to sort out this identity crisis.

Confrontation is over. It went better than I thought it would. Feel about 1% better about it, but still feel like an asshole. I suppose 1% better than asshole is better than asshole itself.

Woke up this morning and found out that frat boy bachelor picked some girl to be engaged to... apparently crushed a 22 year old's heart. Have not watched bachelor myself, but some people in office do it religiously. Boss included.

Want to say something nasty about voyeuristic tendencies of Bachelor viewers but realize that I too am a voyeur.

I suppose I get my fix from reading NYtimes wedding section.
Rich girl from ivy league school marries rich boy from Ivy league school.
Love at first sight, or not.
Rich girl's parents are doctors/ lawyers/ jewish
Rich boy's parents are doctors/ lawyers/ jewish
Life happy ever after expensive wedding at the Plaza.

Apparently, I crossed the line between formal and informal. Cannot be informal with people you supervise.

Blur lines too much.

Make situation too grey.

Must be cut and dry.

Must separate church and state, work and friendship.

Do not like to be in this position at all. AT ALL.

Want to cuss swear and tear office apart. But realize that lesson in all this is to be graceful.

So will be graceful now and smile.

Did I mention I hate confrontations already?
I hate confrontations.

Graceful exit much better than confrontations.

Brain is in much pain due to confrontation and feel morally responsible and guilty for confrontation.

Want to adopt ostrich stance... stick head in sand and hope everything goes away...

I should be so lucky of course.

I hate confrontations. If I had a therapist, he would say that I was non-confronatational in nature and would ask me to explore reasons why.
*because I hated watching my parents fight*
*because when they fought I wished they'd just stop it and compromise... much easier than fighting in car on way home from Granma's*
*because if you had your shit together, you won't have to face this confrontation*
*I hate not having shit together*
*because some things just don't have any explanations*
*because I'm happy the way I am without fighting*
*because confrontations get you no where*... (although I know that's not true either in some cases)*
*because there's gotta be an easier way than this*

And then if therapist were sadistic Rogerian style therapist, he would say why do you say that?

To which I would say, so I can pay you another $150 a pop to discover why.

Ahh... the joys of therapy

If you notice, right at the bottom of every blog, I've now added a comments function. So feel free to post comments.

I've been asked to write an article about Chinese Fengshui. Wherever did they get the idea I was an expert about this?

I have been duly amazed for today.

Atlanta Vignettes

11/14/02

Arrived in Atlanta just over three hours ago. It�s 9:38pm California time, but past midnight in Atlanta. Tom and I went out for dinner a little after we got here. Went to a place called Moondogs. Cool place, they have Killians, and soccer on TV. It�s a Georgia Tech hangout. Feels like the set of Real World. Lots of 18 year olds, cigarettes hanging off their fingers,, checking members of the opposite sex out.

Atlanta has more freeways than one could imagine. Almost every exit splits off into another 3 or 4 other freeways. From the plane, one could see the myriad of roads and the fairy lights of the city. This place is a huge sprawl. It reminds me of Singapore, but without the density of an Asian city. It�s also got the brand spanking new buildings that one doesn�t usually see in older cities like SF and New York.

11/15/02
Conversation with Cab Driver:
�I from Haiti. I come here to work, not take drugs or live in shelter. You see this place. (Points to huge warehouse on left), it can hold 25 000 homeless people. You see these black people, they think the white people and government owe them something. I am here to work. People don�t owe me anything.�

Lunch: ate at this really cool restaurant called The Clubhouse. It had excellent service. Had a walnut spinach salad that was to die for. Everyone there was really well dressed. Looked like this old gentleman�s club, with VIP sections, haughty taughty businessmen cutting deals and old white women with pearl earrings and matching pearl necklaces. The southern draawwwlllll is driving me crazy. We say y�all, and they say �y�awwwlllll�. And when asking a question, they say, �Ah haiiaf a kweschen, hwat dew yew thinKKK��

Every woman here is in a suit. Very much like Shanghai, women dressed decently and in a feminine way. Don�t see anything grunge, or skateboarder fashion like. Nothing hippy. Everyone is just really proper.

Once again am the token Asian here. Also the token under 30 person amongst a whole bunch of middle aged women. Worse still, southern women. I find it ironic the children with the most difficulty learning come from inner cities and are mostly minorities. The people who have the knowledge however are all white. I don�t know if this furthers my own ethical dilemma: only white kids have the resources to pay for and get accommodations, or help for their reading and learning problems. Of course I�m assuming here that white teachers only teach white kids. Probably not such a good assumption, but most people tend to live in neighborhoods with other people of the same race. I don�t think I�m making too much of a generalization here. If you teach in your neighborhood school, then I guess the leap I�m making is that they also teach white only kids.

But even furthering that idea, I sometimes feel that the definition of LD creates a whole bunch of rights savvy kids who simply say that they deserve all that time that their parents had bought them with their diagnosis. They are also very unwilling to try certain subjects that they think they will not do well in. Last week, a student came in to see me. She said that she had never done math past her junior year in high school (she�s a college senior now), and that she wants her math requirement waived. When asked if she would consider a pass/fail, she said, no. She just couldn�t do it and didn�t want to put herself through this. Couldn�t help but think, �spoilt rich white kids�.

Went through her case file and do see some discrepancies and can see how math would be difficult, but this unwillingness to try, and/or compromise is really unsettling.

Just cos you won�t do well, just cos you might have to get some tutoring or some help, just cos you might have to spend a few nights pulling your hair out, doesn�t mean that you can�t try and doesn�t mean you can�t learn. I don�t know what message we have sent to kids.


11/15.02

11:30am
Am in a really really boring conference session.
Presenters of research studies ought to know that most people are really interested in the results and implications, rather than the modeling and measuring frameworks.

It�s painful. I mean, there�s no understanding in the how the research may be of value to practitioners rather than to other researchers.

1:45pm
LB, a famed researcher in my field, has a gay lisp. All the middle aged women love him. He�s got that SNAG demeanor, always nodding his head at the right moment, is eloquent in his speeches and has just the right amount of empathy for the over dramatic situations that these middle aged women often tell him about. He addresses, of course, all the women in his sessions, by their first names, as if he knows them. Just so you know, we�re all supposed to wear a conference badge that has our name printed out so large that you can see the name from one end of the classroom to the other.

I attended his session yesterday and am attending another one today. He has the same overheads. He just made the same joke that everyone laughed at. His assistant MB is Indian and has poufy hair, wears blazers that are dated back to fashion from the 80s.

I love how they both are trying to tell us how difficult our jobs are.

Duh!!!

3:30

Woman is giving sympathetic and reader digest triumphant stories about law and med school students. Not very interesting. I thought this session would be a lot more interesting, but so far it has been really pathetic. This woman has a daughter who has a learning disability and is in med school.


Have no idea why I have such lack of sympathy/ empathy today. Don�t think that I�m usually like that, but sometimes get frustrated by the way people have such low expectations of self.

oh these poor kids, when they go to college they have no one to help them with laundry

we must help these kids who didn�t score the A that they should have

think of the potential we�re missing out on

I�m bad� really bad. Am feeling backlash against these students. I should just shut up right now. Not quite PC to lash my unPC views right now. But I really don�t like these misty eyed self affirming sessions about how wonderful the education professional is.

I mean, we are wonderful, but this is kinda too much.

I think if we got paid more, we wouldn�t need these self affirming sessions. How about that?

There were some really good sessions yesterday, but today is really bad. Haven�t heard anything interesting so far.



5pm
The problem with learning, as with economics, is that it is not a science. It is hard to define, and hard to assess because narratives are so important and the individual experience is the most important but is so variable.

You cannot repeat this as an experiment.

11/16/02
Woke up with tummy ache. Went to Morton�s last night with Tom. Steak was EXCELLENT! Chocolate cake was also to die for. Anyway, felt immensely guilty this morning so went to the gym, just to get my body moving and tummy to stop aching.

They�re playing Michael Bolton�s Georgia on my Mind on the radio now. I think this is the only state where this song isn�t outlawed. Michael Bolton does wear underwear 3 sizes too small- he can�t be singing this painstakingly goosebumpy version of this song without his balls being squeezed tight.

Raining in Atlanta. This city is really really boring. Especially if you don�t have a car. If you think SF is bad, this is about 50 times worse than SF. No caf�s nearby, no little grocery stores. Just a big corporate city with housing on the fringe. Technically well planned, but truly has no culture, vibe or rhythm; all the essential ingredients in a city.

Walked about 2 miles to the Piedmont district. It was not a lot. Imagine perhaps just a busy street junction in SF, like maybe Haight and Divisidero. There were stores on the corner, and some cute coffee shops. But that was it. Just that junction of perhaps 6-8 stores. I was sorely disappointed. I managed to ease that disappointment with two new CDs. Purchased Tori Amos� and Elvis� new albums. Wish I brought my CD player. Dammit.

Checked email. Goethe Institute sent out invite to their happy hour end of this month. I really ought to get my German brushed up. Meine Deutsch ist kaputz�. Which is really all I can say. I shoulda majored in French in NUS. Then I can listen to Patricia Kaas and understand. Shit. Oh well, if I�m a quarter decent in German, I might as well go on with it rather than start a whole new language altogether.

I suppose this would be my cue to start studying. Yes, I brought my whole file on Chinese trade here. Hoping that I can write a lot more here than I can in SF� since there are technically no distractions here.

Am in Atlanta this weekend. Was here for a conference on dyslexia from Wed-Sun.
Kinda expensive to blog since it's $0.40 per minute to access the internet. More expensive than calling Hong Kong as a matter of fact. So in lieu of that, have blogged in my nifty iBook and will upload snippettes and vignettes on trip tomorrow, Sunday, when I return home.
All I can say is there are more garages in Atlanta than there are people. Probably also means there are more cars here than people.
Almost as ridiculous as New Zealand having twice the amount of sheep than people.

Peace and love.

In ever continuing saga with pyjama pants:
Decided last night that belt was too uncomfortable so switched to wearing Joe Boxer flannels instead of matching Hello Kitty pyjama pants.

Joe Boxers stayed on.

Perhaps, being 26, I am now allergic to Hello Kitty pyjamas.

Ananova - Man sucks blood of 207 goats and wants more

I therefore maintain my right to eat chicken feet at dimsum

For the third morning in a row, I woke up with pyjama pants off.

I do not understand this phenomenon since I sleep alone, it is butt cold in SF, and I do not have heat in my bedroom. I also do not recall having dreams of any sort that would require me to take pyjama pants off.

I am going to wear a belt with pyjama pants tonight. Let's see if pyjama pants thief can deal with that. Ha!

Tickets to Shanghai are $269 round trip from SF...
I SOOooo need to get out of this town.

Eminem is so hot...
Friday night: 8 mile
Saturday afternoon: MTV's documenatary on Eminem's ultimate albums.
Sunday: Plastering my computer background with Eminem pix.

I am a true groupie.

Resume

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

~dorothy parker

Tuesday's my big Microecon exam. This sucks. Am holed up in my room trying to study. Don't know why I do this to myself. arrgghh....
This is depressing.

In living without him thus far, I've discovered something about myself.

I am less independent than I think I am. In no moment, have I not wished to be unsingle. Double negative... go figure. Actually triple negative. Perhaps this is part of adult development, part of being 26, part of living without family close by. Or a simple manifestation of my yearning and longing to be close to him.

My friend K says that I need someone always there for me, but will not tie me down necessarily, or get tied down by me. Having been an observer of all the Mooncake drama for the last 14 years, she's no doubt reached expert status and is 75% right. The 25% error comes from our difference in opinion of who fits this bill.

My point here is that I need him more than I thought I did. My dependence on him for emotional support, love, care, entertainment, conversation, baseball and soccer commentary, his physical presence etc etc was greatly underestimated. I think it was a conscious effort to underestimate that dependence so I could feel as if I didn't need him. Didn't need to love him.

Perhaps this my blessing, perhaps this my curse.

I wish he could be here for the pie I just baked.

Dear Mr Storm,
I'm happy that you came,
Fall wouldn't be the same without you.
She's been waiting for days.

She washed out the plain green,
Off of the treetops
Then carefully painted the leaves
Glorious gold, radiant red and bronzed brown.

She invited Fog,
He mopped the skies silvery gray
Decorated the hills with white lace
And shrouded the city in his cloak

She dimmed Sun,
So Dusk could come earlier,
And Dawn arrive later
Night was happy he could stay so long

Still we needed your symphony and cacophany
Oh how you make Rain dance,
Pirouettes on her own,
Waltzes with Wind.

Thunder only awakens
When you're around
And Lightning, dear sweet Lightning,
Shrieks in such great delight

So Mr. Storm dearest,
I'm happy that you came,
Fall wouldn't be the same without you
And it would be Winter we'd blame

From the The Best of Craigslist

All Bush wants is war.
All I want is peace. And a date.

All of Bush�s buddies are in oil.
All of my buddies are in fits. (We just keep on laughing.)

Bush choked on a pretzel.
I chew.

Bush: "Our priorities is our faith."
Me: "Have faith in your priorities."

Bush�s foreign policy sucks.
I am foreign.

Bush is a recovering alcoholic.
I'm not recovering from anything. Never needed to either.

All of Bush�s decisions are made by Dick.
Not the case with me.

God help us, the Republicans won.
This nationalistic anti-Iraq fervor is overriding common sense and reason.

I loathe that I am so grumpy right now,
and all the self-pity that I put myself through because of this mood
I loathe that I can't do anything about it except waste the time to sit and ruminate or sleep and get it over with.

I hate sitting and waiting

This is SO FUCKING LAME!

My first roommate in NYC tracked me down.
SHE GOT MARRIED! I always knew she would do it first. Her husband and she are celebrating their first wedding anniversary in 2 weeks on 11/24. That's so awesome!
He was the first boy we talked about when we roomed together in NYU housing.
I can't believe they got married!!
After all those nights of secret girl pow-wows about boys!
This is great! Life is beautiful.
There are happy endings after all!

In very San Francisco fashion, I ran two miles today to have dim sum with friends. To appease the need to run, the guilt of not running and the Gods of Running (it's sunny and warm today in SF), I had no choice but to run.

Then it was 2 hours at TongKiang.

After replenishing my body with the calories that I was supposed to have burned while running, I sat in an SUV all the way back to the gym.

I am truly becoming a Californian. Shit.

On a truly San Franciscan night out yesterday, I had dinner at the Indonesia Restaurant on Post. Their Rendang and Tahu Telur are to die for. Curry chicken was a little to salty but the meat was done right. After dinner, it was off to see Shirley Horn, grand old dame of jazz, perform at the Nob Hill Auditorium.

Super chic event. I'm glad I wore my chic heels and chic pants with a chic pashmina wrapped around me.

Super white event. I could count with one hand, people who were not white. I stuck out like a sore thumb. Or felt like it at least. But probably not, since I had my chic pashmina wrapped around me and was wearing my chic heels and chic pants.

Bunch of white folks (and one orient) paying big bucks to watch a black woman sing. Nice. We've come so far.

Shirley Horn was wonderful. Like a grandmother telling her grandchildren stories about love and relationships. Almost didn't feel like she was singing at all. Her voice simply flowed. Truly classy.

I broke my pot today. It slipped out of my hands when I was washing it, slammed against the kitchen sink and now has a large crack across its side.
I bought that pot four years ago from the Corningware outlet in Seacaucus NJ; my very first piece of kitchenware.
I cherish fond memories of that pot.
It's survived my bad cooking, countless packets of ramen, spaghetti, macaroni, msg.
Not to mention 6 kitchens (1 in NYC, 1 in Hoboken, NJ, 2 in San Jose, 1 in Santa Cruz and my present kitchen in SF), 5 cities, 5 roommates, 3 boyfriends and 1 cross country move in a UPS truck.
Thank you Pot for your unselfish provision of nutrition the last 4 years. RIP.