Mother May Not

Mixing starches week continues with Mother as I opened my lunch box yesterday to discover that underneath my layer of stir fry and noodles was another of white rice.

But oh, that's not the most irrational thing she has done this week. She ate wild mushrooms she found in the yard yesterday. And spent the entire night in anguish. I have no more words on the subject.

Loco for Taco

All the sudden, I'm wishing it's lunchtime on Friday and I'm sitting in Moulton.  To me, Moulton has always been the ugly stepsister of campus dining, which is unfortunate as we only had two dining halls.  But Friday lunches there were different.  Felt homier.  And the menu more reliable then than other days.  Maybe it's because classes end by 12:30 that Friday lunches were special, though I know that that's not really true because they were often hurried as I rushed to get to lab or turn something in or run off to yet another Common Hour I could fall asleep during, or eating by myself in my windowless room.  Basically, I just want a spicy "baja" fish taco from Moulton right now, with that red cabbage slaw they always have.  And some chowder, because there were always lots of chowder on Friday.  The fish cakes were good, too.  And tater tots.  And sometimes, they'd have the tofu with the peanutty dipping sauce.  Oh, somebody take me back to a Friday at the Bo', skimming through The Orient (because I'd feel guilty if I saw Bobs and didn't read it) and talking about Page/BLlinton, or whatever.  I want that fish taco.

Think of the Children

I still remember that day in English 10 Honors when Caren marched triumphantly ito the classroom and announced that she had done what we had always assumed to be the unthinkable: she had beaten her mother in an argument.  And though her revelation brought hope to many of us in class that day, I knew very well then, at the tender age of sixteen with my future clear ahead of me, that I would never achieve what Caren had done.  Just like being president of the United States of America, and being tall, beating my mother in an argument was just one more item I was bound from according to natural laws, no matter how much I wanted it.  And boy, did I want it last night.

Earlier yesterday, I had oatmeal for breakfast because there was no bread in the house and, since all the RAs at work are eating oatmeal nowaday, it seemed like the fashionable thing to do.  But, as it always happens, I got bored with my oatmeal.  I left the house with half a bowl of uneaten oatmeal.  Usually, when I go home in the evening, whatever uneaten breakfast I had in the morning would disappear magically, thrown out or consumed by my mother or fed to elves and fairies.  I don't know what happens but I don't question it.  Yesterday, however, my half bowl of oatmeal was still there.  Hidden under my dinner rice.

(As we started eating our dinner…)

Mother: By the way, your oatmeal is underneath your rice.

Moi: Why would you do that?  I can't eat this with my dinner.

Mother: But you didn't finish your breakfast.  Besides, rice is starch, oatmeal is starch.  What's the difference?

Moi: My oatmeal is sweet (and cold).  That won't go with the rest of dinner.

Mother: When the rice is broken down in your stomach, it becomes sugars, too.  They're all the same things.

Liveblogging from the office

It's the Monday after an international conference, a time when generous folks bring in bounty from afar.  Just sighted in the Divison kitchen- the biggest box of chocolates I've ever seen.  (It's over a foot wide, maybe 2 feet long)  It's got a foreign language on the box.  With pictures of horses.  And some soldiers.  Most intense chocolates ever.  Totally puts the bar chocolate someone put out this morning to shame.  Absolute shame.  If only someone would open it...

Sharing My Millions

I have a collection of toys at my desk.  Not a large collection.  I've got better things to do (like watching Exiled on MTV) than to go out of my way to hoard toys.  But I've got a few.  They're awesome to play with, especially since I can't take pictures at my desk or go make a sandwich whenever I'm bored at work (the sandwich-making isn't a healthy habit, we've got to work on that).  For the past year, people have smiled or chuckle at my toy collection in a patronizing manner but guess who's laughing today?  Doc Mo's little daughter, that's who.  She's helping her dad at work today.  And he doesn't have a cool scorpion wind-up toy or a Ninja turtle with a karate-chop-action arm.  I do.

Let me break that down for you: Moi: 1; Professionalism: 0.

Make Like a Pirate Day

I'm not sure what happened but it appears that after four years of college and one year in the working world, my math skills have decreased precipitously. And they fall after each practice test I take. Thank you calculus, physics, chemistry, biochemistry, biology, quantitative research, and thank you, most of all, sociology. I hate you all.

The sun came back this weekend and thus summer is rolling on and my parents continue to have people I don't know over. Came down to dinner, introduced myself to this man and his first words to me were, "Do you love the Lord?" We so need to hire a bouncer for our household. Takers, anyone?

Just Say Meh

It appears that Blogger is boycotting some of my posts from yesterday. You see, Reader(s), when you don't see a post, it's not that I'm lazy. It's that Blogger hates me. Though you should expect this by now. I lead a terribly tragic life.

In other news, my milk is 5 days past expiration date but it still smells OK. I feel OK. And my test scores tell me that I'm just OK.

Loud and Unclear

I have trouble with song lyrics that spell out words.  Dear Artists(I'm talking to you, Mos Def):  Just say what you want to say, all right?

Portrait of a Family

A bowl of shaved ice would be real nice right about now.  With some grass jelly, lots of syrup and condensed milk.  Maybe some Jacob's tears and sweet mung beans, too.  Young Bo' made us all sit in the sun during our Friday lunch and now I'm really red and hot.  But also full and content.  And ready to fall asleep in front of my monitor.

Last night, I met my second cousin's yesterday (and their parents- my first cousins once removed, aka my dad's cousin.  Thank you wikipedia family tree).  Before they left, we took many obligatory family pictures together in our living room.  We have quite a collection of these group pictures with distant relatives.  Apparently, my father has lots of cousins- cousins I never know he has until they happen to be in the Boston area.  I don't know what purpose the pictures serve, especially since we usually only see these people once and never show those pictures to anyone or look at them ourselves.  But if you ever want to know what my second cousins looks like, I can show you. 

Weary Wednesday

I can predict the future of sports television.  So can anyone with internet access.  Reading the paper during the day is ruining the Olympics for me. 

Work was going by slowly yesterday afternoon when suddenly, the sound of sirens disrupted the office silence (I'm on a sibilant streak here, watch out).  Fire engines raced by our building while we watched with wonder.  Was it a fire?  Bomb threat?  More mysterious gases?  The most exciting work day ever?  We pressed against the window to see cop cars parked in front of the building and crowds in the plaza below.  Never comforting sights at work.  "Um, they'd tell us if our building was on fire, right?  Right?"  Turns out, it wasn't us, but the building across the street (we received an email from the hospital an hour later- thanks for the timely notice, hospital!).  From Doc Query's desk, we could see clouds of gray billowing in the blue sky and suddenly, the situation seemed sad as our excitement was sucked dry by the possibility of real damage and loss.  So we slinked back into our seats to work…

Until 4 o'clock rolled around, of course- at which point we broke out the targets and elastics for rubber band archery.  I showed great promise in the prelims but ultimately choked and came in third.  Out of three contestants.  This has not been a good week for the ego.

Nothing Rotten Here

This week is the way work should be.  Busy with projects.  Yet with some time to relax.  Most of the office is gone for an international conference I'm not important enough for, which means three days of Scrabble in the office, checking my mail without feeling guilty, perhaps playing a round of coffee cup race, and still getting all my work done.  Last year, I was also left behind for the conference, but so were a bunch of people with power over me.  People who are gone this year.  And who have left me with way more responsibilities than I ever had last year.  (I think our highlight last year was when we all filed together for an entire day) Plus this year, I have 2.5 more peers to eat long lunches with.  It's like a vacation without using vacation days.  I still have to get up early.  Battle my outdated computer to fill in spreadsheets.  But I'm having fun.  And getting ready for our Show & Tell pizza party finale tomorrow.  I can't wait for next year's conference.

Making the Cut

One of the new games we like to play in the youth group is called "List of Affections." Like "Whose Brother Am I?," "The Quiet Game," and "(American) Indian Poker," the game is a non-stop ride in exhilaration. Players list people they like in order, often to the protest of everyone else. I should probably get it patented before everyone else and their mothers start playing.

I am not on my mother's short list of affections. Xinxin probably is. She's about to enter first grade and on Sunday night drew 2 pictures for my mom of the Olympic mascots. The 2 pictures, let me just point out, are pretty much copies of each other. And the 2nd one wasn't even signed. At Dan's party, the adults had to pass the picture around the room as everyone oohed and aahed over it.

Last night, I came home to discover that the picture was already framed and hanging in our living room wall. It took my parents a couple of months just to buy the frames for all my awards and my one lone diploma. And none of them are hanging yet on any wall. Most aren't even in frames.

Moi: That's funny. All my pictures and awards and diplomas are still sitting in my room. And you put hers up within a day.

Mother: If you were entering 1st grade, we'd put your things up, too.

(she said, standing in front of my brother's diploma on the mantle)

Collector's Item

This weekend has been a whirlwind of splendor. There was kicking butt in jeopardy, cheating in a scavenger hunt, and some Olympic record breaking. The best, however, had to be going to Martha's Vineyard with friends from the Bo', sitting on the beach, sun shining down on us, and comparing stories of nasties we collected as "children."

Darling Karina, a true and diligent oddball, painstakingly collected dust into a little box because it felt "soft" and "fluffy." She would wait until dust settled on her room then carefully wipe it up with her finger so she could deposit it in her special box.

Unfortunately, I could top her story. Easy. Dust may have been unsanitary, but not a hotbed for germ and disease. I collected band aids. It was a carefully curated exhibit taped onto a piece of paper with a neat date next to each one. I marveled at how different they all were. Until Father made me throw it away.

Sadly for all of humankind, however, my story was not the grossest collection of the day. Jenny claimed she could do me worse. We were all pretty incredulous at first. But by golly, she was right. She won by at least 5K. Jenny collected warts. Warts that had once been on the bottom of her feet and removed by liquid nitrogen. It was apparently quite a collection, all neatly stored in a Ziploc bag in her nigh stand. Not only that, Jenny was also the last to part with her collection, keeping it well into her teens. Sometimes, I wonder why I don't have more friends. And why I get such weird friends when they end up with such a good catch as myself. I guess we'll have to ask God when we see Him.

I Want My Guys

It's summer time.  Japan versus  Taiwan.  Baseball in the Olympics.  What more could you ask for?  Oh, how about a computer that's running on something later than Windows 2000 that would allow me to watch the game online?  (while I worked, of course, of course)  How's that for an idea, One of the Premiere Hospitals in the World? 

In other news, I am proud to announce that have trained my parents well.  Instead of flipping the channel away, my father now says, "Hey, come look!  A toilet museum on TV!" 

Let the Games

It appears that I haven't had an entry in awhile.  I blame public education, video games, and popular music.  Mostly though, I've just been tired, busy, and watching Michael Phelps.  He's the same age as I am and already, I've won 2 Bible camp awards, at least 3 do-gooder ones, a free iPOD shuffle in a library raffle, and oh yeah, I was president of my junior class in high school.  And what has the boy done?  Eleven Olympic gold and counting.  Bo-ring!  (Seriously though, Michael Phelps, could you not swim so late in the day?  I'd like to cheer you on, but I'm 12 hours behind and sleepy.) 

So far in the games, Taiwan has won 2 bronze.  Baseball play has started.  And I'm jittery with anticipation.  I'm sure it's just a rumor floating online, but I really hope it's true: there are reports that Taiwanese fans plan on getting around the flag ban by waving a Myanmar flag, which looks very much like the Taiwanese one, especially from a distance.  Taiwan, as you may already know, competes in the Games as "Chinese Taipei" and is not allowed to have its flag be associated with the team.  Protesters and fans who have tried to sneak flags in have been banned or even deported, but I really hope people try this.  It'd be so fantabulously badass.

One Meal

The Olympics are upon us and I must say, I'm a sucker for big sports events like this. A huge sucker. So far today, I have watched volleyball, cycling, swimming, gymnastics, and rowing. And read no less than 3 articles on Chen Wei-ling, the Taiwanese weightlifter who won bronze (boo yah). Did you know that Taiwanese athletes who win medals get a red envelope from the government? Lots of countries pay their winners, but being presented a red envelope kicks the awesomeness up a notch, 'cause it's like Christmas. And makes me want to be an Olympian when I grow up.

Last night, our family faced a grave dilemma as dinner was ready right when the opening ceremony was about to start. Thank God for the bevies of commercials NBC paraded in their twelve freaking hour delay, it allowed us time to get food then dash in front of the TV. It was our own little relay event between the dining and living rooms. Father's knowledge (or lack thereof) of world countries during the parade of nations took the bronze. (Playing that ridiculous geography clicking game really makes a difference. I was all, "Please, Father, you don't know where Sao Tome and Principe are? You're embarrassing yourself.") Mother's great but untimely cooking took the silver. I, of course, took the gold.

Lump of Coal

On getting new batteries for my watch…

Moi: You could just get me a new watch, you know.  My birthday is in December.

Mother: We could try getting you new parents.


I took an ibuprofen from the kitchen area at work…

Sister Claire: Are you OK?

Moi: I think so, my head just started hurting but I'll be fine.

Ms. MS: I hope it's not West Nile.

Moi: What?  I'm too young to die.

Sister Claire: Not really, no.

Alive

Over the past twenty some years, I have gotten to know myself quite well and there are a couple of sure-fire signs that I am bored and avoiding work:  I start taking "artistic" pictures of my desk and I start missing places I've lived- especially Taiwan.  And by Taiwan, I mean Taiwanese food.  I also start blogging.  Since I can't take pictures at work, I have spent the past 2 hours filling in a spreadsheet with cursory interest while my mind dreams of Taiwanese street food.  It's a sick, sick way to kill time.  And googling "Taiwanese street food" only makes things worse.  When I visited Taiwan last fall, I was like a Uruguayan rugby player just led down from the Andes.  Whereas my parents and brother had preferences about what food they wanted to eat, which restaurants were good, which trends worth trying, I concurred with every food suggestion.  Everything was grand.  Not because I am less picky than they were.  But I was the most desperate.  Brother lives in San Francisco and parents had spent a few months in Taiwan last year.  Me?  I just spent four years in the frozen summits of Maine.  I have sat in front of the computer screen for countless hours wondering what I will eat when I return to Taiwan.  So much so that when I arrive, I often turn down the items I have fantasized about the most- a Taiwanese 7-11 hot dog, a bowl of aiyu jelly, or cold noodles, because just being in the presence of such items were enough.  I didn't want to eat them.  Just to know that they're there.  And isn't that why we climb up into the Andes in the first place?  Just because it's there.

I, Joshua

I've always regarded the conference room across the hall as a Canaan of sorts, a land overflowing with milk and honey compared to my own monotonous cubicle.  The room always seems so spacious, the chairs so comfortable, and even better, there is always food there, no matter what time the meeting is.  Jen and I like to dare each other to just walk in one day and help ourselves to some food.  Then spend hours wondering about what life is like in the conference room across the hall.  But today, my dreams came true.  I walked into the promised land and helped myself to cake and some wraps.  Without having to sit through a meeting.  Or being escorted out by security.  Apparently, Unusually Friendly Lady from the division next to us (yes, that is the name I have called her for the past year.  No idea who she is but say hi to her all the time.  She is, in fact, the most friendly person I have ever met) had a meeting in there with lots of leftover food.  And true to her name, she decided to be neighborly and tell the surrounding divisions about the food.  She even got extra plates for us, shook my hand, and promised me she'd invite me to her next food tasting.  I officially declare this the best Tuesday ever.

(If any colleagues are reading this instead of working- go across the hall!  There's food to be had.)

Innocence Lost

(i.e. favorite ironic comment of the week)
On the website Stuff White People Like...

Moi: Well, I thought it was funny for five minutes. Then I thought about how they were using symbols of class to represent markers of race. And I got offended. I hate the site.

Mrs. Cho: What happened to your childlike sense of wonder?

Buy Me Love

My Mother's List of Affections:

God.
New car.
Daughter (possibly tied with Son, though he didn't crash her car, so he might place higher)

Commuting takes a bit of carpooling creativity these days because my parents and I split 2 cars between 3 people. I usually drive to the train station on Mondays, Fridays, and most Tuesdays, and get rides from my mother on the others. Father often picks me up on Thursday afternoons but sometimes Mother does, too. Last night, I had dinner planned with the Chos so I called Mother to see how the rides would work out- would she drop me off at the restaurant, or would we ride home together and then I'll drive out again? It went something like this:

Mother: Hello?

Moi: Hello? Ma, I'm having dinner with Mrs. Cho tonight-

Mother: OK. Bye.

(I call back to finish my sentence)

Moi: I wasn't done talking. Since I'm going out to dinner, do you want to drop me off-

Mother: I'm not picking you up today.

Moi: But I have no ride. I didn't drive today.

Mother: But I need to go buy a car. Ask Mrs. Cho to give you a ride. Bye!

(later, with Mrs. Cho)

Moi: I'm sorry that my mom loves a new car more than she loves me.

Mother: Are you surprised, though?