Best Table in Town

(Three entries in one day. Can you tell that I'm evading responsibilities?) I heart the people I work with and the people I work for, even though they often unnecessarily complicate life. A few days ago, I asked Jen if she had a Portuguese dictionary. Not only did she have one, but it was just sitting on her desk, waiting for me to ask for it. I explained that I'm heading off to Lisbon and asked for suggested sights. And that was where it all started.

Turns out, much of the Division had been to Lisbon, as one of our society conferences was held there a few years ago. (The one I get to go to this year will be in Providence, Rhode Island. Score.) Whitecastle, Jen said, was the person to ask. He knew of a beautiful restaurant overlooking the city where they all met up. And so to Whitecastle I went. Who said that I had to email him. I did. But Whitecastle has forgotten the name of the restaurant. I was OK with that. A normal person would've called it a day. But Whitecastle has never proven to be normal. He cares too much.

He asked Nice Doc and Mrs. Whitecastle. Neither of whom remembered the name. But Nice Doc knew that the restaurant recommendation actually came from Mrs. Nice Doc. And she dug up the three year old email from a friend that had a list of Lisbon suggestions. Nice Doc then passed that along to me (via my personal gmail account) and Whitecastle but he could not recall which among the list I was supposed to try. Whitecastle then replied to both Nice Doc and I using both my personal and work accounts, and added Mrs. Whitecastle to boot. Now five people have pitched in and at least ten different emails have been written on my behalf so that by now, even if I have to sell my kidney to afford a meal there, I must dine at Chapito in Alfama to do all those people justice. I really hope I won't have to sell a kidney though. I was just getting fond of it.

And Henshaw, Too

Dear Self:
If you didn't have milk today because you didn't go to the grocery store yesterday, and you didn't go to the store today, you won't have milk tomorrow either. Let me break this down to you: grocery shopping = breakfast.

-Sincerely Starving


Dear Applicant:
I don't know if you were being serious or hilarious (in which case, well done), but I applaud the portion of your brain that thought to list 'dofu maker' and 'progressive Jewish poetry' as relevant experiences on your resume.

-Sincerely Soy Impressed
(oh, come on, props for being clever on so many levels there!)


Dear KaCo:
It took a second and a click of the mouse to figure out who you are. But I guess the gelato wasn't the best I've ever had in the world. Just the best I've had on this side of the Mississippi. We could even narrow it down to the best in the American Northeast. It felt so nice and delicious in my colon.

-Sincerely Screaming for Gelato

Icy Hot

All right, who put the ice bucket in the fridge?

On days like this, I am so glad that I work for one of the most prestigious medical research centers in the world. 

From Darkest Peru

My raincoat makes me feel like Paddington. And now I'm craving marmalade.

Flash Point

I miss my camera terribly. My parents are in Israel and my camera is there with them until the end of the week. I suppose I miss them, too. In all the bustle of being away every weekend, and having just so many friends to see (i.e. two) everywhere, I forgot to share this story from last week. The fifteen worst Friday minutes ever.

The evening started out innocuous enough. It was Old Ham's birthday and we waited for hours for a table at Border Cafe. There was much moaning and whining, but all was forgiven when we sat down and dug in to those chips and salsa. I'm fairly certain that I ate my weight in chips and salsa that night. Anyway, we were all there, happy and celebratory, and then we left. That was when everything went downhill.

We got into the T station at Harvard and immediately, Old Ham et al start running because they saw a train approach. We huffed and puffed and held the door open. Seven made it. Too bad there were nine of us. And one kid bumped his head in the process, and had blood gushing forth from his broken scalp. (Since we had no gauze or water, someone offered a hat for him to wipe on... and then his friends pulled out their cameras and started filming, because really, what else is there to do in that situation?) Unfortunately, all that heroism was for naught. "Why did we just pass Porter?" we all asked in unison, and realized that we had hurried onto the wrong train. So all seven got out again. Someone tried to by a cold drink for the injured boy, but the vending machine was out. The trains were not coming frequently. Jax got a headache. And oh yeah, Old Ham realized that she had left her birthday presents back at the restaurant.

Luckily, the Lord had mercy on us. And that was all the damage that was done. But broken scalp, missed train, lost people, headache, and misplaced presents... that was enough for fifteen minutes. In a little while, another train came by and there we were, back on the train, back at Harvard, back at the restaurant, fetching presents and to undo the catastrophes of that fateful quarter hour.

Striking Twice

Thank you, Thesaurus Czar.

So yesterday, I'm in Baltimore and the School gives us bottles of "Vintage Spring Water"...

Moi: I'm not sure I trust a brand called Vintage Water.

Dave: That means it's old.

Moi: Yes, thank you, I got that.

Dave: It's historic water.

Moi: ...

Seriously? Also ridiculous: worn park benches all over the city declaring Baltimore as "the greatest city in America," how warm the place was compared to Boston, two food poisonings in two weeks, and having oh so delicious gelato. Perhaps the best gelato I have had anywhere...

Shimmering Splendor

I am not used to being the overdog.  Life was much easier when I was an underdog.  Now, with this school decision, everyone is being all supportive and schools are all accepting me and I don't know how to react to options or kindness.  Is this what life is like for smart people?  I've always wondered about them.  Of course, there are always the outliers.  Sure, Riles believes that I can do no wrong ("It's a professional program, they're not going to send you home on break and ask you to read 25 books, one a day"… no, that doesn't sound familiar at all...), Father thinks that even if I mess up I will be fine, and I'm feeling good about my choices, but TChu isn't buying.

Moi: Really, there is no 'wrong decision' here.

TChu: Unless you go against God's plan.  Look how well that worked out for the Israelites. 

Touche, TChu.  And there's Sister Claire.

Sister: [School] is expensive.  You should get a job.

Moi: But I have no expertise.  And it's only a Master's program.

Sister: Hm.  And you don't want to be a lawyer?  They make a lot of money.

Moi: No. 

Sister: You're sure you want to do this?

Not at all.  Not at all.

PS.  Ha.  BriWi made a funny.  And reports the news.  A true Renaissance man.

Make a Wish

When I grow up, I want to get a full night's rest. And I want to be gainfully employed.

Job Security

Ah, it's good to be loved.  Because I will be traveling in a week and Jen will have to cover for me, Jen and I did a little switch on one of our projects the other day.  She did the work (usually my job) while I checked it (usually her job).  It went swimmingly, which quite pleased Whitecastle, who is always worried about the fate of this project, and things like Mack trucks that prevent his assistants from carrying out their work.  After yesterday though, it appears that I'm the one that should be worried.

Whitecastle: She did great.  Jen really seemed to understand the project.  So we don't really need you anymore.

Moi: I know!  And her section is a lot harder than mine…

It's OK.  I'll be out of a job in a few months anyway.

She's Not There

Ha, NESCAC reference.

If Landlady Chang wanted to, she could probably sublet my room for the month and I would not notice. Perhaps she already has. How else could I explain the mess in my room?

(I stole the picture from Nicole because my camera is traveling to the Holy Land tomorrow. Without me. It needed some time away to explore roots or something. But it's OK, because I was with Nicole when this picture was taken and took an identical one with my photography apparatus. Have I mentioned that I went to Maine? Land of lighthouses and whoopie pies, lobster-shaped everything, poutine, coldness, and "the prettiest village in Maine" that turned out to be rather average looking, and restaurants of every kind serving Mexican food.)

I keep stalling. Telling you about my weekend rather than telling you a story. Truth is, between cementing travel plans and deciding schools and trying daily to avoid disappointing Whitecastle (and daily failing at that), I'm drawing a blank on stories. Instead, I keep looking forward to the bowl of pork broth noodles I'm going to have for dinner tomorrow night. There's going to be bok choy and fried shallots and slivers of long roasted pork in a warm, salty broth. All from scratch. I can't wait to go to work now, just to get one step closer to my noodles.

Just Like King George

Did y'alls realize that it snowed in Maine today? Wet, heavy, flakes at that. And in Massachusetts, too. I would write more complete sentences about my week and weekend and life in general, but words so hard, thoughts so short... New Hampshire, Maine, Baltimore, (Atlanta?), NYC, Jersey, London, Edinburgh, Lisboa... so many trips (mostly planned, a couple taken) in such a short time... nose running, throat on fire, cold in so many ways... brain slightly fried.

Eat the Words

I don't know why, but I always seem to be going on quests for common household items.  A few years ago, it was finding regular peanut butter in Eddie Bert (hold on, Eddie, I'll see you again soon).  And last night, it was finding milk in Chinatown.  The Chinese grocer by my place always has milk and I assumed that most stores around Chinatown would also carry milk.  Wrong.  There was soy milk.  All kinds of fruit drinks.  Rows upon rows of teas and sodas.  But I had to go to three different grocery stores to find milk, poring through aisles of breakfast dumplings, scallion pancakes, buns, and trying hard to remember why it was that of all of God's delicious breakfast items on earth, I had settled on wanting cereal.  But alas, after walking all over Chinatown (not as impressive as it sounds; Chinatown is very small), I finally walked away with my half gallon of 2%, and a sad realization that New England has changed me irrevocably. 

A New Hope

Everyone, if you could all kindly hold your croque monsieur indignation and elitism allegations for one second, allow me to present to you- Gak.

Something happened to Gak senior year that transformed his heart of insider investigations into something approaching gold. I'd like to think it had something to do with his life altering ASB trip. (You're welcome, World.) BMills thinks that he was a do gooder all along. Whatever the cause, Gak spent the year post-graduation serving the common good, keeping children off of streets, and promoting service, that sort of thing. Now, a year later, Gak's heart has turned once again. He serves a new master, a fantastico gelato company. Next month, the company is teaming up with a non-profit for a fundraiser. Gelato. Local partnership. Benefitting the needy. The Gak of yesteryear would have loved such a combination. But not so Gelato Gak.

Gelato Gak is turning his nose up at the promotional posters for the event, posters drawn by those at the community organization for this benefit. He does not approve of the pictures. Apparently, the posters depicts ice cream, not gelato.

Thanks, Gak! I'm not the most absurd person in the world now.

PS. Dear World, I kid because Gak is great. Do not send boxes of melted frozen dairy desserts to Gak's abode. It would upset his mother.

Lazy Saturday

(the rusted car and canoe just looked so chill, so out of place, so reminiscent of a time and place that wasn't here, that I had to take a picture)

It is barely 1PM on Saturday and I'm ready for bed. Woke up early this morning, very, very early, for Amy's half marathon. I had my posters ready, my layers, sunglasses, granola bars, charged camera, and even surprised myself by how on-schedule I was. Around 7:50, I called Amy from Downtown to let her know what time to expect me. Only to find out that she wasn't. Turns out the marathon is tomorrow. As in not today. I've really got to learn how to read.

But I was already up and about. So I bought breakfast for myself, a panhandler, and Katy, and visited Katy at her office. We chatted over breakfast. I went to the library. Read some nice stories and got a nice stack of books for my upcoming travels. Walked all over and snapped pictures like a tourist. Got home. Roasted chicken. Registered for a campus visit. Prepared a marinade. Defrosted pork shoulder. Watched some TV. And the day is barely half over but I'm done. Absolutely done.

Defining 'Is'

One day soon, all my soc learning will be but a distant memory, but that day has not yet come.  So although I haven't heard anyone quote C. Wright Mills in years, resist the temptation to talk about cultural frameworks, and generally withhold myself from imposing sociological ideals on both my lefty and normal friends-- just give me the chance and I can still call people out.

(last night, Patrick was discussing how boring it was to be 100% German…)

Moi: Well, on my dad's side, I'm Chinese.  And I'm mom's side, I am, surprise, Chinese.

Katy: No, you're not.  You're Taiwanese.

Moi: I'm ethnically Chinese, and Taiwanese by-

Katy: No, there's a difference.  You're Taiwanese.  My friend said he was Taiwanese because his family had been there for generations.

Moi: Was he aboriginal Taiwanese?  No.  Then he's like me. 

Katy: But-

Patrick: I really like how you're arguing with her on this.

"Do you really want me to do this?"  I asked, and well, she gave me the OK.  So I gave a brief history of Taiwanese peoples (the aboriginals, 200 years, and 'mainlanders').  Then, just to drive home to point but mostly for giggles, I moved on to Taiwanese identity.  "Who of us is really Taiwanese, or any other ethnicity?"  I don't recall the details, and it must not have been as eloquent as I had intended, but I believe the phrases "identity as social construct" (that's a classic, it had to go in), "othering" (oh, I miss othering), "binary of Chinese vs. Taiwanese identity," "confluence of Japanese, Chinese, and 'native' Taiwanese cultures," were all tossed in there.  It wasn't pretty.  but I can still wing it enough to make Riles and Band Man proud.  Most importantly, I can still toss enough oblique terms around to make sure Katy never challenges my rights to Chinese-ness and Taiwanese-ness again.

Hi Ted

Hi Foot.  Haaave you met Mouth?  My Left Foot (heh) and Mouth are becoming very chummy.  At Nicole's stew party on Friday night, the five of us sat around her dining table for a delicious meal.  I had just one name to be responsible for, having met everyone else in the intimate crowd.  Just one name.  How do you think Brain did?   

Kevin: We're lucky in that John and I-

Moi: Wait, who's John?

(the entire table breaks out laughing.  the only other guy at the table, sitting to my right, raises his hand.  "Hi.  I'm John.")

In my defense, I thought he was talking about a different John.  Churches are chock full of Johns (not to be confused with johns).  But even though I stand by that logic, I must admit that it sounds ridiculous.  My head has become entirely incapable of storing proper names.  Good thing I got out of chemistry when I did.

Nothing but a Booze Hound

One of these days, I will bury this story once and for all.  But not this week.  Not when it's freaking snowing out there.  (I could have sworn that it was sunny flip flop weather yesterday.  I vaguely recall sunglasses, walking without a coat, and being too hot at church… was I high?) 

(discussing what kind of snob we are)

Moi: See, how do you know that, and not a croque monsieur?  Do you know what a Monte Cristo is?

TChu: No, but I know my wine.

Moi: I don't like wine much.  I make a bad snob.

TChu: I also know my beers.  (side note: remind me to stage an intervention for this boy soon)

Moi: Nah.  I don't.  I like beers.  I can wing it and name maybe one of each kind.  I'm bad on both counts.

TChu: That's fine, except now you come off more as a hippie, free range, non-wine vegan snob.  Which is actually more pretentious.  (apparently not all beers are vegan)

Moi: There's also gluten free beer.  Did you know- no, I'm going to stop myself right there.  This can't go on.

Peer Review

Everyone always thinks I'm a great kid. Except for those who know me.

(repeating the "you were famous for your many good deeds" story)

Lisa: Oh, that's just not true!

Moi: That's what I said- wait, hey! What do you mean?

(later, Laura is telling a story)

Laura: Did you guys know XXX?

Zvi: Did he hate people? Because then she might know him.

Moi: Hey, people love me. I got YYY to smile at me. (YYY is the infamous dining hall card swiper nicknamed by some as 'b*tchface' because she always looked bored by your presence)

Zvi: But she only smiled because you were kicking puppies.

Name Dropping

Two things on the current Favorites list: Flannel and new watch. Neither of which are very socially acceptable, but hey, subversive? That's just how I roll. Another thing on the favorites list? My week.

I used to think that I was good with names and faces. That I remembered details about people's lives. That was all before I had so many friends. By 'friends,' I mean people I've met. Not real friends. Though I might have four of those. Last Sunday, I bumped into a Bo' alum on the bus. An alum I had already bumped into once and had been re-introduced to. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten her name again. That would have been OK had I not had to chase after her after she left her hat on the bus. The bus driver must've thought it weird that I didn't call after her, but instead, went back onto the bus to pick up her hat and then ran after her for a block-- at which point it became embarassingly obvious that I had forgotten her name and was thus unable to shout after her. Those were some icy sidewalks and I had to run all the way up to her just to tap her on the shoulder with a "hey." Oh, Moment #3829 I wish I could take back.

Last night was a more pleasant running in of sorts. Went to a house party with former roommate Amy (not to be confused with me)-- a party, might I add, where amazing tacos, tamales, and dumpster dived food were served-- and, in addition to meeting fellow social justice-y kids (it's so trendy nowadays) and making random mutual friend connections, bumped into another alum who has a much better memory than I do. She was three years ahead of me and remembered my name on the spot. I had a hard time remember the last name of a good friend I'd known for six years last night, so needless to say, I had no idea who she was. Though I believe the pieces on coming back to me now. She may have played soccer. And knew me because of my poetry. God, that sounded pretentious. I love it. If only I could confirm this on facebook by knowing her name. (It was loud and we were in a hurry when she introduced herself. Amy and I have narrowed it down to: "sounds like Nicole but isn't. Maybe starts with an M.")

(after telling the hat story at Bo' lunch)

Lisa: That sounds very complicated indeed. You should just say, "we've never been introduced properly, and you are-"

Moi: But the thing is, we have been. The last time I bumped into her. Where she remembered my name and I didn't. We can't do that again.

Zvi: What you need to do now is facebook her.

Moi: I would if I knew her name.

Zvi: No, you have to go through the pages of all your friends who might know her, and search their friends list, and pray that she posted a picture.

There's got to be an easier way...

Creature Comfort

There are a lot of things in the world that only happen to Lenny. Only Lenny, would, for example, get lost getting to my house from the Water Department- on the same road, no turns, just 13 numbers down. Only Lenny would have a lung collapse for no reason. Pass out during an eye exam. Have a finger stuck in the pig heart during a bio test. And yesterday, as only she could, have a boulder smash into her car. Astounding.

Moi: Where do you even find boulders?

Lenny: I was driving along and it rolled down the hill from the farm and destroyed my door.

Moi: That sounds so traumatic. Are you, OK? And could you stop trying to upstage me? I thought getting hit by a Mack truck was impressive.

Lenny: I'm OK. And you still win with crossing three lanes of traffic to land in a ditch.

Moi: I will give you points for creativity though. That was impressive.

Lenny: You have no idea how long I had to train those squirrels to get the boulder moving.

At Close of Day

It's going to take a really learned and creative individual to understand that title. I probably won't remember myself in a few days.

As we all know full well, I haven't been writing much lately. Partly because my vocabulary shrinks every day I am away from school and soon I will be rendered completely illiterate and unable to formulate even the most asinine of posts. But mostly because I have been lazy and busy. I stay out past my bedtime nearly every day. But tonight, I give you morsels of extra thought I'd scribbled down this week:

A. I skipped breakfast on Monday morning and suddenly, snow covered trees looked like creamed spinach.

B. Riles is the best professor ever. Not only did she know what a 'croque monsieur' was, but she called people who didn't 'philistines' and 'ignorant.' I really heart that woman. Her combination of taste (well, not in everything), knowledge, humility, and intolerance for fools (though never in front of them) makes her a real role model. We have so few of those nowadays.

C. I've started a few books in the past few months, but haven't finished one since the year has started. This is the longest stretch I've gone through without reading. We need to work on this, Algernon.

D. Sign outside Sid's Smoke Shop:
"WE"
ACCEPT'
"FOOD"
STAMP'S
They were putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable, but I don't know which one.

Did I mention that I'm going to London next month? I feel like I should mention that.

Fit to Print

"Snowstorm Causes Delays and Closes Schools"  Seriously, NYTimes?  This is what passes for front page news?  They've been talking about the death of the newspaper for some time now, but this is ridiculous.

Good Night

This is getting old, folks.  Must everyone have a comment?

(I see Young Bo' and we go through the usuals, do you know what a croque monsieur, no, why, well-)

Moi: I'm trying to prove that I'm not pretentious.

Young Bo': Ha.  Good luck with that.

Non Monsieur

The quest for vindication continues...

Moi: You know what a croque monsieur is, right?

MC TChu: No. Why?

Moi: I'm trying to convince [them] that I'm not pretentious.

MC TChu: Fail.

A Croque of Sandwich

(Photo from Wikipedia)

What would you call this sandwich? Clearly, it's a croque monsieur, but I'm interested in what you would call it. Apparently, referring to the sandwich by its proper title makes me "elitist" and "pretentious." Earlier this week, discussing what we would cook for the Care & Connect lunch on Saturday, I tossed out the idea of making croque monsiers. (We settled instead of amazing- or shall I say, stupendous,- beef stew.) Katy and Nicole have not stopped giving me grief since. Apparently some Canadians don't know what they are. And many Americans as well. I'm sorry that I grew up in a public school system where we learned to call sandwiches by their proper titles.

Katy: That's not even a real croque monsieur, those things are dipped in egg batter and fried-

Moi: No, that's a Monte Cristo.

Nicole: Oh, a Monte Cristo sandwich, is it?

When did it become a crime to call sandwiches by their God given names?