Leap Day William

Did you celebrate leap day today?  I started the day started with a PB&J sandwich.  Because I ran out of milk a week ago and have no other breakfast food.  For lunch and dinner, I had some really nice salad.  Some kale.  Avocado.  Lots of greenery all around.  And then an incredible amount of chips, crackers, cheese, and chicken wings.  I can't wait for the next leap day to come so I can do this all over again.  Plus, it'd mean that I'd be that much closer to graduation.  (I just realized that if I finish in 4.5 years as expected, it'll be the longest I've ever been at one school, then I died a little inside.)

Out on the street today, I saw a lady befriend 2 old guys across the street because she admired their vintage car.  It was such a sweet and happy moment and made me totally in love with this city.  Until I walked another block and saw a man cussing at cars while he tried to jaywalk.  You can't count on strangers for everything.

Sons of Monarchy

(in recommending a restaurant to Amber, I used the phrase "modern American" to describe the food)

Amber: What does American cuisine even mean?  Are you trying to get me to believe you have some grand culture and culinary tradition?

Moi: Said the girl from Australia.

Amber: I didn't say we have any.  We don't pretend to be anything we're not.

So Not Mary

I am terrible with faces but great with pie.  So terrible that today when we were discussing upcoming lecturers who had first spoken to us during orientation, I drew a blank on every name.  I have no recollection of anyone who spoke to me at orientation.  I was just happy that I could pick out Roommate Claude from a crowd.  It was not until that Friday, 4 days after we had met, that I realized that Ilene was in my cohort.  And I only picked that up because she recognized me, which told me that I had met her before.  That was the first time I remember talking to her.

For as bad as I am with faces, I am excellent with food that has crossed my path.  So I was surprised this afternoon when DBomb (in town for a few hours) brought up a "really good bakery" we had gone to in Taiwan and I drew a complete blank.  I was in Asia for a little over a month last summer.  Off the top of my head, I can name at least 87% of the meals I had.  But I couldn't remember this one.  It didn't help that DBomb himself couldn't remember any details.  Was it the French coffee shop around the corner?  No.  The weird thing in the mall food court?  No.  The German bread place we took pictures of but didn't buy anything from?

"No, it wasn't around the corner; it was on the way to the T stop."

Suddenly, it clicked.

"Oh!  Cream puffs!?"

"Yeah!  Cream puffs!"

At this point, we are both yelling on the street corner.

"So good!"

"The cream was really cold and they sprinkled cocoa powder on top!"

I may have jumped up and down.

For the next two minutes, we remained at the street corner and exclaimed a variation of those words, squealing often at the memory of Laetitia's cream puffs (not to be confused with Lutetia's croissants-- there are a lot of bakeries in Taipei).  Seeing DBomb's was great and all, but recalling cream puffs?  That was my happiest moment of the day.  Though for the sake of what little dignity and grace I have in B'more, I hope whoever saw me is not good with faces.

Insurance is a Good Policy, Too

Honesty isn't always necessary.

(I'm hanging out in a tank top in the apartment)

Roommate Claude: Do you feel hot in here?  I'm a bit cold myself.

Moi: No, I'm just too lazy to change after I came back.

The Imitated

(the view from Walters)

B'more can be very charming when it wants to be (like when the cashier guys at the grocer ignore my cute outfit but compliment my G-Shock watch). Luckily, today was one such day.  Both Roommate Claude and I realized that we didn't have as much work as we thought we had and went on our own little adventures today.  I stayed local and went to the museum.  The Walters Art Museum is only a block from my place.  I think it's bigger than the Frick and Phillips collections, but not much more, and very manageable.  Despite all this, I've only been there thrice, and only once did I pay attention to the art.  Instead, I like to sit there and write.  If I was a professional writer-- a real one and not just a professional writer of papers-- I'd make my home there.  It's just the right amount of quiet, just the right amount of light, and I can sit there for as long as I want without overpaying for pastries or smelling like coffee grease.  Inspiration abounds there and I find that art erases the constraints of time and place in ways other mediums cannot.  I can hardly relate to the China today, to the rural hardships and poverty I've seen, to the rigid social structures, let alone the China of 50, 100, or 150 years ago (and what of the 1,500?).  But I found myself staring at a 500-year-old statue of guanyin today, an enlightened immortal I do not acknowledge, and sensing the beauty and lightness the artist wanted to convey.  And so it is.  In rooms of elephants and warriors I do not worship, stiff-lipped gentry I do not know, there for a snapshot, I think I get it, in 2012, and I'm charmed by what I see.

We'll Take Obama, Too

I met up with DocNice yesterday at his high level government job.  I spent a good 10 minutes getting acquainted with members of the security staff (and being mocked because no one was picking up my calls to come sign me in) before DocNice came by to get me.  As he signed me in, I was reminded of his handedness and Hebraic roots.

Moi: Did you know that half* of my cohort is made up of left-handed Jews**? 

DocNice: And how many people are in this program?  2?

Moi: We have 6 in my track.

DocNice: That's awesome.  You're like, "I know these people, I've worked with them for years," right?"  "I've so got this."

Exactly.

*It's actually 1/3 and not 1/2.  We're 1/2 left handed.  But only 1/3 are Jewish and left handed.

**Uh, probably should have said "people who are left handed and Jewish," bygones.

Not So Painless

It used to be so easy.  When Vita-K and I got stressed out at the Bo', we'd look longingly at the cars passing through the college perimeters and think, "if I get hit by one of these cars and break my arm, I probably won't have to take this exam for another few days.  I might even get a few extensions."

These days, I know that my chances of getting hit at the Bo' would be slim, what with the cautious drivers, good road design and safety features.  Plus, the odds were against me along.  The cars weren't speeding and I was neither intoxicated, nor walking between 2-4am. 

Five years out of the Bo' and still in school, this is how we discuss our work load now:

Moi: These classes make me want to shoot myself.  Except that that's irresponsible gun use and I don't even have a license for one.  Hanging seems painful but so few people succeed with pills. (literally going down the CDC's leading causes of suicides in my head as I say this)

Amber (she's Australian, and thus familiar with crime and death): I've heard poison is pretty effective.  No idea where one could access that though.  You wouldn't want to get it wrong.

Big and Little

(pardon the fb overlap) I plan on using mine as a floatation device. But really, the possibilities are endless when it comes to multi-purpose spoons.

Wild and Crazy Days

(explaining "secret fun" to Nick and his friends at brunch)

Moi: Speaking of secret fun, let me show you these socks!  (run off to get my Che socks-- guys, I will show you these socks one day)

Everyone: Socks?

Nick: Have I told you guys how wild she was in high school?  With the parties and the crazy socks?

Probably Much More Exciting for Me Than Anyone Reading This

What a flurry of posts this weekend.  Since I spent most of the weekend avoiding homework, I now have more work ahead of me than ever and have to work doubly hard at procrastination.  But where was I?  Ah, yes, the nerdtastic story.

Among the Asian American and/or Christian communities, or just Jeremy Lin fans (but really, aren't they synonymous?), this Times article has been spreading like the GI bug that befell Boston hospitals last month.  Most readers who connected with this probably thought, "wow, this articulates what I was feeling, gee thanks!"  I thought, "whoa, this reporter who penned that awesome series on gun control also articulated what I was feeling in a nuanced first-person point of view, gee thanks!"  So, as I told you, I wrote to him and even quoted him to wrap up one of my posts.

That quote, it turns out, also caught the eyes a gazillions others, and was tweeted and retweeted by folks no less than Spike Lee.  It was in investigating this last night (actually, in investigating how some poor lads stumbled upon this place by googling that quote) that I noticed something interesting: the original verse (see post below) mentions perseverance.  The article quote doesn't.  But it was in quotes and ostensibly attributed to the Bible.  Did JLin once misquote his favorite verse?  Did it get edited down for length?  Or style?  And why is Chapter 26 of my textbook so, so long?  My head swarmed with questions and at around 10pm on Sunday, I faced 2 choices: investigate this, or continue my reading.  Naturally, I chose veritas seeking, and emailed Role Model Journalist again. 
.
His response was quick and surprising: he messed up.  He's not sure how perseverance got left off.  And, best of all (for me, not Role Model Journalist), of all gazillion Christians who have contacted him regarding the article, I was the first one to point this out.  He hadn't noticed until I wrote him.  I expect my Sunday School to award me a post-attendance plaque for such diligence, spotting what no one else did (or pointing it out when everyone else had the good grace to look the other way),  And that, dear pretzels, is my Jeremy-Lin-NYT-reporter connection.

Hope Floats

(for the 3 people on google looking for the source)

Michael Luo's Times article on Jeremy Lin ends with the quote:

A Bible verse that he has cited as a favorite came to mind, encouraging believers that “suffering produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.”

It's a Bible verse from Romans 5:3-5, but not quite (" because we know that suffering produces perseverance; ⁴ perseverance, character; and character, hope. ⁵ And hope does not disappoint us").  Perseverance is missing. I've got a nerdtastic story on that (see post above).  But first, I have to do some boring things, like showering and going to school.  And trying not to rip my jeans on the way out the door.

Simple Statistics

The post below is long.  It's all about my happy day today.  Here is a quick look at a fraction of the day, by the numbers.

Number of times it has snowed in DC since August, 2011: 3
Number of times I have been to DC since August, 2011: 3
Number of times it has snowed when I have been to DC since August, 2011: 3

All in all, a perfect yet horrendous record.

Number of times I have been to Kramerbooks in DC: 2
Number of times I have been seated for brunch at Kramberbooks in DC: 2
Number of times I have had 4 sips of complimentary orange juice then left without ordering anything at Kramerbooks: 2
Amount of apologetic tip left behind/number of sips I have had:  $0.50/sip

All in all, an imperfect but vitamin-rich record.

Open Content

Could this day get better, Pretzel?  Yes.  If my accumulating assignments were magically completely for me.  But short of that, and the hours of reading I have ahead of me tonight, this has been a fantastic day.  The kind of fun filled day I used to have in B'ton (with the Bo' and B'more, it was only natural that I shorten Boston), back when I had more friends and less homework. 

The morning started rough when I ripped my jeans at the knee when I bent down to tie my shoelaces (note to self: exercise trims fat) and got a little rougher when I got to DC and rode the metro the wrong way for 10 minutes.  But my jeans-putting-on efforts were richly rewarded with a fantastic brunch at Nick & Ellen's.  Followed by a round of Dixit, which I won.  Brunch and winning are quite possibly my favorite weekend activities, especially with huge sides of Grade B maple syrup and laughter.  What could follow such a great morning?  Chocolate espresso shortbread cookies and conversations about public health and the Bo' at a trendy tea house (with my brother's friend, who I'm claiming as a new friend-- the amazingly talented Wolf Larsen)  Again, it's as if someone drew random words out of a My Favorite Things bowl and came up with the afternoon.  If your mind isn't blown yet, you need to talk to Jenny F Wong.  She'll tell you how much I love shortbread. 

Did the good times end when I got home to B'more?  No.  Not when my New Yorker finally came in the mail (maybe receiving a magazine you subscribe to isn't a highlight for most people, but most people lead more exciting lives than I do).  Not when I discovered one of the first nuanced and likable pieces on Jeremy Lin was written by a reporter I already respected.  I wrote to him.  And he responded within the hour.  (then I possibly alienated him by my follow up email, but let's not mention that). 

After a rough start, not just to the day, but to the week, I'm content and grateful for today.  So let me end now by lazily cribbing an ending by a much better writer:

In the midst of his stellar run last week, I couldn’t help but reflect on Lin’s journey. A Bible verse that he has cited as a favorite came to mind, encouraging believers that “suffering produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.”

Galentine's Day Miracle

(can you tell which is made in the USA?)

It felt like Christmas, pretzels, if Christmas morning in my household meant unwrapping highly anticipated presents (it doesn't). It felt like Amazon-package-arrival day today when I opened the mail slot and noticed a package from Pilot Pens.  If you haven't noticed, I love my Pilot pens.  And I love free things.  So when I read that one of my favorite comics Mitch Hedberg had written Uni-Ball and gotten a favorable response, I decided to write to Pilot.  I told them that I love their products but that unfortunately, none of my favorite pens are available in the U.S., and asked for their help.  They sent me 3 pens.  The American version of my day-to-day pen, the BPS (above), the American version of my new favorite, the Supergrip (below), and a pretty nice, fine G-Tec C3.  Unfortunately, my Christmas feeling lasted for about as long as it took for me to check the pens out.  But hey, that's 2 more minutes than this day would have had.  I still love Pilot.  Even more now that they indulged my pen nerdiness and gave me a pen catalog (what do people do with those?).  I still love the Pilot pens I bought in Taiwan.  But the American pens (with the exception of the G-Tec, but that's too fine for every day use) are ugly and uncomfortable (insert American joke here).  Next up: Dear Maserati? 

Petit Chou Chou

Dear Pretzel:
  See how changed things up there, Reader?  I'm nickname testing.  According to Nicolatte, Pretzel is a perfectly good moniker (he tried to call Rachael that today) because "pretzels are tasty."  The logic may be flimsy, but it's slowly winning me over. The only trouble is, pretzels are much harder to rhyme, than say, HIV.

(trying to find a word that rhymed with Ilene's disease after I explained to her how Mac got his nickname because it's short for Hemophiliac Mac)

Ilene: Maybe I'll contract AIDS because that's easier to rhyme with. 

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is your quote of the week. 

It's Me, Margaret

It's been awhile since I've had a good Whitecastle story.  Because it's been awhile since I've seen Whitecastle.  That's what happens when one moves away to a different state, goes to school full time, and can only disappoint collaborate on a few small projects remotely.  Not that he has noticed.  It wasn't until I'd mentioned running into someone he knew at a party that he wondered if I was back in B'more.  I have been.  For about a month.  It's good to be missed. 

Sage, Words that Are

(does the context really matter here?)

Lenny: Did your parents actually ever feed you or were you more or less left to your own devices?

Network Down

Last night, as I had foreshadowed, I went to a party at Advisor Who's house (where it seemed like Advisor Who has advised just about everyone in B'more-- he really gets around).  Naturally, my pierogis electrified the party.  That is slightly overselling my handiwork, but I was looking for alternatives to "rocked" and "kicked ass," and with my limited vocabulary, "electrified" was the best that I can do.  Still, people ate them up.  The party was surprisingly, almost disappointingly, void of awkwardity.  Except from the professor I least expected to be awkward.  Professor Mr. Alan Alda Rogers.  He seemed like just the nicest professor ever, and we had all fallen in love with him when he spoke at one of our seminars last year.  Too bad that after a quick introduction last night and a couple exchanges of pleasantries, he promptly walked away from me to concentrate on chips.  I did enjoy, however, the chirpy Advisor's surprisingly deadpan humor last night.  We went back and forth exaggerating the number of schools cancelled in B'more tomorrow (actual number: 0), increasingly adding on school districts, even Hopkins, and also cancelling all homework in the process.  This completely befuddled his lesser, undergraduate advisees, which I particularly enjoyed.  Let that be a lesson to you kids.  Don't try to blend in with grown ups before your time.  It will only confuse you.  I should know. 

Shine and Polish

One of my favorite pictures from my semester in Eddie Bert was the sign outside a Middle Eastern deli that said "Polish Week."  It perfectly captured the randomness and absurdity of Eddie Bert.  I keep waiting for signs like that to capture in B'more.  But the humor here is much, much darker.  Bodies-found-in-garbage-chute kind of dark.  We have gotten a lot of miles out of that one.  Anyway, polish fusion week continued in my kitchen tonight:  Kielbasa and sauerkraut + sriracha.  I'm surprised more people don't sauerkraut it that way.  It's delicious.

But What Am I?

  I made short-cut pierogis tonight.  They were delicious.  I only had 2 and Roommate Claude had 2, but we liked them all.  The rest are for a potluck at my advisor's house later this week.  I have a feeling awkwardity will ensue.  I am bringing pierogis because I am tired of people wishing me a happy new year in February (though I can't decide if it's more obnoxious when non-Asians wish each other happy new year in February, or when they only do it to me).  And seeing dragon-themed cupcake competitions on my teevee.  It appears that my secret is out.  Everyone in B'more has noticed that I am Taiwanese.

  Eunice and I visited a new church today.  The very nice pastor did not wish us happy new year (praise the Lord).  But he did spend three minutes convincing us that he knew Asians (this is what happens, Eunice, when you make a joke about race to very polite people), and that he used to hang out with them all the time back west, and that he's not "used to congregations with so many white people."  Naturally, all this attention on my heritage made me want to come home and mash potatoes and sauerkraut together.  Which is exactly what I did.  Then I tucked them into store-bought dumpling wrappers from the Chinese grocery store.  And the rest, as you know, was delicious.

----

Ashley: Hahaha.  [I bet] he shows you how he can use chopsticks to prove his point.

Moi: And pulls up pictures of his Asian friends on his phone...  but it's really a poster of Harold and Kumar.

ADDENDUM:

(DBomb's reaction to the pastor story)

DBomb: Wow.  You should've given him an award.  Sounds like he wanted one.