Full Moon

Today:
Vivid dreams until 10 a.m.
Talking story with Sharlita (work/life and the blurry boundless world of pisceans)
Happy jog with the Tubular One
More vivid dreams in the late afternoon (so very feline of me)
Romantic dinner in Sicily with the One with the Pretty Hair
Reviving a beat passion long dormant (i.e. Penny in the studio next week!!!)

Questions:
Who became Beijing's Super Voice Girl?
Is knitting really all that fun?
What is that rattling noise in the dryer?
Why can't we have a proper Fall here?
Why have i lost the left side of two different shoes?
How was Erika's dinner at Dolce?

On some days i can clearly feel the passing of time...
Today i glimpsed the flashing of years bustling through my hands,
and felt the weight of a gigantic page turning in the universe.

Homeland

I've recently re-realised that i am entitled to an F-4 visa from South Korea. I say re-realised because of a great article Mijoung forwarded to me from Sunday's Chronicle. Two things stood out in my mind, that i've been thinking about a lot lately.

1) The adoptee F-4 visa

i remember a fellow adoptee friend lobbying for this in Seoul years ago. She was working on it when I was there in '96--it came to be in 1999. Apparently this special visa affords me the rights of a native Korean. I can live there indefinitely, buy land, start a business, and get a scholarship to study Korean. Props from the homeland! Though, will i ever feel that Korea is my homeland? What does that even mean, i ask myself.

It's always funny when Korean adoptees long for the "homeland." When i finally got to Seoul (the second time, with luggage for a year...) all i longed for was peanut butter, fresh air, and my grandma's miso soup and oyako donburi. Yet, when i finally settled into my life in Seoul, i experienced times when i felt more at home there than anywhere else i've been in the world.

2) A new art installation, which will appear in the subways of three big cities--the "Awareness Wall" featuring photos of 3000 Korean adoptees who've left Korea.

The article goes on to say..."A small, passionate contingent is challenging international adoption,which they say strips South Korean adoptees of their cultural identity. They compare it to cultural genocide, akin to taking American Indian or aboriginal children from their communities and placing them with white families to "civilize" them."

In my mind, the overseas adoption experience cannot be compared with either the American Indian, nor the aboriginal experience. But that said, i was lucky to have been placed with an Asian family. i embraced the culture of my adopted Hawai'i Japanese-American parents.

Identity, lost identity, multiple identities. It's time i put this all to film. Ever since i was a lowly PA a few years ago in a film by Joyce Lee, i've had this screenplay being written in my head...

Possible titles:

Homeland Bound
Yo Homeland Rocks!
Finding Homeland
Homeland: A True Underdog Story
Bowling for Homeland
The H Word
The Sound of Homeland

i joke, but about the film, i'm not.

Sounds

The Amtrak station is about two blocks away from our building. Just like people who live near airports, we don't really hear the trains anymore. In fact, when it's too quiet, i tend to miss the sounds of the passing trains. The silence makes me think of my favorite sounds...

-a spoon hitting the bottom of a wooden ice cream bowl

-the Tubular One getting up, fumbling down the stairs to get a drink of water late at night

-the soft keyboard of my old Dell laptop--when in a writing fury, it was like a light tropical
downpour

-inside rickety squeaky taxis

-the first exhalation of a badly needed cigarette (not me though, i've quit...)

-the old ice shave machine at Itsu's in Hawai'i

-playing Galaga on my gameboy...especially the bonus round ditty

-walking on gravel

-someone chewing on crushed ice

-my nephew Ryan's crazy laugh, so hearty and pure. he's four. i hope he always laughs like
that

-the sound of NGN (Nippon Golden Network) TV in the background

-Cappy singing in the shower, making each song her own

-the Paris metro--cellists, rappers, arguments, high heels on concrete, laughter, singing...

-the middle of Lotte World in Seoul, near the ice skating rink

-kids at Onekahakaha beach in Hilo, Hawai'i, where i learned to swim

-Temptation by New Order (re-played a few times on my ipod today...)


That's all for now

Stolen Treasures

To the right is Gedhun Choekyi Nyima, a.k.a, the Panchen Lama. He was abducted by the Chinese in 1995. At that time, was said to be the world's youngest political prisoner. Hopefully, people can learn as much as they can about the Panchen Lama, and speak out about the injustices to our Senators and public representatives. Find out more about Gedhun and support the appeal for his release here.

We went to the Asian Art Museum today in its new permanent place near City Hall. We saw an exhibit that ends tomorrow called "Tibet: Treasures from the Roof of the World" a.k.a. The Art That China Stole. The show ends tomorrow, September 11th. If you go, stop to chat with the Tibetans protesting in front of the museum. Some hold signs that read, "China Stole My Culture."

We stopped to chat with a young man for nearly a half an hour. He was ethnically Chinese, yet impassioned about speaking out against the human rights violations of Tibetans. He encouraged us to see the show, but asked us to note how the descriptions for each artifact leave out the fact that these treasures are ALL the stolen property of the Dalai Lama. Yet, and no suprise--there was not any mention of this fact throughout the exhibit. I thought one of the purposes of museums was to show unbiased history in the form of art?? Then I saw that among the numerous fiscal sponsors, two were Bank of America and Wells Fargo. Go figure.

We learned later that the Asian Art Museum, in response to the Tibetan protests agreed to have a small Tibetan film festival. It would include (or has included) uncensored films that show the Tibetan side of the story.

We walked through the show with fascination and sadness. It made me think of the flippancy expressed by some of my Chinese friends in Beijing when i questioned them about their neighbors. On Korea-- after i expressed a love for Korean style chajang myun--"Oh you know that's OUR original dish...but we like their air conditioners, you know, they are not our enemies--we invaded them..." On Taiwan--"Yeah, they seem to be doing OK on their own."

With the upcoming Olympics in 2008, let's hope that the issues of human rights violations will not be swept away with the fast disappearing hutongs.

Shiokara

In my family, the enjoyment of food is paramount to clever conversation. People are often judged not by their capacity for witty banter, but their ability to enjoy and appreciate really great food. And i'm not talking fine foods, like truffles or foie gras. i'm talking about soul food, my comfort food--Japanese food (not sushi and tempura) but rather Hawaiian Japanese Chinese Korean Filipino Portuguese cuisine a.k.a. "local grinds."

Food is everything in my family. At times, it was a source of pain and embarrassment when i was young. Growing up, i had many non-Asian friends. Having them over for dinner was as at times as stressful as the day of school pictures. i wished i could die and melt under the table when my dad would bust out the shiokara (a fermented fish product made from squid or fish guts) at the near end of the meal. He'd scoop up a bit of the salty dark viscous paste and dab a bit of it on his rice--to the absolute horror of my young Caucasian friends. "What's THAT? OOOH yuck, disgusting!!" they'd shriek in horror. At other times, we were the shocked ones. My brother's non-Asian friend Tim asked for butter and cinammon for his freshly steamed bowl of Japanese rice. A silent red light flashed above his seat at the dinner table. i can still remember the look on my mom's face--one of shock and slight amusement.

School lunch brings back a bad memory. One day, my mom packed me leftover Japanese okazu, tsukemono and wooden chopsticks. While other kids were unwrapping their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, i was cracking open my squeaky metal Holly Hobby lunchbox. Not knowing any better, kids teased me saying "She's eating Chinese food!" or "What's that smell?" "Eeew, what's that? Gross!" Not knowing any better, i was completely ashamed and vowed to only bring sandwiches from then on. And i did. i should note here that i'm referring to the early 70's --before sushi was trendy and commonplace and before the whole multicultural boom.

Back to the "not always about the food" bit.... We had dinner tonight with an eclectic group of friends (non-Asian) at a Mediterranean restaurant. Some dishes were laughable, and completely wrong, but it didn't matter. The company was warm, friendly, and at times hilarious and heartwarming. On this occasion and many others, i reminded myself that sometimes, food is not everything.

Taste of Sole

Unfortunately, this is not surprising....

White House: Mrs. Bush Comment 'Personal'
The Associated PressWednesday, September 7, 2005; 4:07 PM

WASHINGTON -- Barbara Bush was making "a personal observation" when she said poor people at a relocation center in Houston were faring better than before Hurricane Katrina struck, President Bush's spokesman said Wednesday.

Mrs. Bush, after touring the Astrodome complex in Houston on Monday, said: "What I'm hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them."

My first thought was that her mic was accidently on and that she'd quickly apologise with shame and embarrassment. Not that it would have made the comment less horrific.

Not a chance.

"McClellan, at the White House briefing, said: "I think she was making a personal observation on some of the comments that people were making that she was running into. ... But what we're focused on is helping these people who are in need."

Not sure what is worse. Her comment or Scott McClellan's attempt to back pedal here.

Two places we're donating:

Southern Relief Fund
c/o Mississippi Workers' Center for Human Rights
PO Box 1223
Greenville, MS 38702-1223

Animal Welfare Disaster

Hip Hou Hai

Hou Hai lake is the hippest bar/restaurant area of Beijing. This ultra modern area is north of Tiananmen Square and features an amazing blend of old and new. Above is a photo from a bar around Hou Hai lake. If this were a better picture you'd be able to see more of the elaborate decor which seems to be a mix between an Alice in Wonderland fantasy world and Yuan dynasty furnishings.

There's a policy in Beijing where motorists must pay for the medical bills of any pedestrian they hit, regardless if it was their fault or not. In fact, if you hit someone and they are unable to work, you must pay their work salary for the rest of their lives. i wondered what would happen if a motorist hit someone who was in between jobs, or just retired...

On our way back from the Great Wall at Simatai, we followed a truck that had tons of bees buzzing around either side of it. My first thought was that it was a flower truck, and the bees were along for the ride. Our tour guide let us know that it was a bee transport truck. An hour later we stopped at a highway toll plaza. The aforementioned bee truck was nowhere to be seen. i noticed there was a tiny swarm of bees buzzing around the toll booth. We laughed at the thought of these little creatures upset at being abandoned, the need for instituting a "no bees left behind" rule, and the prospects of bee activism. OK, i guess you had to be there.

This concludes the Beijing portion of my blog. i could write 20 more entries about this fascinating city and the things i've observed. My new and clearer understanding of the vast differences between the cultures of China, Japan, and Korea. More food photos. More observations of all things small and seemingly insignificant.

So anyway, pennylane productions has resumed production stateside. The "No Jet Lag" pills worked wonders on the trip over, but i might as well have been taking sugar pills on the way back. It's 6.30 or so p.m. here but i'm feeling like it's brunch time as it's around 10 a.m. in Beijing. The Tubular One is whining and giving me her best "i've got cabin fever look" with the accompanying guilt vibes.

But seriously, you'll hear a lot more about the Hou Hai Lake district, if you've not already. Experience it soon before it becomes way overrun with tons of drunk expats and more American chains other than Starbucks.

Simatai

We scaled the section of the Great Wall at Simatai a few days ago. This part of the wall is mostly undeveloped, in stark contrast to the overly touristy Badaling Great Wall.

Not sure if you can see it, but there's a brick at the left side of this picture with an engraving. It reflects the time period, emperor, and the brick making company for quality control purposes. The brick in this picture is engraved with a date that falls a bit before the Ch'ing Dynasty (1644-1912)

There is a story of a woman who lost her husband who died while working on the wall. She returned to the wall to find him, and could not locate him. She was told he might have been buried within the wall. She spent the next few years pulling apart bricks from the wall with her bare hands. Perhaps i've got the story wrong in a few places. In any case, Simatai is located about 2 hours south of Mongolia. As i write this, construction workers are hard at work building a tourist shopping arcade (certainly with a KFC and Starbucks) at the base of this wall entry point. Mark my words, in less than 2 years, Simatai will be as touristy as Badaling.

It was the first day since the beginning of the trip that we could see blue skies. The air felt breezy and tropical. i had a hard time looking down, my knees were in a constant state of jello shakiness. The views were spectacular, just as it said in Lonely Planet's Beijing. Standing at the top tower, i thought of humanity's capacity to accomplish immense tasks. My thoughts turned to the devastation in New Orleans and the immense task of restoration and repair.

So I've left Beijing, the city of giddiness and hope. We descended into dark clouds at SFO yesterday morning. First thing out of the airport an onto North 101, we saw a man driving a convertible black Ford in the shape of a Corvette, license plate "AKA VENM," mullet streaming behind, cutting us off and slamming on his accelerator. Eeeewwwww. Welcome back to the United States.

While I was gone Katrina slammed New Orleans. The last time I left the states to go to Paris--the tsunami hit Thailand. After our days of touring the city, we would spend a few hours resting in our hotel room watching the tsunami coverage on the local news. We would then step out onto the streets of Montmartre every night around 9 p.m. (setting out on our daily dinner adventures....) wiping tears away from seeing the devastation and hearing testimony from people who were seeking their friends and relatives.

This time, when Katrina hit, I was sitting alone in my hotel room in horror and fear at the news of the impending storm and the potential damage it would cause. i woke up to heartbreaking photos on the front page of the China Daily each morning. i have not seen much media coverage on this just yet. i was able to catch only one English speaking news station.

Reading about the U.S. government's slow reaction and ten people dying a day (or more) from lack of basic nourishment and care is beyond appalling. i would like to read more about this situation. Here's an account from the Astrodome thanks to escapevelocity, via lunamania.

http://www.escapevelocity.org/

It's always odd to hear news when you're out of the country. I remember being in Japan when I heard about the death of Kurt Cobain and River Phoenix. It seemed unreal. There's a buffer of being faraway. Everything seems like a dream, including my own reality.

Super Girls

There is a craze going on now here in Beijing over the "Super Girls." They are the Chinese version of "American Idol." There were approximately 150,00 women all over China are vying to become the next "Super Voice Girl" and now they are down to three. The show has apparently broken records with immense numbers of viewers and text message voting. The final chance to vote for the Super Girl comes this Friday. The photo to the left shows the final three contestants and the host. I'm not sure who is who.

Maybe i might run into one of them this week....

As we were walking out of the hotel lobby this morning, we noticed a huge crowd of groupies armed with cameras, posters, autograph books, and flowers. They were lined up just outside the front entrance. The concierge lined up with other staff members to form a human wall, in case the groupies decided to storm the lobby. At first i thought it might be some American celebrity here filming a shampoo commercial or something, or a local fim star. Someone told us that the Super Girls are actually staying at our hotel until the final show Friday. Let's just say it is causing a slight stir around here...

So anyway, rather than walking out, we stood near the front entrance and watched all the hoopla. For a split second i imagined what it would be like if i were famous and how weird it would be to be greeted by massive crowds everywhere i went.

And you wouldn't be a real fan if you didn't hang about all day long. Pulling up to the hotel tonight around 10pm, we noticed a few die hard fans, still hanging out in the lobby hoping for a glimpse of of their favorite contestant. The Super Girl groupies are entirely made up of young women ages 15-21. i did not see a single boy/young man fan amongst the crowd of girl fans. Pretty super...

Reminds me of a film i saw years ago at the Seattle International Film Festival called Hu Du Men.
It's about a Cantonese opera singer who plays a man on stage. Every where she goes, middle aged women chase after her like little schoolgirls. If you can find this film, you should see it. It's really a wonderful film.

Although... the groupies downstairs are not chasing after a woman who plays a man onstage. They're certainly super crazy over the Super Girls! Wish me luck getting out of the hotel lobby this week. i should ask if there are alternate exits in the building...

Nothing but Blue Skies

My first glimpse of blue skies here in Beijing. Unfortunately, i had to descend to the B2 level to catch it. It's a bit like discovering Diagon Alley, a whole underground world markedly different from the regular world where people are fashionable and giddy--as opposed to the purposeful and determined pedestrians at ground level.

i got lost in faux daytime subterranean strip last night, as shown above. This underworld sits below my hotel. It's a maze of shops, restaurants, singing clubs, a small cinema, backdoor clubs, and an athletic club/swimming pool complex. Supposedly there is mini golf somewhere too, but i've not found it. There are no clocks, and no windows, unless you count the painted facades that scale the walls. It's kind of a mix between Universal Studio's City Walk, the Venetian Las Vegas, Lotte World in Seoul sans the rides, and any American suburban mall.

Women in dark pink prom dresses line the entrances of singing clubs, looking statuesque and bored. i passed by a small cosmetic shop, and the ultra hip woman inside sat on a chair near the counter, having a very pleasant nap. She was probably "resting her eyes," as my grandmother used to say. Men deep in thought pace back and forth in their golf attire shops. Couples walk hand-in-hand, girls huddle around tables hitting buttons on their cell phones, and old men sit on benches and smile out at nothing in particular.

i keep waiting to hear the ding-ding-ding-ding of slot machines. Rather than the wafting smells of deep fried onion rings, fries, and cheese steak sandwiches, you can smell ginger, garlic, cigarette smoke, steaming hot pot dishes, steamy ramen, and chlorine from the sculptured waterfalls. In the very faint background above the buzz of conversation and clanging of dinnerware, i could distinctly hear Air Supply's "Lost in Love."

People are refreshingly pleasant and warm. A shocking difference to the downcast looks and dismissive feel from 10 years ago. i ventured to the supermarket complex, "Wonderful." There was one whole aisle dedicated to various forms of Colgate toothpaste. And another full of international beers.

And lastly--i'm a total sucker for samples, not tasting them, but actually buying them. i feel guilty for the little "dine and dash" aspect of it, so i often end up purchasing whatever i've tried. As i left the check out counter, a pleasant young woman offered a taste of tea in little dixie cups. It was perfect timing, my throat was a little gravelly from the air in sunny city. The tea was warm and fragrant. The woman realised that i don't speak Chinese, and became giddy at the prospect of practicing her English. We laughed as i tried to figure out the bills of varying sizes in my wallet. After very little persuasion, i bought a tin of the tea, and also walked away, catching and carrying some of that giddy Beijing vibe with me.

Teenagers in Love

This is not the same city i visited in 1995. 85% of the world's largest cranes reside in Beijing right now--situated around the 2000+ buildings that are coming up as i type this. i'm in Haidian, the 4th outer ring of the city--close to Beijing zoo and the University of Beijing. All around there's a sense of purpose, a giddiness, a warmth, resolve, and wistfulness. i walk around, blending in with the masses.

Things:

-The perpetual grey skies prevent sunsets from blanketing the city. It's like living under a perpetual gigantic exhalation of cigarette smoke. Cloudy, not transparent, thick and heavy.

-I jumped out of my seat tonight at dinner. The culprit: a strange sea mollusk hidden in noodles--mistaken for a frog carcass. i worried it might have been leftover bits from the frog congee at this morning's breakfast buffet.

-Handsome men with stylish haircuts a la Shinjuku 3-chome, Tokyo.

-"Boiled Dork and Beans" a hot entree at the breakfast buffet at my hotel.

-Black sedans galore. Audi, BMW, Buick, Lexus, Acura, Volkswagon, Mercedes...

-Smiles and laughter all around. This energy in this city is like a teenager in love. Giddy, wide-eyed, hopeful. Also, this city feels wistful. A feeling of intensely missing someone you never liked all that much.

-Restaurants that descend into futuristic subterranean caverns. Icy blue transparent glass floors, concrete beams, black marble, plasma TVs on the walls of private dining rooms.

-Chubby pre-teen boys chugging coke, wearing Simpson's t-shirts and baggy skater jeans.

-An indifferent young woman standing outside a cracked sidewalk restaurant. She wears a long red dress, greeting people on the sidewalk, pointing to the menu board. Her hand lightly grips a fly swatter, waving it around like it was a long stemmed rose, pointing occasionally at the menu...Phad Thai, pineapple fried rice, fried bananas.

Beijing is vibrant and alive today. i am completely exhausted. i hope i'll get more than last night's four hours of sleep...

Tiny Frogs and Tequila

Kato san was kind to lend me this riverside camping photo. You can't see it here, but her caption reads, "Can you find the frog?" Cappy and I were doubled over in giggles with her hilarious photo captions. But seriously, can you see the tiny frog?

A few weekend observations:

-The further out you get from the city, you start seeing obnoxious business names. Case in point: "Krazy Kreations." It is some kind of print and pixel shop off North 101. Anytime the letter C is replaced with a K, i get this weird feeling. It's just sick and wrong.

-Kato san, Trish, Cappy and i drove by a horrendous car wreck on Saturday afternoon. We were heading to the local Philo market for our French toast breakfast Sunday. Suddenly the traffic slowed to a dead stop. I could tell by the horrified faces of those in oncoming cars that an awful accident took place. As we got closer, we saw a man being carried to a waiting life flight helicopter. Nearby, his overturned truck lay disfigured. Another equally mangled car hunched over sadly on the opposite side of the road. For some it was a wonderful day hiking and lounging by a river. And for others it was a day of unforeseen tragedy.

-A Two Fingers Tequila party in 1991 put me me off tequila for good. Until this past weekend. Tara shared some amazingly smoove tequila that did not make me sick nor queasy. Instead, i felt herbal without the herbs, chatty, yet very spacy. Lovely.....

-We stood at the bottom of a humongous redwood tree. I had a senior pictures moment, one hand caressing the tree bark, the other hand thoughtfully under my chin in a "what does the future behold?" pose. It made me wonder why senior pictures were always so cheesy. And why those outdoor senior picture poses never made those pill poppin' pot smoking kids look innocent.

-The o-musubi campers were wonderfully pan-Asian. Quite nice--i am quite the cultural misfit. i'm never quite sure where i fit in, culturally speaking. Though i must say, given my chop suey ethnicity, i'm feeling more and more Korean as the years go by. i'm starting to feel insecure if i don't enjoy good kimchee on a semi-regular basis. i recently attended a KYCC benefit dinner and it brought me to tears. It was a combination of the to-die-for L.A. kalbi and that Korean energy that is both intriguing and strangely familiar. ...Oh, back to the list...

-Camping was wonderful. Needed the huge fix of fresh air before i land in grey Beijing in about 22 hours. Why have i not camped more in my life?

Beijing

Strange to think I'll be in the middle of Beijing in five days. It has been exactly 10 years since I've been there. In 1995, I flew to Beijing from Japan to meet up with my parents and grandparents at the Swissotel. After a few days of touring with them, I rented a bike and set off on my own through the mazes of the hutongs (alleyways) without a map nor an idea of where I was going or what I was doing.

From what my colleagues in Beijing say, the city has become unrecognizable even to them. The largest McDonalds in the world has been demolished to make way for more development--modern housing, and more Starbucks, Outback Steakhouses, and Baskin and Robbins I'm sure.

The pennylane productions production crew is readying digital equipment, acquiring the necessary power plugs, travel guidebooks (Lonely Planet, as always) phrase books, and powering up the Gameboy. I look forward to breakfasts of youtiao and douzhi, and revisiting Wangfujing Dajie, but not jet lag.

I bought the homeopathic remedy "No Jet Lag," www.nojetlag.com which requires I take a tab before the flight, every two hours during the flight, and one more upon arrival. Hopefully it will help me crossing over all the time zones, but there's no mention of any help with cramped limbs, irritability, and general disorientation.

For now, Cappy and I are looking forward to a few nights under the stars, Sunday French toast and instant coffee with Luna, Joannie, Jack, and Erika, campfire stories, s'mores, sunflower seeds, hikes, and reconnecting with the o-musubi folks. Though at this point, it's less of an o-musubi group as it is an o-platelunch bunch : )

6 Feet Under

Before i start this post i must reassure Kelly that I will not reveal any spoilers--i know you and Matt are anxiously awaiting for the DVD of this season. I can't believe the media has revealed some serious plot breaks, but even so, it won't take away from what you'll experience this season...

I'm quite sad that this show is coming to an end, but appreciate the fact that they're ending it on a high note, rather than dragging it through another season so each cast member can make millions per episode. This season reminds me of the finale of a fireworks show--you know where they launch them in rapid succession thereby lighting up the sky? Each episode this season is like a finale of a fireworks show. I feel for these characters as if I know them personally. No matter what i say or have said, this is the only show worth watching on TV, other than a few on the Food Network, and VH1 specials.

It was all work and not much play here at pennylane productions this weekend. Sadly, no surfing expeditions, no visits to our foster pony P-Middy, no kayaking, no movies, and unfortunately we were not able to join Mijoung at the Cat Club for 80's and old school hip hop (would have loved to see my friend Black spinning again...mj hope you enjoyed it! We're SO there next time!) All this weekend work is for the possibility of a stressless o-musubi weekend before my trip. Will i make it? I really hope so!

Well-Intentioned

We just saw Brian Copeland's "Not a Genuine Black Man," it was truly moving and beyond my expectations. We heard tonight that his show is the longest running solo show in San Francisco history. It has been extended until August 27, 2005. See the show before you read about it in his upcoming book and on an HBO special.

This show reminds me of an article I read a while ago, "Unpacking the White Knapsack," which was written in 1988. It's about the invisible privilege that white people have, but often don't realize. By white people I'm sure the writer was not referring to white people who are actually French and not American, nor white but of a different religious background. She's talking about the inescapable fact of pigmentation. Check out the article--it's very black/white yet I am often bothered by the reality of #26,#27, #34, and #38.

Brian Copeland mentioned the often clueless ways white people try to empathize...like a white man telling him that he could understand how hard it was to be black and misunderstood b/c he had long hair and was always judged for it.

It made me think of Morgan, my well-intentioned white lesbian roommate who once told me, "Oh I can understand how you felt growing up Asian in a mostly white community. I mean, I used to come home and tell my mom, "Here's Pedro my Mexican boyfriend, or here's Kaya my African-American girlfriend...my mom would just freak out. I totally feel your pain."

Or the annoying yet harmless Armenian-American pizza guy in my college town. He asked if I was sad one day, and I told him I had just broken up with someone. "Oh don't worry," he said, "You'll fine some nice man. You're exotic!" Actually, i was sad because my car had been towed the night before and I couldn't retrieve it b/c the keys were locked inside. And as for the breakup, I felt giddy and free from my too possessive Taurus girlfriend.

For every Morgan, there are thousands of others who are completely incapable of any empathy whatsoever. It's best to applaud rather than critisize the attempt. I think Brian Copeland may have reached a similar conclusion. It's no fun trying to be genuine anything but your true self.

Job List

Maybe it's the boot camp, but the folks at pennylane productions are pretty blog-chatty today. Here's a list of my top 5 and bottom 5 jobs!

Bottom Five:

1. Entertainment Director at a hotel in Cancun during Spring Break
I can't imagine anything worse than being responsible for setting up beach volleyball nets, booze cruises, and opportunities for people 17-25 to drink as if their lives depended on it.

2. Accountant
In high school, I took a class called "Special Algebra," and barely passed. Enough said.

3. Story Board Artist
I'm painfully bad at drawing but can occasionally draw the Tubular One with dead on accuracy.

4. Copier Mechanic
I'm a miserable failure at dislodging paper jams and can't imagine that being a part of my everyday life.

5. Pet Store Salesclerk
I'd like everything about that job except for the fact that I'd probably be working within arms reach of the rodent section. I can't even look at that word!


Top five:

1. Driver of a Zamboni machine
I love squeegees and let's face it, Zamboni is one big squeegee!

2. Foley Editor
I'm fascinated with the artificial creation of realistic sounds. I caught the foley editor bug on the Universal Studios tour circa 1979. Forget about Jaws I thought, "take me back to the sound studio!"

3. Theme Park Ride Critic
Kind of like a food critic, but for rides--think Pirates of the Caribbean, not roller coasters. I'd travel the world writing and experiencing various rides. One of the best I saw was in Lotte World in Seoul. I think it was a dragon world ride, it seemed to go on forever.

4. Marketer for Dyson Vacuumes
...Because I think things should work properly too! I could seriously sort out that bloke.

5. Rollerskate Dancer
In elementary school, there used to be all kinds of parties at "Skate King." I used to fantasize that I was a professional rollerdancer hanging at the local rink--trying roll incognito.

Post Boot Camp

OK, I stand culturally corrected. Coach Joe was obviously a figment of my fearful and stereotypical imagination. Coach Jay (not Joe) was neither 5'7 nor an athletic Popeye the Sailorman type. Jay is an extremely fit, good looking energetic cheerleader. I say cheerleader because anyone who can motivate me at 7:15 for extreme calisthenics is pretty amazing. He loves his job. For me, it is one of my, if not #1, top ten worst jobs I could ever imagine for myself. Waking up early to motivate others to be the best they can be? I'd rather scrub pots and pans at a Korean bbq restaurant.

We arrived at the meeting place to find that the group consisted of only three people, including us! It was like having a personal trainer. We jogged to various parts of Lake Merritt park and stopped to do various strength and stretching exercises. Some exercises were from swimming training, sumo wrestling (!?) and some were from basketball. Squirrels huddled nearby munching on peanuts. Geese eyed us as if we were unwelcome guests on their territory. The time flew. I'm a bit sore, and probably will be more so tomorrow--or later today-- but you can't beat an endorphin rush that early in the morning!

Boot Camp

Cappy has signed us up for "Boot Camp." Apparently we're paying Coach Joe to wring us into shape twice a week beginning at 7.15 a.m. Originally, we had signed up for the 6 a.m.-7 a.m. boot camp session. This was changed for obvious reasons. Surely it will be good to completely shock ourselves into shape, yet I feel--or rather I think I'll feel --about boot camp the way I feel about drinking tequila. I hate the experience of it, but love what it does for me.

I imagine Coach Joe to be about 5'7, stocky, with a stride that keeps his buffed arms out in front of him, and a face like a catcher's mitt. He'll be wearing a tank top and polyester gym shorts--when we meet him he'll nearly break my hand with this "how YOU doin?" grip, while he checks our name off on his clipboard. Cappy will be all smiles bouncing up and down, stretching. I'll be cursing to myself, wondering how anyone could pay to be boot-camped so early in the morning...

We'll feel all worked out and refreshed by 7.00 a.m., terrific and ready to take on the day. Birds will sing a little louder, kids will seem a little happier, food will taste a little better... Of course this is said with the tone you hear in this posting. A tone between cynically thrilled and mildly amused.

Tequila shots here I come...

Day of Fire

Three major fire events today:

Firstly, we here at pennylane productions were rudely awakened around 4 a.m. by a high-pitched fire alarm. The ear aching alarm accompanied by a flashing strobe light was coming from the hallway. When we arrived outside, twenty or so neighbors were already out in different stages of shock, sleepiness, and surprise. Some lugged pet carrying cases with whiny felines tucked inside. Two extra long fire trucks, two smaller fire ambulances, and one fire car were on the scene within minutes. Fully suited firefighters carrying axes and oxygen tanks ran up the front stairs. We all gazed up and windows were pushed open, with black smoke rushing out. A local news van pulled over, and a cameraman started shooting upwards, scanning left and right. Apparently, all the madness was caused by a burning pan. Someone had left their unit and left the stove fire on low.

Secondly, a huge fire erupted on 101 North near Cow Palace. All of us at work looked out the window to see dark grey smoke shooting into the sky. We were relieved to realise it was only a brush fire. Thankfully it was not burning cars.

Thirdly, yet another huge brush fire has consumed 25,000 acres and have caused 4000 residents to be evacuated from Waikoloa, Hawai'i. Folks at pennylane productions have family in the vicinity, but not in the evacuated area.

A friend told me that on the 27th of this month, Mars will be the closest it's been to the Earth in recorded human history! Hopefully the fires of today are not any kind of foreshadowing of more madness to come?

Car Camping

We've signed up for the upcoming o-musubi camping expedition in Mendocino later this month. Supposedly it's "plush car camping" which means that your car is located within walking distance of your campsite. OK, but I just learned this. For a second I thought it meant that you camp out of your car. Or maybe that there is a drive-in deli on the premises? Or a spa in the middle of the wilderness?

Yes, I'm a pretty inexperienced camper. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been camping. When I was young, my family never went on camping trips, and I've never been to summer camp. My mom's idea of camping was letting my brother and I put our sleeping bags out on the deck. We slept under the stars on air mattresses. We camped not under the light of the moon but rather the glow of the lights from the dining room table. The closest I came to summer camp was watching "Little Darlings." Somehow, watching the misadventures of a young Kristy McNichol never satisfied my summer camp bug.

Other than skiing trips, my family's outdoors outings always had a specific purpose--plucking out a delicacy from either the mountains or the sea. We'd hike into the Cascade Mountains for matsutake mushrooms, graze for razor clams at Ocean Shores, pull up crab traps in Anacortes, or dig up butter-clams in the San Juan islands. The best part of those non-camping experiences was the lunches. My mom always packed the typical Hawai'i fare: spam musubi, corned beef hash patties, green onion/shoyu-sugar egg, portuguese sausage, passion guava juice, etc. At the end of those days, we always headed home. No tents, no campfires, no s'mores by the fire...

Well, I did go on one proper camping trip with my roommates in college, though I "don't recall" much of that weekend (read: wild mushrooms and really great brownies) So here's the big camping question, will it be a "Free Range Misty" weekend? We here at pennylane productions are not decided on this point. We know the Tubular One would love to camp with her pack. She'd have all the dirt to dig, tennis balls to fetch, people to greet, and various foliage to sniff. For dogs, camping with their humans is like Christmas, birthdays, and New Year's all put together. We're hoping she'll be up for it, but she's really starting to show her age : (