Lists

Because I feel unoriginal yet inspired, here are some lists a la Tyra Banks.

Favorite Breeds of Dogs:
(even though I'm allergic and prefer dog people to actual dogs)

1. Pugs
2. Corgies
3. Shih-Tzus
4. Daschunds--the sweet ones that don't bark
5. Papillons

Favorite Desserts:

1. Itsu's Ice Shave (Hilo, Hawai'i)
2. Cafe 100's Peach/Pineapple Turnover (also Hilo)
3. Nestle's Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies
4. Hazelnut Gelato
5. Fresh Strawberry Shortcake

Things that make me happy:

1. Drawings from my niece and nephew
2. Knowing I've made a difference in the lives of my students
3. Cappy's deep belly laugh
4. Emails and "talking story" with my mom
5. Working out at the gym
6. Onekahakaha Beach with my niece, nephew, and Cappy
7. These words/phrases: "Fax Successful" "Yes!" "Receiving message" "Meeting Cancelled" "Your reservation is confirmed" "This is not a bill" "

Favorite All-Time Songs:
(a few of many...)

1. The Unforgettable Fire- U2
2. Where's the Ocean -Toni Childs
3. Perfect Circle-REM
4. Island of Life-Kitaro
5. Question of Lust-Depeche Mode
6. In this Heart-Sinead O'Connor
7. Over and Over-Morcheeba
8. Song to the Siren-This Mortal Coil
9. Marlene Dietrich's Favorite Poem-Peter Murphy

Guilty Pleasures:

1. Star, In Touch, and Us and me--uninterrupted on the couch by the window
2. Spa Chair pedicures
3. Vh-1's Behind the Music
4. True Crime on screen or in print
5. Costco samples--even though I KNOW what an English Muffin tastes like...
6. Listening to DeBarge, the Jets, and Klymaxx at work.

More lists to come. Or maybe not.

Todd

It's been a long while. So long in fact that I've nearly forgotten that I have a blog. As of late, and as usual these days, I can't be asked to spend recreational time on the computer apart from work. My diary is not online, things have been hectic, and I've been forgetting to jot down potential entries. And also toss in a cold/flu that has lapsed and relapsed more times than necessary.

A bit of a catch up then?

As you know, and if you don't-- i'm still mired in the world of educational technology. I remain the dispassionate one about pastries as i swirl about in my day-to-day world of baked goods. That said, I have have learned why Microsoft's Vista is clever yet vindictive, and why the ADDIE Model and Rapid Prototype Development may become a part of my daily vocabulary. Good times indeed.

Thankfully, I have tossed many other bean bags in up the air... and some due to for landing any time now : )

And I'm not to thrilled to report that the Tubular One is now no longer a senior citizen. According to her vet, she's now geriatric. I've been contemplating the purchase of the book, Older Dogs for Dummies to help her deal with her challenges. The spark in her eye has dimmed, but she still hobbles around on her constant search for baby carrots. From the way she keeps her nose to the ground, I'm not convinced she believes that her bc's actually come from the refrigerator.

I've devoured these two films in the past week or so: Jesus Camp and Devil's Playground

In a recent past life, I must have been a religious fanatic. I feel that I was isolated geographically and emotionally from the outside world. Kept away from things and shunned from others. One who lived and breathed dogma, pleats, and pastels. Maybe I ate copious amounts of jello mold and smiled at people I didn't like? There's no other explanation for my recent Christian coalition of film.

I am fascinated by the ways and ideas that overly govern lives. I certainly believe that a higher power gives strength and is a spiritual compass, and is a code of conduct, etc. But it rings highly untrue for me. Yet, the lifestyles of the fanatic utterly fascinate me, albeit from a double glass window perspective.

Thus, I am certain of the strenuous imprisonment that I must have faced in a recent past life. Since I was young, I've had an aversion to any/all types of commitment. Identity, politics, sexuality, geography, religion, awareness--you name it. For my sins, I'll be born into a tightly knit Mennonite community. Then in my next, you'll certainly find me running guns and girls for the Lord.

Oh and I have to mention Top Design. My hairstylist/drag queen Scott claims that another interior design show was much better Top Design. Let me just say that I'd watch anything hosted by Todd Oldham. He is the cutest design nerd, like the boy I used to have a crush on in junior high school. What is it about this man? His misshapen hair and smile? His cartoon-like voice? His sincerity? His hipster downtown clown fashion?

I want Todd to be my best friend. I want to take him shopping, I want to invite him to my dinner parties, and meet him for happy hour after work on Fridays. The show is itself is OK, the contestants are boring, and the judges aren't that exciting either. But, with a host like Todd Oldham, it doesn't matter. He so totally rocks.

Sushi

What you see here is the beginnings of a multicultural sushi party--part Iron Chef, part birthday party... Add a few bottles of sake, edamame hijiki salad, squid, miso soup, wasabi peas, ice cold Sapporo and a few good friends, and you've got a raucous dinner event.

It was absolutely intoxicating and I'm not even speaking of the fermented beverages. The sushi rolls last night were easily much better than any restaurant in the greater Oakland/Berkeley vicinity.

The multicultural aspect was represented by a few interesting rolls: Leslie's South of the Border Burrito roll, Lorrie's Kolohe roll, my Korean roll, Cappy's Chop Suey Roll, TA's S.E. Asia roll, and so on....

Other things:

-Though most of us couldn't feel our extremities, we managed to find things to keep us warm in South Lake Tahoe last weekend. Notably, we found solace in a drink called the "Toasted Drop" at a bar called 19 on the top floor of Harvey's casino. If you don't know what i'm talking about, or haven't been there, you should definitely check it out.

-I recently attended a JET (Japanese Exchange Teaching) Alumni Shinnenkai dinner for those ex-JETs in the Bay Area. Most of the ex-JETs were in their 20's--they either just returned or had been back in the States for a few years. The dinner was at a San Mateo restaurant called, Chika. They are known for, or should be known for their Japanese spaghetti, croquette, and seafood gratin. I can't wait to go back to Chika, preferably very soon.

When I was a JET in Fukushima-ken, it was before the time the internet was widely used. I talked to someone about how it would have been great to have had the technology that exists today. Rather than instantaneous emails, IM chats, and things like Skype, I actually hand wrote many letters and on occasion-- dragged the Board of Ed's waapuro home on my bike. For photos, I snapped them on my small shoe size Olympus camera. When the roll was shot, I walked it to a photo shop who then printed out my photos for me to collect a week later. When I wanted to speak to my family, we tried to shoot for once every other week.

I wouldn't say being technology insufficient was really that much of an inconvenience. I mean, would I have really taken advantage of all the things that I got into in my small town?

My town, Nozawa, could be best described as a one 7-11 town. When I got my paycheck--I trundled over to the local hardware/Target-like shop. I'd plunk down cash for rubber boots, and trivets that I didn't need. I spent hours volunteering at the local nursing home--which was probably better spent than surfing the internet and chatting with friends back home. I read books from cover to cover. I greeted elementary school students who'd show up at my door with Pocari Sweat, bags of chips and snacks, and coloring books. I spent time with my good friend Chieko at her bar, the AC Club. This restaurant/bar could have been in the middle of Osaka. They had a wonderful Italian menu and Guinness on top. To this day, I still miss the AC Club's special-- Spicy Italian seafood spaghetti. Perfectly cooked pasta, spicy shrimp, fish, and squid and a shared bottle of Beaujolais (an Aizu favorite) with Chieko afterwards...

I hope to visit Nozawa again at some point this year, or next. As for the sushi party, I'm thinking that should be a weekly event. OK, monthly.

January

Happy New Year! I've been awful about posting in the last few months. Mostly because I can't be asked to get back on a computer after spending nearly all day typing, uploading, and editing at work. I see that it's been a few weeks since my last posting, and nothing appears for 2007. Sad.

Latest:

-Magic. Cappy got me a beginner magic set--yes, a real magic set. I won't be slicing anyone in half, but I am now able to pull off some basic card tricks. I've always had skewed visions of becoming the first queer Korean/Japanese-American street magician. If you didn't know this about me, we've clearly got to catch up. Will I perform for friends and co-workers? Highly unlikely. Will I be the coolest magic Auntie to my niece and nephew? Mostly definitely. Will I have given up this magic thing by my next blog posting? Perhaps...

-A friend and I were discussing the joys of being Asian-American in suburban American public schools. First music ever bought? Me: The Xanadu cassette soundtrack. Her: J.Geils Band. Favorite fashion? Esprit--essentially, Garanimals for pre-teens. Shared wonderment: When we look through our old yearbooks, we noticed something similar. The raccoon eyed-big hair-rocker girls still look like they're about 25 years old. Why is that?

-Cappy has secured reservations at Gary Danko for my birthday! I'm very excited. By the way, I share my birthday with Chris Martin of Coldplay, the new James Bond, Karen Carpenter, Lou Reed, Jon Bon Jovi, and Dr. Seuss.

-I've finally submitted everything for my grad school application. Thankfully, Jonathan Cainer says that just a bit more patience is required and I do not have to defer gratification for too long. An arbitrary reading, but one that gives me a bit of comfort.

There are a bunch of other things I'd like to write about, but it seems we're about to be going... We're heading to South Lake Tahoe very soon. I'm hoping it won't be a 5+ hour crawl up a slippery slope. For as much as I'm looking forward to gliding over powder, I'm also looking forward to a racuous roadtrip with some good friends.

Whirlwind

Have you ever felt that you've lived a year in two weeks? Or something close to that? The past few weeks have been a whirlwind and the reason why I haven't been posting recently. Here are some of the things that have kept me away from my computer:

Hilo comes to Oakland:
The cheery Libra-Army Horse with the bling, the charming tropical storm, the woman of every hour, the social butterfly with more friends than Oprah, the Tubular One's new best friend, a.k.a. my mom--was here for a visit earlier in November. Her visits are always like protracted slumber parties with Diet Pepsi. Our friends were treated to her colorful stories and infectious laughter. I remember growing up how I always felt that my friends found my mom a lot more fun than me. But thankfully now I can stand back and admire her without anger or jealousy. She has the ability to engage people in a disarming way, can charm anyone, and can probably sell grains of sand to a lifeguard at Banzai Pipeline on the North Shore.

The visit was somewhat bittersweet however. My aunt and her daughter also were in town from Hilo--which is one of the reasons my mom came to Oakland. For as fun as it was, we were also very sad about my aunt's diagnosis of ALS. The good news is that my aunt is now being treated for the early stages and is surrounded by wonderful friends like my mom and her family. What has been amazing is that friends and co-workers have come forward with information I never knew. A co-worker told me that her grandmother was diagnosed with ALS at age 70. My good friend wrote me an email about how she worked for a ALS physician at the University of Chicago. Another friend is going to let me know about the current ALS stem cell research at UCSD. I've been learning so much.

Ayame Kai:
Ayame Kai is the annual Holiday Bazaar at the Buddhist church in Seattle. For over five years, my mom has been peddling her Hawaii-made goods at this fair of sorts. If you've seen her o-musubi towels, you know what I'm talking about. For me, Ayame Kai means heavy lifting at 7.30 a.m. (unloading the truck in the rain), and putting on my happy face from 10 a.m. to 4.30 p.m. Last year, Cappy modelled a dress, which drew a big crowd. Unfortunately, this year Cappy was sidelined after a long business trip in Miami.

What is Ayame Kai like? Imagine swarms of Japanese-American ladies with silver and purple hair reaching and grabbing for towels, t-shirts, and purses. They turn our booth/table into a feeding frenzy--kind of like koi fish at feeding time. The morning hours of 10-12 pass like minutes. We sell and sell, ladies stop to chat with my mom, we trip over each other reaching for the cash box, we help three people at a time... It's a situation. Now here's the unfortunate bit of this year. Usually, the church sells bento boxes--rice, teriyaki chicken wings, and tsukemono. This year, the cooks were on strike due to an inter-church misunderstanding. By the time I went to the food concessions a little after noon, all that was left was mochi, brownies, and snickerdoodles. No spam musubi, no curry rice, no fried saimin. We lunched on Diet Pepsi and crumbly cookies.

Las Vegas
Family members from the Big Island and Kauai crashed into downtown Las Vegas for a long weekend of wedding frivolity. We were stationed at the Main Street hotel. It felt like the lost red light district of Honolulu with saimin and spam musubi. The wedding was in an ultra chic "chapel" at the Mandalay Bay hotel. The reception was at the Venetian. The best part of the downtown Hawaii-Vegas experience was the ability to get portuguese sausage, eggs, and rice for breakfast with side orders of kim chee and poke. And for some reason, I always tend to win big with dealers wearing Aloha shirts.

Beatles Love/Cirque du Soleil
All I can say is "Wow." I got tickets for Cappy and I, and also treated my parents for their birthdays. If you don't know about this show, it might be because it only opened in June of 2006, so it is fairly new. Apparently there are 6500+ speakers in the space that seats 2000.

I've not been a huge Beatles fan in my life. I mean, I've appreciated them and can sing along to many of their popular songs but I never would called myself a fan. Not anymore. I often thought the Beatles were overrated, but I realised that I only thought that because they've been over-exposed. The original recordings snapped and buzzed as if we were right in the recording studio. The version of "Strawberry Fields" and the mash up involving my "A Day in the Life" brought me to tears, literally. It was gorgeous.

We sat in the lower orchestra seats just near the side stage. My dad, who generally sleeps in anything from Shakespeare to weddings was very much awake. He kept pointing and saying, "Hey look there! Look over here! Wow, look at that puppet!" It was very endearing. After the show, my mom told me that the music brought her back to the days when her and my dad were dating. And now 40+ years later, they're still together.

I think the best part about the Beatles Love show was the anticipation. We knew we were in for a treat, but had no idea what to expect. It was really a transformative experience, at least for me. I developed a new love for the music and a creative bug. Or so I wish. At various points during the show, I kept thinking that I'd love to quit my job and concentrate 24/7 on a new skill like the cloud swing or the tissus. How many people concentrate on one skill for years and years?

I've not been able to mention the Bridal Shower or the trip to Chuck E. Cheese with the niece and nephew. Both of these warrent separate entries, for obvious reasons.

I'm off in search of ginger crab for you know who. The effort to dismantle a crustacean is infuriating. So much effort for so little reward.

Hummer

True story:

My brother and sister-in-law took the kids to McDonald's last week. This is not a regular thing, but a once in a while special treat.

All was fine until our nephew Ryan opened up his Happy Meal. He was not too thrilled with the toy. Not at all pleased. You see, his last Happy Meal offered up a 3-inch Hummer. This time he wasn't as "fortunate." On this grisly day, he received an ugly Ronald McDonald doll for his sins.

He wasn't going to take this sitting down. Not this Aries-Dragon boy. Apparently, he then walked up to the counter and pleasantly asked if he could get a Hummer toy instead. "Oh I'm sorry," the young woman at the counter cooed, "We gave out Hummers last month. We have a different prize this month."

Unsatisfied with this response, but anger in check, he then boldly asked, "Can I talk to your manager?" Oh, yeah, have I mentioned that Ryan celebrated his 6th birthday last April?

At this point, my brother noticed that Ryan had been gone for over five minutes. As he walked up to the front counter, he found Ryan was gazing up at a tall man wearing a brown tie. Clearly, the manager. He was calmly explaining the Happy Meal toy policy to a very attentive little boy.

Satisfied with the answer, Ryan smiled politely and said energetically, "Thank you!"

Now, I'm not sure I would have been so bold to ask to talk to a manager of any kind, at age 12, much less six. Ryan has an unapologetic savvy confidence about him that I don't always see in many adults, much less other six year olds! What a funny kid.

And what weekend with kids is complete without a trip to Chuck E. Cheese, a.k.a., Germapalooza? We braved the Pachinko parlor-like bells and whistles, flashing lights, the rodents of unusual size singing and playing air guitar in the "Pizza Time Theater," and kids running all over the place. It was our niece's 9th birthday. Ayu and Ryan loved it.

I was thinking of things that I would loved, if only they came around sooner in my life. Chuck E. Cheese, Toys R Us, a new water slide at the Kona Surf Hotel, and McDonald's Playland came on the scene when I was 12. Though my brother was in heaven, I felt cheated. I was just beyond the age when things like that would have been thrilling.

Actually, my first memory of McDonald's Playland was a bit painful. My grandparents took us to the newly remodeled McDonald's in Kailua-Kona for breakfast. We usually stopped there before our long drive back to Hilo on the other side of the Big Island. I guess I was a bit over zealous and somehow got myself stuck in the "Hamburglar" Tower. Jesus Christ. It took a bit of relaxation, flexibility, and pre-teen meditation to get out of that iron contraption.

Technology brings a whole new world to kids these days. I remember being excited with Intellivision. Black and white Atari asteroids no longer held its appeal. After Intellivision, there was no going back...

Computer games for kids are insane these days. My niece is able to purchase, name, decorate, train, feed, clothe, and jump Arabian horses. Ryan grips a realistic racing steer wheel and races through the desert, city, and highway. It's like their imagination is worked out for them already--all they have to do is go out an experience click and scroll. Well, that's probably not true, but it seems that way.

This past Sunday night, my niece had to create a poster of her heritage. I was shocked and amazed to watch her gather and print out her research in less than 20 minutes. She's amazing and only 9-years old. In no time, things were downloaded, printed, glued, constructed, and colored. Perhaps what she does is the norm for kids these days. It just blew me away.

I can't imagine what it would have been like to have had internet access in elementary school. When I had to do a book report or paper, my mom used to drive my brother and I to the nearby Newport Way public library. We enacted our dewey decimal system skills and located heavy books. Rather than googling an image, I would get my brother to sketch out things for me. I thoroughly loved hunting down information, writing notes, and making copies.

I just wonder what is lost with all the shortcuts to so much information. Maybe kids build other skills? Perhaps instant internet access removes ambiguity tolerance and the virtue of patience. Asking for the manager at McDonalds, anyone?

Kids these days grow up with the confidence that everything and anything is available by simply moving a little mouse on a screen. It's so odd, isn't it?

ALS

Anatomy of a Fatal Neurological Disease:

-Certain fatality within 2-5 years of diagnosis
-Ultimate loss of motor coordination and muscle atrophy
-Loss of voluntary movement
-Retention of basic senses
-Retention of memory, personality, and intelligence
-Difficulty breathing, swallowing, speaking

This is a brief description of ALS (Amytrophic lateral sclerosis) commonly known as Lou Gehrig's Disease. Unfortunately, I've become very familiar with this in the past 72 hours.

My mom's best friend from Hilo flew to the Bay Area this week. After one short hour with a specialist at UCSF, she was diagnosed with ALS and coldly given the worst prognosis anyone could imagine.

I suppose when you dispense death sentences on a regular basis, one probably develops a professional indifference. The specialist at UCSF was terse, cold, and indifferent. But for those who travel across the Pacific Ocean however, a sentence of 2-5 years of life could be a bit warmer, don't you think?

Pisces Thursday

For all those afflicted with a Sun in Pisces, Jonathan Cainer would like to tell you...

If efficiency were the dominant principle in the creation of the universe, all the leaves on all the trees would be the same shade of green. Nature isn't always economical in the way she uses up energy. The cosmos was surely created by some very lavish, extravagant impulse... and if the inhabitants of this earth have big ideas, it is because they too have this same generous spirit keeping them alive. Be led by your heart today. It really does know where it is going.

This is tremendously reassuring, yet unnecessary. I do have a strong vision of where I'm headed. So given that: the democrats are now awake/have awoken others, I've secured two recommendations for my skool application, I've gloriously re-discovered Blue Bell Toll, Britney finally dumped Kevin, and my car is ready for pick up...all is right side up. For the moment.

Transitory

Apparently, the tip of Mauna Kea's 13,796 feet tall volcano mountain will become immersed underwater in 80 million years. I can't even fathom what a million years would feel like, much less 100 years. They say the Big Island sinks one foot every hundred years under the enormous weight of the volcanoes.

So all of the Hawaiian islands have been biding their time on the Pacific plate, while we're presently biding our time over Hayward fault. This is humbling. Saddening, even. Makes my internal snarkiness over annoying trivialities seem like pointless waste of time.

But is it a waste of time? Tiny trivialities annoy me right now. When I'm cut off on the Bay Bridge, my adrenaline level does not register the blessing of time and the big picture.

This recalls the most obvious, bordering on boredom question--why is it so hard to live for the now, when we're striving to live for later?

I mean, why spend the best years of your life avoiding sugar, cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol, random acts of debauchery, McDonalds and white flour? If I reach 80, will I feel that my life had achieved some golden status--having avoided the wonderful misdirection of dangerous vices? What would that Golden Girl Scout feeling be?

Hawai'i will disappear. If humans make it that far--they will be living in intelligent homes, mentally transporting themselves to and fro, and will subsit on a mentally guided menu that can be downloaded and invisibly applied to the blood (or cholorphyll) stream. Should we prepare now the annals of island existence?

If 80 million years is so far off, why does it make me sad? And if the little things don't really matter, why have a flurry of little things put me in a bad mood?

Herbal Bistro

One of my favorite things to do here in the States is go out for brunch. Wake up later on a Saturday or Sunday, get dressed, walk the dog, get the paper, and head out to a small cafe. Going out for brunch was not very common in many of the places I lived abroad--and it was the one thing I really missed about the States.

Now I can consult the Zagat San Francisco for tons of amazing breakfast cafes. Some specialize in cornbread pancakes and others in homemade corned beef hash and eggs. In the past four years, Cappy and I have established a nice rotation of great breakfast restaurants.

Last Saturday however, we inadvertently tried something new. Cappy stumbled upon a "Crêperie" not so near our neighborhood. She rang my cell phone and waved at me from across the street, pointing to the place she was walking into. I was in Long's buying Motrin--left the house with a terrible headache.

So I arrived at the "Crêperie." Cappy was waving at me with a giddy and amused look on her face from a table next to a faux brick wall. There were "Parisian" decorations everywhere. The menu was typed in a Mac II font and turkey-ham was listed in every instance of meat.

There should have been washers and dryers in the back room though--if you know what I mean....

Top 10 Signs That You MAY Be Dining in a Pot Storefront:

1. You're one of two patrons at 10:45 a.m. on a Saturday morning

2. Reggae music is blasting at a Saturday night volume

3. It takes nearly 15 minutes for lukewarm cups of coffee to arrive at your table

4. CASH ONLY signs are enthusiastically posted in more than one place

5. One waiter is visibly straining with his whole body to squeeze oranges for an 8 oz. glass of juice

6. There are half empty bottles of wine standing behind the counter. However, the menu only features non-alcoholic beverages.

7. You feel a sudden and unexplainable craving for beef jerky, pizza, and potato chips

8. The two staff people look like they should be fitting you for fins and a dive belt, not frying your eggs

9. One waiter makes 5 very casual trips back and forth to your table (in the space of three or so minutes...) each time, with a very friendly and mellow smile on his face:

1st trip: The food
2nd trip: Forks
3rd trip: The water you asked for 15 minutes ago
4th trip: One Spoon (!?!)
5th trip: Salt

10. Your paid order ticket goes into a special box in the top drawer of the register

Good times.

Dyke Dolls

Have you heard of the site/store called DYKEdolls ? Their aim is to "redefine culture one girl at a time." Whose culture, I wondered to myself?

Anyway, they sell the world's first lesbian action figure dolls. There are even different categories of Dykedolls: the butchie Bobbie dolls, Baby Dyke dolls, So Cal skater chick dolls, etc. You can even accessorize your dyke dolls with a leather harness/dildo or a tanktop and briefs. Unfortunately, there aren't any fanny pack-tie dye-Michigan-women's fest-mullet lesbians. Now that would make a killing, that's what I'd call a lesbian action figure.

Great concept, I say!

And get this, in addition to store locations in NYC, Baltimore, Virginia, and L.A., you can also get your Dyke Doll fix in Iceland, Spain, and Italy.

But get this---as you know, Asian adoptions are getting quite expensive these days. Korean babies seem to top the list, with Chinese babies slowly climbing the charts. So how can you get your own Asian baby for the low price of $11.00?

How about the dolls simply called "mommies?" Feast your eyes on the heartwarming image (just above) of two white mommies, Kelly and Christine, and their precious little Soo Jin. What the fuck!?! Apart from the fact that they resemble a papier mâché figure I made in high school, it's just wrong.

But then I was thinking, why isn't there a DYKEdoll boutique in Seoul? Too bad. How else will the little Soo Jins of Seoul dream of a better life with not one, but count 'em TWO white lesbian mommies in America?

Don't get me wrong, I think the concept of this company is great. Would I buy a dyke doll for myself or anyone else? No, but just like bobblehead dolls and Japanese comic books, I can appreciate the appeal for many.

In the mid-90's I spent a heartwrenching year (and a few months after that in the later 90's) in Seoul, South Korea. My main purpose wasn't to bring English to the Children of Choson, but to do some research on my own adoption.

To make a long story short, what I learned was pretty repulsive. KSS (Korean Social Services) had a pretty tight and greedy hold on anyone trying to conduct any blood relative research. Basically, if you wanted them to open a drawer to begin looking up your records, it was about $25, then for them to browse through some files, you're set back another $25, and so on.

Somehow, and with the help of a good friend/adoptee activist, I was finally able to visit the baby orphanage where I supposedly spent the first 9 months of my life. I was even given a special "tour" that was set up for me.

Imagine a room full of toddlers, boys and girls between the ages of 2-6 frolicking together in a room without furniture. Imagine a few raggedy dolls peering up at you from the floor--looking as sorry as the kids themselves.

The only light came from a large window way above their heads. Painful. Even more so to hear that some of the kids' parents actually lived down the road. Many kids were placed in the "orphanage" for reasons such as: "Their parents already have one girl and didn't want another," or "Her father just lost his job." Hmm. Perfect excuses to kick your kid down to the local orphanage.

I was also introduced to some "special kids" who had a room of their own. These were boys and girls with various handicaps, or downs syndrome. And to shield their special eyes from the light, let's just say this room saved the orphanage a lot on monthly electric bills.

All this for the love of bloodlines. I don't condone white women, or anyone who wants to adopt babies from Korea. But I am sickened by the attachment of Korean adoptees to a really great action figure concept.

What's wrong with white lesbians adopting Korean babies? Nothing. What's wrong with DYKEdolls promoting the Korean "baby mill" in the year 2006? Everything.

Wink

What is it with people (not cats) who wink? I'm not referring to the sassy come hither winks. I'm talking about the business wink. The at-work wink. What IS that? And how does the male corporate wink differ from the female corporate wink? What has brought this on? Let's explore this shall we?

i've been "winked" at by two different people at work. Once by a scruffy older gentleman with a corner office, who despite the immediate mental associations, is actually a cool guy. When I sat down with him in one of the first meetings i had with him, he threw his hands up at a chart and said, "This makes no fucking sense!" Brilliant, because I love people who curse out loud. The second winker is female. I'll get to her in a second...

So the older gentleman wink.... I was emerging from the kitchen with a frothy beverage, and he was headed in the opposite direction. I smiled my usual cubicles-are-not-meant-for-humans-but-I'm-pushing-through-the-pain grin, which was met by a quick and chirpy wink, if winks can be chirpy.

Here are my quick and dirty interpretations:

-"Hey...you're on my radar!"
Possible Meaning: I'm familiar with the work you've been doing, so keep it up?

-"How YOU doin'?"
Possible Meaning: This is how I greet ALL the ladies!

-"Hello there"
Possible Meaning: My bank account frickin' kills, how YOU doin'?

All reasonable guesses, none too offensive. My take on this is sociological. I mean, what's the point of letting that in?

But on to the second aforementioned female winker. The occurances are so random:

Situation 1:
I'm talking with someone and she walks by, and does the passing-by-wink

Situation 2:
We're talking about nonsensical things and she'll say, "so i basically eat an apple every morning.." and then the period-end-of-the-sentence-wink!

Situation 3:
I'm talking to other people, she walks into the room, catches my eye and there it is, another hey-i-see-you-wink!

For some reason, i find her winks to be less predictable, yet with more wacky interpretations. Quite frankly, I find them a bit annoying. They're like shorthand or something. Shorthand, for what? Is it a conspiratorial in-the-trenches thing, a secret club sans club thing, or an unconscious nervous thing? There's no need to decide!

So what would you say? Male winker: possible meaning 1, 2, or 3? Female winker: compulsive tick or hey-you're-my-people?

I really don't think that neither of the male nor female winks are flirty in nature, given the space in which they were delivered. And yes, you never know, but my senses tell me that the corporate wink is one that is part conspiratorial and part revelational.

One can easily keep a lot repressed in a corporate environment--true thoughts, feelings, opinions, attitudes, etc. So maybe the wink is the only harmless and untraceable flag that waves amongst people breathing recycled air? Its message can't be saved into a hard drive, not cc'd to anyone else, nor forwarded via voicemail. A well choreographed wink can simply disappear into the air, silent yet resolute....

Maybe I should stop analysing and start drafting my own wink strategy?

Request

A brief service announcement from Penny:

It has been a while now that I've entered the blogosphere--it's weird to think that I actually have a blog, quite honestly. We're talking of one who works in a high tech company, but is not one who gets overly excited with gadgetry and technology. I know, tell me about it. I feel like the only one working at Dunkin' Donuts who doesn't like pastries.

So now, a little over a year and 100+ blog postings later, I'm happy to be in regular correspondance with a few of my regular reader friends. Thank you for the continued support! Though you don't post your comments online, I do appreciate how your email comments turn into longer email discussions.

But what about the others?

Here's my humble request to other frequent "anonymous" posters and silent readers at pennylane productions. Yes, I'm talking to you! I've seen you here every other week or month or so. You click around, snicker, jeer, and maybe even roll your eyes a bit!? What's up? If you're a friend of mine, you've got my email--so drop a line every now and then! Tell me who you are, what you're up to, and what you really think.

I must say it feels rather odd to to know that regular anonymous comment posters or unidentified readers keep reading without saying hi. It's almost like people wandering through your house, opening drawers and looking at books on my nightstand--then quietly slipping out the back door. I suppose that's the "brilliance" of anonymous viewing--that fantastic and voyeuristic view into people's lives. But I'm no Zach Braff, who seems content with a website and thousands of anonymous readers and comments. Me? I'd like to know who I'm drivelling to.

Identify yourself, silent reader and/or occasional commenter. Cheers.

Lately:

-My quirky and unreliable Samsung phone has been dropped, slammed, and kicked one too many times. A co-worker suggested that I invest in a Sprint phone from Costco--thereby assuring me a phone for life with their return everything anytime policy. She claims a man had successfully returned a $3 bag of potato chips. What might have been the issue there? Too salty? An unreasonable ratio of oil to actual potato? Anyway, I was able to get a swanky ultra thin phone. Now I can treat camera snapshots of the Tubular One with sepia tones and little cartoon stamps. Brilliant--for those who like stuffed animals in cars.

-My venture into the world of academia has taken flight. That is to say, I'm gathering my passport, taking care of innoculations, trying out travel umbrellas, updating my Lonely Planets... Is it like riding a bike? I hope so.

-A few small trips... Cappy and I are looking forward to a family wedding in November. Las Vegas baby! Though, I guess the reception at the Bellagio won't be so bad : ) We also may be headed here for a taste of fall later in October with some friends. Apparently this place is LGBT and dog friendly!

-Latest Lotto fantasies:

1. Soundproof room with a killer drum set
2. Small condo in the city for convenience when I'll be spending more time near a library
3. House in Hawai'i for weekends and holidays (preferably Big Island--Puna or Hakalau)

And lastly, signs that you've got this nasty bug I've acquired:

-you can't get enough sleep
-you've got aches and pains
-you feel that feel you literally can't get out of bed for more than one day
-coffee doesn't taste/smell good

Ugh.

NYC

What can I say about our trip in the East Coast? It was all about the food, or a lot of it was. The best part about dining in NYC is definitely the possibility of 11 pm dinner reservations.

The dining experience was definitely a refreshing departure from the low fat/low cal California cuisine.

Here is a list of the highlights. My top 4:

Carnegie Deli
http://www.carnegiedeli.com
Totally famous and very touristy. Cappy had the "Woody Allen," 1/2 corned beef, 1/2 pastrami, and I had the pastrami. I probably should have had the corned beef as it was absolutely perfect. The sandwiches feature enough meat for a small family, a dish of 5-6 pickles, and crinkle-cut fries.

Now, I don't mean to be a buzzkill on this whole NY deli experience--but I thought it would be great to show the possibility of such a monstrous highly stacked sandwich, but then in actuality, serve something more reasonable. Or allow people to choose something they can actually finish. The highly stacked sandwiches struck me as kind of obscene. But Americans tend to have a soft spot (literally) for the sputtering over-the-top joy of oversized portions. In Tokyo, the "Woody Allen" sandwich could easily feed a family of four.

Unfortunately, we didn't have an appetite for the famous cheesecake, nor a sidedish knish. A knish, I've learned is essentially is a pastry packed potato. In any case, I did wonder--which kind of food is more aligned with heart disease? New York deli food or local Hawai'i lunch plates?

Aquagrill
http://www.aquagrill.com/menuspage.htm

Earlier in the summer I was a bit enthusiastic about our heavenly dinner experience at Aqua. My heart is still with Aqua, but our experience at Aquagrill was also something extraordinary.

We were blown into the front doors (literally, thanks to Ernesto) at 11 pm. The dining room was buzzing with energy as if it were 7.30 pm. I had Alaskan halibut that was as tender as sole with a sauce straight out of a small cafe on the Île-de-France. A light and slightly tangy Dungeness crab and watercress salad was carefully placed on top of the fish. Cappy went for the Diver Sea Scallops and risotto. I can't really comment further on her dish because I was quite wrapped up with the halibut and crab.

We ordered their special dessert, the "Saturday Night Soufflé." It was a lovely hazelnut soufflé with freshly dripped chocolate and kahlua sauce. We're not generally dessert gals, but who could resist? At the end of the night, the host/manager whispered to us that that the dessert chef had made one more soufflé for the staff. She then got us a small plate with a bit of it, which was also shared with the waiters. Nice.

Aquagrill is known for their friendly and laid back atmosphere. People are very real and hospitable. In fact, the biggest shock I had in NYC was seeing how friendly people were in SoHo, Tribeca, the West Village--all over really. People would go out of their way to help you.

In fact, I'm not sure this old NY joke stands anymore, at least not in the West Village area:

Question: How do you ask for the time in New York?
Answer: Do you have the time, or should I just go fuck myself?

Now it's more like...

Question: Do you have the time?
Answer: Sure--oh wait I don't. Let me walk you to a place with a great clock made of spoons and marzipan.


Balthazar
http://www.balthazarny.com/splash.html

A very Parisian experience in SoHo. Great, great great. Though NY is now smoke-free, I could still visualise the secondhand smoke hanging in the air as our cheese platter made it's way to our small table. Apparently, they've got an amazing brunch.

Sunny Palace
http://www.sunnypalace.com
Great dim sum. Chinese-Americans in Jersey. It's actually much better than anything Chinese I've had in the Bay Area or possibly even Vancouver B.C. for that matter.


Hobbit List:
These are places we'd like to have tried, but unfortunately don't have the Hobbit multiple-meal capacity, nor the will to make up for it with extra exercise:

1. Papaya King
http://www.papayaking.com
Hot dogs and a smoothie for under $3. Who could resist? We walked by this place, but we were heading elsewhere for dinner.

2. Degustation
http://events.nytimes.com/2006/06/21/dining/reviews/21rest.html
Check out the menu. I'm still sad we couldn't get to this one.

3. Jane
http://www.janerestaurant.com
Could we somehow airlift this place and plop it right down near Lake Merritt, Oakland?

NYC vs. SF

Food:
SF/NYC (tie, a very close tie)

Vibe:
NYC
For me, it kind of approximates the pre-dot.com SF--less attitude and less pretension from conservative transplants from the Midwest and East. And I may prefer the Korea-like passionate truth heartiness and soul, and creativity and energy.

Transportation:
NYC

Weather:
SF
No contest.

Energy:

SF
Ten years ago, my answer would have been NYC. Though I love the creative bustle of NYC, it now feels something I'd love to visit more frequently, rather than reside in. SF is thankfully far away from the neurotic state lines of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and less about the I-can-trace-my-ancestors-to-the-Mayflower thing. Also, I love being close to nature with the amazement that you couldn't possibly be so close to a major metropolis.

Also, NY feels like a dysfunctional relationship. One that thrills and inspires, but drains and depletes. SF feels like a perpetual crush, less heavy on commitment, but easy to get caught up in for years that seem like weeks.

Place I'd rather live:
SF
Though--a loft in Manhattan to visit for shopping, dining, theater, music, and Christmas wouldn't be bad either.

Santa Barbara

Am writing this from Santa Barbara. Just got back from the East Coast, but had to make a quick work trip to the land of the perpetually tanned and just-out-of-the-spa peeps. Specifically, the township of immaculate shrubbery and exotic cars, a.k.a. Montecito. I'm staying here in a room facing the ocean that I can barely see through the coastal fog.

The last time I was in this "town" (or rather, a resort villa for the rich and famous) I ran into one of the rich and famous, literally. We nearly knocked each other over. See if you can guess who I'm talking about. Think 80's Brat Pack. Male. No, not Emilio Estevez. Not Judd Nelson--(wait--who else was in the Brat Pack anyway?? And why do I have all this useless knowledge in my head??) Need more hints? His brother was recently divorced from a two time Academy Award winner. OK, if you still don't know who I'm talking about, you're probably too young.

A few more clues/observations: he really does have rosy red cheeks, he's just a tad taller than I am, he drives a black Mercedes, and he's very polite. A couple of years ago, I was walking down State Street in a stride faster than my usual local Hawaiian turtle pace. I was looking up at a building on my right, and suddenly felt the side of someone hitting my left shoulder. I turned to my left and uttered a "oh sorry," and heard a familiar voice utter the same. I then heard a woman's voice call "Rob!" I looked up and realised that I ran into Rob Lowe. Woo hoo. Didn't he videotape himself and a few underage girls at a Democratic convention a few years back? Isn't he a total Schwarznegger supporter? Eeew.

So, here I am in Santa Barbara two years later. Once more for a work trip, but with a different company. I haven't run into a celebrity yet. I was too tired after our all day long meeting for any celebrity stalking. My co-worker here from Seoul would love to run into Brad Pitt though. How special.

The only person I'd like to run into today is someone who'd be willing to do a 2-hour Swedish Massage for free.

I'll be posting very soon about our trip to the East Coast. Here's a bit of a preview:

-We realised that the 295 and the 95 are not the New Jersey Turnpike, but totally lead you to it

-We experienced a "Woody Allen" at the Carnegie Deli

-We visited the Hogwartian Bryn Mawr and Mall-like UPenn

-Had some fun late nights in SoHo

-Saw Rent (my first time, Cappy's second...and I LOVED it)

More stories and observations to come. Notably, my case of culture shock and surprised appreciation of the very friendly and chill folks in NYC. It was amazing and quite surprising to have encountered people in NYC that were actually much friendlier than those in the Bay Area. I'm not kidding.

More on that later.

East

My friend Kelly asked me if I ever get culture shock when I'm on the East Coast. Good question. Of all the places I've been in the U.S. (not many compared to Europe/Asia) I thought I would have felt the most culture shock in Greensboro, North Carolina. Apart from the numerous "Praise the Lord," and "REPENT" signs that seemed to appear every 50 yards--I didn't feel so out of place. Odd. Maybe it was because of the company I was in, or that the humidity reminded me of Hawai'i.

There were things I had never seen/experienced before. People talked about "prayer chains" and how entire congregations set up a domino effect of prayer for a little girl who happened to catch a rather brutal flu virus. People had compact three bedroom homes with large trampolines in their grassy backyards. I watched kids stuff down saltine crackers after coating it in ranch dressing. I walked through a super market called "Harris Teeter." I heard Vietnamese women with thick North Carolina accents. I witnessed people actually making the rice you boil in a bag.

But there was something in Greensboro that made me feel less of an alien. What was it? Of course it was the food. There was a passion and heartiness to the food that reminded me of the way people are with food in Hawai'i. Or rather, the preoccupation and deeply felt connection to it.

I discovered Cheerwine (a cherry flavored soda), Brunswick stew, Moravian lemon cookies, hush puppies, NC style bbq, and Crock Pot beef roast, and Chick-Fil-A sandwiches. Even today, I get appreciative and warm smiles from N. Carolina natives when I mention my knowledge and love of Brunswick stew and Cheerwine. I'm certain I'd have a similar reaction if I met someone from Greensboro who professed their love for loco mocos or portuguese sausage eggs and rice.

So about the East Coast--and that was what I intended to write about here. In about 24 hours, Cappy and I will be buying up copies of Us, Vanity Fair, the New Yorker, and In Touch for our flight to Newark Liberty. We'll spend about 6 days wandering about New York City, Long Island, Philadelphia and a bit of New Jersey.

List of things to do:

-Katz's deli. I can't wait to turn through the turnstile with my ticket for a Kosher pastrami sandwich. Pickles. And probably a nap right after.

-Ground Zero. After a bit of deliberation, I've decided that I'd like to visit the memorial. I'm not looking forward to the sellers of 9/11 memorabilia--t-shirts and flip photo albums of the burning twin towers. Reminds me of the lady selling postcards at Auschwitz-Birkenau. Grisly.

-Cappy Landmarks. Would like to see where Cappy went to high school and college. Where she worked on the Pennsylvania Main Line, where she grew up in Long Island, her favorite place for dim sum in Manhattan, etc.

-SoHo and Tribeca. We're staying at a hotel in the downtown area near these neighborhoods. It's been a long while since I've walked through these streets. The last time I was here, I bought an ankh necklace that I've not seen since I bought it. The Hunger was my favorite movie back then.

-A Cheesesteak sandwich in Philadelphia. It is true, Cheese Wiz is an ingredient. I can dig a 4000 calorie sandwich. Jesus.

There is a bit more I'm looking forward to, but I can't get to that right now.

Hawai'i Transplant

A while ago I received a forward called, "You know you're from Hawai'i when..." It was a list of things that only those from Hawai'i would recognise about themselves. It was quite funny and true. My good friend and Oah'u transplant mentioned that it we needed a similar list for Hawai'i transplants. Though I just spent summers in Hilo, I grew up in a mainland community of Kauai and Oah'u transplants.

So here's my list:

You know you're a mainland transplant from Hawai'i when....

-You suffer a lot of awkward silences among those mainland folks who just don't get your jokes with playful racial overtones

-You're the only one clamoring to help do dishes at the ends of dinner parties

-When you notice people leaving a party, you rush to make a plate for them

-You silently scoff at those who actually take home the food they bring to a party but then remind yourself that you're not on an island

-You wince when people ask, "So, is your family Hawaiian?" And you're clearly of Asian origin

-You can turn your pidgin on and off with the greatest of ease. Or, you sometimes forget that you indeed speak another dialect!

-"Care Package" means dried squid, li hing mui, One Ton chips, and packages of poi rather than scented candles, lavender bath salts, and potpourri

-You understand where the song line "...and no go out with Mits Funai" comes from and still laugh out loud about it

-You feel an immediate sense of warmth when you inadvertantly hear pidgin being spoken in a public place

-You gravitate to Hawai'i festivals just for the food--and even if the beef stew is junk, you still feel satisfied

-People always gush, "You're SO generous" when you're just acting naturally

-You want to call your friend's parents "Uncle" and "Auntie"

-You have fun guessing the island of another Hawai'i transplant based on the pidgin slang they use

-To you, a casual dinner means you can wear a t-shirt, shorts, and slippers

-You feel a hint of shame when you tell your non-Hawai'i friends that you actually enjoy eating SPAM

-Everyone around you seems to speed walk in comparison to your easy stroll

-Whenever the topic about Hawai'i comes up you're the "expert" even if it's about a place you've never been to

-When in Las Vegas, you always stop at the California hotel for some good local food

-You've taught people that to make their palms face inward when making the "shaka sign," and not outward like a tourist

-At a potluck, your dish is usually the ugliest, but most satisfying

-It still takes you a second to realise that "flip flops" means slippers

-People think you're "overly obsessed" with food. (...unless they are Chinese)

-You naturally take your shoes off when you enter a house

-You feel that walking on carpet with shoes feels funny

-You have a large shark's tooth hanging down from your rear view mirror

-You stop to smell the papayas at Berkeley Bowl even though you would never buy them at nearly $3 each

I'm homesick. I hear ATA has cheap flights: Oakland-Hilo.

Locked In

My friend/co-worker and I fired back emails today about our favorite 4AD groups. She was listening to the Cure and mentally moping as she claims to have done from ages 14-17. Good times.

I just heard on NPR that our musical tastes are pretty much set between 14-21 and that after the age of 35 it's hard for adults to get into new music. Hmm. I've been emotionally grounded with melancholic electronica from the grey skies of Britain.

Most of my adult musical consciousness was undoubtedly framed by what I listened to between the ages of 14-21. And this was anything and everything British: Duran Duran, Erasure, New Order, Depeche Mode, Cocteau Twins, Talk Talk, The Cure.

Speaking of Depeche Mode...

In high school, Trent and I would drive out to a lakeside park on Mercer Island, smoke cloves and carry on this way: "Isn't strangelove about S&M?" "What is the real emotion expressed if one declares, 'i need to drink more than you seem to think before i'm anyone's...' and "Is Blue Dress about the fact that Martin Gore likes drag queens, or maybe that he likes to wear heels from time to time?" And the ever uplifting, "What do you think is the least painful or preferable way to die?" Trent: drowning (he was a merman) Me: while asleep.

Now i don't feel so bad over the age of 35, unable to connect with new music that you'd think i love but really can't stand.

Summer

I've been missing from the blogosphere for most of this fastly disappearing summer, this is true. I have been doing a mental record of the travels and exploits of Penny, Cappy, and the canine centenarian. Not everything, but a few things thus far...

Russian River:
Who knew water ankle deep in parts could be so much fun? How many women does it take to row a canoe upstream? The answer: 3. Two to paddle/steer, and one to shout out directions--imagine a sundrenched cockswain armed with organic hops and arugula. The Tubular One wasn't too keen on the canoe bit. She was more fascinated by the nearby web footed ones. You could nearly hear the T.O.'s telepathic shouts of glee, "My food source! My food source! Now all I need to do is dig up some sweet potatoes..."

Side note: I really believe that pets should only eat foods that they can feasibly track and kill. I knew a cat who ate a dry mix of lamb and rice. Lamb? This is hilarious to me. Can you imagine a feisty feline attacking a mid-sized lamb for dinner? In my mind, this upsets the natural order of things.

Anyway, at Russian River--snacks, scrabble, and a Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency marathon (!!) guided us through the night before we got back to the river the following day.

We're headed back to Russian River this coming weekend, but with an increase of five more gals. I see more beer, rounds of Texas Hold 'Em, and even more excuses to head to Monte Rio's Sonoma Wine and Cheese shop.

Summer Movies:
Didn't see many this summer. Our best film moments have been courtesy of Netflix. We did see "Scoop" on its opening night. We were the youngest members of the audience. I smirked rather than laughed. All i can say was that the popcorn was really great.

Work:
An upcoming release has taken most of my time. Read: half-eaten lunches at my desk, little time for shoreline walks, and too much time staring at a computer. Apart from the Tahoe retreat, it's been quite engaging. Life fulfilling: low. Career building and good times w/colleagues: high.

Misc:
Fun barbeques and picnics, our Bouillabaisse adventure with Fabrice and Jen, swimming and strawberry/passion fruit tapioca smoothies, great reading, a lot of tennis, and general subdued mayhem.

For those of you know who know and understand my thing with Morten Harket, read on... I've just received the DVD "a-ha Live at Vallhall." The DVD includes footage of the lads hanging out before a concert--being their usual passionate extroverted selves. And the added bonus of a flash created video for "I wish I cared." It has made my top ten list of all-time favorite music videos. Also in my top ten: Duran Duran's "Is there something I should know?" and Madness' "Our House," among others.

I've learned recently about another 4AD darling, "Blonde Redhead." The sound? Kind of like Bjork with a hippie electronic backup band. A vocally careless Japanese singer. The sound is raw and very real. I keep seeing visions of Duran Duran's "Save a Prayer" video whenever I listen to this music. Well, just the song "Elephant Woman." I'm not sure why.

Summer travel will come later for us. We'll be heading out to the E. Coast for real this time. It's high time I visit the tennis courts where Cappy developed her killer backhand, her high school, her childhood home in Long Island, and a NYC hot dog. The last time I was in NY was a very long time ago. At that time, I had this crazy thought that a Smith MSW was something I had to do, and that moving to Seoul w/my French girlfriend was going to keep us together.

This time around I'd like to see what the city (NYC) looks like from a spiritually sober place.

Will it seem as noisy or more so? Will I be able to locate my long lost friend Geno S. in Brooklyn? And where are those big round rocks in Central Park? Is the dim sum in New Jersey as good as Cappy's mom says it is? And lastly, I will finally experience a proper Philadelphia cheesesteak sandwich. Is Cheese Wiz really a main ingredient?

Mass Games

While in Paris a few years ago, Cappy and I happened upon a great documentary about North Korea. I remember furiously translating the French subtitles for her while at the same time, trying to absorb this incredible documentary. We kept saying to ourselves that it would never air in the United States, and how fortunate we were to catch it on French TV.

The documentary is called A State of Mind. It follows one year in the life of two girls in Pyongyang. They were training for the Mass Games--the world's largest choreographed gymnastic performance---read: brainwashing at staggering proportions. It's a monumental event that takes place a few times a year.

The two girls, Hyon Sun Pak and Song Yun Kim are the two girls that speak to the camera with an energy that seemed passionately aloof. They rarely looked directly into the camera. When one confessed that her goal was to perform for the General, she exuded as much enthusiasm as a 17-year old seeing a McDonald's playland for the first time.

One marvels at the mass synchronicity, flexibility and extreme display of unity. It's easy to get swept away in the spectacle and forget that only a chosen and well-nourished few are able to participate in these "games." And that the chosen few of Pyongyang are entitled to one television station for a maximum of five hours a day. The national radio plays in all apartment units. Residents may soften the volume, but they are never allowed to turn it off completely.

Parts of the documentary recalled images from The Wonderful Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl, or Mein Kampf. Quite frankly, it made the Nazi party look like toy soldiers playing line-up in a gymnasium.

In August of last year, I remember seeing free advertising postcards for the Mass Games in Beijing. These colorful postcards were lying on the counter of a coffee shop. This coffee shop was on the first floor of the ultra modern Beijing skyscraper. This is the building where our Beijing team has their headquarters.

I remember how the postcard advertised the Mass Games as some phenomenal spectacle. I also thought it was funny as the coffee shop was off to the side of a Jaguar/BMW dealership.