So apparently what I like to do now during lunch is eat at my desk and read the news instead of going down to the cafeteria and attempting to socialize with anyone with a personality grade above "arrogant, self-loving bitch." Thanks, grad school, for lowering my standards and paving the way to mealtimes full of awkward conversation!
Here's what I got today. So I have my own opinions about Christian Lander's book ("Stuff White People Like," which includes Asian girls as #11 on the list...which is awesome, because I literally cannot tell you enough about how much I love being objectified, even if it's tough-in-cheek), and his CNN article How We Became White provoked some thought. In it, he mentions being a white immigrant from Canada, and neatly checking off the "White" box in the US Census. There's no differentiation between White Americans and White immigrants--I guess white people are all assumed to be the same, which is to say, awesomely American and privileged and so forth. Which is, arguably, just as discriminatory as Seth Green's recent joke on SNL that the Asian American version of Snookie would be a violin-wielding and be-spectacled academic nightmare. (Although, to be honest, I was torn between laughing and shaking my head, because the kids in the Asian Student Council at W&M were probably some of the most outrageous and dramatic people I've ever met.)
It is interesting that Lander calls it "that wonderful privilege" to check the White box on the census. I mean, I get his argument, that a 1st generation Canadian-American would probably not be subjected to the same kinds of discrimination as 5th-generation Latino-Americans. Probably true. But do most White people see that privilege? Or really, is it a kind of curse for so many different kinds of people to be homogenized and stereotyped under one label?
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
baby blues
OMG I just figured out why some eyes are called "baby blues": because some babies are born with blue eyes that turn darker as they grow up. Thus, baby blues...the blues that you have as a baby. Good lord.
I blame this on being Asian.
I only figured out in high school that some kids are born blonde and then end up with brown hair (and to be honest, I didn't really believe it until I saw pics of Devin as a blonde child). Asian babies are born with dark eyes and dark hair and grow up to have...dark eyes and dark hair. Although I've met some old Asians whose eyes have started to fade in color, so their eyes turn blueish-grey. Pretty cool, actually. Sigh.
Oh my goodness, I'm boiling eggs right now and it's starting to making these disturbing rattling noises. Uhhhh. Gotta go!
I blame this on being Asian.
I only figured out in high school that some kids are born blonde and then end up with brown hair (and to be honest, I didn't really believe it until I saw pics of Devin as a blonde child). Asian babies are born with dark eyes and dark hair and grow up to have...dark eyes and dark hair. Although I've met some old Asians whose eyes have started to fade in color, so their eyes turn blueish-grey. Pretty cool, actually. Sigh.
Oh my goodness, I'm boiling eggs right now and it's starting to making these disturbing rattling noises. Uhhhh. Gotta go!
exes and oh's
B mentioned one time that the smell of Peppermint Patties made her think of her mom. For some reason, that really stuck with me. Now, just thinking about Peppermint Patties makes me think of B! It's odd, these memory-association-type-things.
Anyway, that was a just a random thought. I miss my VA fam. Only 2.5 more weeks til C's wedding!
So here's a question: Is it okay for a friend to date your ex? A couple weeks ago, this CNN article asked that very question. I'm actually not super fond of the article, but I think it's a legit topic to explore. The author seems to conclude that it's okay as long as a simple conversation takes place between both parties to kind of stave off the inevitable awkwardness that will occur. But in an age of Facebook with all its pictures and suffocating networks of friends, that simple conversation rarely takes place. Most of us found out via Newsfeed if an ex is seeing a friend. Even if they've decided to be coy about it and leave their relationship status blank, it takes about 15 seconds to look at someone's pictures, read the comments and wallposts, and figure out the truth for yourself. We're all experienced FB stalkers here. Where is the common courtesy to even just say, "Hey listen, I'm dating your ex. I'll probably keep dating him no matter what you say, but hey, just wanted to let you know." How hard is that?
Should a friend date your ex? It sounds simple, but it's a loaded question that I think many of us struggle to answer. A lot of factors come into play. For one thing, how long were you and said ex dating? How close are you with your ex's new fling? How long was the break-up before the ex and your friend got together? Was your break-up amicable or was it like something out of the opening scene in Legally Blonde where that guy dumps Reese Witherspoon in the middle of a nice restaurant? (Ahem, I may or may not have recently caught that movie on TV. I also may or may not have shouted at the TV when it happened...you may have noticed that I harbor pretty strong opinions about guys who act like self-loving, smarmy, smug narcissists.)
But, most importantly, is your ex an honest gentleman-type with a healthy sense of shame? Or is he a weasel-y, lying sack of Class-A douchebaggery? (Or is "bag" too small and mild a term for what kind of jerk he was? Was he more of a douchechasm, or perhaps a douchecanyon? Douchecrater?)
And how long can you hang onto resentment for ex & his/her new fling before it gets to an unhealthy point? Conversely: is there such a thing as unhealthy resentment for an ex and any of his various bed-tramps? (Note: I realized "bed-tramps" is a bit of a harsh term, esp b/c most of those girls are perfectly nice people. But doesn't it just sound like the perfect insult? Bed-tramps!)
There's a lot to be said for honesty. I often think that a lot of these tricky relationship/ex-relationship problems can be worked through if only both parties were honest and tactful...but always easier said than done, right?
I'd love to hear some of your opinions on this topic!
Anyway, that was a just a random thought. I miss my VA fam. Only 2.5 more weeks til C's wedding!
So here's a question: Is it okay for a friend to date your ex? A couple weeks ago, this CNN article asked that very question. I'm actually not super fond of the article, but I think it's a legit topic to explore. The author seems to conclude that it's okay as long as a simple conversation takes place between both parties to kind of stave off the inevitable awkwardness that will occur. But in an age of Facebook with all its pictures and suffocating networks of friends, that simple conversation rarely takes place. Most of us found out via Newsfeed if an ex is seeing a friend. Even if they've decided to be coy about it and leave their relationship status blank, it takes about 15 seconds to look at someone's pictures, read the comments and wallposts, and figure out the truth for yourself. We're all experienced FB stalkers here. Where is the common courtesy to even just say, "Hey listen, I'm dating your ex. I'll probably keep dating him no matter what you say, but hey, just wanted to let you know." How hard is that?
Should a friend date your ex? It sounds simple, but it's a loaded question that I think many of us struggle to answer. A lot of factors come into play. For one thing, how long were you and said ex dating? How close are you with your ex's new fling? How long was the break-up before the ex and your friend got together? Was your break-up amicable or was it like something out of the opening scene in Legally Blonde where that guy dumps Reese Witherspoon in the middle of a nice restaurant? (Ahem, I may or may not have recently caught that movie on TV. I also may or may not have shouted at the TV when it happened...you may have noticed that I harbor pretty strong opinions about guys who act like self-loving, smarmy, smug narcissists.)
But, most importantly, is your ex an honest gentleman-type with a healthy sense of shame? Or is he a weasel-y, lying sack of Class-A douchebaggery? (Or is "bag" too small and mild a term for what kind of jerk he was? Was he more of a douchechasm, or perhaps a douchecanyon? Douchecrater?)
And how long can you hang onto resentment for ex & his/her new fling before it gets to an unhealthy point? Conversely: is there such a thing as unhealthy resentment for an ex and any of his various bed-tramps? (Note: I realized "bed-tramps" is a bit of a harsh term, esp b/c most of those girls are perfectly nice people. But doesn't it just sound like the perfect insult? Bed-tramps!)
There's a lot to be said for honesty. I often think that a lot of these tricky relationship/ex-relationship problems can be worked through if only both parties were honest and tactful...but always easier said than done, right?
I'd love to hear some of your opinions on this topic!
Friday, April 23, 2010
do NOT mess with my cupcakes
I am pissed. Someone stole my cupcakes.
Let me back up.
Carolyn, a friend from high school, asked me a while ago if I'd ever been to Molly's Cupcakes in Chicago. I said no, but I'd heard of good things. Turns out she and some of her coworkers have been debating over the merits of Molly's Cupcakes vs DC's Georgetown Cupcakes. Splitting off, taking sides, etc--your typical Cupcake War.
They needed a neutral moderator to settle this debate once and for all. Since Molly's does not ship, Carolyn proposed that she mail me some Georgetown Cupcakes, and then I try them both and tell her which one I think is better. Never one to pass up on cupcakes, I said okay. Since I'll be going home in May, I thought I could try to smuggle some Molly's onto the plane to return the favor.
A few weeks go by. We're all very busy. I still haven't been able to make it down to Molly's. Then, on Wednesday night, I get a text from Carolyn asking me if I had received the package yet. I hadn't, but this was not out of the ordinary b/c the mail system at my apartment is a little slow. Because our mail boxes are so narrow, packages must be dropped off at the leasing office, whereupon they will put a package slip in your mailbox so you'll know you got one and can go pick it up. I didn't get a slip, but I was sure I would the next day.
But Carolyn got the FedEx delivery receipt, and it said it was left on the doorstep on Wednesday at noon, meaning it didn't make its way to the leasing office. I called the office a couple times yesterday and even sent Tyler to check the doorway to see if there were any boxes, but there was no sign of this package. Finally, I called the office again in the afternoon and asked if there was a procedure for me to report this stolen package. The receptionist at the leasing office (whom I'm developing a rapid dislike of) said, sounding rather annoyed, "But the mailmen are supposed to know to drop off packages with us."
Well, yes, they're supposed to. But there is no sign anywhere on the door/mailboxes that says this. She could not reasonably expect every single FedEx employee who passes through Evanston to know the idiosyncrasies of every single apartment building in the city. Ms. Receptionist said she'd send out a notice to let people know that my package was stolen and for people to look out for it. That's a nice gesture, Ms. Receptionist, but USELESS, you idiot woman. There is a bigger issue here: mail theft! Your lack of concern/seeming inability to grasp the deeper problem at hand is incredibly frustrating. What I want is to prevent this from happening again, not for someone to turn in an empty box of crumbs! I mean, what if Carolyn had mailed me important business papers, or tax information? Or something sentimental, like a photo album? Should that be left up to a delivery man (who is given absolutely no instruction on the proper place to deliver packages) and the moral conscience of my neighbors?? I sent off a somewhat fiesty email to Management last night, but have yet to receive a response. I'm sorry, but sending a notice for people to "look out for" my package is not enough. (Also, I have yet to receive said notice. Where is it, lady?) Stealing someone's mail is a crime, and I think my building should do more to prevent it from happening again.
So, Anonymous Cupcakes Stealer, I hope you know you committed a federal offense in taking my package. I hope you enjoyed the delicious specialty cupcakes that my friend sent me from Virginia. I hope you feel so guilty about eating stolen cupcakes that you will never, ever, EVER again in your life enjoy another cupcake without feeling like the sick, disgusting, greedy and unscrupulous person that you are.
Let me back up.
Carolyn, a friend from high school, asked me a while ago if I'd ever been to Molly's Cupcakes in Chicago. I said no, but I'd heard of good things. Turns out she and some of her coworkers have been debating over the merits of Molly's Cupcakes vs DC's Georgetown Cupcakes. Splitting off, taking sides, etc--your typical Cupcake War.
They needed a neutral moderator to settle this debate once and for all. Since Molly's does not ship, Carolyn proposed that she mail me some Georgetown Cupcakes, and then I try them both and tell her which one I think is better. Never one to pass up on cupcakes, I said okay. Since I'll be going home in May, I thought I could try to smuggle some Molly's onto the plane to return the favor.
A few weeks go by. We're all very busy. I still haven't been able to make it down to Molly's. Then, on Wednesday night, I get a text from Carolyn asking me if I had received the package yet. I hadn't, but this was not out of the ordinary b/c the mail system at my apartment is a little slow. Because our mail boxes are so narrow, packages must be dropped off at the leasing office, whereupon they will put a package slip in your mailbox so you'll know you got one and can go pick it up. I didn't get a slip, but I was sure I would the next day.
But Carolyn got the FedEx delivery receipt, and it said it was left on the doorstep on Wednesday at noon, meaning it didn't make its way to the leasing office. I called the office a couple times yesterday and even sent Tyler to check the doorway to see if there were any boxes, but there was no sign of this package. Finally, I called the office again in the afternoon and asked if there was a procedure for me to report this stolen package. The receptionist at the leasing office (whom I'm developing a rapid dislike of) said, sounding rather annoyed, "But the mailmen are supposed to know to drop off packages with us."
Well, yes, they're supposed to. But there is no sign anywhere on the door/mailboxes that says this. She could not reasonably expect every single FedEx employee who passes through Evanston to know the idiosyncrasies of every single apartment building in the city. Ms. Receptionist said she'd send out a notice to let people know that my package was stolen and for people to look out for it. That's a nice gesture, Ms. Receptionist, but USELESS, you idiot woman. There is a bigger issue here: mail theft! Your lack of concern/seeming inability to grasp the deeper problem at hand is incredibly frustrating. What I want is to prevent this from happening again, not for someone to turn in an empty box of crumbs! I mean, what if Carolyn had mailed me important business papers, or tax information? Or something sentimental, like a photo album? Should that be left up to a delivery man (who is given absolutely no instruction on the proper place to deliver packages) and the moral conscience of my neighbors?? I sent off a somewhat fiesty email to Management last night, but have yet to receive a response. I'm sorry, but sending a notice for people to "look out for" my package is not enough. (Also, I have yet to receive said notice. Where is it, lady?) Stealing someone's mail is a crime, and I think my building should do more to prevent it from happening again.
So, Anonymous Cupcakes Stealer, I hope you know you committed a federal offense in taking my package. I hope you enjoyed the delicious specialty cupcakes that my friend sent me from Virginia. I hope you feel so guilty about eating stolen cupcakes that you will never, ever, EVER again in your life enjoy another cupcake without feeling like the sick, disgusting, greedy and unscrupulous person that you are.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
girls = confusing
In the last few months, Tyler and I have been making an effort to become more a part of the Evanston community. This mostly means that he has joined a church, and I can recognize several of the PACE bus drivers. Not exactly thrilling stuf.
Anyway, we signed up to do this once-a-week class at Sheil called "Sex and the City of God." Of the dozen or so students, we are the only ones 1. graduated and 2. do not live in dorms. It's definitely been kind of a weird throw-back. I feel so far removed from campus/dorm life!
This week, we talked about intimacy, dating and the hook-up culture. Basically, it kind of boiled down to this: hooking up is super easy, and no one knows what dating is anymore. This one guy literally just said, "Girls, please, just tell me. What do you consider to be a 'date'? I thought I was dating this girl for like, weeks, until I realized that she didn't consider any of the things we did to be dates." It turned into a spirited conversation about dating and how blurred the lines were. Even the tradition dinner-movie-awkward triangle hug at the end of the night (shoulders in, butt out) could be construed a casual night out between platonic friends. Dating nowadays is such a grey area to navigate, it almost makes you long for the structured courtship of times past. Consider:
Dating today
Guy [via phone]: Hey, would you like to get dinner with me on Friday?
Girl: Yeah, sure.
Guy: Great. I'll come pick you up at 7.
Girl: Picking me up to go where? The cafeteria?
Guy: Oh...um. [awkward silence] I thought we could go somewhere else.
Girl: What do you mean?
Guy: Oh...I just thought we could go somewhere else.
Girl: Yeah, that sounds fun. Let me ask John, Jacob, Mary and Stu if they want to come, too!
Guy: Okay. [heart crushed]
Was it clear that he asking her out?? Who knows???
Dating in Times Past
Guy [after waiting in the calling room]: Hello! Can I take you out for a drive?
Girl: I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not interested.
Guy: Right. [leaves]
See how much more clear and helpful if everyone followed some sort of guide? Alas, it is not to be. At the end of our discussion, I saw that Tyler had written on his notepad in giant, loopy letters: "Girls = CONFUSING".
As the class wound down, our instructor, Beth, said something that's stuck with me: intimacy in a relationship is when your proximity becomes liberating. When being close to someone makes you feel more free, more like you can be yourself. Sharing physical and emotional space with someone doesn't mean you have to feel caged in or unrestricted or having to be less of who you are. It was an interesting message to leave with.
After class, Tyler took me home. A couple of odd topics had come up through the course of the evening, and kind of weighed heavily on my mind. You know, all those things about yourself that you don't want your partner to find out about? It's kind of like the emotional equivalent of having/trying to quit a coke habit w/o your partner realizing that he's dating a psycho. Prompted by Beth's description of intimacy, I emotions-vomited into the dashboard of Tyler's car. Flaws, shortcomings, wishing ill on people--things I never thought I'd confess to another person, b/c I was too ashamed to even want to acknowledge them to myself.
"You must think I'm crazy, that you're with this crazy person," I said afterwards, sniffling awkwardly into his shoulder.
"Oh, you," he said, patting me on the back. "Trust me, that's not why I think you're crazy."
And you know, it's weird...but it really did feel liberating.
Anyway, we signed up to do this once-a-week class at Sheil called "Sex and the City of God." Of the dozen or so students, we are the only ones 1. graduated and 2. do not live in dorms. It's definitely been kind of a weird throw-back. I feel so far removed from campus/dorm life!
This week, we talked about intimacy, dating and the hook-up culture. Basically, it kind of boiled down to this: hooking up is super easy, and no one knows what dating is anymore. This one guy literally just said, "Girls, please, just tell me. What do you consider to be a 'date'? I thought I was dating this girl for like, weeks, until I realized that she didn't consider any of the things we did to be dates." It turned into a spirited conversation about dating and how blurred the lines were. Even the tradition dinner-movie-awkward triangle hug at the end of the night (shoulders in, butt out) could be construed a casual night out between platonic friends. Dating nowadays is such a grey area to navigate, it almost makes you long for the structured courtship of times past. Consider:
Dating today
Guy [via phone]: Hey, would you like to get dinner with me on Friday?
Girl: Yeah, sure.
Guy: Great. I'll come pick you up at 7.
Girl: Picking me up to go where? The cafeteria?
Guy: Oh...um. [awkward silence] I thought we could go somewhere else.
Girl: What do you mean?
Guy: Oh...I just thought we could go somewhere else.
Girl: Yeah, that sounds fun. Let me ask John, Jacob, Mary and Stu if they want to come, too!
Guy: Okay. [heart crushed]
Was it clear that he asking her out?? Who knows???
Dating in Times Past
Guy [after waiting in the calling room]: Hello! Can I take you out for a drive?
Girl: I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not interested.
Guy: Right. [leaves]
See how much more clear and helpful if everyone followed some sort of guide? Alas, it is not to be. At the end of our discussion, I saw that Tyler had written on his notepad in giant, loopy letters: "Girls = CONFUSING".
As the class wound down, our instructor, Beth, said something that's stuck with me: intimacy in a relationship is when your proximity becomes liberating. When being close to someone makes you feel more free, more like you can be yourself. Sharing physical and emotional space with someone doesn't mean you have to feel caged in or unrestricted or having to be less of who you are. It was an interesting message to leave with.
After class, Tyler took me home. A couple of odd topics had come up through the course of the evening, and kind of weighed heavily on my mind. You know, all those things about yourself that you don't want your partner to find out about? It's kind of like the emotional equivalent of having/trying to quit a coke habit w/o your partner realizing that he's dating a psycho. Prompted by Beth's description of intimacy, I emotions-vomited into the dashboard of Tyler's car. Flaws, shortcomings, wishing ill on people--things I never thought I'd confess to another person, b/c I was too ashamed to even want to acknowledge them to myself.
"You must think I'm crazy, that you're with this crazy person," I said afterwards, sniffling awkwardly into his shoulder.
"Oh, you," he said, patting me on the back. "Trust me, that's not why I think you're crazy."
And you know, it's weird...but it really did feel liberating.
yes, i have the time, and no, i'm not giving it to you
So I was waiting at the bus stop on Monday, calmly reading my book and trying not to shiver in my pea coat and scarf, when this big guy holding aloft a huge umbrella gets off one of the buses and walks briskly over to the bus shelter.
"Do any of you know the time--oh, what I am saying? Of course you don't," he said in one breath, a sneer in his voice.
I looked at him blankly as he walked away, his corpulent body hidden beneath an equally massive umbrella (why, though? It wasn't raining). I exchanged a quick look of bewilderment with the only other person at the bus stop, an elderly Asian woman in a pinkish-purple knit cap and matching jacket. (Sidenote: why does it seem that all elderly Asian women are fond of this strange color? My own grandmother is like obsessed with it. Shirts, pillowcases, lipstick, you name it, and she has it in that strange, faded berry color.)
Then I felt a little offended. What did he mean, of course we don't? Because we're women, and women don't have...watches or cell phones...? Because we're Asian, so thereby we must...stingy with giving away the time?
Or did he think that we didn't understand him, didn't speak English?
I am ashamed of how quickly I jump to that possibility. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder. What other motivations could he have for acting the way he did?
Regardless of motive, he was rude. And if he had bothered to ask, it was 4:56, thank you very much. And the next bus to Jefferson Park will be arriving shortly. Jerk.
"Do any of you know the time--oh, what I am saying? Of course you don't," he said in one breath, a sneer in his voice.
I looked at him blankly as he walked away, his corpulent body hidden beneath an equally massive umbrella (why, though? It wasn't raining). I exchanged a quick look of bewilderment with the only other person at the bus stop, an elderly Asian woman in a pinkish-purple knit cap and matching jacket. (Sidenote: why does it seem that all elderly Asian women are fond of this strange color? My own grandmother is like obsessed with it. Shirts, pillowcases, lipstick, you name it, and she has it in that strange, faded berry color.)
Then I felt a little offended. What did he mean, of course we don't? Because we're women, and women don't have...watches or cell phones...? Because we're Asian, so thereby we must...stingy with giving away the time?
Or did he think that we didn't understand him, didn't speak English?
I am ashamed of how quickly I jump to that possibility. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder. What other motivations could he have for acting the way he did?
Regardless of motive, he was rude. And if he had bothered to ask, it was 4:56, thank you very much. And the next bus to Jefferson Park will be arriving shortly. Jerk.
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