Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
A Christmas song
This week I played at our church Newsong LA for the first time. I've always liked the song "O Holy Night" and spent part of the week working on an arrangement for service. I also discovered I can capture video on my computer. I've had the computer for two years and had no idea. We took this video in front of our Christmas tree and if you look closely, you'll see a certain reindeer running around. Well, hope you like it.
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Commitment
“The drama nerd comes out in me when I’m in a theater,” he explained now, as the actors rehearsed. “When I saw ‘All My Sons,’ I was changed — permanently changed — by that experience. It was like a miracle to me. But that deep kind of love comes at a price: for me, acting is torturous, and it’s torturous because you know it’s a beautiful thing. I was young once, and I said, That’s beautiful and I want that. Wanting it is easy, but trying to be great — well, that’s absolutely torturous.”The hardest part about acting, according to Philip Seymour Hoffman, is the very pursuit of it. When I read this quote, something struck a chord in me about the ease of falling in love with an art form, that love igniting the drive to pursue it, and the torture of knowing that the ideal of the beauty in this art is so intangible and at times feels so completely unreachable that the wanting of it only brings oneself to a torturous state of pursuit because of its beauty and fragility. It's easier to want than to do, and the doing at times feels as though it hinges on the brink of destroying the beautiful from too much effort or too much pining.- Philip Seymour Hoffman, New York Times, 12/19/08
I've often wondered what I can do to make my commitment to my own art form less torturous in its own right. Why is music not as natural as a part of my daily doing, my daily being, like breathing? Instead, it is often this monstrous thing that looms ever before me, its beauty slipping further from my grasp with each day that I don't purposely pursue it. It often feels like an insatiable burden that I've only brought upon myself, an insurmountable duty that I've chosen. What is it in the human spirit that allows to reach for the things that are completely intangible, much akin to a longing for a Creator that we can't see?
I think it has something to do with a much needed commitment to believe that the intangible beauty that first captured my heart at the age of five is a inseparable part of my life now that I've chosen it. Even in its torture, it is somehow a part of me that is inescapable as long as I keep making this decision to want it. I hope for the day that music will become as natural as living is. Like breathing.
Artists can learn a lot from athletes. I saw Michael Phelps on TV the other day. He talked about how there was one year in which he did not miss a single workout. Such was his determination that not 1 day out of 365 was taken off. Could I ever be that committed?
I guess we'll have to wait and see in 2009.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
A new kind of bliss.
I'm discovering more and more that LA offers a lot of the things that makes me love cities. And despite the traffic, smog, and unabashed superficiality, there is one thing that I now love which was never even in my vocabulary before I moved here.
The Korean Spa.
Now, I like anything with the word spa in it. I think I get this from my sister. Nail spa. Foot spa. Spa Day. Day Spa. Massage Spa. A sigh of relief calms my body with the utterance of this magical three letter word. Given the fact that money is tight and there is no way I'm going to one of those expensive spas in West LA to get my R & R, I decided to save up to treat myself to a less expensive post-semester stress-busting reward before I started studying for my last exam. Considering that I've been having upper back pain all semester and could use a little beauty treatment, I decided to investigate the phenomenon of Korean spas that exist in our neck of the woods here next to LA's expansive Koreatown.
So after checking out some of the reviews online, I picked Natura spa because it was reportedly clean, modern, and not as expensive as some of the others. I made an appointment for a scrub and massage, which was about half the cost that nice spas in LA would charge for one of these services. The fee included access to the jacuzzis and saunas at the place, so I went early to take advantage of the amenities.
Well, I read online that these spas are pretty "old world" in the sense that they observe a lot of the traditional bathhouse protocol that you find in Korea. And reportedly from my husband, visiting a spa in Korea is a pretty shocking experience. In fact, it was the only experience that made him feel that he was in a foreign country when he visited Korea a few years ago for the first time since he was like 3. The reason being that everyone is NAKED! Of course, men and women are separated. But the shock of seeing even members of your own gender completely in the buff is well, shocking. Especially when many of them are twice your age and often your grandma's generation.
I found Natura to be a world away from the busy street of Wilshire Ave. Hidden underneath a Korean mini-mall on the basement floor, I was greeted at the front desk by two ladies who weren't sure if I was Korean or not and offered me half-apologetic smiles and confused looks. I said loudly, "Hello!" not even bothering to say the formal Korean greeting because if I said it correctly, they would only assume that I was Korean and proceed to talk to me in Korean. So I tried to make it clear that I was 100% Americana.
A nice lady proceeded to give me a tour of the premises, showing me my fancy key access gym locker, set of white towels and terrycloth robe, the cucumber and citrus-infused drinking water, and complimentary toiletries. It was a very nice changing area and was impeccably clean. She also pointed me to the sauna area, stressing to shower before and after entering the pools, the sleeping room, composed of an elevated floor with tatami mats and comforters with a flat-screen TV on the wall, the restaurant, which sold overpriced Korean food, and the lounge, which had sofa chairs with wooden ottomans and Korean magazines. I liked what I saw. I quickly changed and put on my terrycloth robe, making my way into the sauna to take a shower.
Well, opening the door to the sauna was a bit like entering the Twilight Zone. I was prepared to enter with my robe on, thinking I would discreetly take it off and find a little corner to shower where nobody would see me, since the showers and the tubs were all in one large room with no walls whatsoever. But a sign on the door said, "FOR SANITARY REASON, PLEASE DO NOT BRING ROBES INTO THE BATH AREA." Huh? I guess I had no choice but to enter in the stark, carrying my little towel, and to remain in the stark until I would leave 3 hours later!
So, I entered the world of nakedness, and pretty soon I got used to it. None of the other ladies were looking at me, and I avoided making direct eye contact with anyone so that I could try to blend in as part of the bathhouse scenery. After a few minutes, I found this Naked World With Complete Strangers to be somehow liberating. I was no longer concerned about the extra tummy rolls that I gained this past week when I went on a baking frenzy and Paul and I had Korean BBQ and fried chicken in the same day. I wasn't concerned about anything. I was comfortable in my own skin. Quite literally. And apparently, everyone else was too.
I tried a comfortably hot jacuzzi first that was supposedly infused with tea, called a Mugworts Bath (which reminded me of something from Harry Potter, and I spent most of the time in it wondering why they called it that). It felt heavenly and the sweet smell of the tea or herbs was intoxicating. After a little bit, I investigated the other options around- an extremely hot, scalding jacuzzi, an ice cold plunge pool, a steam room that smelled beautifully of Chinese herbs or something, a sauna room with Korean TV blaring (I didn't like this one), and two funny rooms called the Jade Stone Room and the Yellow Clay Room. The Jade Stone Room looked like some sort of cave where you might find Gollum. It looked creepy at first, but I went in and sat on a leathery coushin I found on the floor. It wasn't until some other ladies entered that I learned these coushins were pillows for your head. The others proceeded to lie down, rest their heads on them, and take naps. I found this strange at first, but quickly followed suit, and took my nap next to some other naked ladies on the floor. After a little while, I wandered into the Yellow Clay Room, where people were doing the same thing. This room was made of yellow clay reportedly imported from Korea. It had an earthy smell and even had bags of clay hanging from the ceiling. I think its supposed to be good for your skin to be around such earthiness.
The time came for my appointment for my scurb and massage. I waited near the massaging area for my number to be called. The massage area was a strange sight as there were no walls and about a dozen massage tables were grouped together in a corner. I'll spare you the gritty details, but forget having a towel to modestly cover the areas not being massaged. The lady who called me up promptly took my towel from me, pulled me by the arm like an auntie might pull you to the dinner table, and cheerfully gestured for me to lie face down on the massage table. She then began throwing buckets of hot water all over me. I yelped a little at first, and then decided to just forget about any reluctance and just enjoy the treatment. The lady proceeded to scrub every single inch of my body with this little scrubby mitt, and the results were immediate. Layers of dead skin started falling off me (which Koreans call dae) that she cleared out by throwing more hot water all over me. I spent a little time wondering if they use the same scrubby mitt for everyone or not, but then just shrugged it off as I was scrubbed into oblivion. This little lady was sparing no inch and was no joke. She scrubbed with superhuman strength and spent a particular amount of time on my right armpit and left thigh. I wondered if she tells her grandkids about what she does all day.
After several layers of my epidermis had been rinsed away with hot water, she then proceeded to lather oil all over my body, gave me some facial cleanser, and then told me to "take shower." I obeyed and rinsed off the oil and facial cleanser, and then game back to the table for part deux of the experience. Hot towels were put on me and she began to massage. But apparently the Korean version of massaging is more like using a punching bag- me being the punching bag. She literally got up onto the table and hit me with the back of her elbows and fists. I've come to like very strong pressure in massages, but I just found it funny at first. I almost let out a giggle, but she hit the air out of me at the same time so it came out more like the sound of an endangered small animal. I let her work out some of the knots in my upper back using this method and began to get used to the treatment. After she had let out her agression on my back, a silky substance was poured all over me. I opened my eyes and peeked at my arm to discover that it was milk! She also gave me an ice cold cucumber face mask and then proceeded to shampoo and condition my hair, along with a very intense scalp massage. Wow, what treatment! I felt like a queen and when it was finally all over, I was instructed to shower yet again for about the 10th time that day, and then went into the locker room to change. I noticed that my skin had a new glow to it and I went into a state of happy relaxation for the rest of the day. I was a new woman.
Take it from me, the Korean spa treatment deserves a try. Now that I think about it, I am probably not making this sound very appealing. Pay someone to scrub you with what feels like steel wool and punch you for an hour? And not let you have your clothes? Well, there must be something in the water. I am definitely going back. But not with anyone I know.
The Korean Spa.
Now, I like anything with the word spa in it. I think I get this from my sister. Nail spa. Foot spa. Spa Day. Day Spa. Massage Spa. A sigh of relief calms my body with the utterance of this magical three letter word. Given the fact that money is tight and there is no way I'm going to one of those expensive spas in West LA to get my R & R, I decided to save up to treat myself to a less expensive post-semester stress-busting reward before I started studying for my last exam. Considering that I've been having upper back pain all semester and could use a little beauty treatment, I decided to investigate the phenomenon of Korean spas that exist in our neck of the woods here next to LA's expansive Koreatown.
So after checking out some of the reviews online, I picked Natura spa because it was reportedly clean, modern, and not as expensive as some of the others. I made an appointment for a scrub and massage, which was about half the cost that nice spas in LA would charge for one of these services. The fee included access to the jacuzzis and saunas at the place, so I went early to take advantage of the amenities.
Well, I read online that these spas are pretty "old world" in the sense that they observe a lot of the traditional bathhouse protocol that you find in Korea. And reportedly from my husband, visiting a spa in Korea is a pretty shocking experience. In fact, it was the only experience that made him feel that he was in a foreign country when he visited Korea a few years ago for the first time since he was like 3. The reason being that everyone is NAKED! Of course, men and women are separated. But the shock of seeing even members of your own gender completely in the buff is well, shocking. Especially when many of them are twice your age and often your grandma's generation.
I found Natura to be a world away from the busy street of Wilshire Ave. Hidden underneath a Korean mini-mall on the basement floor, I was greeted at the front desk by two ladies who weren't sure if I was Korean or not and offered me half-apologetic smiles and confused looks. I said loudly, "Hello!" not even bothering to say the formal Korean greeting because if I said it correctly, they would only assume that I was Korean and proceed to talk to me in Korean. So I tried to make it clear that I was 100% Americana.
A nice lady proceeded to give me a tour of the premises, showing me my fancy key access gym locker, set of white towels and terrycloth robe, the cucumber and citrus-infused drinking water, and complimentary toiletries. It was a very nice changing area and was impeccably clean. She also pointed me to the sauna area, stressing to shower before and after entering the pools, the sleeping room, composed of an elevated floor with tatami mats and comforters with a flat-screen TV on the wall, the restaurant, which sold overpriced Korean food, and the lounge, which had sofa chairs with wooden ottomans and Korean magazines. I liked what I saw. I quickly changed and put on my terrycloth robe, making my way into the sauna to take a shower.
Well, opening the door to the sauna was a bit like entering the Twilight Zone. I was prepared to enter with my robe on, thinking I would discreetly take it off and find a little corner to shower where nobody would see me, since the showers and the tubs were all in one large room with no walls whatsoever. But a sign on the door said, "FOR SANITARY REASON, PLEASE DO NOT BRING ROBES INTO THE BATH AREA." Huh? I guess I had no choice but to enter in the stark, carrying my little towel, and to remain in the stark until I would leave 3 hours later!
So, I entered the world of nakedness, and pretty soon I got used to it. None of the other ladies were looking at me, and I avoided making direct eye contact with anyone so that I could try to blend in as part of the bathhouse scenery. After a few minutes, I found this Naked World With Complete Strangers to be somehow liberating. I was no longer concerned about the extra tummy rolls that I gained this past week when I went on a baking frenzy and Paul and I had Korean BBQ and fried chicken in the same day. I wasn't concerned about anything. I was comfortable in my own skin. Quite literally. And apparently, everyone else was too.
I tried a comfortably hot jacuzzi first that was supposedly infused with tea, called a Mugworts Bath (which reminded me of something from Harry Potter, and I spent most of the time in it wondering why they called it that). It felt heavenly and the sweet smell of the tea or herbs was intoxicating. After a little bit, I investigated the other options around- an extremely hot, scalding jacuzzi, an ice cold plunge pool, a steam room that smelled beautifully of Chinese herbs or something, a sauna room with Korean TV blaring (I didn't like this one), and two funny rooms called the Jade Stone Room and the Yellow Clay Room. The Jade Stone Room looked like some sort of cave where you might find Gollum. It looked creepy at first, but I went in and sat on a leathery coushin I found on the floor. It wasn't until some other ladies entered that I learned these coushins were pillows for your head. The others proceeded to lie down, rest their heads on them, and take naps. I found this strange at first, but quickly followed suit, and took my nap next to some other naked ladies on the floor. After a little while, I wandered into the Yellow Clay Room, where people were doing the same thing. This room was made of yellow clay reportedly imported from Korea. It had an earthy smell and even had bags of clay hanging from the ceiling. I think its supposed to be good for your skin to be around such earthiness.
The time came for my appointment for my scurb and massage. I waited near the massaging area for my number to be called. The massage area was a strange sight as there were no walls and about a dozen massage tables were grouped together in a corner. I'll spare you the gritty details, but forget having a towel to modestly cover the areas not being massaged. The lady who called me up promptly took my towel from me, pulled me by the arm like an auntie might pull you to the dinner table, and cheerfully gestured for me to lie face down on the massage table. She then began throwing buckets of hot water all over me. I yelped a little at first, and then decided to just forget about any reluctance and just enjoy the treatment. The lady proceeded to scrub every single inch of my body with this little scrubby mitt, and the results were immediate. Layers of dead skin started falling off me (which Koreans call dae) that she cleared out by throwing more hot water all over me. I spent a little time wondering if they use the same scrubby mitt for everyone or not, but then just shrugged it off as I was scrubbed into oblivion. This little lady was sparing no inch and was no joke. She scrubbed with superhuman strength and spent a particular amount of time on my right armpit and left thigh. I wondered if she tells her grandkids about what she does all day.
After several layers of my epidermis had been rinsed away with hot water, she then proceeded to lather oil all over my body, gave me some facial cleanser, and then told me to "take shower." I obeyed and rinsed off the oil and facial cleanser, and then game back to the table for part deux of the experience. Hot towels were put on me and she began to massage. But apparently the Korean version of massaging is more like using a punching bag- me being the punching bag. She literally got up onto the table and hit me with the back of her elbows and fists. I've come to like very strong pressure in massages, but I just found it funny at first. I almost let out a giggle, but she hit the air out of me at the same time so it came out more like the sound of an endangered small animal. I let her work out some of the knots in my upper back using this method and began to get used to the treatment. After she had let out her agression on my back, a silky substance was poured all over me. I opened my eyes and peeked at my arm to discover that it was milk! She also gave me an ice cold cucumber face mask and then proceeded to shampoo and condition my hair, along with a very intense scalp massage. Wow, what treatment! I felt like a queen and when it was finally all over, I was instructed to shower yet again for about the 10th time that day, and then went into the locker room to change. I noticed that my skin had a new glow to it and I went into a state of happy relaxation for the rest of the day. I was a new woman.
Take it from me, the Korean spa treatment deserves a try. Now that I think about it, I am probably not making this sound very appealing. Pay someone to scrub you with what feels like steel wool and punch you for an hour? And not let you have your clothes? Well, there must be something in the water. I am definitely going back. But not with anyone I know.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Holiday Sale!
Yes, I said the magic word- SALE! Here's an idea for holiday shopping- all CDs are 25% off at www.conniesheu.com. From now until Dec. 24th, enter the coupon code HOLIDAY at checkout and receive 25% off your order. A great way to pass along the gift of music to someone in your life and support an independent artist.
Sorry if you're tired of me plugging myself. I've gotta get the word out somehow...
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
On family
I am at the tail end of one of the busiest weeks of school that I can remember in my life and happy to take a blogging break. Although I think I remember one week my junior year of college fall semester that I was more sleep deprived and caffeine fueled and overloaded with work than I am now. The difference being that I am 7 years older now and can't pull all nighters anymore, lest I forget where I am, crash the car, and start some sort of city-wide disaster while driving to school.
So I wasn't that helpful over Thanksgiving this year because of all the work I had to do, but my siblings sure were. Check out my sister's blog here for an account of how awesome it was in the Chen/Sheu/Chun household. I must say, food is a love language in our family and it was mightily poured out on us!
When you don't live locally from your family, the nature of the visits always change. I realized this long ago when I went away to college, but it's becoming more evident to me as I get older. Every time I spend time with loved ones, I realize something new about myself and get a fresh perspective on who I am because of how much my loved ones have affected me. And I count myself lucky to say that I think their influence has been mostly good. It's also always fun to observe little quirky things about your parents and see if you're like that too. For example, at the end of our trip, we were joking about my mom's addiction to email and how my siblings are equally obsessive about certain things, like a new Wii game or facebook. I quickly agreed that this was the case for me too- but then couldn't think of a single example for an addiction of mine. In fact, I think I'm sort of the opposite. I don't have the attention span to do anything for too long or I will get bored real quick. Maybe it's some form of adult ADD. I could also have my Dad's love-to-work, can't sit still sort of thing. But then again there are lots of times when I sit real still when I should be working (i.e. practicing).
Our families affect us so much as people and its fascinating to see how we as individuals take some of those traits that are passed down to us and make them our own. As we grow older, self-discovery is an inevitable thing that helps us gain perspective about who we really are and why we are where we are in life. When I last spent time with my in-laws in New Jersey, we did what has now become a habit when we get together with Paul's mom and sister- sit on the floor, share prayer requests, hold hands, and pray out loud together. Usually, the prayer session ends with crying, hugging, and verbal "I love you"s. This kind of expressiveness is something that my family culturally is not accustomed to, so at first I used to think that the extreme intimacy of spiritual sharing and verbally declaring our love for each other in a family was really weird. Now I am blessed and thankful for it every time, and I can see the way that their closeness has shaped Paul's faith and is reflected in how very expressive he is with his thoughts and emotions. I also saw the way he enjoyed our time this weekend with my family and the comfort and ease with which everybody interacts. It's a beautiful thing to share, and when we grow our own family someday (keyword is someday), I hope we'll be able to pass down the good from both.
So I wasn't that helpful over Thanksgiving this year because of all the work I had to do, but my siblings sure were. Check out my sister's blog here for an account of how awesome it was in the Chen/Sheu/Chun household. I must say, food is a love language in our family and it was mightily poured out on us!
When you don't live locally from your family, the nature of the visits always change. I realized this long ago when I went away to college, but it's becoming more evident to me as I get older. Every time I spend time with loved ones, I realize something new about myself and get a fresh perspective on who I am because of how much my loved ones have affected me. And I count myself lucky to say that I think their influence has been mostly good. It's also always fun to observe little quirky things about your parents and see if you're like that too. For example, at the end of our trip, we were joking about my mom's addiction to email and how my siblings are equally obsessive about certain things, like a new Wii game or facebook. I quickly agreed that this was the case for me too- but then couldn't think of a single example for an addiction of mine. In fact, I think I'm sort of the opposite. I don't have the attention span to do anything for too long or I will get bored real quick. Maybe it's some form of adult ADD. I could also have my Dad's love-to-work, can't sit still sort of thing. But then again there are lots of times when I sit real still when I should be working (i.e. practicing).
Our families affect us so much as people and its fascinating to see how we as individuals take some of those traits that are passed down to us and make them our own. As we grow older, self-discovery is an inevitable thing that helps us gain perspective about who we really are and why we are where we are in life. When I last spent time with my in-laws in New Jersey, we did what has now become a habit when we get together with Paul's mom and sister- sit on the floor, share prayer requests, hold hands, and pray out loud together. Usually, the prayer session ends with crying, hugging, and verbal "I love you"s. This kind of expressiveness is something that my family culturally is not accustomed to, so at first I used to think that the extreme intimacy of spiritual sharing and verbally declaring our love for each other in a family was really weird. Now I am blessed and thankful for it every time, and I can see the way that their closeness has shaped Paul's faith and is reflected in how very expressive he is with his thoughts and emotions. I also saw the way he enjoyed our time this weekend with my family and the comfort and ease with which everybody interacts. It's a beautiful thing to share, and when we grow our own family someday (keyword is someday), I hope we'll be able to pass down the good from both.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Two years
Our two-year wedding anniversary came and went and I didn't get a chance to blog some of my thoughts. It was on a Tuesday this year and since I have a Tuesday night class, it was hard to be able to go out and celebrate. We did manage to have a nice brunch though and celebrate in our own small ways, and are planning to take a short camping trip once the semester ends- but it was nothing like the somewhat extravagant trip (for us) to Palm Springs that we made for our one-year, complete with multiple spa treatments and mineral water soaks.
I suppose that right now we are in the middle of a challenging season. Paul has been out of work for about a month now, and me being a student have no real form of income besides the one little teaching job that I have. Money is tight and hearing about the economic crisis, along with the coming holiday season which is supposed to tank for retailers, it seems that a lot of people we know are generally in a money-saving mode. When we found out that Paul was losing his job, it came as a big jolt when we realized that the steady income would be pulled out from under us. This resulted in me freaking out for about a day, then brainstorming our options on how to stretch a dollar.
One of the first things we did was go to trim the ways that we spend money on food. Basically this means not splurging on a Friday night meal out, staying in and cooking more, stretching one meal into two, and learning to trim the grocery list of things that are not necessary. This has resulted in a big lifestyle shift since we love eating out...but, it has also really opened the doors to lots of yummy homemade meals made with TLC by my very own house husband! We don't spend a lot of money on ingredients, but so far everything has been delicious. I never thought I'd see the day where Paul would make kim-chi jigae for me (he's more of a beef and grill or pizza sort of guy, and Korean men traditionally don't cook much), but hey, spam is cheap. I've also tried hard to surpress my monthly shopping urges, we don't drive if its not absolutely necessary, we only watch movies at home, and we're trying to persuade Aiko to get a job.
Many people say that money issues are the number one source of grief within marriages. Knowing that, we entered this season of unemployment hoping that we could actually remember it as one of our sweetest. And I can't say that that hasn't been the case. We often cuddle up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket and snuggly dog in our little apartment and feel that we couldn't ask for anything more in life. I'm learning that there are very few things that money can buy that can make the joy of our little family any sweeter.
I suppose that right now we are in the middle of a challenging season. Paul has been out of work for about a month now, and me being a student have no real form of income besides the one little teaching job that I have. Money is tight and hearing about the economic crisis, along with the coming holiday season which is supposed to tank for retailers, it seems that a lot of people we know are generally in a money-saving mode. When we found out that Paul was losing his job, it came as a big jolt when we realized that the steady income would be pulled out from under us. This resulted in me freaking out for about a day, then brainstorming our options on how to stretch a dollar.
One of the first things we did was go to trim the ways that we spend money on food. Basically this means not splurging on a Friday night meal out, staying in and cooking more, stretching one meal into two, and learning to trim the grocery list of things that are not necessary. This has resulted in a big lifestyle shift since we love eating out...but, it has also really opened the doors to lots of yummy homemade meals made with TLC by my very own house husband! We don't spend a lot of money on ingredients, but so far everything has been delicious. I never thought I'd see the day where Paul would make kim-chi jigae for me (he's more of a beef and grill or pizza sort of guy, and Korean men traditionally don't cook much), but hey, spam is cheap. I've also tried hard to surpress my monthly shopping urges, we don't drive if its not absolutely necessary, we only watch movies at home, and we're trying to persuade Aiko to get a job.
Many people say that money issues are the number one source of grief within marriages. Knowing that, we entered this season of unemployment hoping that we could actually remember it as one of our sweetest. And I can't say that that hasn't been the case. We often cuddle up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket and snuggly dog in our little apartment and feel that we couldn't ask for anything more in life. I'm learning that there are very few things that money can buy that can make the joy of our little family any sweeter.
Friday, November 7, 2008
New candidate for the White House
The search is on by the Obama family for the new First Puppy.
The press is abuzz with speculation. What kind of dog will they get? The American Kennel Club is hoping they'll get a rescue dog, and has even offered to pick one out for them. There are lots of factors at play here which will be scrutinized like any other political decision. Pure-bred dogs are equated with elitism. Rescue dogs are usually mutts. And, Melia is allergic to dogs, so a dog that is part poodle is high in the running since it would be hypo-allergenic. Rumor has it that the Obamas are considering the goldendoodle, which is like a retriever with bad hair, or a cockapoo, a classic fru-fru sort of dog. Have I got the perfect candidate for the White House.
Being part poodle, she's hypo-allergenic. She's good with kids and loves to snuggle. Her father was a rescue dog. As the only black puppy in her litter, she's dealt with the struggles of her color. All her other white brothers and sisters used to push her out of the feeding zone, but she persevered. She's a mutt, just like Barack called himself at yesterday's press conference. She's overcome barriers and brings people together- dog haters, cat lovers, scared parents. Even Paul's grandma likes her. We think Sasha and Melia would love her.
The only problem is that we would never give her up. But Aiko dreams of one day getting to Washington. The warm weather out here gets monotonous.
The press is abuzz with speculation. What kind of dog will they get? The American Kennel Club is hoping they'll get a rescue dog, and has even offered to pick one out for them. There are lots of factors at play here which will be scrutinized like any other political decision. Pure-bred dogs are equated with elitism. Rescue dogs are usually mutts. And, Melia is allergic to dogs, so a dog that is part poodle is high in the running since it would be hypo-allergenic. Rumor has it that the Obamas are considering the goldendoodle, which is like a retriever with bad hair, or a cockapoo, a classic fru-fru sort of dog. Have I got the perfect candidate for the White House.
Being part poodle, she's hypo-allergenic. She's good with kids and loves to snuggle. Her father was a rescue dog. As the only black puppy in her litter, she's dealt with the struggles of her color. All her other white brothers and sisters used to push her out of the feeding zone, but she persevered. She's a mutt, just like Barack called himself at yesterday's press conference. She's overcome barriers and brings people together- dog haters, cat lovers, scared parents. Even Paul's grandma likes her. We think Sasha and Melia would love her.
The only problem is that we would never give her up. But Aiko dreams of one day getting to Washington. The warm weather out here gets monotonous.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
America!
I have always had a deep love for the story that is American history.
I anticipated that this could happen, hoped and prayed that it would, and yet when I heard the projection on NPR while driving home from school tonight, I couldn't help but feel a huge wave of emotion come over me. Relief, disbelief, pride, humility, joy, and anxiety. Tears streaming down my face, I drove through the streets of downtown LA marveling at the stories and journeys that have made our country what it is and the President that will represent them beginning in 2009.
For the last 8 years, I have not felt pride for the only country I have ever called home. I haven't felt that our government was functioning wisely or honestly. Every trip I've taken abroad, I've had conversations about the incredulity that others have felt toward our policies. A distancing from politics in my own life occurred, a cynicism developed, an excuse formed in my mind that it doesn't matter much anyway. A long journey from the younger version of me that once considered a career in government service, spent a summer registering new citizens to vote, and organizing election monitoring.
And now I feel as though I've reawakened. An amazing thing has happened in our country today that proves that America is never static. We can judge a candidate fairly, we can think for ourselves about what is best for our nation, and we are still the land of the free and the home of the brave. Free because we spoke today for a candidate that we believe represents our story, and brave because we stood up for him despite the opposition's attempt to otherize and distort him.
Barack Obama is a brilliant, eloquent, amazingly gifted man, but he is not our savior. He will not make all our problems go away. But he has fought to achieve an extraordinary moment in extraordinary times, and the pride I feel to be a part of this moment has overwhelmed me in a way that I did not expect. That my own father, a 1st generation Taiwanese immigrant, saw in this African-American candidate a man worth casting his vote for after years of telling me that votes cast in California don't matter, so much so that he would bring his ballot with him on a business trip to China and mail it from distant shores so that his vote would be counted- that tells me that something amazing has occurred. We are still a country that is righting the wrongs of our past and making the world stop and wonder at the endless possibilities that could occur on our shores.
God, bless America.
I anticipated that this could happen, hoped and prayed that it would, and yet when I heard the projection on NPR while driving home from school tonight, I couldn't help but feel a huge wave of emotion come over me. Relief, disbelief, pride, humility, joy, and anxiety. Tears streaming down my face, I drove through the streets of downtown LA marveling at the stories and journeys that have made our country what it is and the President that will represent them beginning in 2009.
For the last 8 years, I have not felt pride for the only country I have ever called home. I haven't felt that our government was functioning wisely or honestly. Every trip I've taken abroad, I've had conversations about the incredulity that others have felt toward our policies. A distancing from politics in my own life occurred, a cynicism developed, an excuse formed in my mind that it doesn't matter much anyway. A long journey from the younger version of me that once considered a career in government service, spent a summer registering new citizens to vote, and organizing election monitoring.
And now I feel as though I've reawakened. An amazing thing has happened in our country today that proves that America is never static. We can judge a candidate fairly, we can think for ourselves about what is best for our nation, and we are still the land of the free and the home of the brave. Free because we spoke today for a candidate that we believe represents our story, and brave because we stood up for him despite the opposition's attempt to otherize and distort him.
Barack Obama is a brilliant, eloquent, amazingly gifted man, but he is not our savior. He will not make all our problems go away. But he has fought to achieve an extraordinary moment in extraordinary times, and the pride I feel to be a part of this moment has overwhelmed me in a way that I did not expect. That my own father, a 1st generation Taiwanese immigrant, saw in this African-American candidate a man worth casting his vote for after years of telling me that votes cast in California don't matter, so much so that he would bring his ballot with him on a business trip to China and mail it from distant shores so that his vote would be counted- that tells me that something amazing has occurred. We are still a country that is righting the wrongs of our past and making the world stop and wonder at the endless possibilities that could occur on our shores.
God, bless America.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Who poked me?
I finally convinced Paul to rejoin facebook. It stemmed from me shouting out random things about our friends that I knew and he didn't. Like, "Hey guess what! So and so are engaged!" or "Did you know that this person moved to this place?" or "Let's go to this thing that's happening at this place on Friday night." Every time he would ask, "How did you know that?" and I would respond loudly, "FACEBOOK!"
This was followed by Paul asking me lots of funny questions about how it works. Such as:
"So if this person requested me to be their friend, does that mean they can see me?"
"What does wall-to-wall mean?"
"Why did they poke me? That's not very nice."
Now I don't update my status every single day, or constantly update and change everything on my profile, but it's pretty crazy how many people are on it these days. I think I know people from virtually every circle of friends I have ever had on facebook. I do value it for certain reasons, if not for the extremely impersonal way of keeping track of people these days. But seriously- I suppose that if people don't really call other people anymore just to say hello, and if even a personal email is hard to come by these days, blogging and facebook have replaced all other more personal forms of communication, and if you hold out on either, there is a whole world of contact that you are not a part of. How did we come to this?
I've realized that I really like impersonal forms of communication too. I like that sort of voyeuristic way of keeping tabs on people I haven't talked to in eons and probably would not ever think of calling up personally. I like that element of surprise when you find out someone you know is doing something totally bizzare with their careers (like a very shy high school classmate I discovered is now a hand model!). In short, I suppose I like knowing what people are up to, think about, or are doing with themselves without having to ask them them about it personally. I don't really think that's a good thing.
Maybe I should actually commend Paul for holding out this long.
This was followed by Paul asking me lots of funny questions about how it works. Such as:
"So if this person requested me to be their friend, does that mean they can see me?"
"What does wall-to-wall mean?"
"Why did they poke me? That's not very nice."
Now I don't update my status every single day, or constantly update and change everything on my profile, but it's pretty crazy how many people are on it these days. I think I know people from virtually every circle of friends I have ever had on facebook. I do value it for certain reasons, if not for the extremely impersonal way of keeping track of people these days. But seriously- I suppose that if people don't really call other people anymore just to say hello, and if even a personal email is hard to come by these days, blogging and facebook have replaced all other more personal forms of communication, and if you hold out on either, there is a whole world of contact that you are not a part of. How did we come to this?
I've realized that I really like impersonal forms of communication too. I like that sort of voyeuristic way of keeping tabs on people I haven't talked to in eons and probably would not ever think of calling up personally. I like that element of surprise when you find out someone you know is doing something totally bizzare with their careers (like a very shy high school classmate I discovered is now a hand model!). In short, I suppose I like knowing what people are up to, think about, or are doing with themselves without having to ask them them about it personally. I don't really think that's a good thing.
Maybe I should actually commend Paul for holding out this long.
Monday, September 22, 2008
An update on life
Life has been whizzing by. With school in full swing, I haven't been blogging as often as I used to. But here are some fun things that happened this month.
I turned 27. Paul took me to Providence for my birthday. It was unbelievable. Might be the best meal I have ever had. I think the foie gras ravioli with truffle shavings sealed the deal for me. This is also the place where they make the world's best chocolate chip cookies and Paul had the waiter bring me a box full of them to take home at the end of the meal. Score!
The SDGQ had its first two full-length concerts! Here we are at San Marcos Lutheran Church. This was a great crowd and even gave us a standing ovation. It's a lot of fun to play with these guys- they are all really wonderful people.
I gave a solo recital at Point Loma Nazarene University, a small Christian college in San Diego that has a special place in my heart. It isn't because their campus overlooks the ocean, although that certainly doesn't hurt. The students that I've met are appreciative and gracious, and the faculty is wonderful as well. I played a full-length recital in their beautiful hall on Friday night. Boy, was it tiring. By the second piece I really needed a water break and a massage. Overall, I think it went pretty well. The audience was small but sweet and I sold a few CD's too. And with a little bit of sucking in, I somehow I managed to fit into this dress, which I wore for our Chinese wedding banquet in 2006. I haven't been able to fit into it since we left NY. Magically, I've lost 5 pounds since we've moved to LA, which doesn't make any sense to me since all we do is eat!
We've settled on a church, we think... NewSong Community Church, which a new friend of mine from school introduced us to. So far, it has been awesome. They are really living out a few of the important things we look for in a church- multi-ethnicity, strong teaching from the word, social justice, and community. We are hoping to join a commnity group soon.
And there's home life. We had a pretty chill weekend after my recital, and recovered from all the driving to SD we've been doing lately. We had an awesome brunch at Comme Ca, discovered The Farmer's Market, cleaned the apt a bit, and made our monthly Costco run.
Paul works from home now and loves it. Here he is being super productive.
I turned 27. Paul took me to Providence for my birthday. It was unbelievable. Might be the best meal I have ever had. I think the foie gras ravioli with truffle shavings sealed the deal for me. This is also the place where they make the world's best chocolate chip cookies and Paul had the waiter bring me a box full of them to take home at the end of the meal. Score!
The SDGQ had its first two full-length concerts! Here we are at San Marcos Lutheran Church. This was a great crowd and even gave us a standing ovation. It's a lot of fun to play with these guys- they are all really wonderful people.
I gave a solo recital at Point Loma Nazarene University, a small Christian college in San Diego that has a special place in my heart. It isn't because their campus overlooks the ocean, although that certainly doesn't hurt. The students that I've met are appreciative and gracious, and the faculty is wonderful as well. I played a full-length recital in their beautiful hall on Friday night. Boy, was it tiring. By the second piece I really needed a water break and a massage. Overall, I think it went pretty well. The audience was small but sweet and I sold a few CD's too. And with a little bit of sucking in, I somehow I managed to fit into this dress, which I wore for our Chinese wedding banquet in 2006. I haven't been able to fit into it since we left NY. Magically, I've lost 5 pounds since we've moved to LA, which doesn't make any sense to me since all we do is eat!
We've settled on a church, we think... NewSong Community Church, which a new friend of mine from school introduced us to. So far, it has been awesome. They are really living out a few of the important things we look for in a church- multi-ethnicity, strong teaching from the word, social justice, and community. We are hoping to join a commnity group soon.
And there's home life. We had a pretty chill weekend after my recital, and recovered from all the driving to SD we've been doing lately. We had an awesome brunch at Comme Ca, discovered The Farmer's Market, cleaned the apt a bit, and made our monthly Costco run.
Paul works from home now and loves it. Here he is being super productive.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Will the minivan reach the White House?
I usually choose not to blog about politics, mostly because I don't want to offend anyone. But I can hold it no longer. I've been in a pretty angry mood this week and it's for one reason: Sarah Palin.
Yes, you've heard all the commentary and heard all the speeches. The debate swirling around her is centered on a number of issues- inexperience, gender, privacy of family. I had to really sort out what I disliked most about her. Was it the sarcastic one-liners, the parading of the baby around stage, the joke about the pit bull, the fact that she has no idea what a VP actually does? The feeling that I got as I watched her speak that I was in the middle of "Mean Girls- 20th Reunion"? That this woman could possibly be elected as second in command of our armed forces and nuclear arsenals when she just received her passport in 2006 and has visited just 4 countries? (I wonder if Canada was one of them.)
And I realized that I am a sexist. I dislike her because she is a woman. An underqualified woman that takes the feminist movement back 30 years. A woman that undermines everything that well-qualified, intelligent, educated women have fought so hard to achieve. That her inexperience and lack of knowledge about everything that one in her position should know make women in power out to be laughable. And that is a disgrace.
Women in this country have worked too hard to allow someone as inexperienced as Palin into the White House. To think that Hillary voters will be won over is offensive. I can barely believe that she had the audacity to reference Hillary, as if she had something in common with her besides X chromosomes. Hillary's battle was long and courageous, and those 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling were a result of her tenacity and determination and not from being hand-picked by her party to be its personal cheerleader. But to have Palin come along and claim that she will be the one to shatter the ceiling when she possesses zilch of Hillary's education and experience makes me sad beyond belief.
And that's where we see how hard it is even today to be a woman in leadership. We put all of our political leaders under scrutiny. But if you are a minority or a woman, you still have to work twice as hard to get to the level of authority that white men have had in our country for over 200 years. If you are going to help run our country, show me that you know anything about the issues that matter- the economy, health care, the housing crisis, foreign policy. Being the closest state to Russia is a pathetic excuse for foreign policy experience. And being the governor of a small state that has requested nearly $750 million in special spending from Washington during her two years in office while keeping state taxes low for residents is an easy way to win popularity.
I believe that one of those 18 million cracks was for me, and I will keep working as hard as I can to shatter the ceiling in my own way. But thanks to Sarah Palin, women will need to work doubly hard all over again to prove that we can be chosen for positions of leadership because we are qualified, hard-working, educated people, and not just because we are women. Palin's candidacy is the result of foolish political strategy and the GOP's desparate attempt to reach evangelical and small-town voters. Thanks Karl Rove, but no thanks.
I refuse to vote for a candidate that is unqualified to run our country, even if she is a woman, a Christian, a mother, pro-life, or the president of the PTA. The thought that Palin could be next in line to the most powerful job in the world makes me scared beyond belief. Hope that sports journalism experience will come in handy when you're sitting down with Ahmadinejad.
I also can't believe that people at the RNC were wearing "My VP is a Hottie!" buttons. Who in the world decided that it would be a good idea to duplicate those? Who ARE these people?
Vote Obama.
Yes, you've heard all the commentary and heard all the speeches. The debate swirling around her is centered on a number of issues- inexperience, gender, privacy of family. I had to really sort out what I disliked most about her. Was it the sarcastic one-liners, the parading of the baby around stage, the joke about the pit bull, the fact that she has no idea what a VP actually does? The feeling that I got as I watched her speak that I was in the middle of "Mean Girls- 20th Reunion"? That this woman could possibly be elected as second in command of our armed forces and nuclear arsenals when she just received her passport in 2006 and has visited just 4 countries? (I wonder if Canada was one of them.)
And I realized that I am a sexist. I dislike her because she is a woman. An underqualified woman that takes the feminist movement back 30 years. A woman that undermines everything that well-qualified, intelligent, educated women have fought so hard to achieve. That her inexperience and lack of knowledge about everything that one in her position should know make women in power out to be laughable. And that is a disgrace.
Women in this country have worked too hard to allow someone as inexperienced as Palin into the White House. To think that Hillary voters will be won over is offensive. I can barely believe that she had the audacity to reference Hillary, as if she had something in common with her besides X chromosomes. Hillary's battle was long and courageous, and those 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling were a result of her tenacity and determination and not from being hand-picked by her party to be its personal cheerleader. But to have Palin come along and claim that she will be the one to shatter the ceiling when she possesses zilch of Hillary's education and experience makes me sad beyond belief.
And that's where we see how hard it is even today to be a woman in leadership. We put all of our political leaders under scrutiny. But if you are a minority or a woman, you still have to work twice as hard to get to the level of authority that white men have had in our country for over 200 years. If you are going to help run our country, show me that you know anything about the issues that matter- the economy, health care, the housing crisis, foreign policy. Being the closest state to Russia is a pathetic excuse for foreign policy experience. And being the governor of a small state that has requested nearly $750 million in special spending from Washington during her two years in office while keeping state taxes low for residents is an easy way to win popularity.
I believe that one of those 18 million cracks was for me, and I will keep working as hard as I can to shatter the ceiling in my own way. But thanks to Sarah Palin, women will need to work doubly hard all over again to prove that we can be chosen for positions of leadership because we are qualified, hard-working, educated people, and not just because we are women. Palin's candidacy is the result of foolish political strategy and the GOP's desparate attempt to reach evangelical and small-town voters. Thanks Karl Rove, but no thanks.
I refuse to vote for a candidate that is unqualified to run our country, even if she is a woman, a Christian, a mother, pro-life, or the president of the PTA. The thought that Palin could be next in line to the most powerful job in the world makes me scared beyond belief. Hope that sports journalism experience will come in handy when you're sitting down with Ahmadinejad.
I also can't believe that people at the RNC were wearing "My VP is a Hottie!" buttons. Who in the world decided that it would be a good idea to duplicate those? Who ARE these people?
Vote Obama.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
The Multi-Something Church
This past Sunday, we visited a new church plant that has a vision of reaching downtown LA, an area which is notorious for the vast amount of urban poverty it houses on what is known as Skid Row. I've recently taken an interest in learning more about Skid Row after a variety of resources brought my attention to it- particularly, reports on NPR, my sociologist friend Naomi who studies urban poverty, Michael Moore's Sicko, and from reading The Soloist by LA Times columnist Steve Lopez. I was shocked that a city with as much glitz and glamor as LA could be so neglectful in its urban planning as to close mental hospitals and government run social programs, leaving thousands upon thousands of mentally unstable and sick homeless people on the streets. We were curious about what a "multi-ethnic, multi-socioeconomic" church in downtown LA would be like.
The experience left me with a lot of questions about the concept of a "multi-something" church. Especially as a result of going to Ethnos in SD, I love the idea of the multi-ethnic church, though there is of course the need for culture-specific churches also. Something about the thought of worshiping with other believers where you have little in common but your love for Jesus is really exciting to me. I really believe that God's heart is for all people groups, languages, and cultures, and if that's the case, I want to be part of a church that pursues this part of God's heart in a society where being in community with people different than yourself is completely unnatural. And, the call to be multi-socioeconomic is an important one too. Jesus' ministry obviously reached a wide variety of demographics- tax collectors, fishermen, lepers, prostitutes. I have far less experience on this one though.
I suppose the challenge of building diversity socioeconomically is even harder than building a church that is multi-ethnic. There are often some signs of ethnic diversity in neighborhoods of the same income level. But this doesn't change the fact that neighborhoods and physical communities are often built along socioeconomic lines. So how do we expect, say middle to upper class folks to be in spiritual community with people who might be classified as poor- people who don't have homes, cars, live off welfare or nothing at all, and spend their days looking for a decent place to sleep?
I like to think that I'm an open-minded person, that I hold few biases in my mind, and that I care about things social issues and urban poverty. But here's my confession: when I really think about it, this is the most unnatural concept for a middle-class American like myself. Being in spiritual community with others implies vulnerability and brokenness together, living life together, sharing in each other's struggles, loving each other, supporting each other. At least, that's what I want from being in a church community. I picture myself in this kind of setting, trying to understand the struggles of being a homeless person in downtown LA, being in community with them, being friends with them. I think it is safe to say that I have no idea what that's like. And I think I can also say that even though I say that I care, and I think I care, when I really think about it I'm not sure that I really care enough to let it invade my "safe zone." In fact, when I really think about it, I realize that I primarily go to church for selfish reasons- to meet God, yes, but also be fed and cared for and find people that I have things in common with. When I really think about it, I'm willing to care about the poor until it inconveniences me. I guess I want my Sunday mornings to be comfortable and not have to deal with the burden of poverty and homelessness every week. I want to meet people that I get along with, like to hang out in the same kinds of places I do, and have similar interests and goals. I came to this conclusion after a very unsettling feeling in my heart told me that somewhere in my supposedly liberal, compassionate, and open-minded thinking, there is hypocrisy.
Another thing left me with a funny feeling as we left the service. Comments from a few people we talked to casually- questions like, "Do you guys live in the lofts?" and "We need people like you at this church!" What were these comments based off of? There was very little small talk about what we did for a living or what we were doing in LA. Mostly I felt that many assumptions were made about our socioeconomic background based on our ethnicity and appearanace. Did Paul and I scream that we were a well-educated, middle-class Asian-American yuppie couple just by the way we look? Ok, fair enough. I made a half-joking comment to Paul on the way home- "We must look rich today or something." He pointed to a stain on his shirt and the fact that we were both wearing flip-flops and we laughed. But it was true. They made assumptions about us based on a combination of first impressions, whether it be race/ethnicity or the way we dressed, talked and carried ourselves. The assumptions were correct to some extent (although we don't live in the lofts downtown) yet seemed to go against the very spirit of the community. It made me feel that there was already a division in the church between those who obviously have and those who obviously do not. Because in reality, they don't need us at the church. We need the church. We need to be reminded that poverty is not something you can tuck away and not think about on Sunday mornings, or every other day for that matter. If you really do care, then you don't care if it makes you uncomfortable and inconvenienced. If I really believe that God's heart is for all peoples, I should want to see some of that shalom that Tim Keller always talks about on earth, right here, right now.
I wonder if it's really possible to create the kind of community that this church is envisioning. A place where yuppies who live in the new downtown lofts come to worship with people living on the streets. This church has great intentions and my purpose in writing this is not to knock their vision or the execution of that vision. I really believe their vision is a big part of God's heart. I shouldn't be looking for a church where I make friends easily and have a ton of things in common with the other people there. I should be looking for a place that helps me live out Jesus' teachings to their fullest. And while we're not certain that we're going to go to this particular church, I'm thankful that it forced me to think honestly about what goes on in my heart and the natural biases and fears that exist there.
The experience left me with a lot of questions about the concept of a "multi-something" church. Especially as a result of going to Ethnos in SD, I love the idea of the multi-ethnic church, though there is of course the need for culture-specific churches also. Something about the thought of worshiping with other believers where you have little in common but your love for Jesus is really exciting to me. I really believe that God's heart is for all people groups, languages, and cultures, and if that's the case, I want to be part of a church that pursues this part of God's heart in a society where being in community with people different than yourself is completely unnatural. And, the call to be multi-socioeconomic is an important one too. Jesus' ministry obviously reached a wide variety of demographics- tax collectors, fishermen, lepers, prostitutes. I have far less experience on this one though.
I suppose the challenge of building diversity socioeconomically is even harder than building a church that is multi-ethnic. There are often some signs of ethnic diversity in neighborhoods of the same income level. But this doesn't change the fact that neighborhoods and physical communities are often built along socioeconomic lines. So how do we expect, say middle to upper class folks to be in spiritual community with people who might be classified as poor- people who don't have homes, cars, live off welfare or nothing at all, and spend their days looking for a decent place to sleep?
I like to think that I'm an open-minded person, that I hold few biases in my mind, and that I care about things social issues and urban poverty. But here's my confession: when I really think about it, this is the most unnatural concept for a middle-class American like myself. Being in spiritual community with others implies vulnerability and brokenness together, living life together, sharing in each other's struggles, loving each other, supporting each other. At least, that's what I want from being in a church community. I picture myself in this kind of setting, trying to understand the struggles of being a homeless person in downtown LA, being in community with them, being friends with them. I think it is safe to say that I have no idea what that's like. And I think I can also say that even though I say that I care, and I think I care, when I really think about it I'm not sure that I really care enough to let it invade my "safe zone." In fact, when I really think about it, I realize that I primarily go to church for selfish reasons- to meet God, yes, but also be fed and cared for and find people that I have things in common with. When I really think about it, I'm willing to care about the poor until it inconveniences me. I guess I want my Sunday mornings to be comfortable and not have to deal with the burden of poverty and homelessness every week. I want to meet people that I get along with, like to hang out in the same kinds of places I do, and have similar interests and goals. I came to this conclusion after a very unsettling feeling in my heart told me that somewhere in my supposedly liberal, compassionate, and open-minded thinking, there is hypocrisy.
Another thing left me with a funny feeling as we left the service. Comments from a few people we talked to casually- questions like, "Do you guys live in the lofts?" and "We need people like you at this church!" What were these comments based off of? There was very little small talk about what we did for a living or what we were doing in LA. Mostly I felt that many assumptions were made about our socioeconomic background based on our ethnicity and appearanace. Did Paul and I scream that we were a well-educated, middle-class Asian-American yuppie couple just by the way we look? Ok, fair enough. I made a half-joking comment to Paul on the way home- "We must look rich today or something." He pointed to a stain on his shirt and the fact that we were both wearing flip-flops and we laughed. But it was true. They made assumptions about us based on a combination of first impressions, whether it be race/ethnicity or the way we dressed, talked and carried ourselves. The assumptions were correct to some extent (although we don't live in the lofts downtown) yet seemed to go against the very spirit of the community. It made me feel that there was already a division in the church between those who obviously have and those who obviously do not. Because in reality, they don't need us at the church. We need the church. We need to be reminded that poverty is not something you can tuck away and not think about on Sunday mornings, or every other day for that matter. If you really do care, then you don't care if it makes you uncomfortable and inconvenienced. If I really believe that God's heart is for all peoples, I should want to see some of that shalom that Tim Keller always talks about on earth, right here, right now.
I wonder if it's really possible to create the kind of community that this church is envisioning. A place where yuppies who live in the new downtown lofts come to worship with people living on the streets. This church has great intentions and my purpose in writing this is not to knock their vision or the execution of that vision. I really believe their vision is a big part of God's heart. I shouldn't be looking for a church where I make friends easily and have a ton of things in common with the other people there. I should be looking for a place that helps me live out Jesus' teachings to their fullest. And while we're not certain that we're going to go to this particular church, I'm thankful that it forced me to think honestly about what goes on in my heart and the natural biases and fears that exist there.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Family Time
It was great to hang out with my parents and brother this weekend. Moving a little bit north means that we are now only about 5 hours from my parents house, and 20 minutes from my brother. Danny got baptized at his church here in LA the day after his 20th birthday! There was a lot to celebrate. And in our family, that means food...
We discovered the awesomeness known as Monterey Park. Here, some of the delectable dishes that landed on our table. Prawns and walnuts, spicy jellyfish with asparagus, and the house special crab, which was seasoned with some sort of salty tasty goodness and fried. YUM.
Danny gets dunked in the pool at the Marriot! His church meets at the hotel and they used the swimming pool as the baptism place. It was pretty funny to see some tourists in the hot tub watching the whole thing. It was beautiful to see a full immersion-style baptism again. I feel like it communicates a lot more about the symbolism of baptism than just the sprinkling on the head. I was so proud of my brother for making this decision on his own.
Us with Danny after his dunking
This is generally my expression whenever I eat really good dim sum. I did a little dance after our meal and sang my "I love LA" song.
All you can eat Korean BBQ for dinner. The LA style is to wrap it with rice paper crepes, kind of like won-ton wrappers. SO good. My brother is a monster at these places and easily polishes off two platters of meat.
My parents sitting on the curb outside our place. A nice quality weekend together.
We discovered the awesomeness known as Monterey Park. Here, some of the delectable dishes that landed on our table. Prawns and walnuts, spicy jellyfish with asparagus, and the house special crab, which was seasoned with some sort of salty tasty goodness and fried. YUM.
Danny gets dunked in the pool at the Marriot! His church meets at the hotel and they used the swimming pool as the baptism place. It was pretty funny to see some tourists in the hot tub watching the whole thing. It was beautiful to see a full immersion-style baptism again. I feel like it communicates a lot more about the symbolism of baptism than just the sprinkling on the head. I was so proud of my brother for making this decision on his own.
Us with Danny after his dunking
This is generally my expression whenever I eat really good dim sum. I did a little dance after our meal and sang my "I love LA" song.
All you can eat Korean BBQ for dinner. The LA style is to wrap it with rice paper crepes, kind of like won-ton wrappers. SO good. My brother is a monster at these places and easily polishes off two platters of meat.
My parents sitting on the curb outside our place. A nice quality weekend together.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Just so
Well, it took me about a week, but the last box is unpacked, the floor is mopped, the styrofoam particles are dustbusted, the pictures are up on the walls, the new furniture is assembled, and everything is in its right place.
I love putting things in their correct places and am a constant tidy-upper. So I thought unpacking all our stuff would be tons of fun. It wasn't that fun. We had to get creative in learning how to use a smaller space again. And with Paul working from home (out of our storage closet turned office- it sounds awful, but it's actually really cool), that took away lots of valuable space for other stuff that might have gone there. But we got creative and have used every nook and cranny and now we just can't accumulate anything else because there simply isn't room. And I think I kind of like it that way. Somehow, everything seemed to fit together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. It felt like we were saying this over and over again- It fits just so. That was just so. This was just so. Everything was, and is, just so.
And so I realize that everything in my life has been just so. This experience has led to that realization has led to this action has led to this outcome. This closed door led to this emotional process which led to this rational thinking which led to that particular choice. And so on and so forth. Somehow we also feel that this little neck of the woods we've landed on in LA fits us just so right now and we are really loving it. To fit in and feel your way around in a new place means you take on some of that city's values and culture. And while some things still perplex me about LA (there seem to be about 9 different rush hours), other things seem to be full of excellence (i.e. Vancouver-trained dim sum chefs) and excitement (microbrewery down the street) and I realize how much I love the diversity and color (we're right in between Filipino town and Armenia town) that a big city breathes day in and day out. A part of me feels alive again, the way it did in New York, stimulated by all the people and places so different from myself and contrary to my comfort zone. I feel my perspective change when I see the lady with a cart rummaging through our recycle bin for cans, making me step out of my self-centeredness for a moment. I feel my senses burst with excitement at seeing a gorgeous LA sunset (they are really nice here for some reason- must be the smog), tasting Cantonese-style deep fried crab (we discovered Monterey Park this weekend when my parents were in town), or hearing my neighbor down the street killing it on his drum set. I like hearing the ice cream truck come around at about 4 o'clock every day playing some sort of messed up variation on the Forrest Gump theme. I'm amused that the weather lady on the local news screams cleavage and botox. As arbitrary as they are, these are the kinds of things that make a city what it is and I'm soaking it all in. There was a sermon by Tim Keller that I heard awhile back that convinced me wholeheartedly that Christians should live in the heart of their city, love the city, pray for their city, and be the best civic participants of their city. I'm hoping that no matter where life leads I'll have the chance to do that and never forget how much God's heart breaks for the lady with the cart, the ice cream man, the weather lady, and the neighbor playing the drums. And so it starts here, in a neighborhood called Silver Lake in the heart of Los Angeles.
Pictures to come of this weekend when my parents were in town for my brother's baptism...it was full of, well you guessed it, lots and lots of tasty food.
I love putting things in their correct places and am a constant tidy-upper. So I thought unpacking all our stuff would be tons of fun. It wasn't that fun. We had to get creative in learning how to use a smaller space again. And with Paul working from home (out of our storage closet turned office- it sounds awful, but it's actually really cool), that took away lots of valuable space for other stuff that might have gone there. But we got creative and have used every nook and cranny and now we just can't accumulate anything else because there simply isn't room. And I think I kind of like it that way. Somehow, everything seemed to fit together like a giant jigsaw puzzle. It felt like we were saying this over and over again- It fits just so. That was just so. This was just so. Everything was, and is, just so.
And so I realize that everything in my life has been just so. This experience has led to that realization has led to this action has led to this outcome. This closed door led to this emotional process which led to this rational thinking which led to that particular choice. And so on and so forth. Somehow we also feel that this little neck of the woods we've landed on in LA fits us just so right now and we are really loving it. To fit in and feel your way around in a new place means you take on some of that city's values and culture. And while some things still perplex me about LA (there seem to be about 9 different rush hours), other things seem to be full of excellence (i.e. Vancouver-trained dim sum chefs) and excitement (microbrewery down the street) and I realize how much I love the diversity and color (we're right in between Filipino town and Armenia town) that a big city breathes day in and day out. A part of me feels alive again, the way it did in New York, stimulated by all the people and places so different from myself and contrary to my comfort zone. I feel my perspective change when I see the lady with a cart rummaging through our recycle bin for cans, making me step out of my self-centeredness for a moment. I feel my senses burst with excitement at seeing a gorgeous LA sunset (they are really nice here for some reason- must be the smog), tasting Cantonese-style deep fried crab (we discovered Monterey Park this weekend when my parents were in town), or hearing my neighbor down the street killing it on his drum set. I like hearing the ice cream truck come around at about 4 o'clock every day playing some sort of messed up variation on the Forrest Gump theme. I'm amused that the weather lady on the local news screams cleavage and botox. As arbitrary as they are, these are the kinds of things that make a city what it is and I'm soaking it all in. There was a sermon by Tim Keller that I heard awhile back that convinced me wholeheartedly that Christians should live in the heart of their city, love the city, pray for their city, and be the best civic participants of their city. I'm hoping that no matter where life leads I'll have the chance to do that and never forget how much God's heart breaks for the lady with the cart, the ice cream man, the weather lady, and the neighbor playing the drums. And so it starts here, in a neighborhood called Silver Lake in the heart of Los Angeles.
Pictures to come of this weekend when my parents were in town for my brother's baptism...it was full of, well you guessed it, lots and lots of tasty food.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Possessions
The room that used to look like this:
Now looks like this:
As much as I hate moving, I am trying to find a little bit of fun in this process. I like the challenge of seeing if we'll actually make it out of our apartment. It often feels like there is no end in sight. I pack a box and feel completely done with one area only to find a whole other cupboard or drawer with more of the same stuff. But it's fun to see if I can conquer a whole area with my boxes, packing paper, and tape. I also feel very satisfied by labeling a box with my massive sharpie, sealing up a box really tightly, or finding one more thing to add to the donation pile. There's also the challenge of getting my husband to let go of some of our stuff. This can be pretty fun if I win. Paul being a packrat and slightly sentimental about inanimate objects, we have this conversation just about every night:
"Can I donate this?"
"But that's useful."
"When was the last time you used it?"
"Well I think it could be useful."
"If you haven't used it in the past year, you're not ever going to need it."
"But it looks useful."
"But we don't need it!"
"But it could be useful."
"JUST PUT IT IN THE PILE!!! GAH!!!!!"
"Oh, alright."
"YES!"
I usually win. It must be my superior argumentation skills.
Now looks like this:
As much as I hate moving, I am trying to find a little bit of fun in this process. I like the challenge of seeing if we'll actually make it out of our apartment. It often feels like there is no end in sight. I pack a box and feel completely done with one area only to find a whole other cupboard or drawer with more of the same stuff. But it's fun to see if I can conquer a whole area with my boxes, packing paper, and tape. I also feel very satisfied by labeling a box with my massive sharpie, sealing up a box really tightly, or finding one more thing to add to the donation pile. There's also the challenge of getting my husband to let go of some of our stuff. This can be pretty fun if I win. Paul being a packrat and slightly sentimental about inanimate objects, we have this conversation just about every night:
"Can I donate this?"
"But that's useful."
"When was the last time you used it?"
"Well I think it could be useful."
"If you haven't used it in the past year, you're not ever going to need it."
"But it looks useful."
"But we don't need it!"
"But it could be useful."
"JUST PUT IT IN THE PILE!!! GAH!!!!!"
"Oh, alright."
"YES!"
I usually win. It must be my superior argumentation skills.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Celebration Weekend
This was our last weekend in San Diego. I was in a great mood on Friday because I finally got my car back from the dealer with a new hybrid battery installed, covered under warranty! So that's why our mileage has been sucking- the hybrid battery has been dead since the engine light went on about 3 months ago. And it's taken me this long to get it fixed. The auto technician said it was actually not very safe to drive. Whoops. We made at least 3 trips up to LA in the poor thing.
I was mostly just happy because the service on the car was free. So I went to my favorite supermarket (Henry's) and bought a bunch of groceries since it will probably be my last run there- oogling over the fresh produce, I came home with a plethora of white flesh peaches and nectarines, blueberries, mangoes, sweet white corn, and my favorite- brussel sprouts! Yeah, they get a bad rap, but sauteed with some garlic, salt, and olive oil, they are delicious. Or, even better- we've found that brussel sprouts on the grill are amazing! Fresh and cheap produce is definitely the best thing about California.
I also got a porterhouse, some amazingly large scallops, and some yummy cheeses. So I decided it was Celebration Weekend. To celebrate our year in San Diego, which was filled with some particular themes when I look back: Personal growth. Community with married couples for the first time. Waiting on God. Companionship.
Well, the grill was out of gas and we didn't want to refill it before moving, lest the Uhaul blow up. But we did manage to have a tasty dinner anyway, with the help of the broiler, a small bottle of champagne, and some pate that I brought from France. (We're trying to eat as much as we can from our cupboards.)
Yesterday we used a gift certificate that Paul's sister gave us for Christmas. She thoughtfully researched a kayak rental company and got us a tandem tour for whale watching. Since there are not whales in the summer, and I hate whales anyway (been seasick every time I've gone- and yes, I know it's not their fault, but I can't help the bad association) we exchanged it for a tour through the La Jolla caves. It was a ton of fun! It was a gorgeous day (as usual) and the water was giving off a particularly beautiful greenish-blue hue. I guess Paul was doing most of the paddling though, because he was sore this morning and I wasn't. Or maybe I'm more fit than he is!
San Diego has been good to us. Paul says that he thinks it's been the best year of his life. I can't disagree. I look back and I think of many happy times. Just a sweet kind of happiness from enjoying having a life together as a couple. I think of my old restlessness being replaced by a deeper contentment with life in general. It was just what we needed as a sort of "gap year" to detox from the stress and busyness of New York. I would have been a different person if I had moved from NY to LA directly. I can't really say how, but I do know that I've learned to relax and just be for the first time. That's a hard thing for me to do, but there really could have been no better place to do it. And now begins a new chapter.
I was mostly just happy because the service on the car was free. So I went to my favorite supermarket (Henry's) and bought a bunch of groceries since it will probably be my last run there- oogling over the fresh produce, I came home with a plethora of white flesh peaches and nectarines, blueberries, mangoes, sweet white corn, and my favorite- brussel sprouts! Yeah, they get a bad rap, but sauteed with some garlic, salt, and olive oil, they are delicious. Or, even better- we've found that brussel sprouts on the grill are amazing! Fresh and cheap produce is definitely the best thing about California.
I also got a porterhouse, some amazingly large scallops, and some yummy cheeses. So I decided it was Celebration Weekend. To celebrate our year in San Diego, which was filled with some particular themes when I look back: Personal growth. Community with married couples for the first time. Waiting on God. Companionship.
Well, the grill was out of gas and we didn't want to refill it before moving, lest the Uhaul blow up. But we did manage to have a tasty dinner anyway, with the help of the broiler, a small bottle of champagne, and some pate that I brought from France. (We're trying to eat as much as we can from our cupboards.)
Yesterday we used a gift certificate that Paul's sister gave us for Christmas. She thoughtfully researched a kayak rental company and got us a tandem tour for whale watching. Since there are not whales in the summer, and I hate whales anyway (been seasick every time I've gone- and yes, I know it's not their fault, but I can't help the bad association) we exchanged it for a tour through the La Jolla caves. It was a ton of fun! It was a gorgeous day (as usual) and the water was giving off a particularly beautiful greenish-blue hue. I guess Paul was doing most of the paddling though, because he was sore this morning and I wasn't. Or maybe I'm more fit than he is!
San Diego has been good to us. Paul says that he thinks it's been the best year of his life. I can't disagree. I look back and I think of many happy times. Just a sweet kind of happiness from enjoying having a life together as a couple. I think of my old restlessness being replaced by a deeper contentment with life in general. It was just what we needed as a sort of "gap year" to detox from the stress and busyness of New York. I would have been a different person if I had moved from NY to LA directly. I can't really say how, but I do know that I've learned to relax and just be for the first time. That's a hard thing for me to do, but there really could have been no better place to do it. And now begins a new chapter.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
THE CD IS OUT!
Well, here we go. I had an awesome weekend in the Bay Area and a great turnout at two CD release concerts, and finally it is available for purchase online!
Click here to sample the CD and order your copy. Or 2. Or 3. Well, you can buy up to 10 at a time. Who's to say when you might need some extras?
It was amazing to see my whole family pitching in to make this thing happen- my parents organizing the reception, greeting people, printing programs for me, taking millions of pictures, coming back to sneak me a hug during intermission; the five of us praying together through tears before the concert started and feeling God work through us as a family. My siblings being there with their amazing skills and putting their time and energy into making beautiful music together. I'm overwhelmed with how supportive and enthusiastic my family has been, and I know that they are the only reason this has all come to fruition. And of course, my dear husband manning the donation table and charming people into buying more CDs!
The high point of my weekend may have been my dad saying to me in a very serious tone of voice, "Connie, you need a manager." Well, shoot. I'll take that over, "Connie, you should go to law school" any day. Finally, they get it!
Thanks so much to all the friends who have already been pouring out their support to me. It really means so much. My cup overflows.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Perfection in our new neighborhood
I have found the world's most perfect chocolate chip cookie.
And it exists...in Los Angeles. (I'm not the only one who is cookie obsessed- just check out the most emailed article on the NY Times today.)
Last weekend, Paul and I were in LA looking for apts. We saw 11 apts between Friday and Saturday morning, having to go back each night because we had plans in San Diego in the evenings. This was a pretty tiring two days, but we had a system pat down...I would drive the northbound trip while Paul used his laptop to continue looking up listings through the magic universal internet service they installed on his computer (can't remember what that's called) and made phone calls to set up appointments. Once we got there, I would navigate us with the GPS on my Blackberry from appointment to appointment, and Paul would drive since he's better at parallel parking than I am. :)
Well, on Friday around noon, we were in between appointments and decided to stop for a very quick lunch. We debated driving to the Valley for dim sum, but decided there was not enough time if we wanted to get a couple more appointments in. So I said, "Let's just go to the nearest coffee shop and get a sandwich or something."
Enter Lamill.
We drove from our last appointment about a quarter mile up Silver Lake Blvd., and spot a coffee shop on the right. It looks crowded inside, so we figure it's gotta be decent. Everybody inside is beautiful. Some are in groups looking Hollywood trendy, some are reading books by themselves, one older man sits outside with a notepad scribbling a thought every now and then. We had Aiko with us so we opted for an outdoor table on the sidewalk patio where she proceeds to bark at the giant golden labrador on our left (she hates blondes).
A lady comes out and greets us and asks if we've been here. No, we say, our little silver table cluttered with crumpled up craigslist postings and Paul's laptop. We're sweaty and thirsty from being in the hot car and all the driving. The server proceeds to hand us menus and says, "Our menu was designed by Michelin starred restaurant owner/chef Michael Cimarusi."
I look up from my menu. What? Someone with a Michelin star restaurant designed the sandwiches on the menu at this coffee shop? I just wanted a quick bite. Turkey and provolone would have been fine. I wasn't ready for this. But- okay.
So, we order. I get The Farcell, a hand-crafted panini with coffee-washed Spanish cow's milk cheese, chorizo, and piquillo peppers. It is fantastic. Oozing with flavor with every bite, perfectly pressed, the spice of the chorizo and peppers adding an extra kick. Paul gets the Jambon au Buerre on a French baguette, the best bread I've tasted west of the Mississippi. Each of our sandwiches comes with hand cut Yukon gold potato chips, a little tray of Kalamata and green olives, and some preserved cippolinis (small, sweet perfect little onions).
The flavors all blend together magnificently and we down a couple iced teas and coffees with our meals.We forgo the dessert menu on an attempt to save a little money, and I opt to go to the counter to get a chocolate chip cookie for dessert. Perfectly crisp on the outside with a little bit of crunch, giving way to the chewy center oozing with Valrhona chocolate. I like my cookies a little bit salty, and this one is perfectly seasoned, bringing out the decadence of the chocolate even more. With the chocolate melting under the hot LA sun, I manage to speak only a few words before getting my fingers and my purse covered with a little bit of the chocolatey goodness. My purse is white canvas and now has a small stain on the back, but I don't care. A small sacrifice to pay for bliss. I manage to mutter something like, "THIS...IS...AMA-ZING!"
We love this neighborhood already. The past few days have been a waiting game on the apartment front...waiting for a landlord to get back to us about an apt that we put an application down on, waiting for a prospective renter to get back to us about whether they would take over our current lease. We waited and prayed. And God answered. We didn't get the unit we put down an application for- they wanted to rent it out to a single person instead. But we were apparently at the top of their list (we can't believe this- our credit is not really that amazing) and they just got word that a bigger 1 BR will be available two units down that comes with a parking spot and about 250 more square feet. The original unit we applied for was small (about 550-600 square feet) and had no parking, but we figured it was worth it since it was a great location, newly renovated inside, and was priced super low. But this one is an even better fit for us! The landlord called today and said he'd like to rent it to us. And the renter called last night and said they would take our apartment in SD over! On both sides we still need to do the paperwork- but I am pretty hopeful and excited that everything is going to work out. According to Google maps, the apt is 11 minutes (without traffic) to USC's campus and 11 minutes to the train station where Paul will need to go twice a week. 11.11. Hmm, I've seen those numbers before. How auspicious.
Finally the stars (and cookies) are aligning. Relocation is stressful. But not when you have a God that answers prayer and always knows what you need.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Unabashed Self-Promotion
I may have picked the wrong field to be in, or maybe this applies to careers across the board. I have a huge problem with feeling bold enough to promote my career, concerts, and playing. Even if the quality of my work ever warrants a huge audience or a fan-following, something about marketing myself makes me cringe and want to crawl into a hole and hide.
I think this may have a lot to do with my upbringing. I remember when I was little and there was this one kid in our cello class who was known as the show-off kid. As a little boy, he was unafraid to play the hardest piece he was working on at any spare moment and try to beat everyone else working through the Suzuki books. We used to talk about him at home as the kid who showed off. I was young at the time, but I remember thinking that I never wanted to be that kid because we all agreed he was a show-off, and I figured that it was probably bad to do so. I didn't want to be talked about in someone else's house as the kid who showed off. So in my 5-year old mind, the logic went like this: show-off=bad. Quiet and nice=good.
I suppose that Asian values have a big role in this. I always felt like I was encouraged to succeed in whatever I did, but that this should never be flaunted. My parents never told me this in exact words. But somehow I picked these values up. I would overhear conversations where compliments were spurned and higher praise was always given to the other person's kid. I never wanted unnecessary public attention. I was shy. I just wanted to fit in and be polite and nice and well-liked and not get in trouble.
And then I entered the guitar world, which is dominated by male machismo (albeit the meticulously filed long right-hand fingernails) and boys in death metal T-shirts showing off how fast they can play their scales or any number of famous pieces. Usually, I was naturally set apart just because I was a girl. I never felt the need to join in showing off how fast I could play this or that because somehow I found a niche as the girl who could hang with the boys and even beat 'em, but in a graceful way. (At least that's probably how I like to think of myself.) But this continued to reinforce in me that I should still be a hard worker and good at what I do, but I never felt comfortable demonstrating this to others unless I was poked and prodded to do so.
Well, I'm not as shy as I was when I was 5 or 6, but I realize that I still have deep-seated issues with the notion of public attention. The whole idea of putting out a CD with multiple pictures of myself on it, asking people to buy it, and publicizing a release concert brings out a whole slew of insecurities from under my skin. Maybe that's why this project has taken so long. What if people think it's lame? What if the concert sucks and nobody buys the CD? What if people are just tired of me going, "Buy my CD! Me, me, me! Come see me play! Look at me, everyone! Oh, wonderful me!" My innate crawl into-nearest-hole instincts come raging back like a flood.
Yes, I'm being a little facetious here, and I know (or hope) that people don't really think that way. There's a tricky balance between false humility, true humility, sharing your talents, and ostentatiousness. I want to stand in a good place on that spectrum. I really just want God to be glorified through all of this. It's just hard to know how to do that and it takes courage that I don't have by myself. Lord, help me to do that.
That being said, if you live in the Bay Area, here are the details:
Saturday, July 12, 7:30pm
San Jose Canaan Christian Church
1228 Redmond Ave.
San Jose, CA 95120
Join Connie Sheu, classical guitarist, at a CD Release concert
with special guests
La Verne Chen and Danny Sheu
Featuring music of Villa-Lobos,
Torroba, Barrios-Mangore, Chopin, Piazzolla, Rodrigo,
and traditional hymns.
Free admission.
Connie’s debut album, Waking or Sleeping, will be available for purchase!
I think this may have a lot to do with my upbringing. I remember when I was little and there was this one kid in our cello class who was known as the show-off kid. As a little boy, he was unafraid to play the hardest piece he was working on at any spare moment and try to beat everyone else working through the Suzuki books. We used to talk about him at home as the kid who showed off. I was young at the time, but I remember thinking that I never wanted to be that kid because we all agreed he was a show-off, and I figured that it was probably bad to do so. I didn't want to be talked about in someone else's house as the kid who showed off. So in my 5-year old mind, the logic went like this: show-off=bad. Quiet and nice=good.
I suppose that Asian values have a big role in this. I always felt like I was encouraged to succeed in whatever I did, but that this should never be flaunted. My parents never told me this in exact words. But somehow I picked these values up. I would overhear conversations where compliments were spurned and higher praise was always given to the other person's kid. I never wanted unnecessary public attention. I was shy. I just wanted to fit in and be polite and nice and well-liked and not get in trouble.
And then I entered the guitar world, which is dominated by male machismo (albeit the meticulously filed long right-hand fingernails) and boys in death metal T-shirts showing off how fast they can play their scales or any number of famous pieces. Usually, I was naturally set apart just because I was a girl. I never felt the need to join in showing off how fast I could play this or that because somehow I found a niche as the girl who could hang with the boys and even beat 'em, but in a graceful way. (At least that's probably how I like to think of myself.) But this continued to reinforce in me that I should still be a hard worker and good at what I do, but I never felt comfortable demonstrating this to others unless I was poked and prodded to do so.
Well, I'm not as shy as I was when I was 5 or 6, but I realize that I still have deep-seated issues with the notion of public attention. The whole idea of putting out a CD with multiple pictures of myself on it, asking people to buy it, and publicizing a release concert brings out a whole slew of insecurities from under my skin. Maybe that's why this project has taken so long. What if people think it's lame? What if the concert sucks and nobody buys the CD? What if people are just tired of me going, "Buy my CD! Me, me, me! Come see me play! Look at me, everyone! Oh, wonderful me!" My innate crawl into-nearest-hole instincts come raging back like a flood.
Yes, I'm being a little facetious here, and I know (or hope) that people don't really think that way. There's a tricky balance between false humility, true humility, sharing your talents, and ostentatiousness. I want to stand in a good place on that spectrum. I really just want God to be glorified through all of this. It's just hard to know how to do that and it takes courage that I don't have by myself. Lord, help me to do that.
That being said, if you live in the Bay Area, here are the details:
Saturday, July 12, 7:30pm
San Jose Canaan Christian Church
1228 Redmond Ave.
San Jose, CA 95120
Join Connie Sheu, classical guitarist, at a CD Release concert
with special guests
La Verne Chen and Danny Sheu
Featuring music of Villa-Lobos,
Torroba, Barrios-Mangore, Chopin, Piazzolla, Rodrigo,
and traditional hymns.
Free admission.
Connie’s debut album, Waking or Sleeping, will be available for purchase!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Los Angeles: the final frontier
The summer has only just begun, but it feels like it is going to fly by so quickly I won't know what hit me. And the closer we get to July and August, the closer we get to our next big move two hours north to the great city of smog, also known as LA. Now, being from Northern California I must have some elitest complex of never wanting to live in LA and hating it since the day I was born. I realize now that I'm moving there that I really don't know the city very well and have probably written it off to easily. But as we get ready to find our 4th apartment in ours less than two years of marriage and say goodbye to our newly developed connections in San Diego, I feel pangs of sadness already even though we've only lived in San Diego for about a year. I have to say that life is just so nice here, that SD is a place that we have grown to love in a very dear way even if we can't find decent dim sum in this town. Mostly it's a sentimental attachment- the first new place that we settled in together as a couple, the first place we learned how to live like married people working normal hours, the first place we found a church together and built our community through it, this new adventure of a place that made Paul walk around for months going, "I can't believe we get to LIVE here!" (He's from New Jersey.)
While doing my daily search on craigslist for LA apts, I suddenly got very discouraged by the higher prices, ugly streets, and thinking about the thick layer of smog over the horizon and the traffic that plagues the city at a time when I definitely want to be driving less, not more. My stomach churns at the new uncertainties that are going to come our way. New friends, new school, new church, new places, new neighborhood. Change is hard on me sometimes. I get all worked up over all the things that are out of my control. But everytime we sigh in resignation at the thought of moving to LA, I just read this fantastic list from LA Magazine that Paul found called "The 64 Greatest Things about LA." I guess they couldn't come up with 65?
Well, my favorite is this one:
Dim Sum in the S.G. Valley
Here it's not just cuisine; it's a competitive sport. The area's huge number of immigrants from the dumpling capitals of Hong Kong and Taiwan put the heat on chefs to devise the next new thing while producing fully realized versions of the classics. From hot spots like Elite Restaurant in Monterey Park to old-school favorites like Rosemead's 888 Seafood Restaurant, wherever you go, expect long waits, noisy rooms, and bliss delivered on a rolling cart.
Good dim sum covers a multitude of sins. I shudder in excitement and a sigh of relief comes over me.
While doing my daily search on craigslist for LA apts, I suddenly got very discouraged by the higher prices, ugly streets, and thinking about the thick layer of smog over the horizon and the traffic that plagues the city at a time when I definitely want to be driving less, not more. My stomach churns at the new uncertainties that are going to come our way. New friends, new school, new church, new places, new neighborhood. Change is hard on me sometimes. I get all worked up over all the things that are out of my control. But everytime we sigh in resignation at the thought of moving to LA, I just read this fantastic list from LA Magazine that Paul found called "The 64 Greatest Things about LA." I guess they couldn't come up with 65?
Well, my favorite is this one:
Dim Sum in the S.G. Valley
Here it's not just cuisine; it's a competitive sport. The area's huge number of immigrants from the dumpling capitals of Hong Kong and Taiwan put the heat on chefs to devise the next new thing while producing fully realized versions of the classics. From hot spots like Elite Restaurant in Monterey Park to old-school favorites like Rosemead's 888 Seafood Restaurant, wherever you go, expect long waits, noisy rooms, and bliss delivered on a rolling cart.
Good dim sum covers a multitude of sins. I shudder in excitement and a sigh of relief comes over me.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Mediocrity
I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning. Maybe it's the hot weather, being sore from body boarding this weekend, or because it's Monday. When my alarm went off at 6:45am, I snoozed it until about 8:15am. I know why this is. Besides the fact that I was having a really good dream about crispy spring rolls wrapped in lettuce and dunked in fish sauce, I know subconsciously that when I get up today and start my day, there will be no one setting a deadline on me, no one telling me to sit down and practice, no co-worker or boss to check up on me. I just have to work on stuff because I have to. Mondays I have no students to break up the day, so it's just me. And Aiko. But mainly just me.
Somehow the heat is the greatest reminder to me of the work I need to do also known as practicing. This is mostly because the dry, hot Southern Californian heat reminds me of my summer in Italy in 2005, which I still hold on a pedestal in my memory as one of the best summers of my life. That was the summer I attended a guitar course in Siena and spent my days sitting in hot, sweaty master classes and practicing in the sweltering heat (somehow, AC never caught on in Italy), pushing and pushing myself to master my scales, fingerings, pieces, and interpretations. I was motivated mostly by being around so many phenomenal guitarists, but also by a certain drive that came upon me by being so inspired by that environment. It could have been the Chianti, the pasta, the rolling hills of Tuscany, or the simple love of the guitar that came over me. Whatever it was, I crave that feeling of having an unquenchable drive for excellence. I crave the desire to push myself beyond limits. I crave the desire to work harder and longer despite sweating all over my guitar and having my fingers turn black and blistered from practicing.
Lately, everything feels "good enough." Everything seems like it's passable or alright, or ok. In fact, I can't help but think that this is also a part of being in Southern California that has rubbed off on me. I saw a mural on an elementary school near Pacific Beach painted in big bubble letters that said, "Just take life easy." This was not so surprising considering that the school was less than half a mile from the beach. But still, it made me stop and think. That's what we're teaching children here? Just take it easy? It wasn't, "The sky's the limit!" or "The world is your oyster! Go for it!" Sure, there is truth to not taking life too seriously. But a little motivation would be nice.
In the end, I know I can't blame anything on my surroundings or my environment. Work is a part of the curse that resulted in the fall of man. It's supposed to be hard. Our flesh opposes it. I believe this because I feel it in my physical body every day. I know that my flesh is by nature lazy and undisciplined. But there is something about working when it is dramatically uncomfortable to do so, when everything in your flesh tells you that you want to do otherwise, that ends up producing such enduring fruit. Thinking about the apostle Paul overwhelms me- that he approached his work with such vigor, working to further the gospel and running the race, pressing on, despite all of the physical ailments and challenges that came his way. Surely I can spend a few uninterrupted hours with my guitar if Paul could carry Jesus' story across a continent after being shipwrecked, beaten, tortured, and sick?
Somehow the heat is the greatest reminder to me of the work I need to do also known as practicing. This is mostly because the dry, hot Southern Californian heat reminds me of my summer in Italy in 2005, which I still hold on a pedestal in my memory as one of the best summers of my life. That was the summer I attended a guitar course in Siena and spent my days sitting in hot, sweaty master classes and practicing in the sweltering heat (somehow, AC never caught on in Italy), pushing and pushing myself to master my scales, fingerings, pieces, and interpretations. I was motivated mostly by being around so many phenomenal guitarists, but also by a certain drive that came upon me by being so inspired by that environment. It could have been the Chianti, the pasta, the rolling hills of Tuscany, or the simple love of the guitar that came over me. Whatever it was, I crave that feeling of having an unquenchable drive for excellence. I crave the desire to push myself beyond limits. I crave the desire to work harder and longer despite sweating all over my guitar and having my fingers turn black and blistered from practicing.
Lately, everything feels "good enough." Everything seems like it's passable or alright, or ok. In fact, I can't help but think that this is also a part of being in Southern California that has rubbed off on me. I saw a mural on an elementary school near Pacific Beach painted in big bubble letters that said, "Just take life easy." This was not so surprising considering that the school was less than half a mile from the beach. But still, it made me stop and think. That's what we're teaching children here? Just take it easy? It wasn't, "The sky's the limit!" or "The world is your oyster! Go for it!" Sure, there is truth to not taking life too seriously. But a little motivation would be nice.
In the end, I know I can't blame anything on my surroundings or my environment. Work is a part of the curse that resulted in the fall of man. It's supposed to be hard. Our flesh opposes it. I believe this because I feel it in my physical body every day. I know that my flesh is by nature lazy and undisciplined. But there is something about working when it is dramatically uncomfortable to do so, when everything in your flesh tells you that you want to do otherwise, that ends up producing such enduring fruit. Thinking about the apostle Paul overwhelms me- that he approached his work with such vigor, working to further the gospel and running the race, pressing on, despite all of the physical ailments and challenges that came his way. Surely I can spend a few uninterrupted hours with my guitar if Paul could carry Jesus' story across a continent after being shipwrecked, beaten, tortured, and sick?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Cutting it pretty close...
And by the skin of my teeth, my first album is off to duplication! The past few weeks have been many days and nights of editing, listening, and proofreading until I felt like my eyes and ears were both going to fall off. Never had I really imagined how much work putting together an album is as an independent artist without a label to do all the legwork for you- from the music selection to the graphic design, producing and editing, coming up with an album concept, duplication, distribution, song licensing; it has been a real life crash course in the plight that musicians have to go through to get their music out to the public. It's also been a struggle for me in my work habits, too. I've experienced both feelings of resignation and perfectionism throughout the process, which was as frustrating as it was illuminating. Knowing how much work goes into album production, I now shudder at the thought of ever ripping an album from someone else (remember napster back in the day?) and vow to always pay full price for every piece of media I will ever own again, knowing that the artist makes pennies compared to how much work was put into it!
I've had some amazing help along the way and I'm so grateful to have had the means to do this. It looks like the CD's will be arriving just before the release concert in San Jose on July 12. I was worried that it would be a close one because of some recent delays. But I just spoke to the duplication company today and hopefully I will be getting the shipment (how many boxes does 1000 CD's come in?) on July 9th or so. Wow, that's close, considering the fact that I began fundraising for this project over three years ago.
Stay tuned for more info on how to buy many, many copies so you can help bail me out of the poorhouse! It will be available for purchase through www.conniesheu.com, www.cdbaby.com, and www.digistation.com- but the way to help the artist the most is by buying it directly from her or on her website! So, get ready for more shameless promotion in the next few weeks. :)
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Oh, New York!
I hereby declare that my great love affair with New York City will never end. Every time we go back I am all smiles, scheduling meals with old friends, making sure we hit all our old haunts, and reveling in the sights and sounds of the city. What makes visiting NYC so much fun is that everyone wants to see us while we're in town and we spent our whole time hanging out in cool spots and catching up with amazing friends. This was not how regular life necessarily was while we lived there. But it makes moving away a little more bearable. Here's my detailed chronicle of our latest adventure. Be warned- this post is very, very long.
Saturday, May 31
After spending the night at my friend Anna's place (who is now engaged and on youtube!), she and Mitch drop me off at Living Hope for the wedding on Saturday morning. Congrats to Dave and Sheila, a classy couple who threw one heck of a party. We doubted that people would be out on the dance floor at 3pm, but these Harvard kids sure know how to party (the open bar probably didn't hurt). Paul led worship at the wedding, and he was glad to be reunited with his old band. Above are John, John, and Rana causing trouble at our table.
Well, the wedding was such a good party that at 6pm (it was an 11am wedding) the music was still pumping! But we had tickets to the Mets/Dodgers game, so what to do? We piled in John's car and booked it to Shea Stadium...and got there in time to see the Mets beat the Dodgers 3-2. We literally saw one batter go up and the game was over. But hey, parking was free. Should I be rooting for LA now? I'm not sure if I can undo 7 years of brainwashing to love the Mets. But the Dodgers have Brooklyn roots, so I guess we'll consider it.
No visit to Flushing is complete without some tasty Asian food. So we decided to take a break from the sticky, humid day and make a pit stop at You-Chun on Northern Blvd. for some naeng-myun, a Korean cold buckwheat noodle soup in beef broth which is always a perfect treat for a hot summer day. Add some mustard and vinegar to taste and bulgogi on the side, and we were happy as clams. We got dropped off at our temporary home at Paul's sister Suzi's apartment in Brooklyn after a long day and topped our evening off at Stonehome Wine Bar, a neighborhood joint in Fort Greene where Paul and I tasted two flights of wine and indulged in three delicious cheeses and a plate of charcuterie.
Sunday, June 1
We started the morning off at church with our friend Oscar, who attends a new church plant on the Upper West Side called Grace. It was a super cool service, with a straightforward and culturally relevant message, an amazing funk-influenced worship band, and friendly people. They meet in a black box theater on top of a storefront space on 72nd street. After church, we had lunch and then Paul and I headed over to my recording engineer's studio to do a final listen through of my album. And, it's done! I'm very pleased with how everything turned out and walked away with my official master CD. Hopefully in a few weeks it will be duplicated and ready to sell.
We had some time before dinner to enjoy a stroll through Central Park after picking up some goodies from Savoy Bakery on the Upper East Side. They are an amazing Chinese-owned bakery with all the classic Chinese bakery goods- pork buns, egg custards and lots of fluffy cakes along with lots of croissants and a pretty tasty pain au chocolat. Wow.
Dinner couldn't be more enjoyable. Food is an expression of love in both our families, and when we lived in NY we were routinely spoiled by the scrumptious home cooking of Paul's mom, grandma, and aunt. That evening they drove all the way over to Suzi's place from Jersey for a feast of Korean BBQ (his grandmother has some secret recipe for making the kalbi amazingly tender and perfectly sweet) and some other homemade treats. We also celebrated Suzi's birthday a few days early. She's turning 1 in this picture.
Monday, June 2
We spent the night at my mother-in-law's place and had the chance to see one of Paul's aunts in the hospital, where she is being treated for leukemia. It was a somber visit and I don't know if she was fully aware of our presence. While we are not particularly close with her, it was heartbreaking to see her in that condition and to see the pain that her Paul's uncle is going through. It was a very brief visit and after some more time with Paul's mom, we took the bus back into the city.
We visited one of our college hot spots, Taqueria y Fonda, for our favorite thing on their menu- the chicken quesadilla. This is not your average quesadilla. Flavorful grilled chicken is trapped in a handmade flour tortilla and topped with romaine lettuce, freshly made sour cream and quesa fresca. We still haven't found anything quite like it in SD. I often daydream about their tortilla chips- greasy, crispy and always fresh out of the fryer.
Then a stopover at my friend Julie's apt on the UWS to see her and her baby Anna. Anna is now crawling and she is absolutely adorable. Just one look in those big blue-gray eyes and she gives you a huge smile that would undoubtedly melt even the coldest of hearts. I could spend hours oogling over her. I like the way she's eyeing me in the picture above. Seeing Julie as a mommy is pretty amazing. She's my closest friend from Juilliard and we went through school, graduating, getting married all at the same time- except now she's leapfrogged me into another lifestage! Anna has her sweet disposition and is a pretty happy, smiley little girl.
After an overpriced pitcher of sangria with Josh and Miriam at The Yard at the Soho Grand (the very hotel where we spent our wedding night!), we headed over to meet Dan, Naomi, and Maureen for dinner at Aurora, one of my favorite Italian restaurants in the city. They are a Brooklyn joint that now has a Soho location, and it surely did not disappoint. My papardelle with wild boar ragu had me pining for Tuscany and left enough savory goodness in my mouth to last me a few more months in California. For dessert, a panna cotta with roasted blueberries, a chocolate ganache with fior di latte gelato, and a flourless chocolate cake with hazelnut gelato. Ahhhh....
As if this weren't enough activity, we had scheduled after-dinner drinks with Paul's two best buddies from high school, Woojin and Seung-joo at the Brandy Library, which has got to be one of the coolest places in the city. Completely unassuming from the outside, walking in is like a different world- there are bottles of aged cognac, scotch, whiskey, various other spirits on the shelves that are arranged in the fashion of well, a library. The furniture is dark and polished and has the feel of an old Ivy League study room. There was even a live pianist playing Joplin. The bottles seemed to be alphabetized according to some sort of Dewey decimal system for liquor. I'm not huge on the hard stuff, but the boys seemed to have a good time and we all shared a bunch of different tasting flights while catching up and celebrating Woojin's recent engagement. We got home exhausted at about 2am and decided to sleep in the next morning.
Tuesday, June 3
After getting up at 10:30am, there was only one thought on our minds...DIM SUM! We hop on the subway to Chinatown and land at Golden Unicorn, a restaurant where we had spent many a Saturday morning at before. The best thing about getting dim sum on a weekday is that there is nobody there! Wow, what a discovery. We had all the carts to ourselves and I didn't hold back from ordering most of my favorites, which was probably enough for 4 people. Stuffed, we make our way back to Brooklyn and realize that there is only one thing left on the food list that lies unaccomplished. A slice of New York pizza! Pizza being Paul's favorite food, we don't know how we let this one slide. The line at Not Ray's Pizza on Fulton St. was a little on the long side, and by the time we finished a gooey fresh mozzarella slice we're a little behind schedule for our trip to the airport. Uh-oh. Here's where the fun begins.
Well, we managed to find ourselves arriving at the airport for a 3:25pm flight at about 3:01pm. I am panicking all the way. I usually like to get to the airport about 1 hour and 15 minutes before my flight, and we narrowly miss an earlier train to the airport and the Airtrain takes forever as well. Paul is an expert at nearly missing and definitely missing more than a few flights in his time. He has clearly done this before, and as I'm worrying over how in the world we are going to get home and who I have to call to reschedule things, he sweet talks his way to the front of the first class/business class check-in line after the self check-in computer tells us that it is too late to check in for our flight. Somehow he convinces the agent to not only check us in (even though we're in economy), but to call the gate and tell them that we are on our way to what has got to be the furthest gate from that check-in counter in all of JFK. She tells us that we might not make it since the gate is really far, and we start sprinting towards the security line. We squeeze our way to the front, apologizing to everyone and explaining we are "really, really late" while taking out a laptop, toiletries, shoes and throwing everything back in/on, and continue the sprint up and down escalators, running past the moving walkways and large groups of tourists, losing my shoe a few times, all the while with our luggage in tow. I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack by the time we arrive at Gate 41, and an agent is looking around for the two crazy, sweaty people who are making this flight wait for us. I wave frantically at her as about 4 different people move out of the way as if they are going to be run over by a pick-up truck. We somehow stow our huge garment bags on board, and the flight attendants are courteous and helpful as if nothing has happened. Wiping our faces and fanning ourselves, we land exhausted in our seats and burst into uncontrollable laughter. To top it off, Paul drops his cell phone under the seat and we cause another raucous getting two different rows of people to stand up and look for it. What troublemakers we are! I always roll my eyes at the people who get on the plane at the last minute while everyone else is seated. And I couldn't believe that I was now one of them!
The pilot announces that "the weather in America's finest city is a comfortable 65 degrees," and 5 1/2 hours later, we arrive at the San Diego Airport in classic Chun style. Seth and Courtney pick us up and take us for a tasty meal at In n' Out. I woke up this morning very, very sore...from sprinting through JFK like a madwoman.
And all for a slice of pizza.
Saturday, May 31
After spending the night at my friend Anna's place (who is now engaged and on youtube!), she and Mitch drop me off at Living Hope for the wedding on Saturday morning. Congrats to Dave and Sheila, a classy couple who threw one heck of a party. We doubted that people would be out on the dance floor at 3pm, but these Harvard kids sure know how to party (the open bar probably didn't hurt). Paul led worship at the wedding, and he was glad to be reunited with his old band. Above are John, John, and Rana causing trouble at our table.
Well, the wedding was such a good party that at 6pm (it was an 11am wedding) the music was still pumping! But we had tickets to the Mets/Dodgers game, so what to do? We piled in John's car and booked it to Shea Stadium...and got there in time to see the Mets beat the Dodgers 3-2. We literally saw one batter go up and the game was over. But hey, parking was free. Should I be rooting for LA now? I'm not sure if I can undo 7 years of brainwashing to love the Mets. But the Dodgers have Brooklyn roots, so I guess we'll consider it.
No visit to Flushing is complete without some tasty Asian food. So we decided to take a break from the sticky, humid day and make a pit stop at You-Chun on Northern Blvd. for some naeng-myun, a Korean cold buckwheat noodle soup in beef broth which is always a perfect treat for a hot summer day. Add some mustard and vinegar to taste and bulgogi on the side, and we were happy as clams. We got dropped off at our temporary home at Paul's sister Suzi's apartment in Brooklyn after a long day and topped our evening off at Stonehome Wine Bar, a neighborhood joint in Fort Greene where Paul and I tasted two flights of wine and indulged in three delicious cheeses and a plate of charcuterie.
Sunday, June 1
We started the morning off at church with our friend Oscar, who attends a new church plant on the Upper West Side called Grace. It was a super cool service, with a straightforward and culturally relevant message, an amazing funk-influenced worship band, and friendly people. They meet in a black box theater on top of a storefront space on 72nd street. After church, we had lunch and then Paul and I headed over to my recording engineer's studio to do a final listen through of my album. And, it's done! I'm very pleased with how everything turned out and walked away with my official master CD. Hopefully in a few weeks it will be duplicated and ready to sell.
We had some time before dinner to enjoy a stroll through Central Park after picking up some goodies from Savoy Bakery on the Upper East Side. They are an amazing Chinese-owned bakery with all the classic Chinese bakery goods- pork buns, egg custards and lots of fluffy cakes along with lots of croissants and a pretty tasty pain au chocolat. Wow.
Dinner couldn't be more enjoyable. Food is an expression of love in both our families, and when we lived in NY we were routinely spoiled by the scrumptious home cooking of Paul's mom, grandma, and aunt. That evening they drove all the way over to Suzi's place from Jersey for a feast of Korean BBQ (his grandmother has some secret recipe for making the kalbi amazingly tender and perfectly sweet) and some other homemade treats. We also celebrated Suzi's birthday a few days early. She's turning 1 in this picture.
Monday, June 2
We spent the night at my mother-in-law's place and had the chance to see one of Paul's aunts in the hospital, where she is being treated for leukemia. It was a somber visit and I don't know if she was fully aware of our presence. While we are not particularly close with her, it was heartbreaking to see her in that condition and to see the pain that her Paul's uncle is going through. It was a very brief visit and after some more time with Paul's mom, we took the bus back into the city.
We visited one of our college hot spots, Taqueria y Fonda, for our favorite thing on their menu- the chicken quesadilla. This is not your average quesadilla. Flavorful grilled chicken is trapped in a handmade flour tortilla and topped with romaine lettuce, freshly made sour cream and quesa fresca. We still haven't found anything quite like it in SD. I often daydream about their tortilla chips- greasy, crispy and always fresh out of the fryer.
Then a stopover at my friend Julie's apt on the UWS to see her and her baby Anna. Anna is now crawling and she is absolutely adorable. Just one look in those big blue-gray eyes and she gives you a huge smile that would undoubtedly melt even the coldest of hearts. I could spend hours oogling over her. I like the way she's eyeing me in the picture above. Seeing Julie as a mommy is pretty amazing. She's my closest friend from Juilliard and we went through school, graduating, getting married all at the same time- except now she's leapfrogged me into another lifestage! Anna has her sweet disposition and is a pretty happy, smiley little girl.
After an overpriced pitcher of sangria with Josh and Miriam at The Yard at the Soho Grand (the very hotel where we spent our wedding night!), we headed over to meet Dan, Naomi, and Maureen for dinner at Aurora, one of my favorite Italian restaurants in the city. They are a Brooklyn joint that now has a Soho location, and it surely did not disappoint. My papardelle with wild boar ragu had me pining for Tuscany and left enough savory goodness in my mouth to last me a few more months in California. For dessert, a panna cotta with roasted blueberries, a chocolate ganache with fior di latte gelato, and a flourless chocolate cake with hazelnut gelato. Ahhhh....
As if this weren't enough activity, we had scheduled after-dinner drinks with Paul's two best buddies from high school, Woojin and Seung-joo at the Brandy Library, which has got to be one of the coolest places in the city. Completely unassuming from the outside, walking in is like a different world- there are bottles of aged cognac, scotch, whiskey, various other spirits on the shelves that are arranged in the fashion of well, a library. The furniture is dark and polished and has the feel of an old Ivy League study room. There was even a live pianist playing Joplin. The bottles seemed to be alphabetized according to some sort of Dewey decimal system for liquor. I'm not huge on the hard stuff, but the boys seemed to have a good time and we all shared a bunch of different tasting flights while catching up and celebrating Woojin's recent engagement. We got home exhausted at about 2am and decided to sleep in the next morning.
Tuesday, June 3
After getting up at 10:30am, there was only one thought on our minds...DIM SUM! We hop on the subway to Chinatown and land at Golden Unicorn, a restaurant where we had spent many a Saturday morning at before. The best thing about getting dim sum on a weekday is that there is nobody there! Wow, what a discovery. We had all the carts to ourselves and I didn't hold back from ordering most of my favorites, which was probably enough for 4 people. Stuffed, we make our way back to Brooklyn and realize that there is only one thing left on the food list that lies unaccomplished. A slice of New York pizza! Pizza being Paul's favorite food, we don't know how we let this one slide. The line at Not Ray's Pizza on Fulton St. was a little on the long side, and by the time we finished a gooey fresh mozzarella slice we're a little behind schedule for our trip to the airport. Uh-oh. Here's where the fun begins.
Well, we managed to find ourselves arriving at the airport for a 3:25pm flight at about 3:01pm. I am panicking all the way. I usually like to get to the airport about 1 hour and 15 minutes before my flight, and we narrowly miss an earlier train to the airport and the Airtrain takes forever as well. Paul is an expert at nearly missing and definitely missing more than a few flights in his time. He has clearly done this before, and as I'm worrying over how in the world we are going to get home and who I have to call to reschedule things, he sweet talks his way to the front of the first class/business class check-in line after the self check-in computer tells us that it is too late to check in for our flight. Somehow he convinces the agent to not only check us in (even though we're in economy), but to call the gate and tell them that we are on our way to what has got to be the furthest gate from that check-in counter in all of JFK. She tells us that we might not make it since the gate is really far, and we start sprinting towards the security line. We squeeze our way to the front, apologizing to everyone and explaining we are "really, really late" while taking out a laptop, toiletries, shoes and throwing everything back in/on, and continue the sprint up and down escalators, running past the moving walkways and large groups of tourists, losing my shoe a few times, all the while with our luggage in tow. I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack by the time we arrive at Gate 41, and an agent is looking around for the two crazy, sweaty people who are making this flight wait for us. I wave frantically at her as about 4 different people move out of the way as if they are going to be run over by a pick-up truck. We somehow stow our huge garment bags on board, and the flight attendants are courteous and helpful as if nothing has happened. Wiping our faces and fanning ourselves, we land exhausted in our seats and burst into uncontrollable laughter. To top it off, Paul drops his cell phone under the seat and we cause another raucous getting two different rows of people to stand up and look for it. What troublemakers we are! I always roll my eyes at the people who get on the plane at the last minute while everyone else is seated. And I couldn't believe that I was now one of them!
The pilot announces that "the weather in America's finest city is a comfortable 65 degrees," and 5 1/2 hours later, we arrive at the San Diego Airport in classic Chun style. Seth and Courtney pick us up and take us for a tasty meal at In n' Out. I woke up this morning very, very sore...from sprinting through JFK like a madwoman.
And all for a slice of pizza.
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