Today, I got rear-ended on my way to school. The damage was not that significant- a displaced bumper and a small dent. But I was pretty upset, only because the guy apologized to me, told me he would pull over, and then drove away speedily.
This threw my day into a bit of a haze, until a friend brought to my attention another hit and run accident that happened near campus last night. A driver ran a red light and hit two USC students while they were walking in a crosswalk, proceeded to stop only to remove the body of one of the victims from the hood of his car, and drove away. One of them died- an undergraduate student that was only 19. I can't imagine what her family is going through. I saw an interview with her mom on the news and it was so devastating. Read the story here.
Are we so numb to the well-being and livelihood of others that walking away is the easiest thing to do? Even if they are strangers? I put myself in the shoes of either driver from the above accidents. The temptation exists to just drive away, pretend not to notice, put it in the back of your mind and move on so you don't have to "deal" with the repercussions of your actions. And though my first instinct is to say that behavior like this is sickening with no regard to human life or decency, I know that I have done this in some form or fashion so many times when I have walked by someone who is hurting, hungry or broken, or run away from the consequences of my own sin. The choice is the same. The condition of sin runs deeper than we know. But the great tragedy of being human is that we are capable of so many things beyond our comprehension. We are capable of death, destruction, beauty, and compassion all at the same time.
More than ever, this realization makes me want to live my life loudly, with fierce passion for what I do, not letting anything stop me from expressing that there is always something worth living for, that people are worth caring about, and that humanity has always and will always be in need of a Savior.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Ramen inspiration.
It's hard to keep blogging when you haven't had a profound thought in awhile.
And then, out of the blue, inspiration comes. Ever had one of those meals where you just couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards? That whatever you ate brought your taste buds such sweet pleasure that you felt like you'd just discovered a new addiction and were teetering in a hazy area between enthusiasm and obsession?
Well, I had one of these moments this weekend in the food court of Mitsuwa supermarket in West LA. An unassuming place for an amazing meal? You bet. Usually, this is also the best kind.
This ramen turned my whole perception of the art of Japanese flavors upside down. Santuoka, a Japanese ramen chain, exists at three different Mitsuwas in southern California and I feel blessed with good fortune. A salty pork-flavored broth with just a hint of sweet seafoodiness to balance. Perfectly chewy noodles that curled so beautifully in my spoon. Rich and fatty slices of pork to top, along with some pickled seaweed, fresh scallions, and (could it be?) fish cake that actually tasted like fish. I was floored by this umami perfection, and ended my meal by verbalizing this to my husband who was in an equally dumbfounded stupor. "It's perfect," I said. He nodded in between slurping, causing several drops of the precious broth to alarmingly fall to the table. Not wanting to tolerate any more waste, I picked up my bowl and drank every last drop of the sweet soup afterwards and considered ordering another, so delicious was this incredible nectar. We barely said two words during this meal, usually a sign that the food is good- especially when the two words were the ones I mentioned above.
But this was not just a fleeting moment of bacchanalian satisfaction. I felt inspired from this ramen. It made me believe that I could do anything. My perspective on the world began to shift. In a moment while slurping down noodles with my burnt tongue, I had an important realization. Thoughts become things. This ramen was once a thought. Now it is a thing. I'd just had a week where I wasn't doing much, feeling uninspired and lazy from an uneventful spring break. But this superhuman food brought me to my feet, recharged and ready to take on the world as a new woman. I can do anything. Thoughts become things. My thoughts can become things, too. I CAN DO ANYTHING! SLURRRPPPP!
To top it all off, they have double matcha green tea soft serve in the same food court. I haven't been this happy in weeks.
And then, out of the blue, inspiration comes. Ever had one of those meals where you just couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards? That whatever you ate brought your taste buds such sweet pleasure that you felt like you'd just discovered a new addiction and were teetering in a hazy area between enthusiasm and obsession?
Well, I had one of these moments this weekend in the food court of Mitsuwa supermarket in West LA. An unassuming place for an amazing meal? You bet. Usually, this is also the best kind.
This ramen turned my whole perception of the art of Japanese flavors upside down. Santuoka, a Japanese ramen chain, exists at three different Mitsuwas in southern California and I feel blessed with good fortune. A salty pork-flavored broth with just a hint of sweet seafoodiness to balance. Perfectly chewy noodles that curled so beautifully in my spoon. Rich and fatty slices of pork to top, along with some pickled seaweed, fresh scallions, and (could it be?) fish cake that actually tasted like fish. I was floored by this umami perfection, and ended my meal by verbalizing this to my husband who was in an equally dumbfounded stupor. "It's perfect," I said. He nodded in between slurping, causing several drops of the precious broth to alarmingly fall to the table. Not wanting to tolerate any more waste, I picked up my bowl and drank every last drop of the sweet soup afterwards and considered ordering another, so delicious was this incredible nectar. We barely said two words during this meal, usually a sign that the food is good- especially when the two words were the ones I mentioned above.
But this was not just a fleeting moment of bacchanalian satisfaction. I felt inspired from this ramen. It made me believe that I could do anything. My perspective on the world began to shift. In a moment while slurping down noodles with my burnt tongue, I had an important realization. Thoughts become things. This ramen was once a thought. Now it is a thing. I'd just had a week where I wasn't doing much, feeling uninspired and lazy from an uneventful spring break. But this superhuman food brought me to my feet, recharged and ready to take on the world as a new woman. I can do anything. Thoughts become things. My thoughts can become things, too. I CAN DO ANYTHING! SLURRRPPPP!
To top it all off, they have double matcha green tea soft serve in the same food court. I haven't been this happy in weeks.
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