1/4

Before I begin a prosaic “running from responsibility” post and proceed to spew nonsense that is runner’s high, let me first suggest a few other means in which to view my current situation:

I am:

• complaining
• missing this:
• terribly out of shape
• fatigued from a 3.2 mile run, quite breathless

And running from:

• 40 hour work weeks. Or rather, to work in the morning, and from it at exactly 530
• Impending doom on the LSAT
• incomprehensible bandwidth limits
• being more shockingly boring on everything and anything, including Skype.

Past two weeks in LA:

Wake up at 740, throw on some of the “business casual,” make a cup of coffee, fulfill all negative stereotypes of Asian drivers, waste gas by constantly accelerating and braking, tailgate, throw my keys at the valet, take two elevators to the 39th floor, throw my stuff on the ground and go take advantage of what I come to work for:

I actually debated to walk in to work with a suit the first day. That was not too bad of a contemplation, considering that only recently has the new dress code been implemented.

Upon completing two tutorials on sexual harassment and insider trading, I was assigned my first reading: the company dress code:

• “Over the past several months, we have seen many of our clients, and the business world at large, begin to adopt casual dress polices. In fact, as you have probably noticed, members of our own firm have been electing to leave their suits and other more formal clothing at home for some time now. With this in mind, we feel that it is time to officially announce a new business casual dress code.”
• Business casual attire apparently does not include stirrups or rubber flip flops. Good to know.

Apart from drafting memos for banks, doing research, powerpoint research, social media research, I pretty much have my LSAT books wit

h me to keep me company.

Today:

• Received my first paycheck. Not tax exempt. At least I have an office with a view:

Tomorrow:

• Going to brave “Carmageddon.” Sitting in traffic will help me bulk up. Call it a reverse-Jonah Hill process.

Upon concluding, it’s not too difficult to note the irony of my distaste in prosaicness. These past two weeks has been everything that the word entails.

Unimaginative. Dull. Commonplace. That’s what I’ve come to. A 3.2 mile run to break the mundane.

Wailing aside, I know that I’ll be able to catch my breath upon the completion of three more 25%. That is, August 27th. No, that’s not when it all ends. Not the LSAT, not work.

But definitely a homecoming of all sorts, a reinjection of spontaneity and joy.

It’ll be a different form of running, this one taking place at the airport. And it’ll be everything that running now can’t provide.

mem•o•ry

noun \ˈmem-rē, ˈme-mə-\

1a : the power or process of reproducing or recalling what has been learned and retained especially through associative mechanisms b : the store of things learned and retained from an organism's activity or experience as evidenced by modification of structure or behavior or by recall and recognition

2a : commemorative remembrance

3a : a particular act of recall or recollection b : an image or impression of one that is remembered

*****

Friday Night Lights, Track 19/20:
When my story's told, how will they tell it?
Will they say I was a giver or will they say I was selfish
Will they say I was a sinner or pretend I was a saint
Will I go down as a winner, what's the picture they gon paint

*****

J. Cole questions how he will be remembered in “Farewell,” a track off his newest mixtape. It’s a universal fear I think we all have. Of being judged, being forgotten (which could be a good thing) or being remembered (which also, very well could be a bad thing).

Sitting in class last Friday, a girl arrives late, yet is obviously not flustered. She takes her time to make her way to the back of the class and sits a row behind and a seat to the right behind me. Now, I am not a notetaker for no reason. I take good notes, even though sending and receiving text messages always take precedence. But this girl, unashamedly, immediately arms herself with a Blackberry (yes one with a ostentatiously glittery, jeweled case) and snaps a photo of my notes, holding the phone over my right shoulder.

How do I know she took a photo?

1. Her phone was not on silent, and the phone made the not-so-subtle shutter sound upon the press of the button.
2. Flash.

I hope her photo turned out well. I know my notes did.

So I may remember this weird woman for a while. For the wrong reason I guess.

There are certain things that we think we will forget or things we suppress simply for convenience. It's not so bad though, if there's a someone (possibly holding your pathetic penguin hand all along).

7.7.10 - 7.11.10 v. 2.19.11 - 2.23.11

Going to the All-Star Practice reminds me of a day in England, after a week and more of hard-searching:

Today I found a basketball court in Cambridge.

There, I played for two some hours with Alex, Caitlin, and Jas. It looks like we will be making more trips here in the very near future.
I guarded Caitlin most of the time. No knock on that though. She plays for Harvard: http://thecrimson.harvard.edu/blog/the-back-page/article/2010/7/26/play-game-team-harvard/
Later went to eat some Korean food, passed by Parker’s Piece since Day 1 and saw many restaurants that I have never seen before, including some tempting pubs.

But then it was back to King's College to watch the Spain-Germany game. All the Englishmen were out in full force to root against the Germans, who had previously ousted their homeland by an embarrassing 4-1 margin.

Watching it in the floor of the King's College Bar was something that I had to remember, but the game was less than that. It was a slow paced game, with both teams measuring their potential opportunities to score.

Puyol put the ball in the back of the net. Done. Spain against Netherlands for it all on Sunday..too bad we had to go to London for Arts Journalism otherwise we definitely would have gone to Amsterdam for the weekend.

During the final championship match, I had my laptop with me to decide to either embark on a journey to Amsterdam or Barcelona. I decided to book Amsterdam half-way in, and Spain closed the deal. I guess Amsterdam would have to do.

Now, I think back on that and reflect on that summer as a whole. Added to all the decisions that I have made up to this point, just tells me again, to live with no regret.

One of those nights where you stare at the ceiling hoping that it’ll provide you some answers.

In England, it was even tougher to have a full duration sleep, as the sun rises at 5 am. And naturally, I woke up at 430 in anticipation.

It’s still the first weekend, and I was underpacked to go to Scotland. I didn’t know what to expect but bus rides for some apparent reason was a reason for a sense of adventure (I’d later retract this).

**

7.2.10

We stopped by Richmond and saw the Richmond Castle. Marks my first fish and chips experience. The castle itself provided a steep overlook of the city and from certain vantage points, could see specks of white that were little goats.

Stopped at a local store. They were lucky that these rest stop folks were also willing spenders. I ended up buying the three malts collector’s pack: the smallest bottle of scotch whisky in the world. Apparently Guinness Book of Records material.

Upon arrival at Edinburgh, we were able to stay at Pollack Halls, which was converted into a hotel like accommodation for tourists like us. The bathrooms were strange. Imagine an airplane with a shower. The toilet operating in a similar fashion.

What was a major improvement was the food. We had buffet and it was edible, unlike food in Cambridge. Not bad.

Ended up exploring the city and took a ghost tour..one that I will never forget, for ripping us off 10 pounds.

I guess it’s one way to make friends. And then it started raining.

7.3.2010

The next morning was the big hike up the Trossachs. I wasn’t ready. The weather wasn’t either. After a two hour drive, added to the fact that the panini wasn’t sitting well in my stomach, a two mile upward journey didn’t seem worth it. And it was still raining

New running shoes were not going to protect me from the mud. As Jason said, my asics turned to basics. An hour or so long hike, but we managed to get to the top.

And soon enough it was time to walk back down – the same way. Slipping all the way down.

The rest of the night was reserved for Scottish dancing, and usually I don’t like these things. But after a few glasses of wine, I was more than ready.

Apparently I wore a kilt that night.

We then headed over to the lounge. And suddenly a loud chant and an “Oh say can you see.” Celebrating July 4^th in Scotland. classy. Some warm goodbyes, then it was off to bed.

7.4.2010

So I missed the bus that would have taken us to the city center, but split a cab with four others and the toll was around a pound and a half. Saw the Edinburgh castle. Spent more time inside the Edinburgh castle gift shop. It was raining sideways.

So we headed to the National Gallery and appreciated the nudity.

Saw the Rossyln Chapel, which wasn’t impressive. The stories were: of the high mason killing the apprentice, the pillars in certain locations and sculpted in a different fashion. I wished they elaborated on specific incidents that was used in the Da Vinci Code.

Decided to get some cheap vodka and some red bull. On an empty stomach as well.

Some gruesome details I will leave out on second edit…

So we go to Espionage. And my friend leaves her ID back at home. So we take the cab back to get her ID. The alcohol wasn’t settling well on the way back. I stopped the cab. The vomit didn’t. Luckily avoided the 20 pound fine and somehow got into the club. I needed water.

I tipped the guy two pounds for giving me tap water.

He smiled and took the money.

I was led outside because I guess I was wild, where I explained that I had just eaten pea soup all day. Drank on an empty stomach. But felt better. Energized.

7.5.2010

Apparently we almost died today. Woke up early in the morning at 7 thanks to the 10 alarms that my friend apparently set for me.

I met a Harvard women’s hoops player on the bus. Cool.

But back to how we almost died. Apparently a bus on the opposite side of the road ran into a BMW, and almost took out our bus in the process.

We ended up going to Fountains Abbey, but waited for a while for everyone to eat their lousy sandwiches. Took some pictures at the Abbey, sat in a wishing well-esque monument, and were off. We had less than an hour to explore.

How do you make frozen chicken nuggets taste like chicken nuggets? The mystery continues…

Go the Millionth Mile for the One in the Million

For the First Time

So the weekend is over. From the last day at the firm on Friday, to today, it has been a blur.

My schoolwork, as does my bank account, suggests that the fun should come to an end soon.

Soon, meaning, maybe just for the night…

**

FRI 1.21

I came into work and a negotiator was sleeping. So my natural inclination was to go on facebook, and like the extreme socialite that I am (not), began the countdown.

Also, I am a very productive intern.

Productive in the sense that I began thinking about the 120 miles and 2.5 hours to San Diego..a to-be-named “Party Palace” awaited on the other side of the journey.

**

Apparently I tailgate. Supposedly keeping a bumper length away isn’t enough at high speeds.

Don’t throw parties at Hard Rock Hotel, unless you want hundreds of dollars of alcohol confiscated.

- Don’t take cabs. Steal one.

- DO spend time with some of greatest, OVER-age people in the world.

**

SAT – SUN 1.22-1.23

- Gourmet Burgers are the thing.

Jai Ho blasting on repeat at Jen's kickback. I guess I haven’t seen everything.

I like a little Tyler time too, with the bhangra in the background.

**

MON 1.24

Walking to McGowan isn’t the thing.

Schoenburg Library is the place to be. To get something done, at least.

- The Script is the only band I’d do something like this on a Monday night.

- Danny O’Donoghue is “amazing.” Guillermo would’ve taken a shot to that by now. Watch the latest Jimmy Kimmel episode and you’ll understand. I’d like to say Danny and I made eye contact.

Not his greatest vocal performance, but Danny has that stage presence that overcomes it.

In honor of my last day at work

6.30.10

I feel like this girl when I'm in my Foreign Policy class, and in a room full of IR and Political Science majors that found it more interesting to talk about the intricacies of neorealism and John Mearsheimer, it was more than belittling.

Instead, I attempted to hide every class session. It's usually hot in the blue room.. which is the room next to the Cambridge Union Bar, and I guess Alex took note of the particular odor I accumulated while hiding in my corner. (I usually sweat when it's hot).

Put on the spot, I pulled random references I remember from the history classes I had taken in the past. I don't remember what I said exactly, but it dealt with illustrating how the German approach to WWII was much different from US’s isolationist approach.

Afterwards I took a trip around town, delivered postcards to Jodi Wilson and Melissa (the 8 am PST vid chat session is also the only explanation for Willy's behavior in the photo). It was an adventure, especially since little kids from Oxford, apparently appalled at the sight of an Asian, thrust Polaroid cameras in my face and began snapping away.

When I got to the post office, the little Indian man behind the counter, which I found quite pleasant after the montage of little squats, asks me...

"Send to Japan, right?"

I gave him a dirty look, and so postage ended up being 67 pence, and yes, mailed to the US.

Another thing I did.. I had my first bite of European McDonald’s… a chicken wrap here is two pounds ($3.5 USD)..on a good day.. luxurious stuff.

I wanted better food, so Jason (now known as Jason England) and I, upon returning from an orientation for the weekend Scotland trip and dinner at a Thai restaurant), began fleshing out our plan to travel to Paris. We settled for the easy jet flight, costing us around 120 pounds round trip..

7.1.10

All I can remember is that we just ruined someones night. My neighbor wanted to show me the TV room and so we went in. I casually flipped on the switch and a half naked mass of a man popped out from under the covers. Yeah, call the night ruined.

We ran out, leaving the lights open, the door slamming shut behind us.

We then hurried inside our rooms to avoid retribution from an obviously very angry person.

*****

Crepes for lunch with Margaret.. bacon cheese and mushrooms. The salesguy was really polite. Apparently I shouldn’t expect that everyday. This is also the Student Union Bar.

Studied at King’s College Library for the first time...safe to say not much studying was done.

Afterwards was the adventure with the laundry machine. After waiting for the entire 38 minutes, someone stopped my washer and it stopped at 32 minutes. So I had to wait and press it again.

And come down and put it in the dryer.

And then pick it up again. It was a lot of walking. I was sweating.

Tomorrow we are going to Scotland, and so we just got a burger at Trailer of Life (what would be the trademark late-night eatery of Cambridge).

Upon returning, I realized that the burger didn't do my digestive system a favor. But I’m afraid I will meet a (still) very angry man if I were to venture to the bathroom.

Can't knock on Bill for this one..

I've Converted.

For your creeping pleasure":

http://0neina-million.tumblr.com/

It's a lazy Saturday, and the way UCLA hoops is playing isn't helping the drowsiness.

One thing that I really haven't read into until now was the Tucson shootings and its subsequent reaction, specifically, from Barack.

It's not nearly of the same magnitude as the massive tragedies in the Bush admin, but it's one that has unified if on a smaller scale, a great multitude. It was a chance for him who has endured many failures (see: environmental, labor, and health care legislation) to condone simple accusations between the two factions and instead, welcome openness and moral searching. We'll see if this holds true for the next year and a half.

Things I noticed at the Tucson Memorial Service:

Christina Taylor Green: Nine-year-old wanted to meet Gabrielle Giffords. She was a member of the school’s student council, and Obama urged those who congregated to see things “through the eyes of a child.”

Taylor Green was born on September 11, 2001. One of the 50 babies picture in a book called ‘Faces of Hope.’

On either side of the photo were "simple wishes for a child’s life."

Among those, "I hope you help those in need." Another: "I hope that you know all the words to the National Anthem and sing them with your hand over your heart." The final one: "I hope you jump in rain puddles."

Obama: “If there are rain puddles in heaven, Christina is jumping in them today. And here, on this earth, here on this earth, we place our hands over our hearts, and we commit ourselves to forging a country that is worthy of our gentle happy spirit.”

31:25: I want to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as Christina imagined. I want America to be as good as she imagined it. All of us, everyone, we should make that this country lives up to our children’s expectations.

29:10: They believe and I believe that we can be better. Those who died here, those who survived here, they help me believe. We may not be able to stop all the evil in the world. But I know how we treat each other: that’s entirely up to us. And I believe through all our imperfection, we are full of goodness and that the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us.

The sudden turn of events pose a challenge and forces us to recall our actions and their selflessness.

It raises a question beyond prayers of concern: How do we remember the fallen?

How can we be true to their memory?

Barack claims that we are an American family, 300 million strong. In something so current like Tucson, it holds true.

Human nature and forgetfulness suggests otherwise.

Also, there will be losses to the Clippers

Onion SportsDome

Daily Dose of Remi

Still Sunny under Different Suns

In Cambridge, the sun rises at 5 am, but doesn’t set until 10 at night.

There, my closest of friends included an oft-drunk Mexican, a fast talking Jew, Krazy (and Konservative) Koreans, sarcastic Chinese.

On my way back, I couldn’t help but think of what got us all there, in the same place, the same time, learning the same things. But simultaneously, I thought on how our talk on different things both solidified yet complicated our worlds for the better.

And while I was leaving England for good in the early hours of the morning August 21st, it wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t solitude, but it was just another 5 am sunrise, this time spattered with a few clouds that dotted dawn's bright blue canvas.

It’s the same feeling I got while I pulled into the familiar apartment garage just moments ago. The sun may think differently in California, but we don’t think much about it.

Whether it was in Santa Barbara or San Diego, Pauley or Staples. Freebirds to the Griddle to Karl Strauss. Tyus Edney, Mat Kearney, Blake Griffin.

And it wasn’t completely about the places that I went. Rather, it was who I went with, talked with, heard from, embraced, and ultimately learned from.

UCLA athletic director Dan Guerrero, who I approached cautiously Saturday:

http://www.dailybruin.com/index.php/article/2011/01/ucla_womens_basketball_blocks_usc_from_winning

Mat Kearney & Tyrone Wells @ the Granada in SB, in “When all is said and done.” Two of the most crisp, compelling and refreshing vocal performances I have heard in person.

If I lose my way
And I wander down this open road for daysAnd if the sun should fall
And the dancing we once did becomes a crawlLet the memories move like shadows on the wallIf I lose my way

Joyce Wang and Jodi Matsumoto: “Pepper." “Targeting.” Accompanied with sound effects, no explanation necessary. Ebonics?

Tyler Dimich, Warrior fan & Laker hater: “Kobe’s jersey will be retired under Lisa Leslie’s because Staples is the LA Spark’s house.”

Jillian Watson’s (and Karly Shimamoto's) favorite hobo outside Freebirds. Apparently he proposed after he was denied some spare change, and he ain’t a gold digger.

Michael Chou, Roopak Bhatt, and Gabriel Tse: Breakfast Club, we like it big.

Melissa Pliss’s Jason Statham impersonation, attempting to secretively transport Birthday Boy from the wrong address to another wrong address. Wrong turns and all. Motownphilly?

Kristin Okino: “assy suites.” San Diego is shady.

David Lee’s attempt to get digits landed Ice Cream for Birthday Boy.

"Peel." "Banana."

Hores>horses.

Kangaroo Remi > Mario Remi > Pac-Man Remi?

Peter.

For me, it was more than a weekend of fun and games. It’s a time that I can look back and reflect and cherish– not to say its dusk and the sun is fading and those times are gone, but so we can say we always greet the new day to live to see and feel these kind of moments. Together.

Let’s keep it that way.

Wilson Luong: Birthday Boy, and my favorite 23 year old. Here’s a toast to you, especially.

Andre Ethier from Dream Crazy on Vimeo.

I feel competent again.

Getting There

Everyone has a fear.

No Chuck Norris jokes, please.

Mine? Being wrong.

We are bred to be content riding the rails that have been traveled time and time again to minimize the likelihood.

But completely stigmatizing the wrong, and being completely unprepared to deal with it, may lead to greater uncertainty, much less, originality.

Hierarchically, our purpose is to come out as university professors. It wasn't until the summer of 2010 that I realized that a thousand mile journey may yield a wrong so right...

6.27.10

At first, I was intimidated of the unknown. Unfriendly airport people. TSA almost snatching my cookies. Being wary that some freak can look at my junk.

But the familiar bag of Sour Patch Kids helped take my mind off that.

I started fiddling, and it lasted all the way through the flight. I didn't sleep and Jennifer Aniston didn't even look pretty in The Bounty Hunter. It was a ten hour flight, and channel surfing only got me through three hours.

The remaining seven hours consisted of restless shifting in the seats (apparently I sat next to a fellow Bruin alum Dr. Parry Barbara) airplane meals, and squeamishness.

But the daylight of the London afternoon could not have been more pleasant. Until I was greeted by guards totting AK's. My first notion? These British folks are insecure.

Otherwise, the immigration/customs part exchange in the airport was relatively straightforward. I was able to get my luggage and get through customs within a matter of 20 minutes. The difficult part was rushing to the National Express line to buy a ticket for the 3:10 bus to Cambridge. I missed it by 5 minutes. Still a feat I told myself, for being able to rush from the plane to the ticketing booth within half an hour.

But first the night before. It was perhaps the best night I have had with board games. A game of the monotonous Apples to Apples finally gave way to a raucous game of Scattergories. Before that? Banana cream pie, and watching Jodi and Melissa play video games.

It’s one that I won’t likely forget considering the fact that the following day I was sending back farewell text messages. Bittersweet.

USA lost the other day 2-1, to Ghana on a heartbreaking 93^rd minute goal and today, the Englishmen lost at the hands of the Germans 4-1, and I could see the looks on the faces of the fans as they left the pubs when I was making my way from Heathrow to Cambridge.

But on the way there, I couldn’t help but notice a girl glancing back. But

when we finally arrived, around 6:50, she turned out to be looking for King’s College as well. And the adventure began after a 2 and a half hour bus ride. I've never been so exhausted sitting. It was a laboring experience walking back and forth on the same cobblestone street. I was frustrated that the map had two features: the City Centere and King's College.

We eventually approached a shirtless man with tattoos, and upon telling him of our need to get to King’s College, he seemed humbled, and even called us scholars.

But the locals were unable to help us much, which was astounding considering the esteem the University is usually held at, and after walking back and forth on what turns out to be Emmanuel Road, we finally took a taxi to King’s College. It was all but 5 pounds, and we split the fee.

He dropped us off, and as I unloaded all of our baggage, my jaw dropped. I was to study here.

By the time we stepped into the dining hall, it was nearing 8 o’clock and the program directors Carlos and Greg were about to make announcements after a quick dinner. (I also managed to sneak a few glasses of wine). I was to stay at King’s College, just a few flights up above Keynes’ Building, which turned about to be a bar.

I walked up the stairs and was eager to wash my face. It was then that I realized that there was one faucet for hot water and one for cold water. No mix and matching here I guess.

It was a rather rude awakening. But one, like the journey in itself, sought to break the rhythm.

New Year

A few things I've noticed this past New Year over a little bottle of Korbel Champagne.

Some soundbites:

joyce: i don't know if i like champagne.

kyle: oh you've never had apple cider?

**

jodi (pouring cup after cup): i'm thirsty, don't worry about it!

**

It's the little things that I've learned to appreciate. It's not when I threw away 2010 (the calendar) that I realized. Or changed the name of the poorly-updated blog from The Spotlight to its current title.

We're all separate entities, disjointed and incongruent.

But there's something that holds a million fragments together. Unfortunately, it can't be in Toy Story-themed bandages. Though I hear they do help cover bruises.

Even in things seemingly small as that, it's times like these I don't forget.

The scholar David Lee once said, "live for those nights you don't remember with the people you won't forget."

And as hard as I did try on New Year's, I know I can't forget the millions of stories and memories that we share - and will share - in 2011 and beyond.