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.