Thursday, October 15, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Words_Pre-Birthday Blues
Four days left until I am officially two years from 30.
When I was in high school, I imagined by the time I was 25 that I would be married with children. However, this is the same high schooler who, as a child, wanted to be a Kmart cashier (not like there is anything wrong with that). So it's official. The course of my future has been distorted since childhood. Awesome.
Looking back on the last ten years of my life, I think I would have done almost everything differently. First off, I would have actually done well on my SATs. Whatever it took. Paying someone off. Cheating. Whatever. I would have applied to colleges that were anywhere but here: New York, California, Florida. I would have actually done well in college instead of average. I would have sought out my professor's wisdom and immersed myself in every internship I could get my hands on for the experience. I would have fought through my laziness and maintained writing as the center of my career while simultaneously honing my photography skills. I would have given people a lot more chances. I would have taken more risks. I would have been a better caretaker of my belongings. I would have taken advantage of all my great opportunities. I would have been a lot more humble, kind, open.
I know I can't escape the stigma attached to 30. I don't want to feed into it but I'm afraid I can't help ignoring the weight of such great expectations. I would love to believe I could take on grad school or return to the journalism field or master some great accomplishment that would make entering into my thirties respectable in everyone's eyes. But maybe in two more years, things will still kind of be the same. And I think I have to prepare myself for the realization that maybe that's okay. Just like Keane sings, "everybody's changing and I don't feel the same."
When I was in high school, I imagined by the time I was 25 that I would be married with children. However, this is the same high schooler who, as a child, wanted to be a Kmart cashier (not like there is anything wrong with that). So it's official. The course of my future has been distorted since childhood. Awesome.
Looking back on the last ten years of my life, I think I would have done almost everything differently. First off, I would have actually done well on my SATs. Whatever it took. Paying someone off. Cheating. Whatever. I would have applied to colleges that were anywhere but here: New York, California, Florida. I would have actually done well in college instead of average. I would have sought out my professor's wisdom and immersed myself in every internship I could get my hands on for the experience. I would have fought through my laziness and maintained writing as the center of my career while simultaneously honing my photography skills. I would have given people a lot more chances. I would have taken more risks. I would have been a better caretaker of my belongings. I would have taken advantage of all my great opportunities. I would have been a lot more humble, kind, open.
I know I can't escape the stigma attached to 30. I don't want to feed into it but I'm afraid I can't help ignoring the weight of such great expectations. I would love to believe I could take on grad school or return to the journalism field or master some great accomplishment that would make entering into my thirties respectable in everyone's eyes. But maybe in two more years, things will still kind of be the same. And I think I have to prepare myself for the realization that maybe that's okay. Just like Keane sings, "everybody's changing and I don't feel the same."
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Words_You're Waysist! Series: #2 - "The Passerby-ers"
Please note that passerby comments are fairly normal. People notice you're Asian and of course care to put in their two cents. This may be executed in karate sound effects, shouting out an Asian country, or naming an Asian celebrity like Lucy Liu or Connie Chung. There's no explanation to these outbursts, they're just outbursts, with no rhyme or reason.
Passerby #1
Porkchop, Luke and I attended one of the last few O's games in September. We were walking back to my car after a pitiful loss (surprise surprise) and pitiful stadium might I add (we noted how fans cheered more for the Crab Shuffle and the ketchup, mustard and relish race than the actual game). We were following a large family in front of us and there was a group of twenty somethings next to us.
One of the twenty-somethings blurted out a strong expletive. His friend immediately reprimanded him which I thought was because of the handfuls of children walking in front of us under the age of 14. I heard the guys respond, "They can't hear me, look, she probably doesn't even know English."
Remember, these guys were next to me so I couldn't see who they were referring to; but after assessing the white family in front of me, I could only assume they were talking about me. I'm not 100% but I'm fairly certain I was the only one around that qualified as a possible subject. And for that, I would like to punch him in his face, possibly with his own penis. Just sounds more painful for some reason.
Passerby #2
Two days ago, Ray and I were downtown chatting on a bench. Earlier, we had grabbed a cup of coffee and witnessed a customer dressed in swimming trunks, construction boots, a white shirt with a cut off jean jacket, and bandana on his head. He was noticeably crazy, maybe high, possibly schizo. He was jittery, thin as a rail, made abrupt comments, and was generally unsettling to stand next to.
As we were talking, he passed by us. I felt him stare at me and then say audibly: "Konichiwa." My first reaction was to laugh because the fat white guy scenario had just happenend a few days earlier and I wondered if someone had put a target on my forehead. And then I remembered my target was that I was Asian. Awesome.
Ray stops talking because I'm laughing and then says, "Did he just say what I think he said?"
"What," I say, still laughing.
"Did he just say konichiwa?"
"Mm-hmm," I roll my eyes. "Don't worry about it."
Ray jerks his head to see the guy still talking to himself, retreating farther and farther away. Ray is paralyzed with anger and he holds his hands up to show me that he's shaking. He says something about beating the crap out of the guy and throwing him in the water; he might have also said something about blood and police, which I appreciate, but discerned that it may not be the best idea.
"Seriously," I say. "Don't worry about it. It's stupid and it's not worth it."
Or is it? Regardless, it's nice to know Ray has my back. In his own words, "Yeah, 38 years of anger coming at you is not a good thing." Amen.
Passerby #1
Porkchop, Luke and I attended one of the last few O's games in September. We were walking back to my car after a pitiful loss (surprise surprise) and pitiful stadium might I add (we noted how fans cheered more for the Crab Shuffle and the ketchup, mustard and relish race than the actual game). We were following a large family in front of us and there was a group of twenty somethings next to us.
One of the twenty-somethings blurted out a strong expletive. His friend immediately reprimanded him which I thought was because of the handfuls of children walking in front of us under the age of 14. I heard the guys respond, "They can't hear me, look, she probably doesn't even know English."
Remember, these guys were next to me so I couldn't see who they were referring to; but after assessing the white family in front of me, I could only assume they were talking about me. I'm not 100% but I'm fairly certain I was the only one around that qualified as a possible subject. And for that, I would like to punch him in his face, possibly with his own penis. Just sounds more painful for some reason.
Passerby #2
Two days ago, Ray and I were downtown chatting on a bench. Earlier, we had grabbed a cup of coffee and witnessed a customer dressed in swimming trunks, construction boots, a white shirt with a cut off jean jacket, and bandana on his head. He was noticeably crazy, maybe high, possibly schizo. He was jittery, thin as a rail, made abrupt comments, and was generally unsettling to stand next to.
As we were talking, he passed by us. I felt him stare at me and then say audibly: "Konichiwa." My first reaction was to laugh because the fat white guy scenario had just happenend a few days earlier and I wondered if someone had put a target on my forehead. And then I remembered my target was that I was Asian. Awesome.
Ray stops talking because I'm laughing and then says, "Did he just say what I think he said?"
"What," I say, still laughing.
"Did he just say konichiwa?"
"Mm-hmm," I roll my eyes. "Don't worry about it."
Ray jerks his head to see the guy still talking to himself, retreating farther and farther away. Ray is paralyzed with anger and he holds his hands up to show me that he's shaking. He says something about beating the crap out of the guy and throwing him in the water; he might have also said something about blood and police, which I appreciate, but discerned that it may not be the best idea.
"Seriously," I say. "Don't worry about it. It's stupid and it's not worth it."
Or is it? Regardless, it's nice to know Ray has my back. In his own words, "Yeah, 38 years of anger coming at you is not a good thing." Amen.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Words_You're Waysist! Series: #1 - "The Fat White Guy"
The last time someone made a humorous comment about my race (Korean/Asian or if you're The Ferg - Native American) was actually yesterday courtesy of yours truly. I told Porkchop I was going to come pick him up in a rickshaw. Lame. Overdone. Stupid? Whatever.
The last time someone made a serious comment about my race (Korean/Asian), was, let's see, yesterday. And three more times before that this summer. Here are the scenarios starting from the most recent:
The Fat White Guy (Yesterday)
I'm shooting photography for a local cornhole competition (gross) as a favor for a friend; pro bono.
Total life sucking hours: 7
Perks: 1 free beer (thanks Mahaffey) and veggie burrito; use of sweet Canon 30D camera
So I'm making my rounds with an extra camera and a camera bag in tow, trying to capture as many emotional moments that cornhole is known to conjure up in a competition. Believe me, it's serious stuff, folks. I see a guy in a black shirt and visor, probably mid to late 30s with a visible beer belly, waving his hand at me. I assume he wants his photo taken as this is the same gesture I've responded to all day. He immediately shakes his head with unmistakable irritation as I poise myself to shoot. I lower my camera and walk nearer to him, hearing a hum of undecipherable mumbling. I eventually make out some words with questionable clarity: "...when you put two and two together, you're just perpetuating the stereotype."
I stop. Is he saying what I think he's saying? No, no, couldn't be. This guy doesn't even know me. He's kidding, he's got to be kidding.
"Excuse me?" I narrow my eyes at him.
He shrugs and says again, "You're perpetuating the stereotype, you know," he nods toward my camera equipment and then at me, looking almost angry; definitely serious; definitely unhappy. "I just thought you should know that."
Stunned and pissed, I say sarcastically, "Thank you SO much for letting me know," I put my hand to my chest dramatically. He shrugs again. I will myself to walk away, wishing I had the sharp ass-kicking wit of best friend Big Mouth or the actual ass-kicking fervor of yes, I'll say it, Jackie F-ing Chan. Why do all the great comebacks come to you post-incident? Honestly, it's probably a good thing I didn't retaliate (not like I could because I was shocked into speechlessness). Although, it did take EVERYTHING in me to not key his Japanese-made Acura. Ha!
Reflection #1
I guess what was most perplexing was that he chose to offend me with a comment that was completely irrelevant to the situation. All the people who stopped to talk to me asked where the photos were going to appear, logically assuming I represented the media; not that I represented an eastern tourist.
Reflection #2
The other perplexing observation was that he was really irritated. He was acting like I was offending him with my cameras and my Asianness. How do you respond to that? I just don't get it.
Reactions
So, my question to you is, how would you respond to someone who sees your cameras and your Asianness and tells you that you're perpetuating a stereotype?
The last time someone made a serious comment about my race (Korean/Asian), was, let's see, yesterday. And three more times before that this summer. Here are the scenarios starting from the most recent:
The Fat White Guy (Yesterday)
I'm shooting photography for a local cornhole competition (gross) as a favor for a friend; pro bono.
Total life sucking hours: 7
Perks: 1 free beer (thanks Mahaffey) and veggie burrito; use of sweet Canon 30D camera
So I'm making my rounds with an extra camera and a camera bag in tow, trying to capture as many emotional moments that cornhole is known to conjure up in a competition. Believe me, it's serious stuff, folks. I see a guy in a black shirt and visor, probably mid to late 30s with a visible beer belly, waving his hand at me. I assume he wants his photo taken as this is the same gesture I've responded to all day. He immediately shakes his head with unmistakable irritation as I poise myself to shoot. I lower my camera and walk nearer to him, hearing a hum of undecipherable mumbling. I eventually make out some words with questionable clarity: "...when you put two and two together, you're just perpetuating the stereotype."
I stop. Is he saying what I think he's saying? No, no, couldn't be. This guy doesn't even know me. He's kidding, he's got to be kidding.
"Excuse me?" I narrow my eyes at him.
He shrugs and says again, "You're perpetuating the stereotype, you know," he nods toward my camera equipment and then at me, looking almost angry; definitely serious; definitely unhappy. "I just thought you should know that."
Stunned and pissed, I say sarcastically, "Thank you SO much for letting me know," I put my hand to my chest dramatically. He shrugs again. I will myself to walk away, wishing I had the sharp ass-kicking wit of best friend Big Mouth or the actual ass-kicking fervor of yes, I'll say it, Jackie F-ing Chan. Why do all the great comebacks come to you post-incident? Honestly, it's probably a good thing I didn't retaliate (not like I could because I was shocked into speechlessness). Although, it did take EVERYTHING in me to not key his Japanese-made Acura. Ha!
Reflection #1
I guess what was most perplexing was that he chose to offend me with a comment that was completely irrelevant to the situation. All the people who stopped to talk to me asked where the photos were going to appear, logically assuming I represented the media; not that I represented an eastern tourist.
Reflection #2
The other perplexing observation was that he was really irritated. He was acting like I was offending him with my cameras and my Asianness. How do you respond to that? I just don't get it.
Reactions
So, my question to you is, how would you respond to someone who sees your cameras and your Asianness and tells you that you're perpetuating a stereotype?
Friday, September 18, 2009
Words_The Beauty of Absurdity
Tonight, over portobello mushroom burgers (topped with beautiful caramelized onions, havarti cheese, lettuce, and tomato), full glasses of sangria, and oh yes, cheez-its, Raych Arles and I got down to business.
Our mission? To script a play, or a sitcom, or a series of sorts, documenting our odd, outrageous, awkward, hilarious personal experiences, fictionalizing when necessary of course. The story will follow our main character, Whitney, a recent college graduate and her two best guy friends (names to be determined). Making frequent cameos will be Whitney's best girl friend, Sirisha, a starving blogger who once ran a Korean hair extension kiosk called Hair Wow Now (which happens to also be where she and Whitney met). The story will document Whitney's futile attempts to finding her dream job (personal assistant to B-list celebrity) and the ups and downs and twists and turns that accompany the journey.
Hooked yet? I know I am!
More to come...
Our mission? To script a play, or a sitcom, or a series of sorts, documenting our odd, outrageous, awkward, hilarious personal experiences, fictionalizing when necessary of course. The story will follow our main character, Whitney, a recent college graduate and her two best guy friends (names to be determined). Making frequent cameos will be Whitney's best girl friend, Sirisha, a starving blogger who once ran a Korean hair extension kiosk called Hair Wow Now (which happens to also be where she and Whitney met). The story will document Whitney's futile attempts to finding her dream job (personal assistant to B-list celebrity) and the ups and downs and twists and turns that accompany the journey.
Hooked yet? I know I am!
More to come...
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Words_Late on It
Music
Okay, this song ("Time to Pretend") is sick. I know, I'm late on the boat. It's probably been featured on every show targeted to 16-year-old indie heads and will probably be a fade in fade out snippet on mtv's "the city" documenting Whitney Port's late night walk home with a svelte love interest down Fifth Ave. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do/did.
TV
Watched 4 shows tonight:
1. The Office 4/5
2. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia 3/5
3. Community ehh/5
4. Archer 3.5/5
Food
Bought a pack of portobello mushroom burgers tonight and plan to consume over a large glass of vino tomorrow night with The Raych Arles. Jealous? Don't worry, the reaction is natural.
Texting
I attempted to send the same text message to The Ferg* tonight while driving and stationary. It was supposed to say: "Ab to break my coffee freeze." Instead, I sent: "Ab to break." What do you say to that.
Talking
I spent about 15-20 minutes listening to Porkchop explain fantasy football. Not sure how I feel about that yet.
* Web programming guru
Okay, this song ("Time to Pretend") is sick. I know, I'm late on the boat. It's probably been featured on every show targeted to 16-year-old indie heads and will probably be a fade in fade out snippet on mtv's "the city" documenting Whitney Port's late night walk home with a svelte love interest down Fifth Ave. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do/did.
TV
Watched 4 shows tonight:
1. The Office 4/5
2. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia 3/5
3. Community ehh/5
4. Archer 3.5/5
Food
Bought a pack of portobello mushroom burgers tonight and plan to consume over a large glass of vino tomorrow night with The Raych Arles. Jealous? Don't worry, the reaction is natural.
Texting
I attempted to send the same text message to The Ferg* tonight while driving and stationary. It was supposed to say: "Ab to break my coffee freeze." Instead, I sent: "Ab to break." What do you say to that.
Talking
I spent about 15-20 minutes listening to Porkchop explain fantasy football. Not sure how I feel about that yet.
* Web programming guru
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