Parallels

There have been two days over the past seven that I've found myself passing the motorcade for a funeral. And each time that I have, I've always said a small prayer to the Universe to bring healing to the families, to give thanks for the fact that I am not a part of the sorrow at this present moment, and to give strength to those around the world who are dealing with death. The weird thing to me is that both times have been on incredibly beautiful days -- full of warmth and sunshine. I don't usually understand what's going on when I find myself behind the last car in the motorcade, getting annoyed at his slow pace and hazards on. With my music blasting, my windows down, and my hair a mess, I change lanes so that I can get around the tortoise-paced person in front of me, thinking that perhaps he has to go slow because he has a dresser in his trunk or something. And then I see the whole line of slow-moving cars, hazards on, and I understand. I turn my music down. I don't speak a word. And I say my prayers to the Universe.

It usually takes me time to even want to put my music back up. I feel -- disrespectful, I suppose, in not being somber when there are people who are mourning the loss of a loved one. And then I realize that it happens every second of every day, somewhere in the world. Over and over and over again. Rather than making me sad, though, I am all the more determined to live a good life. To enjoy the people in it. To love fully and on purpose. To be compassionate to someone I may not have been compassionate to otherwise. To smile every day. To laugh every day. To cherish every second that I have. Because someday, I will be in the first car of that funeral motorcade -- except that I will wante everyone to have the windows down and music up, laughing and smiling along the way.

- May (you live with purpose).

Brainwashing.

My brain is dead, after having written about 10 pages about the links between democracy and the media. I feel like I ended up going on a rant towards the end, about how the media is more or less making us all mindless, gray blobs. No one questions things. No one asks "why?" or "how?" anymore. People take things as fact, at face value, and are too lazy (and/or too apathetic) to do any more research.

I was watching videos about Shirley Phelps-Roper. I'm pretty sure I've talked about her before. But in case you don't know who she is, she's this insane, insane woman who is a part of the Westboro Baptist Church. The Church has about 100 members, mostly made up of her family. They protest and picket the funeral marches of soldiers who are killed in Iraq. They carry signs that say, "God Hates Fags" and "God Loves Dead Soldiers." They promote hatred and malice under God's name. They say that we sin by accepting homosexuality, and that's why people are killed. She believes that the young Amish girls who were shot to death last summer deserved to die -- not because they did anything wrong, necessarily, but because of Adam's Original Sin. And yet, she and her family are untouchable, because they're spreading this message and "enlightening" the world.

The liberal in me says that everyone is allowed to have his/her own opinion. And I believe that, though I don't agree with many of them. But there is such an extreme amount of variance in the human race that to say that everyone should think the same way is ridiculous. The Buddhist in me says to detach myself from what she says and to disassociate myself from such negative energy. The human in me becomes angry every time I hear her talk in such a way. It's a weird threeway tug-of-war that goes on inside of me at listening to this manic woman.

And then it makes me turn inward. What sort of things do I promote, and do I promote anything to such extreme levels? I examine myself and my life and my message. I can't imagine I've ever promoted hatred of any kind - and if I ever have, my Universe, I am sorry for it. I like to think that I would never intentionally do such a thing. And all of this introspection reminds me that I must live a life for love. For peace. For happiness. For energy. For balance. For myself. For others.

I try to channel the positive forces within me that tell me stay true to my Lo(ve)-Fi and Om tattoos. Receive love from other people (and do not be afraid of it) and send the signal back out, stronger. Even when forces against me are trying to steal it away. Stay balanced and in tune with myself and the rest of the Universe. Turn negatives into positives.

Be happy.

If I could somehow get this tattooed on my body, I would. The following excerpt, from Carl Sagan (1994), is one of my all-time favorites. It is based upon the picture below, a picture of earth taken from the edge of our galaxy.

Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

-- Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994

- May (you never be afraid of what's inside).

Reconciling Possibilty

Funny the way it is, if you think about it:
Somebody's going hungry and someone else is eating out.
Funny the way it is, not right or wrong.
Somebody's heart is broken and it becomes your favorite song.

My thoughts always seem to jump from one topic to the next, like a skilled acrobat in some circus production I don't quite understand. Maybe it's the Cirque du Soleil of the mind that I'm viewing. The colors and movements are beautiful, fluid, but when it comes down to it -- it's a little too abstract to fully grasp. Maybe I'm not supposed to grasp it. Maybe I'm merely meant to be grateful to have thoughts at all.

Still, it makes me wonder. What I think about sometimes is what makes one person more fortunate than another? Why was I saved from what could have been a life of poverty, hunger, and despair when there are children who weren't saved? Why do I get paid to sit on the computer and answer phones when there are people who can't even imagine what a computer is? When there are people who've lost their jobs and are struggling to stay afloat? Why do I complain about different foods that I don't like to eat (namely, seafood) when there are children who haven't eaten in days?

What and where is the thread that separates the two worlds?

Funny the way it is, if you think about it:
One kid walks 10 miles to school, another's dropping out.
Funny the way it is, not right or wrong.
On a soldier's last breath, his baby's being born.

Perhaps we're not meant to know. I do think that a part of this life is the idea that we're meant to discover. We're meant to explore. We're meant to find the answers for ourselves. And maybe we'll never really find them. Maybe they will always elude us, like wisps of smoke. Maybe no matter how hard you try to curl your fingers around them, they will always seep through our grasp.

And, more importantly, maybe that's okay.

Maybe that's the Universe's way of telling us that there is always a reason to stay humble.

We are so insignificant when it boils down to it: we've been on earth for the shortest amount of time in comparison with animals, trees, and other means of life; no matter our technology, countries and people are still devastated by natural disasters; no matter what we do to try and stop those disasters, we cannot control Gaia when she's angry; we are easily swallowed up in the ocean, which is home to so many creatures that have adapted and evolved to live there, yet people still drown; despite our attempts to control and "domesticate" animals, they will always be higher than us on the food chain (think: tiger, lion, alligator, etc.); and we have been searching for the answers to life's biggest questions since the time of the Greek Philosophers but have come up with nothing.

I think a part of that is the fact that it depends upon your perception. The diversity amongst people is easily seen -- differences in tastes in movies, music, books; family traditions; differences between geographical location; varying accents; and so on and so forth. What I consider to be living "The Good Life" may not be what someone else considers. Someone may consider "The Good Life" only having the biggest house, the fastest cars, and the most expensive accessories. Others may consider it to be family and friends, to hell with the possessions.

But I think that, big or small, red or blue, here or there, we're all asking the same question: why?

Standing on a bridge, watch the water passing under me.
It must've been much harder when there was no bridge, just water.
Now the world is small.
Remember how it used to be with
Mountains and oceans and winters and rivers and stars?

I don't have an answer. I don't know why I was fortunate in ways when others weren't. I don't know why I am spoiled with air conditioning, technology, food when I'm hungry, a bed when I'm tired, a home to go back to at the end of the day. I don't know. But when and if I figure it out, I'll let you know.

Watch the sky, the jet planes, so far out of my reach
Is there someone up there looking down on me?

- May (you never stop wondering).

[Bolded text from "Funny the Way It Is," by Dave Matthews Band]

Reflecting Like a Mirror

I've been drinking O.N.E. Coconut Water with a heaping teaspoon of Vitamineral Green every morning this week. I've already felt the difference and it's ridiculous.

Let me give you a brief background. I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person. Most times, if I had to wake up before noon, I'd grumble one-word responses and cut through anyone who looked at me wrong. Or looked at me, in general. My mom learned to avoid talking to me in the wee hours of the morning. Unless, of course, I'm carrying over from the night before. I'm a bit nocturnal -- I'd rather stay up 'til 5 or 6 AM from the night before than wake up at 5 or 6 AM.

But I knew that having a 9 - 5 office job meant having to be remotely sociable and human in the morning. So when I read about JMraz's use of Coconut H20 and Vitamineral Green to get himself energized, I knew it was exactly what I needed. And he wasn't lying, let me tell you. I feel so alert and connected with things around me whenever I've had it. I don't even crave coffee -- which is more or less a miracle in itself. I don't need it. And coffee, for me, took hours upon hours to actually kick in. And then it lasted a mere 15 minutes before I'd crash again, more tired than before ingestion. With this combination, though, I'm energized all day. It fills me up the way a good breakfast does. And man, does it clear me out.

Without going into detail, let's just say any sort of toxins I had in my body have been vacated. Through my intestines, both big and small. Nothing ridiculous, but it's just another testament to all the crap (no pun intended) we put into our bodies every day. Even if you think you're eating healthy, you're still taking in some level of bad things that have to get out somehow.

On another, completely unrelated note, I was in a minor fender bender yesterday. As I told my mom, I didn't even have my phone near me (I am sometimes guilty of texting while driving -- mainly due to the fact that I don't have to look at the keys to do it; I've memorized them). I was focused completely on the road, but apparently not on the car and how wide it was. Which is ironic, since my car is a Ford Focus.

All that aside, I pulled around a car in the Straight Lane when I was trying to get to the Left Turn Lane. I clipped my mirror on her back light, which barely got a scratch. My mirror, however, was hanging like a loose tooth off the side of the passenger side door.

After coming out of the shock and recovering from how bad it sounded (ever notice how little things on a car sound absolutely horrible?), she got out of her car and started yelling at me about how it looked like I was going to drive off and how I didn't stop to see if she'd gotten damage on her car. Because I'm really going to stop in the middle of a busy road in a turn lane, get out of my car, inspect hers, and then get run over. Right. I explained that I was pulling over where it was safe to do so, rather than putting myself at risk of getting killed. She started blabbing about something else, I pretty much drowned her out. She muttered things with her arms flailing as she walked back to her car.

Anyway, things were fine. I was grateful to be okay. I wanted to say a lot of things to her that wouldn't have gone along with my Buddhist attitude about life, but I didn't. I knew it wouldn't have helped the situation. I was amazed at how much she assumed about me, though -- like that I was going to drive away. It was a startling reminder to me to never presume to know anything about anyone -- because I don't. And I won't, unless they tell me. And even then, it may not be entire truths.

Things being fine didn't mean that I didn't start crying after she pulled away, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. It wasn't even that I was upset -- I didn't care, it was just a mirror and it still works. I was just so rattled by the entire experience and the only way I know to de-stress is by crying. So I drove to Wild By Nature to buy some more coconut water, went into Rite-Aid and bought some super tough tape, and taped my mirror back onto the door. I told my mom what happened, she called my dad, who's going to call the woman. Things were all right.

I just realized that optimism has to be tested for it to last. Being happy and looking at things in an eternally positive light is easy when things are going your way and things are peachy keen jelly bean. It's when that picture-perfect situation gets rattled that your true optimism shines. I think I made it through.

I think this is here to stay.

- May (you test your boundaries).

MSG & Shame, Part 2

I just thought of something else.

People, generally those who aren't Asian, will always work a variation of the following into conversation with me:

"Hey, you know, I have a cousin who's Asian. Japanese, or something, I think."

That's great. Really. I'm glad your family is diverse and you're not only a bunch of melatonin-challenged folks (no offense, white people - you know I love you). But what do you want me to do with this newly found (yet undesired) piece of information? Am I supposed to throw chopsticks into the air into a celebratory moment, to commemorate the fact that you know another Asian person? Or do you expect me to say,

"Oh, what's his/her name? I probably know them." Because we all know each other, just like I know everyone in the state of New York.

Some of my favorite variations of this conversation faux pas (I have really had these said to me):
- "My niece wants to set me up with a Japanese woman .. I don't know if I'm ready, though." (After talking about his divorce)
- "My nephew studied in Japan - he really liked it. Japan's kind of close to Korea, isn't it?"
- "My wife's Japanese." (with absolutely nothing to segway into this statement)
- "I have a cousin who's South Korean. Maybe you know her?"

Please.

Stop.

For the love of God, just stop. I appreciate the attempt at making a connection, but .. what about art? Music? The Beatles? Tattoos? Anything - I really do have many other facets that have nothing to do with slanty eyes and a penchant for sticky rice.

- May (you look beyond the surface).

Something Smells Like MSG and Shame

Let me just clear the air with answers to popular questions I receive from people I encounter on a day-to-day basis.

1. No, I'm not Filipino/Chinese/Hawaiian/other remotely Asian race. I'm Korean.
2. I'm not a Communist. I was born in South Korea. The good one.
3. No, I don't speak any Korean. And if you keep trying to talk to me in it, I'm going to throw Kimchi in your face.
4. I don't speak it because my parents don't speak it. Because they're not Korean. They're Italian.
5. I was adopted.
6. That means that I was given away by my birth parents at a young age and taken in by another family.
7. I was seven months.
8. No, I don't know anything about my birth mother/father, nor do I remember anything about coming here. I was seven months old.
9. I know that I don't look anything like the rest of my family, thanks.
10. I can do manicures and pedicures only on myself. I do not want to touch your ugly ass feet.
11. I can't work at a laundromat, either.
12. Yes, thank you, I like my hair, too. Yes, it's my natural color. I don't color it to look black.
13. I don't know how I know to use chopsticks. I picked them up when I was little and instinctively knew how to use them. (No joke).
14. Yes, my body cannot properly break down alcohol, resulting in a bright red face and skin that's scorching to the touch. I know that I'm a lightweight. Give me another shot.

Also, I'd like to ask the class why people generally feel it's all right to ask any of these questions. I will literally get most of these throughout a conversation with strangers, especially at the nail salon. Oh, those Korean ladies go at it when they find out that I'm Korean, too. And then they get quiet and shameful when they find out I'm adopted (cultural thing). But really.

You wouldn't believe how many times I've gotten the, "That's your mom? You don't look alike!" reaction. I don't mind answering questions, I don't, but .. you know. There's a way to go about them without sounding like an ignorant fool.

While we're on the topic, though, you hear about how Asian people name their kids? They throw pots and pans down the stairs: ping, pong, pang!

- May (you remember that sometimes, silence is golden).

New York, New York!

We are officially one step closer to legalizing Same-Sex Marriage in New York!

The NYS Assembly passed the bill today (89 to 52)! Now, it's on to the Senate, and if it passes there, then Governor David Paterson must sign it, which he has already said he would. The Assembly already had passed this bill back in 2007, but I think that since so many states have already legalized it, now's the time it'll actually happen. I mean, if Iowa and Maine are more progressive than New York, which houses such areas as The Village, something is seriously wrong.

Anyway, this bit of legislative action is, in a word, awesome!

A quote from Mayor Bloomberg pretty much sums it up: "I applaud ... members of both parties for moving this historic legislation forward."

California, you'd better catch up. Over-turn Prop 8 now!

Here's the article at CNN.com.

- May (you take your steps in the right direction).

Don't Ask, Don't Tell Leads to Ignorance

Because I was sucked into the world of Twitter, I've been following a slew of different people. Some are celebrities, like Rainn Wilson and Jason Mraz (well, his Joyoligist, since she's doing the Tweeting). Others have to do with politics, like one account called Obamawatcher.

Something caught my about one of the twats: "Obama Caving on Gays in the Military." There's an article at The Huffington Post about it, which is what the link was in the twat (sorry, Mraz, I stole that term from you; the PC term would be tweet).

Anyway .. I don't think I've ever really fully understood the DADT policy. What does someone's sexual orientation have to do with his/her ability to protect his/her country? No, this is really a question I'd like someone to asnwer.

Seriously.

How does having a sexual preference for the same gender mean that you're unworthy of doing a civic duty? Especially since there isn't a draft and so many men and women (the "special and straight" ones, mind you) are being sent back for their third or fourth tour because there's a shortage of soldiers.

But really. Are people afraid that they're going to "catch the gay" or something? Are they worried that if they spend time in close quarters with someone who is homosexual, they're going to get hit on? First of all -- a compliment's a compliment, regardless of who gives it. Get over it and be flattered. Secondly, is that the worst that can happen? Someone gets uncomfortable because someone thinks they're attractive?

Please, someone explain the point of this policy to me. Why, logically (that's the key word here), does it matter whether someone is straight or gay? When an enemy's charging at you with a gun or a bomb, I don't think it matters.

To quote the verifiably insane and talented Jack Nicholson from "The Departed:" ... Today, what I'm saying to you is this: when you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?

- May (you make the right decision when the time comes).

Also, Obama, please hurry the hell up and dissolve this policy. KTHNXBYE.

Rain Rain Go Away

I was randomly thinking about some childhood songs I used to sing without really understanding. One of them was "Alouette," which .. as it turns out .. is kind of a mean song. Alouette, in French, means Lark. Like the bird. And the French songs talks about plucking feathers from the poor bird's body!

Don't ask why I was thinking about this song or why it suddenly dawned on me that it's some inadvertent way to promote ripping feathers out of a poor bird's body. I mean, I obviously didn't know that when I was a kid -- I just thought that I sounded cool and bilingual, singing songs in French. Add on Frere Jacques and heck, I could work for the United Nations .. so long as they sang in rhymes and catchy melodies.

And also stuck to those two songs.

Maybe this is what dreary, rainy weather does to people because you can't do anything else, like .. hiking. Or sun bathing. Or .. any number of other activities which require sunlight and warm temperatures. Like calculating how strong UV rays are.

In case you don't remember the song, the Wikipedia entry is here.

Oh, I also found something funny in Googling pictures for my thesis presentation.



Okay, so the premise is funny. To an extent. The file title is called "Why Most Men are Republican." First of it, there are plenty of men who aren't Republican (and if you're one of them, please feel free to send me a message). Second, since when are credentials based solely on a person's looks?

I think that Miss South Carolina pretty much proves that just because you're physically attractive does not you're a full set of Chef Tony's Miracle Blade knives. Maybe they forgot the Rock n' Chop at the warehouse or something. Or maybe she was that piece of the boot that he cut up and forgot to throw in the trash.

Anyway. It just made think of sexism. Because hello, it's overly blatant in this situation. I couldn't find any similar images with men, because women are the only ones who are judged based on appearances -- at least in most circumstances. So, because the creator of this wonderful little image carefully chose the most attractive Republicans and the least attractive Democrats, that somehow proves their value and their ability to think clearly and make rational decisions. Just because they're aesthetically pleasing.

But if we're going to play that nasty, dirty game, must I remind the image creator of Shirley Phelps-Roper?



One of THE MOST conservative, Republican people in the whole freakin' universe?

Don't play that game with me, you random Republican person with too much time on your hands who should have his/her internet taken away so you can no longer do Google image searches! You're going to lose!

- May (you find the strength within yourself).

Om Nom Nom Nom

I wish that I could chomp down and swallow up NOM (the National Organization for Marriage).

I wish that I could take all of the hateful people in the world and just .. let them secede from the rest of the earth.

I wish that people could simply be who they are, be who they want to be without fear of judgment.



The reason for this post is because of the ridiculous ad that the National Organization for Marriage came out with not too long ago. It's called "The Gathering Storm," and it's fueled by the lack of support for Gay Marriage. PS - If you're like me, you may suffer a stroke, heart attack, leprosy, enlarged duodenum, or other uncomfortable/deadly ailment from watching that. I was pretty sure I had a seizure following that video. A large, leggy creature was also crawling its way across my desk, unbeknownst to me -- a sign of a plague, I'm sure, except it's the Plague of Hatred.

And look, I understand that not everyone is in support of the movement. I get that. I can respect that (though barely). But the arguments given, particularly the ones in this video, are laughable, at best.

If anyone can figure out what kind of job the Californian doctor has where she would have to choose between her job and her faith, please share with the rest of the class. My room mates and I couldn't figure it out. I'm sure there was .. actually, you know what, no. I don't think there was anything logical in the entire commercial.

Except for that rainbow coalition they mention at the end. Which I found to be rather ironic. A rainbow, huh? Are you sure you're not just a bunch of closet homosexuals?

There was a study done, actually, where scientists took two groups of men (one was homophobic, the other wasn't) and studied them to see if they had any kind of sexual response to homo-errotic stimuli. They would measure the circumference of a participant's penis before showing pictures or videos of homosexual people (I think it was both women and men), and then measured the circumference again. The ones who were the most homophobic had the greatest increase in measurement, meaning more bloodflow to the penis, meaning .. they were sexually aroused.

It just goes to prove the old addage: "The lady doth protest too much, methinks." Except in this case, instead of lady, it's homophobic idiot.

May (you feel love).

Dreaming a Dream.

I had a weird thought today.

It was a shared thought with a friend who's visiting for the next two days. We started talking about that woman on "Britain's Got Talent," the one who's practically taking the world by storm. I mean, Oprah wanted to interview her -- you know you're big when Oprah's requesting you to be on her show.

Anyway, I later Youtubed the clip because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

The thought that I had was how much weight we put into appearances.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I can appreciate an aesthetically pleasing person as much as the next woman or man. I have no qualms with admitting that I've got massive girl-crushes on the likes of Angelina Jolie and Natalie Portman. I also have no issues with revealing my daydreams involving Gerard Butler and/or Adam Levine, purely based on the fact that I think they're gorgeous.

But when does that kind of behavior and thinking have to stop?

I think that Susan Boyle's audition shows that boundary. She walks on stage, very unassuming. The audience rolls their eyes when Simon asks her what she wants to do and she says that she wants to be a professional singer. The girls with too much eyeliner and artificially-straightened hair scoff at seeing this woman with a pepper-colored mini afro, thick eyebrows, and a figure that would never be allowed on a runway wiggle her hips awkwardly.

What the hell?



How do those girls somehow have the right deem this woman "less than worthy" of .. whatever it is she deserves, not only as a woman with extreme talent, but simply as a human? How does altering one's appearance to be unnatural in a lot of ways mean that one is better than someone who really doesn't care about that kind of thing? If anything, shouldn't that kind of beavior mean that one is even further from that authoritative role?

I think there's a real need for change, not just in the US but in other places, too. We should be judged by what we do -- do we help the old lady across the street? Do we laugh at someone who is different from us? Do we try and leave this earth a little better than how we entered? -- and not by how we look.

But I'm glad that everyone got a dose of their own medicine at that taping of BGT.

Maybe people are just jealous. Heck, I know that I'm jealous of that's woman's ability to sing "I Dreamed a Dream." Lord knows that I've tried (yes, I do have a karaoke verison of the song) and try as I might, I don't sound even a quarter as good as her. And if I did?

I'd be damn lucky.

-- May (you be happy).