YIKES.
Earlier in the week I told the Captain I'd need to occupy myself - heavily - the day the bar results came out so I wouldn't be a complete wreck. He thought that was a good idea, so in a little bit we're headed out to the National Portrait Gallery and the Air & Space Museum. As much as I love renegade portraits of Stephen Colbert, however, it doesn't eliminate the fact that I've had a chronic, low-grade anxiety all week. I didn't realize it at first, but sometime on Wednesday I noticed that my neck was stiff and sore. Since I haven't been hunched over a book for nearly four months, I knew something was up. Then I noticed yesterday some other bodily manifestations of anxiety, and I figured it out: I'm freaking out. November 21 has been burned into my mind for the last several months, and it's finally here. At the moment I'm sitting in a cafe trying to upload some videos of the Genius' choir concert two nights ago, and I'm so wigged out I don't even care that everyone around me can 1) see I am blogging, and 2) read what I'm blogging.
YIKES.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Honest living
A few short hours from now, the Captain and I will be enjoying Bizet at the Kennedy Center. We're going to Carmen at the National Opera and I cannot wait. I bought the tickets months ago and the performance is finally here.
But this is not another post about how I am so very much a liberal cliche.
It is, instead, a reflection on my experiences at the bakery. It is a composite sketch of how I have begun to understand what Sarah Palin getting at when she was jeering us in the fake America. Seriously. I've been wanting to write this post for a while, ever since I served coffee to a classmate of mine from Brown a few weeks ago, but I haven't been able to because, well, I was working.
So yes, several weeks ago a woman from my class at Brown walked into the bakery and ordered a coffee. She recognized me immediately so I reintroduced myself and said hello. We then had a painfully polite exchange about what we had been up to since college. I told her I'd just graduated from law school and she, perhaps with a bit of relief, mentioned she was a lawyer, too. I wanted to elaborate that the bakery gig was just a temporary thing but other customers were waiting so I couldn't explain why I was serving cupcakes rather than billing hours. She was left to assume whatever she wanted, and I'm slightly ashamed I even wanted to explain myself. Yes, I am about to head out to a cushy job in a lovely place, but what if I weren't? What if I hadn't done as well as I had in law school and talked my way into biglaw? What if I'd had to take a part-time job to pay the bills until I'd found a "real" job? There would have been nothing wrong with that. That I felt the need to remind myself there's nothing wrong with that, however, smacks of intense elitism.
Because if there is one thing I have learned from working with my co-workers, then it is that I am supremely privileged to work alongside them. They struggle to get ahead, but they still keep going. They scrimp and they save and they ride their bikes from Virginia so they can open at 6:30; they hustle for tips so they can pay tuition. They work the holidays because they want to, and they refrain from visiting family until they can afford to. I am honored to be near their motivation because it makes me just a little bit better. It reminds me of just how hungry everyone is for success, and that I have been very lucky to land where I have. My co-workers have fires in their bellies, and so do I.
But this is not another post about how I am so very much a liberal cliche.
It is, instead, a reflection on my experiences at the bakery. It is a composite sketch of how I have begun to understand what Sarah Palin getting at when she was jeering us in the fake America. Seriously. I've been wanting to write this post for a while, ever since I served coffee to a classmate of mine from Brown a few weeks ago, but I haven't been able to because, well, I was working.
So yes, several weeks ago a woman from my class at Brown walked into the bakery and ordered a coffee. She recognized me immediately so I reintroduced myself and said hello. We then had a painfully polite exchange about what we had been up to since college. I told her I'd just graduated from law school and she, perhaps with a bit of relief, mentioned she was a lawyer, too. I wanted to elaborate that the bakery gig was just a temporary thing but other customers were waiting so I couldn't explain why I was serving cupcakes rather than billing hours. She was left to assume whatever she wanted, and I'm slightly ashamed I even wanted to explain myself. Yes, I am about to head out to a cushy job in a lovely place, but what if I weren't? What if I hadn't done as well as I had in law school and talked my way into biglaw? What if I'd had to take a part-time job to pay the bills until I'd found a "real" job? There would have been nothing wrong with that. That I felt the need to remind myself there's nothing wrong with that, however, smacks of intense elitism.
Because if there is one thing I have learned from working with my co-workers, then it is that I am supremely privileged to work alongside them. They struggle to get ahead, but they still keep going. They scrimp and they save and they ride their bikes from Virginia so they can open at 6:30; they hustle for tips so they can pay tuition. They work the holidays because they want to, and they refrain from visiting family until they can afford to. I am honored to be near their motivation because it makes me just a little bit better. It reminds me of just how hungry everyone is for success, and that I have been very lucky to land where I have. My co-workers have fires in their bellies, and so do I.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Part of the neighborhood
The bakery customers are starting to remember me!
Today I noticed a customer wearing a BAA 2007 Boston Marathon jacket. I asked her about it, she started to answer, but then she interrupted herself and said, "Wait, you're a marathoner, too! The Marine Corps. You have that really cool hat." Indeed, I do!
And later, an older gentlemen took a look at my plain white tee and remarked, "You're not wearing one of your funny t-shirts." To his buddy, "She has all these funny t-shirts." Like the sexy one below.
So great.
Today I noticed a customer wearing a BAA 2007 Boston Marathon jacket. I asked her about it, she started to answer, but then she interrupted herself and said, "Wait, you're a marathoner, too! The Marine Corps. You have that really cool hat." Indeed, I do!
And later, an older gentlemen took a look at my plain white tee and remarked, "You're not wearing one of your funny t-shirts." To his buddy, "She has all these funny t-shirts." Like the sexy one below.
So great.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Loving President Bush
At church yesterday, we prayed for President Bush. I should mention that I was at my home church, a bastion of liberalism that didn't support Al Gore in the 2000 primaries because he wasn't liberal enough. (We wanted Bill Bradley.) Lest you think I was raised in a commune of impractical hippies, I wasn't. I grew up in lovely, academic Princeton, NJ where my Sunday school teachers were professors at the seminary and where my friends' parents were professors at the university. So, yeah, maybe I was raised in a commune of impractical hippies.
Anyway, I was surprised to hear the prayer for President Bush. Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised because, you know, we're supposed to love everyone, but I was. The liturgist prayed that the President would have wisdom and courage in the last days of his administration and that he would be able to effect positive change for the country. A reasonable prayer, I thought, but still I was surprised.
Then she started praying for President-elect Obama, and suddenly I understood. She'd just wanted to say those words out loud in church. "President-elect Obama." Crazy liberals - so predictable.
Anyway, I was surprised to hear the prayer for President Bush. Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised because, you know, we're supposed to love everyone, but I was. The liturgist prayed that the President would have wisdom and courage in the last days of his administration and that he would be able to effect positive change for the country. A reasonable prayer, I thought, but still I was surprised.
Then she started praying for President-elect Obama, and suddenly I understood. She'd just wanted to say those words out loud in church. "President-elect Obama." Crazy liberals - so predictable.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Caramel apples and a new food blog
Behold, caramel apples. Last week I saw this recipe at 101 Cookbooks, and since there were only three ingredients on it, I gave it a try. It's super easy, but the one catch is that the caramel needs to be heated to just the right temperature. Since I don't have a candy thermometer, it turned out kinda soupy, so I will have to keep trying. In the meantime there is nothing wrong with scooping up melted caramel and eating it off the silpat. Yum.
Which reminds me: I have a new blog. Well, semi-new. It's at Fortune's Feast, and describes my attempts to teach myself Chinese cooking. As some of you know, I've long been conflicted about how "Chinese" I am, if identity even is something quantifiable. I speak Chinese, I lived in Taipei, but I have very few Chinese friends. I had all sorts of friends as a child, but somewhere around middle school is when all the Asian kids started hanging out with each other - and nobody else. This bothered me. It bothered me because I thought the practice exclusive and discriminatory. Maybe they weren't actively segregating themselves, but at one point one of my Chinese American classmates came over to my lunch table and asked, "Why don't you sit with the Asian kids?"
That bothered me. I didn't want to be exclusionary, but it seemed to be the only way to be "Asian" where I grew up.[FN1] So my response was to be not "Asian" and to befriend people of all ethnicities. Somewhere along the line, though, I think I overcompensated, because soon I had no Asian friends. That also bothered me. So I was conflicted.
Anyway, this is all a long way of saying that I have a new food blog, where I try to reconnect with a heritage I once dismissed because I didn't want to be exclusive. I write about recipes, challenges, identity, and family. Mostly it's an excuse to eat more.
----
FN1. Looking back I realize the absurdity of this all, even the very idea of "Asian." It's a wholly American concept - nobody in China actually wants to hang out with anybody in Korea. So really the attempt to be more "Asian" was something inauthentic to begin with.
Which reminds me: I have a new blog. Well, semi-new. It's at Fortune's Feast, and describes my attempts to teach myself Chinese cooking. As some of you know, I've long been conflicted about how "Chinese" I am, if identity even is something quantifiable. I speak Chinese, I lived in Taipei, but I have very few Chinese friends. I had all sorts of friends as a child, but somewhere around middle school is when all the Asian kids started hanging out with each other - and nobody else. This bothered me. It bothered me because I thought the practice exclusive and discriminatory. Maybe they weren't actively segregating themselves, but at one point one of my Chinese American classmates came over to my lunch table and asked, "Why don't you sit with the Asian kids?"
That bothered me. I didn't want to be exclusionary, but it seemed to be the only way to be "Asian" where I grew up.[FN1] So my response was to be not "Asian" and to befriend people of all ethnicities. Somewhere along the line, though, I think I overcompensated, because soon I had no Asian friends. That also bothered me. So I was conflicted.
Anyway, this is all a long way of saying that I have a new food blog, where I try to reconnect with a heritage I once dismissed because I didn't want to be exclusive. I write about recipes, challenges, identity, and family. Mostly it's an excuse to eat more.
----
FN1. Looking back I realize the absurdity of this all, even the very idea of "Asian." It's a wholly American concept - nobody in China actually wants to hang out with anybody in Korea. So really the attempt to be more "Asian" was something inauthentic to begin with.
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