I submitted the online application a week ago, but still had to send some forms in by post. If I had been more organized, I could have finished everything while I was still at school and mailed it off so easily, but being a chronic last-minuter, I ended up having to do it while in Chicago, and it turned out to be a multi-day endeavor.
I only had to print out two things: my statement of purpose, and my resume. Trent offered to print them out at his City Year's office and I gladly accepted. I walked into the computer room and was a little amused: They still have those enormous computers that I hadn't seen around for the last 3 or 4 years. But they were probably functional, or so I thought. It took literally 20 minutes to start up, another 20 minutes to install Microsoft Word to open my documents. Just then, Trent's boss walked in to announce that the common printer wasn't working and that we'd have to send her the documents to print out. Since they were not work-related, we used our better judgment and decided to ask Jordan to print them out at work instead. But that was not the end of it; it took another 20 minutes with a lot of frantic key tapping to shut down the computer.
Jordan did manage to print out my documents for me, except that she had to do it html instead of doc, so all the formats were messed up and I couldn't use them.
The next day, we went out on a hunt for a public library. We ran into a small one down on the Magnificent Mile (a strip near downtown Chicago with haute couture boutiques). We were told that it would cost 15 cents per print, a little pricey - at Wesleyan, it's 5 cents for black and white, and 15 cents for color - but acceptable. Trent was going to pay off the fines in his library card so that we could print when I found out that there was no softwares to open my .doc documents. The girl, however, was nice enough to look up the address of the nearest FedEx Kinko for us. We ran up and down, back and forth the Hancock Center and finally located the office - it was pretty well hidden on the basement level - only to be told that they did not offer printing services. But there was another office six blocks away, in the business center of the Marriott Hotel. We rushed to the Marriott Hotel. I felt overwhelmingly triumphant walking into the office, passing by a row of computers and printers. The unfriendly attendant then told me that it would cost 75 cents per page. 75 cents! Plus tax, as I would find out immediately, plus 40 cents per minute to use the computer. It was outrageous, but I was desperate and determined to get this over, so whatever. I have to say, to their credit, they had the best printing paper I'd ever seen. It was pure white, lush to the eyes and smooth to the skin. I hope the admission committee members won't think that I was being bourgeois.
miércoles, 30 de diciembre de 2009
Chicago parks
It's cold here in Chicago. The feels-like temperature during the day hovers around 20F and sometimes dips down to 10F, -6C and -11C respectively. It's not the weather for chilling outside, but if you have been to the beach in the winter, when the sky is endlessly gray and the wind keeps cutting into your face no matter how low you keep your head, you know that it is miserable, depressing, but the solitude at the same time is strangely irresistible.
We walked to the shore of lake Michigan, and visited a couple of parks. It didn't feel like being in the third largest city in the U.S.
Lake Michigan:
view from above
on the way
Lincoln Park:
Grant Park (?)
We walked to the shore of lake Michigan, and visited a couple of parks. It didn't feel like being in the third largest city in the U.S.
Lake Michigan:
view from above
on the way
Lincoln Park:
Grant Park (?)
sábado, 26 de diciembre de 2009
Arriving in Chicago
I got to Chicago on Christmas day and got picked up at the airport by Trent and Jordan, whom I'm staying with for these few days. On the train home, we were brainstorming on the must-do, must-see of Chicago and only two things popped up in my mind:
the wind - which I wouldn't have to go out of my way to see, and
Al Capone and the gangs way back in the 20s - something I could learn about by sitting at home watching movies like The Untouchables or Road to Perdition.
I could not think of a monument, a landmark, or a neighborhood that would epitomize the experience of a tourist in Chicago, despite its name being one of the most instantly recognizable. I shouldn't have been surprised. I knew there must be tons of fun things around Chicago; it's just that I rarely ever do much research before hitting a place, relying mostly on local "informants". It also increases my chance of running into pleasant surprises, which is exactly how it has been here in Chicago.
That day, for dinner, we decided to walk on Broadway, the neighborhood's "Main Street" to see what was open. Something caught my eyes, and I pointed it out to Trent and Trent exclaimed: "Oh, they have a Vietnamese Association here." I was actually pointing to a red neon lights blinking bubble tea shop - one of Trent's fascinations - but Trent thought that I was pointing to the old building next to it, the Vietnamese Association, which I completely overlooked until that moment. Scanning my eyes further down the block, I realized that the businesses were all Vietnamese, from income tax, to travel agency. And it was at least three blocks - that's how far my eyes could see.
It was exciting; I'd never seen a Vietnamese enclave like this before - which might change real soon since I'm heading to the West Coast. In Connecticut, it's one plaza in West Hartford, consisting of a big Vietnamese (more like pan-Asian) market, a restaurant, and a DVD shop. In Manhattan, it's one lonely side of Baxter street in Chinatown with 5 or 6 Vietnamese restaurants next to each other.
We walked into a Vietnamese restaurant - Pho Tank (Phở Xe Tăng) and were each given a thick menu. I had never seen such an extensive list of phở, bún khô, bún nước, mì, bánh canh, etc. What was phenomenal though, was that it was the first time that a server replied to me in Vietnamese. My typical interaction in a Vietnamese restaurant in New York or Connecticut would go more like this:
Me (in Vietnamese): 1 tô phở đặc biệt ạ (one bowl of special pho please),
The server (in English): You want number 14?
I don't know why. But I know that those older folks have no problem understanding me, even though I have a strong Northern accent, and especially since it's such a simple phrase. Anyways it always weirds me out.
Broadway, Chicago. In this block, you can see: two Vietnamese restaurants, a DVD shop, and a dentist's.
the wind - which I wouldn't have to go out of my way to see, and
Al Capone and the gangs way back in the 20s - something I could learn about by sitting at home watching movies like The Untouchables or Road to Perdition.
I could not think of a monument, a landmark, or a neighborhood that would epitomize the experience of a tourist in Chicago, despite its name being one of the most instantly recognizable. I shouldn't have been surprised. I knew there must be tons of fun things around Chicago; it's just that I rarely ever do much research before hitting a place, relying mostly on local "informants". It also increases my chance of running into pleasant surprises, which is exactly how it has been here in Chicago.
That day, for dinner, we decided to walk on Broadway, the neighborhood's "Main Street" to see what was open. Something caught my eyes, and I pointed it out to Trent and Trent exclaimed: "Oh, they have a Vietnamese Association here." I was actually pointing to a red neon lights blinking bubble tea shop - one of Trent's fascinations - but Trent thought that I was pointing to the old building next to it, the Vietnamese Association, which I completely overlooked until that moment. Scanning my eyes further down the block, I realized that the businesses were all Vietnamese, from income tax, to travel agency. And it was at least three blocks - that's how far my eyes could see.
It was exciting; I'd never seen a Vietnamese enclave like this before - which might change real soon since I'm heading to the West Coast. In Connecticut, it's one plaza in West Hartford, consisting of a big Vietnamese (more like pan-Asian) market, a restaurant, and a DVD shop. In Manhattan, it's one lonely side of Baxter street in Chinatown with 5 or 6 Vietnamese restaurants next to each other.
We walked into a Vietnamese restaurant - Pho Tank (Phở Xe Tăng) and were each given a thick menu. I had never seen such an extensive list of phở, bún khô, bún nước, mì, bánh canh, etc. What was phenomenal though, was that it was the first time that a server replied to me in Vietnamese. My typical interaction in a Vietnamese restaurant in New York or Connecticut would go more like this:
Me (in Vietnamese): 1 tô phở đặc biệt ạ (one bowl of special pho please),
The server (in English): You want number 14?
I don't know why. But I know that those older folks have no problem understanding me, even though I have a strong Northern accent, and especially since it's such a simple phrase. Anyways it always weirds me out.
Broadway, Chicago. In this block, you can see: two Vietnamese restaurants, a DVD shop, and a dentist's.
miércoles, 23 de diciembre de 2009
don't read the bible, read the beatles
That's my graduation advice.
I left Wes at 10 a.m. this morning and am staying in New York for a couple of days. I arrived in the city and went out for lunch with Ivy and Keith at a Mexican restaurant. It's a small cosy place, red and blue alternating on the walls and on the tables. The man working at the burrito bar, who I assumed owns the place, suddenly started singing. I couldn't make out what language he was singing in, but his voice was surprisingly good. He reached all the high notes, while still having the male raspiness. When he came to our table with the food, I told him how much I liked his voice. He asked if I was a singer. I laughed, assuring him that it's one of the things that I could never do: I'm terrible with pitch and always sing out of tune. He later came back to the table and asked me: What do you want to do in life? I was struck that someone would ask me that question just a few hours after I left college, but I didn't want to take it very serious so I just laughed again and replied: definitely not singing. The man, still looking at me in the eyes, said: That's ok, but look deep into yourself and ask what you really want to be, and let it be. And you can only be good at it with lots of practice, it takes hard work, but let it be, be yourself. You know the Beatles' song? Let it be. Don't read the Bible, read the Beatles.
Thank you for your words of wisdom.
I left Wes at 10 a.m. this morning and am staying in New York for a couple of days. I arrived in the city and went out for lunch with Ivy and Keith at a Mexican restaurant. It's a small cosy place, red and blue alternating on the walls and on the tables. The man working at the burrito bar, who I assumed owns the place, suddenly started singing. I couldn't make out what language he was singing in, but his voice was surprisingly good. He reached all the high notes, while still having the male raspiness. When he came to our table with the food, I told him how much I liked his voice. He asked if I was a singer. I laughed, assuring him that it's one of the things that I could never do: I'm terrible with pitch and always sing out of tune. He later came back to the table and asked me: What do you want to do in life? I was struck that someone would ask me that question just a few hours after I left college, but I didn't want to take it very serious so I just laughed again and replied: definitely not singing. The man, still looking at me in the eyes, said: That's ok, but look deep into yourself and ask what you really want to be, and let it be. And you can only be good at it with lots of practice, it takes hard work, but let it be, be yourself. You know the Beatles' song? Let it be. Don't read the Bible, read the Beatles.
Thank you for your words of wisdom.
lunes, 14 de diciembre de 2009
last day
I just had my last class in college: digital photography. I'm happy that's how my college career ended. The class pushed a lot of buttons for me; I learned not only about photography, but also about myself.
Here are some of of the photos that I used for my final portfolio:
Here are some of of the photos that I used for my final portfolio:
11 hours
of sleep felt divine after a couple of weeks running on 5 hours every night and 20-minute naps during the day. I totally collapsed after spending 4.5 hours in the CFA lab printing and matting my final portfolio.
Yesterday was also World of Dance Concert, and we had to hand in our 10-page journal for BharataNatyam. I stayed up until 3 and then got up at 8 to finish the last 5 pages. It was total bullshit; I've never been so ashamed of my paper.
As usual, for World of Dance, BharataNatyam had to show up super early to rehearse. This year, because of the Dance department's budget cut, they couldn't even rent out the World Music Hall, so it was a short show of 5 pieces in Crowell. And for the first time, they charged entrance fee. I never knew that the situation was that bleak for them.
Here's us getting ready backstage - lots of pleading and pinning; Ilana, I missed having you pin my saree. What can't be seen: me as the designed saree pleader, ironing the 6-yard (5.4 m) long saree and looking exasperated as it wrinkles when you have to fold the freshly ironed part, bitching about how BharataNatyam should worth more than 0.5 credit.
And here's the the youtube video, courtesy of Ivy. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, a.k.a. people arriving late sitting down in front of Ivy, you can only see four people on the left, including me, for most of the video.
The dance this year was nothing compared to last year's; we barely sweated; we didn't even rehearse outside of class. But it was fun nonetheless to perform, to put on costumes and make-up: red lipstick, black eyeliner, red nail polish.
I've also started packing. I'm trying to downsize all of my stuff to 2 suitcases. Mission impossible? TBD.
Yesterday was also World of Dance Concert, and we had to hand in our 10-page journal for BharataNatyam. I stayed up until 3 and then got up at 8 to finish the last 5 pages. It was total bullshit; I've never been so ashamed of my paper.
As usual, for World of Dance, BharataNatyam had to show up super early to rehearse. This year, because of the Dance department's budget cut, they couldn't even rent out the World Music Hall, so it was a short show of 5 pieces in Crowell. And for the first time, they charged entrance fee. I never knew that the situation was that bleak for them.
Here's us getting ready backstage - lots of pleading and pinning; Ilana, I missed having you pin my saree. What can't be seen: me as the designed saree pleader, ironing the 6-yard (5.4 m) long saree and looking exasperated as it wrinkles when you have to fold the freshly ironed part, bitching about how BharataNatyam should worth more than 0.5 credit.
And here's the the youtube video, courtesy of Ivy. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, a.k.a. people arriving late sitting down in front of Ivy, you can only see four people on the left, including me, for most of the video.
The dance this year was nothing compared to last year's; we barely sweated; we didn't even rehearse outside of class. But it was fun nonetheless to perform, to put on costumes and make-up: red lipstick, black eyeliner, red nail polish.
I've also started packing. I'm trying to downsize all of my stuff to 2 suitcases. Mission impossible? TBD.
jueves, 10 de diciembre de 2009
2 weeks
till I leave Wesleyan...
A month ago, I was frantically sending out dozens of applications to all jobs, fellowships, internships listed. But now, I just feel numb. This is undoubtedly a turning point - I won't have a place to go back to and pretend that I have a plan, read graduation, any more - but I feel like I can register the significance only after I've stepped out.
I also need to buy a new suitcase and start dealing with all the craps I've accumulated, for real this time.
On a brighter note, I booked my tickets to Chicago and to San Diego, still undecided whether to fly or to take the train to San Francisco. Can't wait to see friends and the west coast.
A month ago, I was frantically sending out dozens of applications to all jobs, fellowships, internships listed. But now, I just feel numb. This is undoubtedly a turning point - I won't have a place to go back to and pretend that I have a plan, read graduation, any more - but I feel like I can register the significance only after I've stepped out.
I also need to buy a new suitcase and start dealing with all the craps I've accumulated, for real this time.
On a brighter note, I booked my tickets to Chicago and to San Diego, still undecided whether to fly or to take the train to San Francisco. Can't wait to see friends and the west coast.
miércoles, 9 de diciembre de 2009
more paperwork
I just finished the security clearance forms for Educ___USA. It's required because the office is funded by the State Department. I had to list every single place that I've been to and lived in, every school I've attended, every job I've had in the past 7 years, and with each of these, one person who knows or knew me, and their addresses AND phone numbers.
scary
1. the sound of the erhu when I play solo. Sounds like a chicken getting killed.
2. wedding and engagement albums that friends upload to facebook.
2. wedding and engagement albums that friends upload to facebook.
martes, 8 de diciembre de 2009
Chinese Music Ensemble
We just had our performance last Sunday. I haven't seen the video yet, but I think it went better than I'd expected.
This is a photo of the ensemble right before we stepped out on stage.
We played 5 pieces, and my favorite was 漁歌 (Fisherman's Song - Ngư Ca). The arrangement for erhu - the instrument that I played - is definitely not the most complicated, but it is so peaceful. I can imagine myself in a small boat, cradled in a big body of water. It's early morning, the air is brisk, and there's some rice wine to keep the body warm :)
Learning the erhu was definitely one of my two big accomplishments this semester, the other one being learning how to (kinda) swim. I'd love to keep practicing, but not sure how I'd do it on my own from now on.
This is a photo of the ensemble right before we stepped out on stage.
We played 5 pieces, and my favorite was 漁歌 (Fisherman's Song - Ngư Ca). The arrangement for erhu - the instrument that I played - is definitely not the most complicated, but it is so peaceful. I can imagine myself in a small boat, cradled in a big body of water. It's early morning, the air is brisk, and there's some rice wine to keep the body warm :)
Learning the erhu was definitely one of my two big accomplishments this semester, the other one being learning how to (kinda) swim. I'd love to keep practicing, but not sure how I'd do it on my own from now on.
lunes, 7 de diciembre de 2009
Mexico, here I come?
So far the internship in Mexico is the best after-graduation option for me: the job seems stimulating, the commitment is not long, and I get paid, not much, but enough to get by on a budget. Normally I'd jump up at the chance to go anywhere, and I've started the paperwork - and it might not go through - but I'm actually not that thrilled this time.
This is my second bout of travel guilt. I distinctly remember the first one. I was in Hawai'i; I had hardly started traveling back then, but I was at the high of my idealist militancy, and I felt like I should have gone home and got myself integrated in some kind of social movement, started building network, etc. instead of bumming around. All of this was weighing down my mind until I met an old hobo from Cali on a bus ride in the Big Island. I confided in him and he gave me his words of wisdom: it's ok - you're going to places and meeting people and learning; it will enrich you as a person and you will be more of help to others later in life.
His assurance has helped me got through the past few years with few moments of doubt. I've constantly told myself: I'm young, I want to see the world, I want to learn from other people. And it's true. I owe so much to the relationships that I've built and/or kept while being away from home: old friends that stay with me, new ones that I've made, strangers that take me in, feed me, look out for me. They encourage, inspire, essentially shape me into who I am. I've learned tremendously.
But at this moment, I really don't know if I can use the same "excuse" to justify spending 5 months in Mexico City, doing something that I'm interested in but not as a career. I just feel like once I graduate, I should head-dive right into the chosen path, learning more skills in either a social service or a policy setting. But maybe 5 months is not terribly long, summer will come and I'll head home? Maybe I can afford some procrastination?
viernes, 4 de diciembre de 2009
why this blog is up again
I'm taking digital photography this semester and the process has been self-revealing, thinking about what kind of images I respond strongly to, what kind of subjects I am drawn to...
In the beginning, I was pretty happy with my works. I have taken quite a few portraits of strangers that turn out quite decent, and I told my class how much I enjoyed the short interaction with all the built-in presumption about what the other is and is not. At that time, I thought it was very reflective of my own general approach in live: making snap judgment, building rapport in a short amount of time.
But now looking at the photos all together to prepare my portfolio, I feel frustrated. They look repetitive, and there's something else - I don't know exactly what it is, but I'm not as satisfied as I was a couple of months ago
But now looking at the photos all together to prepare my portfolio, I feel frustrated. They look repetitive, and there's something else - I don't know exactly what it is, but I'm not as satisfied as I was a couple of months ago
I talked about this with J., a guy in my class. He suggested writing my thoughts down and I realized that I hadn't written anything in my dairy for the past 3 months - it's time to start again.
Thinking about photography is forcing me to rethink my life and reevaluate issues that I thought I'd resolved (this sounds heavy). And this may be why (unconsciously) I have been so resistant to the idea of making my photos more personal, to be more invested in my subjects and my models.
I thought I'd learned how to balance: how to build friendship without getting too intensely attached. In the past few years, I've made quite a few friends, people who mean the world to me, but I cannot name one that I would get to see somewhat regularly in the next couple of years. And I thought I had come to terms with it. But maybe I've been kidding myself the whole time, maybe I'm still struggling.
Thinking about photography is forcing me to rethink my life and reevaluate issues that I thought I'd resolved (this sounds heavy). And this may be why (unconsciously) I have been so resistant to the idea of making my photos more personal, to be more invested in my subjects and my models.
I thought I'd learned how to balance: how to build friendship without getting too intensely attached. In the past few years, I've made quite a few friends, people who mean the world to me, but I cannot name one that I would get to see somewhat regularly in the next couple of years. And I thought I had come to terms with it. But maybe I've been kidding myself the whole time, maybe I'm still struggling.
More problems with travel document
... this time from the Vietnamese embassy. My passport expires in April, and since I might go to Mexico comes the end of school, I'm trying to renew it now. Went to the website of the embassy in DC, downloaded the form, which says that there's a fee but doesn't say how much. Is that possible? Yes. (It also says that it may take a month or more to issue a new passport. Is that possible? I don't know.)
Anyways, I picked up my phone to call the embassy to straighten things out. That was on Monday. Today's Friday. I've been calling 5 - 7 times every day, morning, noon, afternoon, and no one ever picks up. Is that possible? So far yes.
I'm desperate. And I couldn't help laughing. Maybe I shouldn't have. But it's too ludicrous, makes a good story to tell I guess.
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)
