Good day, sunshine!

I have two more weeks of school. Three more presentations to make. Three more final papers to write. One evaluation to complete. At the moment I should be completing a peer review. But the end is in sight and I can't resist a taste of freedom. Today, the sun finally showed its face and evaporated the damper of a winter of rain. One of my friends had a birthday party, a bar-b-que with tofurkey sausages and a chocolate fountain. We ate. We talked. We laughed. We played ping-pong (you know you are having a good day when you get to play ping pong). And it was good, this taste of summer.

This is what my summer will be: a casting off of responsibility, if only for a shortwhile. I've decided not to continue working at my current researcher position. I'm not going to take Chinese class as I had intended. I am going to do 3 things:
- Take a camping trip to Glacier National Park in Montana;
- Go home to Houston, buy a car, and do a half-national road trip back to California;
- And...go to Peru, Guatemala, Belize, and Mexico!

It is heedless of professional responsibilities, fiscally impractical, but one taste of summer is not enough. I want to eat the whole pie! I will learn to be responsible again in August. Promise.

Berkeley: a paralysis of good intentions?

I attend a conference on the future of Asian American studies--yes, another conference!--yesterday, and my mind and heart ate well on workshops speeches that enaged the experience and future of Asian and Pacific Islanders. The conference itself was about the bleak outlook of Asian American Studies at Berkeley, where enrollment is flagging, despite its origins in the 70s during hard-fought-for struggles among students for Ethnic Studies programs. I got to attend workshops about Pacific Islanders and the conflict around their inclusion and exclusion from the label "API." Another workshop was about the domestic violence: its expression in Asian famililies and the services provided for them. (As a testament to the degree that API don't want to deal with DV, I was the only attendee at this workshop aside from conference volunteers.) The final workshop I attended was a panel of Korean adoptees talking about experiences growing up and the bumpy roads along their development of their racial identities. I can hardly imagine my own conflict over what it means to be Chinese/Asian American had it been overlayed with no understanding or connection to the culture for which I was ridiculed by classmates. These syposiums and conferences, that expose me to the conversations and revolutions happening outside the School of Social Welfare, give me the social and cultural consciousness to continue as a social worker.
--------------------------------------------
A glimpse of Berkeley! I walking with a friend down Shattuck when a well-dressed, middle-aged man racing down the street past us. Behind, we heard a homeless man yelling at the top of his lungs, "HEY!" We thought, maybe someone had offended someone, but the homeless man kept yelling, saying, "HEY! YOU DROPPED YOUR CELL PHONE!" And the well-dressed man kept sprinting away, not paying any mind to the calls for his attention. The homeless guy was getting understandably frustrated, saying, "Well, I guess you don't want it that bad. Maybe I should throw it in the street." I was finally able to flag the well-dressed man and ask him if he was missing his cell phone. Only then did he acknowledge the homeless gentleman waving a phone in the air, who chided the upper middle class for "not taking the time to f*ching listen." I have to say that I agree. This is Berkeley: the upper class streamlining the streets, the locals maintaining the town's integrity not without a chip on its shoulder. Our local, celebrity writer Michael Chabon says it well in his blog essay. I don't know if I agree with the enraptured abandon he has for B-town, but his descriptions of the setting, the people, and the atmosphere are dead on.

Yummy yummy yummy, I've got love in my tummy!

Tonght I saw two documentaries by filmmaker Kim Longinotto: Dream Girls and The Good Wife of Tokyo, brief glimpses in the lives of Japanese women. Dream Girls follows performers of the Takarazuka Revue and students at the Takarazuka school where girls learn to dance and sing to become temporary performance stars. The dances choose between playing women or men, the male performers being allowed freedom and authority for their brief time in Takarazuka. But most women eventually give up their careers and education to follow their cultural calling to be married by age 25.

The Good Wife of Tokyo was a look at a Japanese performance artist's mother, who find exigency and purpose as a woman through her role as a spiritual leader for a religion called the House of Development. Begun as a melding of Shintoism, Buddhism, and Christianity, the House of Development has come to serve mostly middle-aged women as a support group for them. The have face conflict over their societal obligations to their husbands and mothers-in-law and their desires to have freedom and be independent. It made a nice follow-up to the previous film, to see the result of women’s following the ideals of Japanese society and finding methods for coping. I feel so sorry for the women, living their lives always in the shadow of their potential, but in the context of their culture they are successful. Ai.

But the daughter, the performing artist, is in a band called Frank Chicken, which is composed of 3 women total. They sing and dance in early 90s fashion, in costumes to match. They sang Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, I Got Love in My Tummy with huge fanny-pack sized lips pasted on their stomachs. They also sang a song about the Rockefeller building, where the ghost of Rockefeller visits his building and sees that it is owned by Japanese business men. He mistakes them for Native Americans and wonders how they came to own his building when they were conquered.

Conferences: Motivating versus Discouraging Crossroads of Information

Last Thursday I attended a symposium on overturning Proposition 209, a proposition that eliminated affirmative action in California, and was stirred with the boldface calls to action. I heard lawyers, professors, and community activists explain litigative and theoretical approaches for taking down a racist initiative that has had real detrimental effects for minority businesses and educational opportunities. They spoke of the problems that disrupted unity among the ACLU when Prop 209 first passed and the lessons they have since learned. For 2008! During the next presidential election there is hope for change! We can win it – panelists and speakers spoke with passion and fervor for social justice and did not shy away from decrying racist policies and practices.

My feelings of energy and activism were not soon after doused by a conference for Title IV-E students, future CPS workers. I sat through a series of monotone speeches about the problems that plagued a failed system we were soon to join as child welfare workers. The disruptive life that we would soon be compelled to offer to foster children. The disregard for siblings and families that we would soon be powerless to prevent. We heard from foster kids who recounted their experiences, prompted by a moderator who asked them to tell their life stories to a room full of future social workers, the sometimes bad guys of those stories. Our future is cast in insensitivity, futility, and exhaustion. Great. Am I in the wrong line of work? But if anything, it got me thinking about foster kids and the possibility of being a foster parent sometime in the future. Not easy by any means, but made me wonder if to help one kid or a sibling group with real care was the way the make a difference in child welfare.

Feeling torn from the reason I entered this profession. Better when out of the classroom and into the field?

what circle of hades are we in anyway?

I was just doing some gardening to get some House Improvement hours in for my coop (I have to do 4 over the whole semester). So I did some weeding, some hedge pruning, and--this is rich--cutting grass with hedge clippers. There is a reason humans invented lawn mowers, but having none, our coop must improvise. It was like I was giving our sidewalk patch of grass a bad haircut. First I snipped at it, then I used a rake to comb out the clippings, leaving mangled looking clumps of grass. When the garden manager asked me to cut the grass with the sheers I wasn't sure if he was joking. But, imagining myself in some absurdist performance piece, I cut the grass with big scissors. What offense did I commit to warrant this? Some bad karma there.

So not surprisingly, I've decided to not live in the coops next year. Not just funky hierarchy, but I want my own space, my own kitchen, the freedom to socialize when I feel like it and to be a guilt-free hermit when I want to be. Looking for a place to live though...no easy task. Updates on the horizon.

From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream waters

I just returned from the most splendid of vacations over my Spring Break. I went with some friends to stay in a cabin by the Russian River. Blessed with sunshine, we did a day of hiking in Armstrong State Park. The random tendon/ muscles in our legs screamed and our feet whined in protest, but we trudged on through mud and rocks to see beautiful views, mossy trees, and numerous javelina traps. Ok, maybe not javelinas, but forest pigs. Like in Princess Mononoke! Ok, maybe not gigantic god-pigs either.

We also ate extremely well, cooking fantastic dinners each evening and glorious breakfasts. Culinary Therapy. Strangely, the trip turned into a social work retreat in a way, with all of group processing, checking in, and assessing each other throughout, half in jest and half in seriousness. Yet, the formality of structured discussions did create a space for us to talk about how we got along with each other and process our various experiences in social work school so far. Highly beneficial. Highly strengths-based.

Afterwards we also visited an aunt of one of my friends and saw her children and horses. We watched a movie with her family and played air hockey, pingpong, and cards. So welcoming and warm.

If anyone should need an intervention for relaxation and pleasantry, I will refer you to the Russian River.

You don't know me! I don't know you!

I was walking home today and talking on the phone with a friend. Granted, I guess it is rude to walk around in public while talking on the phone, but I walked by guy ranting to entertain his friends and encountered another incident that makes me think Berkeley is no haven from racism. This guy, perhaps homeless, was mouthing off about how he had to live under the white man until he was seventeen, then seeing me added that the Japanese need to get off the phone. Japanese! Do I look Japanese? If you can't tell the difference between a Korean and Chinese person then don't make assumptions. Grr, I was seething afterwards. When these things happen I also get crazy mad at myself for not starting a scene and mouthing back. Do I perpetuate the stereotype of submissive Asians by not talking back? But you know, that is not me. I don't want live in a world where racial outbursts result in streetfights and neither do I want to be such an instigator. And I don't need to be the object of my anger either.

Why won't Spring Break just arrive already?

Over easy

I went to a diner-ish eatery on Telegraph Ave. for breakfast today. I found myself standing in line behind a row of guys each three-times my size. A quick inspection of their t-shirts revealed that they were the Cal football team. Ah, this explains their orders of full breakfasts with sides of bacon, sausage, pancakes, and cheeseburgers. I can't even comprehend how much food they must all consume. A village worth.

At one point, two of the guys were mocking the English of the Korean owner at the cash register. But a team member called them out saying, "What, you think that's funny?" Hooray for football players with senses of social justice!

I enjoyed a glass orange juice, a scrambled egg, and a stack of blueberry pancakes. Yum! Come visit me -- I know where to take you for breakfast.

Namaste

This week has run me to the ground. Assignments piled on assignments. Sleep deficit upon sleep deficit. I don't think I've been more stressed than at any other time in my life.

So I decided to take a self-care holiday this afternoon after my field placement. I went running out in the sunshine. Then napped on the floor of my room. And, on a whim, attended my first yoga class, which ended up having the whopping attendance of one: me! If was a free class through the coops. This was the second. The first had only an attendance of two. Having never done yoga before, I've always been intimidated by the prospect of having to "perform" in front of a group of experienced people, so this was actually the perfect setting for me. The instructor, unfortunaley, was rather disappointed at her tiny class and could not keep the disappointment out of her voice for some time. I rather enjoyed it, in any case, and found that I'm pretty flexible. I surprised the instructor as well. Three cheers for the lotus position!

Afterwards, I attended an interfaith peace ceremony that my friend's roommate was performing in. It had religious leaders representing Native American spiritualism, Judiasm, Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam. In some ways moving. In some ways incongruous. It ended with everyone joining hands and dancing in a circle to the beat of a Native American drummer. I watched but did not partake. I was not moved as I needed to be to really participate in the circle of qi, though I did pick a river rock that was annointed with water blessed from all the represented religions. Lucky rock? Holy rock? I'm not sure what I'll do with it, but hopefully nothing blasphemous or sacrilegious. Like partaking of communion, if my purpose in keeping it is not pure, it will be a blight, not a blessing.

I've done more "spiritual" connecting with myself and others than I have done in a long time. But I don't feel anymore whole for having done anything. I think my mind body, and soul just need more sleep.

Sage words.

I'm up late trying to finish my reading for class tomorrow. Found a sentence that stuck out and popped me out of zombie-reading mode. Don't know if it is the choice of words or its message, but here it is.

To expect cures is irrational; to expect to impart wisom that, through experience, will fascilitate adjustment is sage.

Also interesting, the ratio of positive to negative thinking in normal individuals is 62:38. So normal is set at about 2:1. Depressed people have ratios of 1:1. To be optimistic more than 2:1 may also indicate unrealistic thinking.

[From Kendall, P.C. (2000), Child and Adolescent Therapy: Cognitive Behavioral Approaches, 2nd Edition, New York, NY, Guilford Press Chap 1 (pp. 3 – 27)]

Melts in the sun, not in your freezer.

I opened up a box of chocolates I received as a gift. There was a small paper inside that reads the following:

Hot summer day?

Chocolate melting?

Just freeze for a few minutes,

peel away the foil,

and enjoy this perfectly fine, but

somewhat misshaped high-quality confection!

Heehee! Funny and tasty.

International House of Pusillanimity

Did you know that today was National Pancake Day? It may be no more than a marketing ploy by IHOP (Natl. Pancake Day:IHOP::Mother's Day:Hallmark) but some friends and I decided to take up the call to enjoy free pancakes for the carbo-happy goodness that they are. Well, having traversed San Pablo into Emerryville, we found that our nearest IHOP had a sign that bore the words "NO FREE PANCAKES" in pink highlighter. Not taking this poor attempt at sign-making too seriously we entered to investigate. Ah, there behind the cash register was a marker board that also read the same, yet there on the counter was a welcoming sign declaring free pancakes in celebration of the day. Uh? We asked to see the manager. The host went to inquire on our behalf. He came back. He told us that the manager had told him, "The sign should be enough." One of my friends, with violent tendancies, took pictures of the signs and the host called us cheap. She snapped back that we were poor students and shouldn't be expected to pay for pancakes when they should be free. In an case, it was a good thing that we left, otherwise IHOP might have had an intermittant explosion on their hands. We were all a bit stunned at the injustice of how rudely we had just been treated. We later relocated at Mel's and enjoyed excellent service and tasty, if not free, pancakes. What was the lesson that we learned from this?

IHOP is the man?
Everything comes at a price?
or maybe...

Friends don't let friends pay for pancakes that should be free.

--------------------------------------

In unrelated news that have nothing to do with pancake day besides having occurred on the same day, I've been trying to return all the books from inter-library loan that I have checked out for my research assistant job. The borrowing services office called me not to long ago to tell me that I have stuff checked out that was due back in November and the school has been paying fines on all my overdue books. When I went in to check on my status they asked me my last name and when I furnished it the librarian replied with my first name. Eek, you know it's bad when the librarians recognizes your name.

Marine life

One of my cousins is an artist in New York. I thought I might google him to see if I could find any of his work and I found this.

I wonder what he is like. What are his other paintings like? Is he a playful person? Does he smile a lot? Does pursuing art make him feel brave? Alive?

I like this octopus. You can check out the brief bio I found for my cousin here, on a German artist listing.

Dormez-vous?

Today at my internship I watched a group of Early Head Start kids walk back to class from the playgroud area. They sang this song to the tune of Frere Jacque.

Walking, walking,
Walking, walking;
Here we go!
Nice and slow.

It was of much cuteness!

Fun and Fett

Well, the Wonder Con was more fun than you can shake a stick at! People went all out their costumes. Notable sightings--besides the Fett family pictured above--included Elvis Storm Trooper, Alien and Predator, the cast from Pirates of the Carribean, Wolverine, various Ghostbusters, Hello Kitty, Sesshomaru, and a cross-dressing Rei from Evangelion. Fantastico! And that does not include the other attendees who wore things like corsets just to be weird. I got to meet Michael Chabon, who actually lives in Berkeley. He, upstanding citizen that he is, wouldn't sign the library copy of one of his novels that I happened to be carrying, but he did sign a free comic that he was handing out. Cool beans, all the same. My friend--code name Alen--kept running into people from his air force base as well, one of them being Sesshomaru!
----------------------------------
Afterwards we trekked to volunteer with the Chinese New Year parade, which was ok. Too much lag time between floats and bands and not enough cultural competence. Seriously, there is more to Chinese culture than lions, drums, and silk outfits. Alas, this is America--not Asia. But what a full day nonetheless. My feet were killing me slowly, but I always have the best sleeps after a day so full that my feet ache. Long Live Chewy!

The giraffe, the pelly, and me.

Me is the monkey of course. I have been feeling rather out of sorts since being back in school. I don't know what it is, but I was just thinking that this may affect the whimsicality of my blog posts, among other things. Perhaps for the sake of my blog I shall try to take better care of myself in order to write things that are more interesting to read.

In anycase, I will be attending a comic book convention on Saturday! More to report from the comic front. And cartoon monkeys I hope.

Here is a picture of the London plane trees lining a plaza by the Campaile (clock tower). I like to call them "toes" trees because once they are pruned--like now--their branches look like they all end in knobby toes. For a slide show of UC Berkeley's trees go here.

Turtles rule!

I'm sorry that posts have begun to drop off once again. Mostly I am swapped with readings that I am not doing such a good job of keeping up with. So I offer you this, I'll post interesting pictures of things that I've seen recently until I can muster the time and energy to give you some real meat (or should I say veat?).

This is a turtle spotted on the coast of San Francisco at Fisherman's Wharf. My, isn't he warm and loaf-like? Incidentally, it is freezing and rainy in Berkeley. Aiya, how miserable!

a roof with a view

Sorry to have not posted in so long. At first I wasn't sure what to make of my new coop and wanted to feel more certain, and optimistic, before posting. I've moved to a grad and reentry coop that was reopenned as such after being shut down. It was once the most notorious of coops, still recalled by Berkeley residents and past students for its Animal House parties, filthiness, and the general mayhem that spilled from its doors. Homeless people slept on the front steps. People dived off the roof into the swampy pool. The back carriage house was used for...use your imagination, that's what went on there. It got to where the neighborhood association filed a lawsuit against the house for noise and disruption, which led to the cooperative association's decision to shut it down.

But the memory of what this house once was is still so fresh--or indelible--that the house was reopenned only under the condition that it must be occupied by graduate and reentry students who will supposedly be much better behaved. For the most part that is true. It is much cleaner than most coops and common areas are used more for studying than say, random drumming circles. But current residents of the house are all a bit bitter that we are watched by the neighbors like hawks on mice to ensure that no one congregates in the yard or that they have had advance warning of parties that must be kept small and very quiet.

The three houses that make up this coop are so nice it is hard to imagine what it once was. My room has a high ceiling, a fireplace, and window seat. I like it.

The picture above is taken from the roof/deck. A rainbow on the hills of Berkeley.

Thai, Japanese, and Trippy

It has been a while since I've seen a movie something so excellent that I am inspired to say something about it. Erm, while I thought Brokeback Mountain was very good, this one was one of the stellar ones. Last Life in the Universe takes place in Thailand but has much to do with a Japanese man who is obsessed with trying to kill himself. But lest that make the movie seem too dreary--it kind of opens with a few shocking scenes as well--a budding friendship with a Thai woman changes things for these so eccentric and normal people. And it has fantastic cinematography thanks to Christopher Doyle, whose lent his talent for creating beautiful spaces to movies like Rabbit-Proof Fence and those of director Wong Kar Wai. Ah, see this movie. Go and rent. Go and borrow.