Incoherent Mimicry

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T19:40:00.000-08:00

... I am grateful...

"For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.”– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Picture: Merry Christmas

Birthday parties, funerals and political campaigns

2011-11-09T17:36:00.000-08:00

Since my last post, I have been busy attending birthday parties, funerals and political campaigns. Here is a summary:

My nephew turned one. My brother's wife decided to have a fabulous birthday party. Missing your nephew's first birthday party may make you a bad aunt. Since I did not want to be a bad aunt, I attended my lovely nephew's birthday party. I am trying to forget all the annoying little details but I endured my in-laws rather well. I enjoyed the party mainly thanks to a seven year old boy, who decided to show me a hilarious interpretive dance.

One of my granduncles passed away. He had a sudden heart attack. Missing your granduncle's bereavement services may make you a bad grandniece. Since I did not want to be a bad grandniece, I attended the week-long bereavement services. I am trying to forget the little annoying remarks but I endured my extended family fairly well. Despite being in mourning, my mother's cousin could not help but to tell me that I, unlike my siblings, am not gregarious. So what? Some are gregarious and some are not!

One of my second cousins, who is also a very good friend, was campaigning for a friend of a friend to be elected as a board trustee of a community college. He is a hardworking community organizer. Missing your cousin's community rally may make you a bad cousin or, worse, a bad friend. Since I did not want to be a bad cousin-friend, I attended one of the political campaigns he organized. I had a fantastic time with some of the funniest clowns in town.

Most social functions could be fun even when they are done out of duty.

Picture: black tie cartoons, black tie cartoon, black tie picture, black tie

Stay foolish. Stay crazy.

2011-10-09T18:03:00.001-07:00

I have been fascinated by the "7 rules of success" of Steve Jobs ever since I saw it on ABC's Nightline. Lately, I have been trying to apply it to my own journey, a journey which may seem foolish and crazy to many. Throughout the years, I have applied rule #1, #4, and #6 regularly. I have to consider applying the other rules with more focus and determination.

1. Do what you love
... Passion is everything...

2. Put a dent in the universe
... Don't lose sight of the big vision...

3. Make connections
...Don't live in a bubble. Connect ideas from different fields...

4. Say no to 1,000 things
...What are you saying no to?...

5. Create insanely different experiences
...What are you doing to enrich the lives of others?...

6. Sell dreams not products
...Help others reach their dreams...

7. Master the message
...You can have the greatest idea in the world, but if you can't communicate your ideas, it doesn't matter...

MCAT Blues

2011-09-10T20:34:00.000-07:00

This past May, I promised this to myself: I would review all the sciences, practice verbal reasoning passages, and take the MCAT in September. 2011 was going to be the year in which I would follow my dream.

If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans - Woody Allen

It all started well. My review began in mid-June. I found inspiration in a couple of my favorite bloggers who were in the same boat and found time to write about their experiences. July came and went. So did August. To my astonishment, my progress was excruciatingly slow. Spending the dog days of Summer studying for the MCAT would have been delightful if it had not been very time-consuming, especially to a non-traditional pre-med. I have been out of school in a very long time and I have forgotten how to study and manage time. I was mostly surprised to find out that I was only able to complete half of the questions in the allocated time. That would not have been surprising if it had just been for the verbal reasoning section. But that was the case for the physical and biological sections as well. After a long analysis, I could not convince myself that I was fully prepared and I did what I dreaded to do the most. I postponed.

Indeed it is better to postpone, lest either we complete too little by hurrying, or wander too long in completing it - Tertullian

I am already looking forward to 2012 hoping it will be a fruitful year!

Picture: Medical College Admission Test (MCAT)

I will survive!

2011-08-12T16:46:00.000-07:00

How I love this music!

Oslo on my mind

2011-07-25T06:01:00.000-07:00

Oslo on my mind

The home of most of my maternal family

Bombing News

Panic and terror thousand miles across the ocean

Phone calls and Facebook messages

Assurance and peace of mind

Sadness

Oslo, the sleepy quiet town, in mourning!

I went. I lived. When will I become?

2011-06-04T23:40:00.000-07:00

I watched 'Va, vis et deviens' (Go, live and become) a few weeks ago. I cannot believe I waited this long to see it. My siblings had recommended it to me a couple of years ago.

‘Va, vis et deviens’ is a French film about an Ethiopian boy who is airlifted from a Sudanese refugee camp to Israel during Operation Moses (1984). Shlomo, the boy, has two big secrets: he is neither a Jew nor an orphan. He is just a son trying to fulfill his mother's request to "go, live and become". The title refers to a common phrase of aspiration uttered by Ethiopian parents to their children.

The story is as much about the unconditional love of the women (his birth mother, his Falasha mother, his French Jew mother, and his wife) who guide him in his journey to “become” as it is about the Shlomo in all of us. I loved the young Shlomo, the multiple languages spoken (Amharic, Hebrew and French), the music, the depiction of Médecins Sans Frontières, and, most of all, the message. Apart from a couple of scenes that I would have deleted, I found the movie extremely moving. At the end, I found myself asking, “I went. I lived. When will I become?”

Hello, can you hear me now?

2011-05-31T22:12:00.000-07:00

Vince Vaughn once delighted me when he said, “I’ve never worn a watch. I don’t own a cell phone. When I had one, it always gave me a feeling of, Uh Oh, someone’s calling me.”

Today, WHO classified “radiofrequency electromagnetic fields as possibly carcinogenic to humans, based on an increased risk for glioma, a malignant type of brain cancer, associated with wireless phone use…” Vaughn and I should not be concerned about WHO’s report; but the other 5 billion cell phone users, that is 75% of human population, may need to reevaluate their phone use. Here is another article.

Hello, can you hear me now?

Photo: AFP

Mothers and daughters

2011-05-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago, my mom left for Oslo, Norway.
I don't know how long she will stay there.
I already miss her!

The Apprentice and the President

2011-05-02T14:15:00.000-07:00

As I was begrudgingly watching the last ten minutes of ‘Celebrity Apprentice’, I was pleasantly surprised by a breaking news report “ … The President will appear briefly to make a statement …” I immediately wondered whether the President needed some air time, you know, to reassure the American people that he was not born in Kenya. After all, Trump’s recent irritating “birther” nonsense had prompted the White house to release Obama’s birth certificate. Then the newscaster continued with “… NBC has confirmed that Osama bin Laden is dead … It is the end of an era …” What! How did that happen? The timing could not have been better for the “Kenyan” President’s major announcement. For me, it was a much better ending of a ‘Celebrity Apprentice’ episode than the one I had anticipated earlier in the evening. The Donald has become the butt of even more jokes - making the whole nonsense even more entertaining.

The Handsome Stranger

2010-09-10T23:37:00.000-07:00

This song reminds me of a very handsome stranger I met last Spring. I was at the lowest point of this pre-med journey. I was angry at myself for slacking off and for letting the journey overwhelm me. One beautiful late April afternoon, as I was pondering on what I needed to do, I noticed this incredibly handsome man on my way to a spin class. I am too shy, too traditional and too conservative to approach any guy. The most I dare to do is gaze for a second from very, very far. The stranger somehow caught my gaze. I had to hide. For some reason, those quick glances uplifted my mood... Whenever this song comes up, I imagine him... Thank you Mr. incredibly handsome stranger for looking my way...

What do La Esmeralda and the curious man have in common?

2010-08-25T04:03:00.000-07:00

A recent article reminded me of a conversation I once had with a curious man I used to see at the gym...

It was in the summer of 2006. I had devised a brilliant plan to regularly go to the gym in the middle of the night. I thought it was brilliant because I could avoid the afterwork/evening gym crowd, the traffic and the summer heat. Among the very few patrons who frequented the establishment included a short, stocky man in his mid-forties with a quiet demeanor and a serious disposition. The first time he spoke to me was to ask how old I was. I thought it was a strange question but I replied. He laughed at my answer thinking I was joking because he said I looked very young. On my part, I was surprised he spoke English without any foreign accent because I assumed he was an East Indian. So I ventured with a question that seemed very mundane:

Mi: Where are you from?
Man: Some city, U.S.A (I forgot which city he said)
Mi: Oh! I thought you were from India.
Man (shaking his head): I am White!
Mi (eyes wide-open): White?
Man (hesitantly): ...I am a Gypsy...
Mi (blank stare): Gypsy?
Man: ... but don't tell people that...
Mi (surprised): Why not?!
Man (lowering his voice): People don't like Gypsies... I don't like to tell people... When people find that out, I have to relocate...
Mi: What?... I am sure there are many Gypsies...You know Cher is a Gypsy...
Man: Is She?
Mi: I think so...

The conversation ended as strangely as it began. That night, on my drive home, I felt some remorse for letting my curiosity broach a sensitive issue. When I arrived home, I could not wait to check on the dictionary what a Gypsy was. What did I not understand? My earliest and only clear reference to a Gypsy was La Esmeralda from Victor Hugo's Notre Dame de Paris. It was odd that the only thing I remembered about that character was the mystique that surrounded her and others' contempt toward her.

The American Heritage dictionary defined the word 'Gypsy' as follows:

1. One of a nomadic Caucasoid people originally migrating from the border region between Iran and India to Europe in the 14th or 15th century and now living principally in Europe and the United States. 2. Romany (sense 2). 3. gypsy. One that resembles a Gypsy in appearance or behavior [Shortening and alteration of Egyptian.]

Upon reading that, I was a little bit relieved. At least, I was not completely wrong. Somehow, the conversation left me uneasy, yet piqued my interest to know more about gypsies... their culture... their history... They have been on the news recently... Had it not been for that conversation, I would not have paid attention to their story. This time, I understood what the man was trying to tell me... Cheers for random conversations!

"There is no such thing as a worthless conversation provided you know what to listen for. And questions are the breath of life for a conversation" - James Nathan Miller

Photo: Gypsy Art Image

World Cup and Nostalgia

2010-07-11T21:46:00.000-07:00

I grew up loving soccer. Before I knew who Pele was, I knew Pele was a legendary "king of football". Soccer was the favorite national pastime. Rich-poor, tall-short, fat-thin, kids played it everywhere. We yelled, cried, laughed at the whims of our teams' misses and hits. We were under the spell of soccer magic. Watching a game was playing one. Being a soccer fan was being a soccer player. World Cup was a month long fiesta.

When I moved to the U.S., I wondered what happened to the magic of soccer. Nobody, except the very new immigrants, cared for it. To my greatest disappointment, Americans did not share that worldwide passion and, and, in fact, insisted on not calling it "football". So every World Cup series, nostalgia suffocated me. I turned to Univision to watch the Copa Mundial de FIFA and to be delighted by the announcer's passionate shriek of "gooooooooal". Like in the past, I yelled-cried-laughed mostly alone. But I knew I was sharing the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat with millions around the world. Every World Cup presented an opportunity to revisit my childhood memories of Paolo Rossi's team that had Italy celebrate for weeks, Michel Platini's moves that had my friends emulate them, and Diego Maradona's "Hand of God goal" that had us talking for days...

This World Cup, I was resigned to do the same. I was excited that FIFA selected for the first time an African nation as its host. I expected the minimum coverage from the American media as usual. After all, I have come to accept that soccer is not an American pastime. To my delight, I found out I was slightly off. This year, I was pleasantly surprised at the level of American media coverage. I even felt some American soccer romance budding. Americans are starting to embrace the real "football". I can now be nostalgic in English. Welcome to the World Cup fiesta, America!

Of Pushkin, Dumas and Illusion

2010-02-25T12:57:00.000-08:00

This past summer, I met my maternal granduncle L for the very first time. He had come to attend my brother's wedding from Italy, where he has lived almost all his life. He is a fairly young, around forty-something year old, professor of history at a major university. He had married his high school sweetheart, an Italian physician, had a son and then gotten a divorce. Most of the older ladies, smitten by his good looks, outgoing personality, and charming wit, were ready to play matchmakers and find him his soul mate. He was flattered and amused by the attention. What I found most captivating was the cultural difference or, should I say, cultural illusion. A great storyteller that he is, he shared with us many anecdotes, one of them being this.

One day in the early 1990's, he goes to a conference where a colleague, who specializes in African history, is presenting his research findings on Alexander Pushkin's East African ancestry and his future plans for the project. The presenter's position is that Pushkin’s great-grandfather, Abram Petrovich Gannibal, was originally from a border town between Ethiopia and Eritrea and that further research studies need to be conducted. A third colleague and L start to question whether Pushkin should even be a topic in African history. He is Russian and his contributions are to Russian literature. One who is specializing in African history should be focusing on Africa. Why create the illusion of a history? There are many topics within the African continent that need to be explored...The Pushkin expert overhears their remarks, fumes over their discouraging comments and protests to deaf ears...

Upon hearing this, I vehemently disagreed and defended the Pushkin expert. Yes, Yes, Pushkin is Russian but his East African ancestry should be examined and should be of interest to African history experts. In the U.S., Pushkin would have been considered black. Why shouldn't the East Africans claim him as part of their history? In my passionate argument, I even tried to lecture on how history should be studied forgetting briefly that I am talking to a historian. My argument was only met by a stunned look, a look that said ‘cosa stai parlando?’ There was an obvious difference in paradigm.

Long after the conversation ended, I wondered whether my view would have been the same had I not been conditioned by the American view of race and politics. One of the issues that has disappointed, baffled and confronted me in the land of the free is how the free was, dare I say, mentally imprisoned by race. Over the last two decades or so, it has greatly improved. I only imagine it to improve in the future. But still... I sometimes resent the issue and the conditioning.

A recent controversy surrounding a new movie about Alexandre Dumas (père), L’ Autre Dumas, reminded me of L’s Pushkin story. The controversy centered around the fact that a black actor not having the role of Dumas, a person of color, but instead Gérard Depardieu being cast for it. The general American view is probably an emphatic No. It does not matter that Dumas is three-quarter French; he should be portrayed by a black actor and not by Depardieu with a tanned face and curly hair. I wonder what the general French view is.

"The illusion which exalts us is dearer to us than ten-thousand truths.” Alexander Pushkin

I have yet to see the movie and I am already disappointed… not because Depardieu is playing Dumas but rather at the annoying storyline, i.e. Dumas allegedly had a shy collaborator, Auguste Maquet, who deserves much of the credit for the plots and drafts of Dumas’ most famous works. If this is not annoying to a Dumas fan, I do not know what is. I would have liked the illusion that exalted me to remain intact. Oh… how fascinated I was when I first read Dumas’ literary works as a child… and …when I found out his paternal ancestry as a new immigrant... knowing little then how many times I would have to examine and reexamine my illusions.

Photo 1: Two of Arts - 2000 Visual Mashups by qthomasbower

Photo 2: Alexander Pushkin in Negro History (Jet Magazine, May 28, 1953) by vieilles annonces

Photo 3: Alexandre Dumas in Negro History (Jet Magazine, July 24, 1952) by vieilles annonces

Believe in yourself

2010-02-21T06:12:00.001-08:00

"My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me." Jim Valvano

Photo: Father and daughter by Miss Moll

Wanted: A handbag without any lead (Pb)

2010-01-24T20:59:00.000-08:00

I need to buy a new work handbag. My old faux leather handbag is looking embarassingly old that, these days, I even try to hide it from the sight of others. Mind you it has only been used for less than two years. The last time I needed a new handbag, I could not decide on which brand and style to choose. I searched and searched without finding any to satisfy my classic taste until I finally received one as a gift. Strange, isn't it?

This time, as I was taking my sweet little time to shop around for yet another stylish handbag, I heard on ABC World News about the disturbing findings of the Center for Environmental Health. ABC World News reporter, Lisa Fletcher summarized it as follows:

The Center for Environmental Health went to 100 of the nation's top retailers--- including Target, Macy's, Wal-Mart and Kohl's -- and bought purses. The group had the bags tested for lead at an independent lab. Two separate tests were conducted. Some bags were wiped to see how much, if any, lead would simply rub off the material. The bags also were tested for the total lead content of the products. The tests came back showing disturbingly high levels of lead...

Lead (Pb) is a very toxic metal. Even at a very low level, it has some deleterious effects on the nervous system. Knowing this now will only prolong my search... I may have to wait until tough new national lead standards for bags in stores are in place. Until then, I just have to

protect my old one from the sight of others because it is embarassingly old and
minimize any direct physical contact with it because it may have high levels of Pb or
find a leather handbag

Photo: Center for Environmental Health

Remember

2010-01-15T00:14:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, life sucks...

... and you don't know what to do ...

... and you try to remind yourself it could have been worse ...

...and then you start to sing "Earthquakes may break my bones but they do not break my will to live! I am Toussaint L'Ouverture! I am Haiti! Tomorrow will be here!"

Photos 1 and 2: Special coverage on CNN

Photos 3 and 4: The New York Times

The Catcher and I

2010-01-09T22:36:00.000-08:00

Over the holidays, I read The Catcher in the Rye, a novel by J. D. Salinger, for the first time. Yes, I had never read it! Had I read this novel as a teenager, I would probably have found the author's use of profanity and portrayal of sexuality very vulgar. Unlike the novel's teenage protagonist, Holden Caulfield, I was never a rebel without a cause. To the dismay of many of my peers, I was one of those teenagers who loved playing by the rules. However, I would have related to Holden's issues of identity, alienation, and anxiety to a degree that, like him, I would have labeled some, but not many, of my peers and teachers as "phony".

I enjoyed the novel mainly because I understood Holden's existential dilemma, i.e. childhood's idealism versus adulthood's realism. I remembered this existential dilemma to be acutely painful during the adolescence-adulthood transition years. To my surprise, upon further reflection, I found some of this dilemma to still linger through the adult years. Who has not tried to hold on to one's childhood innocence?

I thought Holden’s narration of his experiences delightfully funny. He was both perceptive and mature at times, and emotional and impatient at other times. Some of the most memorable quotes of the novel include the following:

Holden on his young brother Allie

My brother Allie had this left-handed fielder's mitt. He was left-handed. The thing that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had poems written all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them on it so that he'd have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up at bat. He's dead now. He got leukemia and died when we were up in Maine, on July 18, 1946. You'd have liked him.

Holden on dancing with smart girls

I’m not kidding, some of these stupid girls can really knock you out on a dance floor. You take really smart girl, and half the time she’s trying to lead you around the dance floor, or else she’s such a lousy dancer, the best thing to do is stay at the table and just get drunk with her.

Holden on roommates with suitcases

At first he only used to be kidding when he called my stuff bourgeois, and I didn't give a damn — it was sort of funny, in fact. Then, after a while, you could tell he wasn't kidding any more. The thing is, it's really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs — if yours are really good ones and theirs aren't. You think if they're intelligent and all, the other person, and have a good sense of humor, that they don't give a damn whose suitcases are better, but they do.

Holden on people who cry watching sad movies

The part that got me was, there was a lady sitting next to me that cried all through the goddam picture. The phonier it got, the more she cried. You'd have thought she did it because she was kindhearted as hell, but I was sitting right next to her, and she wasn't. She had this little kid with her that was bored as hell and had to go to the bathroom, but she wouldn't take him. She kept telling him to sit still and behave himself. She was about as kindhearted as a goddam wolf. You take somebody that cries their goddam eyes out over phony stuff in the movies, and nine times out of ten they're mean bastards at heart. I'm not kidding.

Holden on good books

What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.

Well, I thought talking to J.D. Salinger on the phone would have been a pleasure. I thought Chicago Tribune reviewer Paul Engle put it well when he said that the story was "emotional without being sentimental, dramatic without being melodramatic, and honest without simply being obscene" and that it was “engaging and believable . . . full of right observations and sharp insight, and a wonderful sort of grasp of how a boy can create his own world of fantasy and live forms."

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-20T22:31:00.000-08:00

I may not have been posting my thoughts here...
But I was definitely blogging in my head...
Until another post, here is an awesome video wishing you...

Merry Christmas!
Joyeux Noël!
¡Feliz Navidad!

Of Yo-Yo Ma, Oprah and Music

2009-11-07T19:07:00.000-08:00

Oprah's Season 24 Kickoff Party show reminded me of a story Yo-Yo Ma told on Tavis Smiley a year ago. Tavis Smiley had asked him to describe one of the defining moments that put him on the path to being the international icon that he has become. Here is Yo-Yo Ma’s answer in his own words:

When I was in college, ... I took a course in anthropology where I studied and saw films of the bushmen of the Kalahari desert. And so they live now mainly in Botswana and Namibia.
And there was a blind musician, and the film that I saw was called "Bitter Melons." And a blind musician that played and sang, and played on an instrument that I'd ever seen before, but it was so magical that I was 19 and one of the things that you do when you're 19 is you think "What am I going to do with my life? What are the 10 things I want to do?"
That was one of the things I wanted to do. And for some reason -- and I feel very blessed because of that -- I had the opportunity to go there 15 years later and did a documentary on the trance dance and music practices in 12 villages in Namibia. And at the end of the trip, they did a trance dance. And I asked --where you basically go into, well, a trance, and people who go into trance after hours of singing and dancing, there's a laying on of hands.
And I saw something that was so -- it was about religion, it was about medicine, it was about society. Everybody participated, and anybody who came from neighboring villages who needed it also were helped. And the next day, I interviewed the ladies that were clapping the hands, sitting down, and chanting. I said, "Why do you do that?"
And their reply is the best answer for culture I've ever heard "Because it gives us meaning." And that is something -- and so for the bushmen, that was their most complex ritual. It was as complex, as meaningful, as transcendent as Beethoven or Bruckner or Stravinsky, because this is what -- they gave all of what they had for the meaning that they get back. And that's what motivated me ever since.

Watching thousands people on Oprah participating on the flash mob dance had the same magical effect. One of the participants described the experience as “Joy rising.” For a period of time, it seemed that music joined us together—devoted fans, performers, and spectators alike; it felt like it transported us together into another space, made us appreciate its beauty and gave us a different perspective on life, a slightly richer perspective. When the history-making dance or musical trance ended, it seemed like we were a bit fuller, better...

Eat chocolate

2009-09-26T19:16:00.000-07:00

On her last visit, before her return, my sister's mother-in-law brought us a box of Lindt chocolate. For about two weeks afterward, I craved chocolate; I wondered about the joys of being a chocolatier. I even stopped by a chocolate factory. Chocolate seemed to be a substitute for the sudden absence of excitement... At times, I worried about my skin breaking up. After all the last report by an Australian team seems to suggest that there was a link between diet and acne.

Not to worry! A recent study by a Norwegian group of scientists explored a possible influence of dietary factors, including chocolate, on the relation between acne and mental distress. The study was done on 18-19 year old adolescents living in Oslo, Norway. The methodology included self-report, questionnaire, and Hopkins Symptom Checklist 10. The study concluded that, although acne seemed to be associated with mental distress and, among girls, with infrequent consumption of raw vegetables, dietary factors, including consumption of chocolate, do not alter the relationship between acne and mental distress.

Go ahead! Eat chocolate!

Photo: Lindt

Let there be Love and Gratitude!

2009-09-07T02:47:00.000-07:00

It has been over a couple of weeks since my dear sister's wedding. I am slowly recovering from all the excitement, dance and food. My sister was a very beautiful bride. Yours truly was the maid of honor and did her best to match the beauty that surrounded her. The bridal party was glamorous. The occasion was made very special by many of our childhood friends, whom we had not seen in over a decade and half, who traveled from different parts of the world to be part of the celebration... Love was all around... My dear sister and her groom's Thank you note, which they included in the wedding program, expressed it well:

We would like to thank our extraordinary parents, our wonderful siblings, and our supportive friends and family members who came from near and far. We feel embraced by your love, humbled by your presence and grateful for our blessings. Each of you has directly or indirectly played pivotal roles in our lives...

Love,
... and ...

One of the touching moments of the day was when my paternal uncle, who was subtituting for our father, and my sister went back to their seats in tears after the father-daughter dance for which my sister had chosen "Dance with my father" by Luther Vandross. As I watched my aging uncle sobbing and my mother wiping her tears, I wondered who will manage to be present at my wedding... As I looked over my paternal family members, I imagined how proud my father would have been... For a few seconds, my mind had wandered to the future and then to the past. When my mind returned to the present, the ballroom felt suddenly warmer and fuller. I felt very happy for my dear sister who was blessed to find that special someone in time to share him with the remaining family. The day could not have been more perfect!

Photo: David's Bridal

To be a social bee or a solitary bee

2009-08-06T00:52:00.000-07:00

For the last one month, I have been too exhausted to write. I was too busy being a social bee. Many friends and family members came from all over the world to celebrate my dear brother's wedding. He and his bride made the celebration a 4-day event. Apparently, that is the norm in our culture. It was interesting getting to know new family members and old ones. I felt like I was a character in one of Jane Austen's novels. The most fascinating part is getting to know me from others' point of view. Whew!

We are now getting ready for my dear sister's wedding. We expect a new set of friends and family members. For the next couple of weeks, I plan to be an even better social bee. One wedding down and another one to go. I cannot wait to rest from all the social buzz. I am thinking I may even be a better solitary bee.

*Photo: Solitary bee on Feverfew by laighleas

Micheal Jackson: Thanks for the memories

2009-06-26T01:55:00.000-07:00

Where have the years gone? It only seemed yesterday when ...

... I was mesmerized by Thriller the first time I watched it ... like the kids in Zaire...

... My classmate Nouriligne, wearing the red jacket, impressed our gym class with the moonwalk

... Monsieur Billat had our class translate the lyrics of Beat it into french

... We spent our summer nights watching old videos of Jackson 5 at my paternal grandparents' home ... with Uncle B (now gone) and my cousins

... Our nanny H, like Billie Jean, was certain she would marry Michael Jackson one day

... My siblings and I made a pact to call Michael Jackson "Michael Jackson" unlike all the other riff-raffs who insisted on calling him "Michael"

... My Ivorian friend and I debated over the lyrics of Black or White

The years are gone leaving their memories behind. Thanks for the soundtrack of our memories!

Bride and Prejudice: "Marriage into Town"

2009-06-16T20:38:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, my sister came to town to prepare for her upcoming wedding, an event that will last for three days and will include 500 guests, the norm in our tradition. Needless to say, we have been very busy planning. For the last nine months, all of our conversations revolved around the following: venue, guest list, wedding stationery, photography, videography, entertainment, reception, catering,... It has been quite an adventure.

At the end of this visit, the night before she left, I suggested we watch Bride and Prejudice, a movie I have seen many, many times. Growing up, I watched a few Bollywood films at our neighbors’. Even though our neighbors were not Indians, they loved Bollywood films; they would explain the Hindi or Punjabi dialogue to me and my sister even though they did not speak these languages, and we would listen to them even though we knew they did not know these languages. What mattered to us were the many captivating elements: music, dance, spectacle along with love, vanity and social pressures. Here is an example:

I always loved big weddings. But why didn’t someone tell me preparing for a wedding is not just fun and play? Did I mention my brother is also getting married about the same time?

Say What You Need To Say

2009-04-14T19:53:00.000-07:00

... easier said than done...

Blogosphere: A Real and Virtual Community?

2009-03-29T21:52:00.000-07:00

Have you ever knocked at a stranger’s home, found the door open and then invited yourself into the living room where two good friends were chatting by the fireplace? Have you then sat in the sofa between the friends and just enjoyed their conversation? Well, I have. That is how I started following Gérard’s blog ‘Contraste et Lumiere’.

In his own words, ‘Contraste et Lumiere’ is about:

“Le contraste c'est la dualité. La lumière c'est ce qui donne la vie aux choses, ou du moins une certaine apparence. L'objectif de ce blog est de réunir des choses très différentes souvent même opposées et de faire le pari que loin de s'annihiler, elles peuvent se combiner, se renforcer les unes et les autres et déboucher sur une plus grande clarté."

Gérard’s interests range from politics, art, literature, jazz, film, to good wine, cuisine, and philosophy. I did not know how much I enjoyed philosophy until I started reading his blog. Here are some examples. The comments his friend, Pergame, leaves him are equally interesting and hilarious. In fact, the other friend, who was chatting with him by the fireplace when I dropped in, is Pergame. His daughter Lili, who is a newcomer to the blogosphere, also passes by from time to time.

Before starting to blog, I have lurked in different blogs and even left some comments. What I did not expect is the blogosphere to be like a real community. To my surprise, I found the blogger community really real in a virtual medium kind of way. Folks, that is very interesting to me!

*Photo: web 2.0 memosphere map by i_wish_you_could_talk

Healthcare Around the World

2009-03-14T01:09:00.001-07:00

I watched a rerun of an interesting Frontline report by T.R Reid entitled ‘Sick Around the World’ in which he compared the health care systems of five capitalist democracies, i.e United Kingdom (U.K), Japan, Germany, Taiwan, and Switzerland. According to an excerpt from his upcoming book on international health care ‘We’re Number 37!’, there are four basic health care systems: the Beveridge model, the Bismarck model, the National Health Insurance [NHI] model, and the Out-of-Pocket model. He chose the U.K as an example of the Beveridge model, Taiwan as an example of the Canadian-style NHI model, Germany, Japan and Switzerland as examples of the Bismarck model. He focused on three Bismarck countries on the theory that the U.S would learn more from these private-sector systems than the British-style National Health Service. Each example offered a system that delivered health care for everyone - but with remarkable differences and concerns.

Here is the full report:

The title of T.R Reid's newest book 'We're Number 37!', which is scheduled to be published by Penguin Press in May 2009, refers to the U.S's ranking in the World Health Organization 2000 World Health Report. Although some have criticized the WHO 2000 report, most agree with the 2007 report by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) that the U.S spends more of its percentage of gross domestic production on health care than other nations including the U.K, Germany, Japan, and Switzerland. Defenders of America's health sector claim that it delivers superior health outcomes, such as longer cancer survival rates. Detractors claim that other nations' systems deliver equal or better health outcomes such as longer life expectancy and better infant mortality rates. The Frontline report shows that nearly every system faces problems of rising cost and lack of access to care. Still, as the U.S looks to reform its health care system, there are lessons that it can learn from these countries. I found the following excerpt particularly interesting:

“These four models should be fairly easy for Americans to understand because we have elements of all of them in our fragmented national health care apparatus.

When it comes to treating veterans, we're Britain or Cuba [the Beveridge model].

For Americans over the age of 65 on Medicare, we're Canada [the NHI model].

For working Americans who get insurance on the job, we're Germany [the Bismarck model].

For the 15 percent of the population who have no health insurance, the United States is Cambodia or Burkina Faso or rural India [the Out-of-Pocket model], with access to a doctor available if you can pay the bill out-of-pocket at the time of treatment or if you're sick enough to be admitted to the emergency ward at the public hospital.

The United States is unlike every other country because it maintains so many separate systems for separate classes of people...”

La Vida ...

2009-03-08T21:48:00.000-07:00

After a month of absence for the holidays, I returned to my regular workout schedule at the end of January. This time, I am starting to even motivate complete strangers. For example, a month ago, I was on a treadmill next to a red-haired guy. After a 15-min walk, I started to increase my pace and eventually sprinted. The red-haired guy next to me started running too. I increased my pace; he increased his pace. I did it again; he did it again. As I was feeling proud to have challenged my red-haired companion, I saw from the corner of my eye that he was about to collapse. He stopped; I stopped. He was breathing heavily. I panicked a little bit. Oh My God! What if he collapses? After a few minutes of huffing and puffing, the red-haired guy left with a red face. He is okay.

I am also attending a Pilates class. The instructor is a sweet Southern lady who likes to end her class with Il Divo music. I think that is her way of preventing her students from leaving the class early. Clever!

La Vida Sin Amor: lyrics

Cuando el sol cae un
dia mas
se que no quieres dormir
La pasión nos vuelve a desnudar
Porque sin ti yo no se vivir

Y en la oscuridad enloquecer
A un
hombre y una mujer

LA VIDA SIN AMOR
ES UN FUEGO SIN PASIÓN
LA
VIDA SIN AMOR
NO SIRVE YA A MI CORAZÓN
PUES OLVIDE AMAR

Lagrimas
que nunca lloré
Suplicas que no te di
un mundo .igual que solo sabe huir
dejando atrás todo mi sufrir

Y en la oscuridad piel sobre piel
El alma calma su sed

LA VIDA SIN AMOR
ES UN FUEGO SIN PASIÓN
LA VIDA SIN AMOR
NO SIRVE YA A MI CORAZÓN
PUES OLVIDE AMAR

Y
en la oscuridad piel sobre piel
El alma calma su sed

LA VIDA SIN
AMOR
ES UN FUEGO SIN PASIÓN
LA VIDA SIN AMOR
NO SIRVE YA A MI
CORAZÓN
PUES OLVIDE AMAR

February: Black History Month

2009-02-28T21:04:00.000-08:00

If you are an immigrant to the States, you may be surprised to find out that the month of February is also known as Black History Month. When I first heard about it, I wondered about its relevance. Isn’t February the shortest month? Isn’t Black history considered American history? It was then that I discovered that one of my favorite writers, Alexandre Dumas (père) was one-fourth Haitian and if he were an American, he would be black. Wow!

Ever since, I stopped wondering about its relevance. You live, you learn. This year, in order to celebrate Black History Month, Dr. Isis posted a fabulous link, which I enjoyed reading.

*Picture: Alexandre Dumas (père) by Nadar (Wikipedia)

"Dream Deferred"

2009-02-21T20:26:00.000-08:00

As I look at the amount of work I need to do before I can apply to medical school, I wonder if I will ever apply, get in and then find what I am seeking. I have been trying to analyze my motivations to go back to school. Frankly, I do not understand them.

When I was fresh out of high school, I seemed to be really focused. I knew where I was heading with certainty. Now, everything seems gray. When I feel this way, I like to read "Harlem" (sometimes called "Dream Deferred") from Langston Hughes' Montage of a Dream Deferred (1951), from which a line was taken for the title of the play A Raisin in the Sun.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
and then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Valentine's day thought

2009-02-14T15:37:00.000-08:00

“It’s no good trying to fool yourself about love. You can’t fall into it like a soft job, without dirtying up your hands. It takes muscle and guts. And if you can’t bear the thought of messing up your nice, clean soul, you’d better give up the whole idea of life, and become a saint because you’ll never make it as a human being. It’s either this world or the next.” John Osborne (Jimmy speaking to Helena, in the play Look Back in Anger)

If I were one of the characters in Look Back in Anger, I would retort back, “Love is sometimes not worth messing up your soul.” I hope Time does not prove me wrong.

Birdie Num Num

2009-02-08T18:04:00.000-08:00

One of my father’s favorite actors was Peter Sellers. He first introduced us to Sellers by renting the movie, The Party, a 1968 comedy written and directed by Blake Edwards, also starring Claudine Longet. We thought the film was hilarious; we spent that Saturday afternoon in hysterics. We enjoyed watching Peter Sellers as he played Hrundi V. Bakshi, a well-intentioned, but hapless, Indian actor who is accidentally invited to a lavish Hollywood party, where he causes havoc. Two decades later, I still burst out in laughter when I remember some of the scenes, especially when Bakshi talks gibberish and overfeeds "Birdie Num Nums" to a macaw.

I wonder how well received the movie would be if it were released in today’s politically correct environment. Did you know that, at one time, India had banned the film? [Read this]. Furthermore, according to Wikipedia, acclaimed Bengali Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray was at one time set to make his American feature debut with Sellers in a leading role for his science fiction film, The Alien. When Ray came to visit Sellers on the set of The Party, he was so disgusted by Sellers' performance and the film, he refused to meet Sellers again. He felt it was a coarse caricature [Read this for more]. Apparently, Ray and other critics of the film do not share the same sense of humor as the fans of Peter Sellers. Richard Combs, the Film Comment writer, put it well when he said The Party is "both classic farce and trenchant satire, a self-sufficient fantasy about the fantasy of Hollywood life."

Had I not seen this movie with my father when I was a child, would I have the same feeling toward it? I do not know. What actually surprises me is that ever since I watched that movie I have been using the line “Birdie Num Num” to say “I am hungry” or “The food tastes good”. Oftentimes, I do so without even realizing it. Recently, my sister brought her future in-laws from out of state to introduce them to the family in a traditional ceremony. When she went back, she emailed me a clip of “Birdie Num Num” scene. I had a good laugh. Next time you are in a restaurant and you overhear someone say “Birdie Num Num”, don’t fret because you might just be seating next to me.

With apologies to Satyajit Ray, enjoy:

Let’s party and be sane!

2009-02-01T01:23:00.000-08:00

The more you live, the wiser your parents seem. “You need to have an active social life to be sane” is something my mother always said to me and my siblings. I never really paid attention to that daily advice. I enjoyed being a "recluse". When my mom first moved to the U.S., she missed her very active and high profile social life the most. I never quite understood the importance of her social life to her well-being until I read about a recent Swedish study reported in the journal Neurology which claims that socially active people who were not easily stressed had a 50 percent lower risk of developing dementia compared to men and women who were isolated and prone to distress.

Past studies had shown the association between chronic distress (i.e. neuroticism) and greater risk of dementia, and the association between active lifestyle (i.e. high extraversion) and lower risk of dementia. The new study sought to examine the individual and combined effects of neuroticism and extraversion on the risk of dementia.

The study was based on a 6-year follow-up of 506 elderly people from the Kungsholmen Project, Stockholm, Sweden, who showed no signs of dementia upon the first examination. The volunteers’ personality traits were assessed using the Eysenck Personality Inventory. Specialists diagnosed dementia according to DSM-III-R criteria.

Among the different combinations (i.e. high neuroticism and high extraversion, high neuroticism and low extraversion, low neuroticism and high extraversion, low neuroticism and low extraversion), low neuroticism in combination with high extraversion seems to be the personality trait associated with the lowest dementia risk. However, among socially isolated individuals even low neuroticism alone seems to decrease dementia risk.

Hui-Xin Wang of the Karolinska Institute in Sweden, who led the study, said in a statement reported by Reuters.
"In the past, studies have shown that chronic distress can affect parts of the brain, such as the hippocampus, possibly leading to dementia, but our findings suggest that having a calm and outgoing personality in combination with a socially active lifestyle may decrease the risk of developing dementia even further."

Mom, you seem to be right!

A New Day!

2009-01-22T01:38:00.000-08:00

What a day it was! The day before yesterday... The day of the inauguration of Barack H. Obama ... It was a new day. It was a new beginning. It was a gift filled with faith, hope and affirmation.

No matter how hard I tried to ignore the day, it confronted and overwhelmed me. What a day of faith it was for the African slave up in heaven to see the son of an African become the leader of the free world! What a day of hope it was for poor forgotten children around the world to see a dark-skinned man from humble beginnings rise to the top! What a day of affirmation it was for Americans -past, present and future- who believed in the greatness of their country!

If only I could put the spirit of the day in a perfume bottle to spray a little each new day...

The Audacity of Hope

2009-01-17T19:36:00.000-08:00

Before president-elect Barack Obama takes the oath of office and the novelty of having him in the White House wears off, I would like to pay homage to him and, most importantly, to his supporters for making a seemingly impossible dream possible. Thank you everyone! I hope he can live up to the expectations.

One Ruble

2009-01-12T03:45:00.000-08:00

Here is a joke that describes somewhat the reason for some of my trepidation for going back to school:

A Russian walks into a bar and orders a beer. "That will be one ruble," says the bartender.
"One ruble!" the customer protests, "last week it was only fifty kopeks!"
"Well," replies the bartender, "it's fifty kopeks for the beer and fifty kopeks for the perestroika."
Reluctantly, the customer gives the bartender a ruble, and is surprised when the bartender gives him back fifty kopeks and says, "We are out of beer."

Ruble = Time (fifty kopeks) and money (fifty kopeks)
Perestroika = Healthcare system reforms
Beer = Satisfaction

Out of the mouths of babes

2009-01-06T03:40:00.000-08:00

This past Sunday, I had an interesting conversation with two four-year old twin sisters who came to visit my mother with their grandmother. They were cute and talkative. During most of the visit, they were busy playing with each other except when I interrupted them.

Me: What are your names?

Twin #1: M...

Twin #2: I... What is your name?

Me: Mi.

Twin #2: Why are you wearing a scarf? (I was having a bad hair day so I was covering my head)

Me: Why? You don't like it?

Twin #2: Did you wash your hair? (Curious look)

Twin #1: Is it still wet?

Me: No and No.

Twin #1: Then you have to remove it (Pause). Where is your baby?

Me: What? Am I supposed to have a baby? (Blank stare) Here is my baby (I pointed at an old Teddy bear that I had)

Twin #1 and #2: Nooo (They started laughing) That is a Teddy bear!

It was good having our home filled with the laughter of young kids. After they left, I was motivated to wash and style my hair. Thanks I and M!

When is Time to let go of a dream?

2009-01-02T09:11:00.000-08:00

I am thirty-something. I am a single female. I have an advanced degree. The next obvious step would be to settle. That means find a husband and a well-paying job. No! Not if Fate has anything to do with it. There is a very stubborn inner voice that will not convince me to let go of a life-long dream of going to Medical School. That inner voice is remarkably loud and, at times, keeps me awake. Not long ago, I found a helpful website. Click here.

Why blog?

2009-01-01T06:10:00.000-08:00

I am usually a quiet person. “Menew Zem Alesh? Techawechi!” (Why are you quiet? Say something) is a phrase I dread at social gatherings. My silence is, of course, only a façade because, in my head, I have very heated conversations. It is, well, safer that way. I do not offend anyone and no one offends me.
Then, why blog?
1. I want to start the new year with a new hobby.
2. I plan to do it for pleasure.
3. I want to do it for the sake of learning.