"One of the original players,
From the HIMALAYA."
Said by the character Jerome in the sitcom, Martin. Season 2, Episode 7.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Thursday, February 26, 2015
"Porn, it had been said, is a driver of technology.
Pornography has spurred the adoption of most tech innovations of the last generation. It helped hasten the growth of VHS tapes, interactive CDs and DVDs, and pretty much the entire Internet."
From the February 25, 2015 NewYork Times article Strippers Go Undercover on Snapchat, by Nick Bilton.
Pornography has spurred the adoption of most tech innovations of the last generation. It helped hasten the growth of VHS tapes, interactive CDs and DVDs, and pretty much the entire Internet."
From the February 25, 2015 NewYork Times article Strippers Go Undercover on Snapchat, by Nick Bilton.
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Even without the help of technology, the world is still small.
I went to Flushing a few weekends ago and took the 7 train there. The last stop of the E train in the city is near my place so taking that to 74th Street Jackson Heights was easy. Afterwards, when I was waiting on the 7 train platform to transfer, I noticed two guys standing not far from me because one of them was really tall. His brown jacket also helped make him memorable for some reason. I eventually continued on with what I was doing and forgot about them completely inside the rumbling 7 as I stood by the door's window to stare out.
It was about four hours later when I was back on the 7 train at Main Street to head home. I like to ride the second subway-car from the front whenever getting off the 74th street stop to go into the city. It's funny because after I exited the 7 and was heading to the staircase, I watched the same two guys from earlier step out of the first car of the subway in front of me. I immediately recognized the tall guy's brown coat and had myself a chuckle. As they were busy talking and not noticing me walking behind them, all I could think to myself were what are the odds.
But coincidences like that seem to pop-up every now and then, and it always reminds me of how connected we all truly are.
When my good friends Jenn and Daniel came to visit me while I was living in Korea years ago, my only English-speaking and American friend in Seoul was Hyunha.
Hyunha had moved from the Tri-State area and arrived in Seoul after I did. She was living in Korea for the first time with her two daughters, who I was so happy to be able to meet as well. They were in grade school and attending international school to not only be submersed in Korean culture, but also spend quality time with their mom. Hyunha and I had met through a mutual friend from NYC, and we instantly hit it off. We had a lot of fun late nights of just talking and downing bottles of whiskey together as we traded stories and shared parts of our lives.
It was soon after our first initial meeting in Korea that my friends Jenn and Daniel were coming to visit. Since moving to Seoul, I felt like I hadn't seen them in forever. We had also been roommates during my time in NYC before I left, and so my excitement to see them was boiling over. Their flight was scheduled to arrive at 5am, which left me no choice but to sleep at the airport that night. Back then, the only way to get to Incheon Airport from Seoul by public transportation was through an airport bus. These buses had multiple lines and picked-up from most places in Korea's capital city. The ride took about an hour, and the last buses usually scheduled to arrive at the airport were around midnight.
When I picked a long bench inside the airport to sleep on, I only noticed maybe one or two other people also doing so. Surprisingly, none of the airport staff bothered us and we were all left alone as if we weren't there. I'm not sure if that night was an aberration, but there were multiple planes from JFK that all landed that night in Seoul around 5am. I got a spot at one of the many passenger arrival gates and watched as people strolled out one-by-one with luggage in tow. At one point as I stood there waiting, I noticed a certain man come out alone. His face immediately put me at alert, and I studied him carefully to be certain that I was thinking of the right person.
The thing is, Hyunha might have not remembered it, but Korea wasn't the first time we crossed paths. I had seen her before in NYC many years back at a few house parties that our mutual friend threw. I can also recall seeing her with her husband, and he was the same man I had just seen walk out the airport gate alone. Running into him at the airport at that time was a complete shock to me. Because we had just met, I only knew in a general sense that Hyunha's husband at that time was coming into town. I had also just mentioned to her that some close friends from NYC were visiting, so neither of us ever thought there would be any sort of connection.
I watched closely as he walked off to the side to make a phone call. I waited until after he hung up to approach him and say hi. He of course had no idea who I was because he didn't know my face, but eventually figured out what was going on. Soon after, my friends Jenn and Daniel arrived. When we ended up running into Hyunha's then husband later on, it was near a ticket stand for airport buses. The 3 of us had just learned that there were no buses for another hour and the lines of people waiting for them outside were getting long. That's why we were extremely grateful when he invited us to go with him back to Seoul in his taxi. He was in fact going to the neighborhood right next to where I lived and where my friends were also staying. The funniest part was when we were in the cab ride back and he called Hyunha to tell her what had happened.
A few months later when I eventually ended up leaving Korea (not by choice), I was waiting in the immigration line at Suvarnabhumi Airport to enter Thailand. I was there on a one-way ticket with what I planned to be a two-month stay since that's what my visa allotted. I was alone, on an extremely tight budget, didn't know anything about Thailand, and had no idea what I was going to do after exiting the airport. I remember the immigration area being very large and new. It's hard to recall what the reason was, but all of the stations were empty and the many rows of us in line had to wait for some time. I was fortunate to be first in the line all the way to the left and patiently stood with my immigration card in hand. My feelings anticipating that moment where someone would come and stamp my passport to send me into the unknown of Thailand was something I wasn't sure how to feel about.
That's when I heard a voice from behind me. "So, what kind of writer are you?"
On my immigration form, I wasn't sure how favorable "unemployed clueless loser" under occupation would sound. I was going to Thailand without any idea about anything, so I decided to put down "freelance writer" instead.
I turned around and saw a friendly looking guy. A part of it was funny because I could probably count on one hand the number of times in the past 6 months that I had had a conversation with a stranger in English, let alone an American. I told him I had studied writing in college and had worked in magazine publishing in NYC, on top of writing my own fiction on the side. He told me he was from Utah and worked in communications. He had currently moved to Vietnam for work and lived there with his wife. When he found out I had worked at an epicurean magazine, he mentioned that he had a friend who also worked at one. When he told me who it was, my jaw dropped because it was someone from my old job! This was someone who I not only had the pleasure of working with and getting to know, but also someone I respected immensely because they're such a great person.
The nice guy continued to tell me that when my former colleague went to Vietnam for their honeymoon, they had met up with him and his wife for dinner. This all happened during the time we still worked together at the magazine, and both of the couples had met through a mutual friend. Years later, after I had returned to NYC and was working in the office of a restaurant in TriBeCa, my old colleague came for dinner one night. I stopped in that evening to say hi, and it was was the first time we had both seen each other since I had left for Asia. Seeing them was great, and the amusing thing was that their dinner companion was the mutual friend who had introduced them to the man I met at Suvarnabhumi Airport.
Before I left Korea for Thailand, I spent a long period of time being unemployed and looking for work. Since I really needed to earn money, I eventually ended up taking this part-time bartending gig. This was an opportunity that came my way through a friend who had nothing to do with the food industry, it was just a right-place-in-the-right-time situation. The bar I worked at was actually a gay bar in one of Seoul's two major gay districts, Itaewon and Jongno. The area of my workplace, Jongno, was known to be quieter and more subdued than Itaewon, the other major gay neighborhood of the city.
The bar that I worked at happened to be named after this indie American movie with somewhat of a cult following. The film is funny with a sexual storyline and takes place in NYC. Some of the characters are gay, giving the movie a large LGBT fan base. That's the reason why the man who first opened the gay bar named it after the movie, because he was a super fan. When he eventually sold the bar to the owner who would become my boss, the name remained and continued to shine bright in the white sign above its third floor windows.
The gay bar wasn't too big, and my boss was always there. On busy weekend nights, there would be three of us behind the bar, the third being another bartender who worked there full-time. I normally never came out on slower weekdays except for when the full-time worker had a day off. It was an early weekday like that when this fateful encounter happened, and I remember it like yesterday. The bar was completely dead that night until I saw a straight couple open the door to come in and sit at the bar. Now what made them so different and caught my attention was that they weren't Korean, but that they were caucasian.
That might not sound like a big deal, but having two patrons like them casually come for a drink at a random gay bar in Jongno was like seeing two unicorns walk in---it just seemed non-existent. The better news was that not only were they American, but they were also from NYC! Since my boss didn't speak english, whenever anything needed to be communicated to tourists or english speaking non-Koreans, it was my job to attend to them and make conversation if they were sitting at the bar. After the couple sat down and started drinking, I ended up talking with them for hours. She was currently living in China with her boyfriend and working as a university professor at a law school. The two of them had come to Seoul for a short vacation and their hotel for the night was nearby. The fact that they were even staying in a hotel in Jongno was a first for me because even though it's well-known, it's also a very old part of the city with no major hotels, skyscrapers, or hoards of young people partying everywhere. It's known more for having lot of beautiful and traditional houses called hanoks, and being close to the Royal Palace.
When I asked how the two of them ended up choosing this bar to drink at, they said they didn't know where else to go. They had been looking for a place, and decided on us because they saw the name of the bar and not only liked it, but was also intrigued (the bar name also used to be commonly used as a pejorative term in American culture). That night with them ended up being really fun, and conversing with the both of them was a blast. Bartending at the gay bar was a great experience, but I often had shifts were I just felt frustrated and down about life, not understanding why I was having such a hard time finding a job I really wanted. That's why when they even graciously left me a really nice tip, it totally made my day because typically in Korean culture, tipping is not a norm at all. We exchanged emails and I thanked them again so much for coming in as they left later that night. Meeting them at work had been such a refreshing breath of air for me, and I was so humbled by how nice they were.
Less than five months later, I was living in Thailand and went to the capital of Laos for my first-ever visa run. This was after my first 2-month visa had expired, and I went to Vientiane to acquire a new one at the Thai embassy there. This was the closest and most affordable-to-get-to Thai embassy from Bangkok, and getting there required an overnight bus or train to Nong Khai before crossing over into Laos.
On my first and only day of the trip, I wandered around Vientiane as I waited for my passport and visa to get processed. At one point, I am walking on a street along a big road when I see the same American couple from that night at work in Seoul walking towards me. We immediately say hi, and even took a picture together because we couldn't believe our luck. Out of all of the places to be on the planet at that very moment, we somehow ended up at the same exact spot in Laos together.
Who knows, maybe we will all somehow cross paths again. Fate is a crazy thing.
That's when I heard a voice from behind me. "So, what kind of writer are you?"
On my immigration form, I wasn't sure how favorable "unemployed clueless loser" under occupation would sound. I was going to Thailand without any idea about anything, so I decided to put down "freelance writer" instead.
I turned around and saw a friendly looking guy. A part of it was funny because I could probably count on one hand the number of times in the past 6 months that I had had a conversation with a stranger in English, let alone an American. I told him I had studied writing in college and had worked in magazine publishing in NYC, on top of writing my own fiction on the side. He told me he was from Utah and worked in communications. He had currently moved to Vietnam for work and lived there with his wife. When he found out I had worked at an epicurean magazine, he mentioned that he had a friend who also worked at one. When he told me who it was, my jaw dropped because it was someone from my old job! This was someone who I not only had the pleasure of working with and getting to know, but also someone I respected immensely because they're such a great person.
The nice guy continued to tell me that when my former colleague went to Vietnam for their honeymoon, they had met up with him and his wife for dinner. This all happened during the time we still worked together at the magazine, and both of the couples had met through a mutual friend. Years later, after I had returned to NYC and was working in the office of a restaurant in TriBeCa, my old colleague came for dinner one night. I stopped in that evening to say hi, and it was was the first time we had both seen each other since I had left for Asia. Seeing them was great, and the amusing thing was that their dinner companion was the mutual friend who had introduced them to the man I met at Suvarnabhumi Airport.
Before I left Korea for Thailand, I spent a long period of time being unemployed and looking for work. Since I really needed to earn money, I eventually ended up taking this part-time bartending gig. This was an opportunity that came my way through a friend who had nothing to do with the food industry, it was just a right-place-in-the-right-time situation. The bar I worked at was actually a gay bar in one of Seoul's two major gay districts, Itaewon and Jongno. The area of my workplace, Jongno, was known to be quieter and more subdued than Itaewon, the other major gay neighborhood of the city.
The bar that I worked at happened to be named after this indie American movie with somewhat of a cult following. The film is funny with a sexual storyline and takes place in NYC. Some of the characters are gay, giving the movie a large LGBT fan base. That's the reason why the man who first opened the gay bar named it after the movie, because he was a super fan. When he eventually sold the bar to the owner who would become my boss, the name remained and continued to shine bright in the white sign above its third floor windows.
The gay bar wasn't too big, and my boss was always there. On busy weekend nights, there would be three of us behind the bar, the third being another bartender who worked there full-time. I normally never came out on slower weekdays except for when the full-time worker had a day off. It was an early weekday like that when this fateful encounter happened, and I remember it like yesterday. The bar was completely dead that night until I saw a straight couple open the door to come in and sit at the bar. Now what made them so different and caught my attention was that they weren't Korean, but that they were caucasian.
That might not sound like a big deal, but having two patrons like them casually come for a drink at a random gay bar in Jongno was like seeing two unicorns walk in---it just seemed non-existent. The better news was that not only were they American, but they were also from NYC! Since my boss didn't speak english, whenever anything needed to be communicated to tourists or english speaking non-Koreans, it was my job to attend to them and make conversation if they were sitting at the bar. After the couple sat down and started drinking, I ended up talking with them for hours. She was currently living in China with her boyfriend and working as a university professor at a law school. The two of them had come to Seoul for a short vacation and their hotel for the night was nearby. The fact that they were even staying in a hotel in Jongno was a first for me because even though it's well-known, it's also a very old part of the city with no major hotels, skyscrapers, or hoards of young people partying everywhere. It's known more for having lot of beautiful and traditional houses called hanoks, and being close to the Royal Palace.
When I asked how the two of them ended up choosing this bar to drink at, they said they didn't know where else to go. They had been looking for a place, and decided on us because they saw the name of the bar and not only liked it, but was also intrigued (the bar name also used to be commonly used as a pejorative term in American culture). That night with them ended up being really fun, and conversing with the both of them was a blast. Bartending at the gay bar was a great experience, but I often had shifts were I just felt frustrated and down about life, not understanding why I was having such a hard time finding a job I really wanted. That's why when they even graciously left me a really nice tip, it totally made my day because typically in Korean culture, tipping is not a norm at all. We exchanged emails and I thanked them again so much for coming in as they left later that night. Meeting them at work had been such a refreshing breath of air for me, and I was so humbled by how nice they were.
Less than five months later, I was living in Thailand and went to the capital of Laos for my first-ever visa run. This was after my first 2-month visa had expired, and I went to Vientiane to acquire a new one at the Thai embassy there. This was the closest and most affordable-to-get-to Thai embassy from Bangkok, and getting there required an overnight bus or train to Nong Khai before crossing over into Laos.
On my first and only day of the trip, I wandered around Vientiane as I waited for my passport and visa to get processed. At one point, I am walking on a street along a big road when I see the same American couple from that night at work in Seoul walking towards me. We immediately say hi, and even took a picture together because we couldn't believe our luck. Out of all of the places to be on the planet at that very moment, we somehow ended up at the same exact spot in Laos together.
Who knows, maybe we will all somehow cross paths again. Fate is a crazy thing.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Saturday, February 14, 2015
"'And to have in a city of eight-and-a-half million people,' he went on, 'just think of it, to have 11, 12 days without a murder; we had a couple days in there, I think, where we didn't have any shootings or stabbings, either. So, it's just a reflection of just how safe the city has become.'"
From the February 13, 205 New York Times Article, "Breaking a Record, 11 Days Pass in New York City with No Killings." Written by Al Baker.
From the February 13, 205 New York Times Article, "Breaking a Record, 11 Days Pass in New York City with No Killings." Written by Al Baker.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
This morning when I was waiting at the Park Place subway platform to go to work, I saw a group of young students on a field trip. My guess is that they were in the 4th grade, and they all looked so happy as they excitedly walked in a single file. Seeing them was really a lovely way to start my day today.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Dear friends,
Please check out my latest story for VICE's food channel MUNCHIES: Makgeolli Is the Drink of Choice for Farmers, Korean Rappers, and Old People.
Thank you.
Please check out my latest story for VICE's food channel MUNCHIES: Makgeolli Is the Drink of Choice for Farmers, Korean Rappers, and Old People.
Thank you.
Wednesday, February 04, 2015
Monday, February 02, 2015
Sunday, February 01, 2015
It's great that in New York City, good conversation can unexpectedly pop up at any moment.
Last Thursday night, I had gone out to dinner and drinks in the East Village. It was past midnight and the streets looked absolutely beautiful from the heavy snow that was falling and covering everything visible to the eye. I parted ways with my friend after they hopped into a taxi cab on 2nd Avenue first. I caught one for myself soon after, and my nice driver started making conversation with me.
"Are you Chinese?" he asked.
"No, I'm Korean-American," I responded a little buzzed and with a smile.
He then apologized for asking me what he did, and I told him it was fine and not a big deal. Then he began to share with me about all the times he's mistakenly been asked by his customers if he is Indian, and how he always had to tell them no he's from Bangladesh. He described how it sometimes hurt him deep in his soul when people made an assumption with their question. He beat his left chest with an open hand as he told me about how proud he was to be who he was, and where he was from. His wife and children were all still back in his home country, and his description about how much he missed them made me want to tell his family about the great father he was.
After I shut the yellow taxi door while in front of my apartment building, I stood there and watched the car slowly disappear into the snowy night. And I wished him all the best.
Last Thursday night, I had gone out to dinner and drinks in the East Village. It was past midnight and the streets looked absolutely beautiful from the heavy snow that was falling and covering everything visible to the eye. I parted ways with my friend after they hopped into a taxi cab on 2nd Avenue first. I caught one for myself soon after, and my nice driver started making conversation with me.
"Are you Chinese?" he asked.
"No, I'm Korean-American," I responded a little buzzed and with a smile.
He then apologized for asking me what he did, and I told him it was fine and not a big deal. Then he began to share with me about all the times he's mistakenly been asked by his customers if he is Indian, and how he always had to tell them no he's from Bangladesh. He described how it sometimes hurt him deep in his soul when people made an assumption with their question. He beat his left chest with an open hand as he told me about how proud he was to be who he was, and where he was from. His wife and children were all still back in his home country, and his description about how much he missed them made me want to tell his family about the great father he was.
After I shut the yellow taxi door while in front of my apartment building, I stood there and watched the car slowly disappear into the snowy night. And I wished him all the best.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
"When I first started, I was helping with production. Because it was such a small company at that time, everybody had to do everything. Aside from me, there was a production manager, and a woman that cut all the samples by hand. When it came to shipping, even Anna was putting boxes together. After Anna did her first fashion show in fall 1991, the company got much bigger and Anna realized she needed to hire more people. She also realized that she needed somebody to help just her, so in 1992 she made me her assistant."
From the January 22, 2015 article from The Daily Front Row titled The Assistant Files, Vol. 62: Thomas Miller, Anna Sui.
Congrats to you, Thomas!
From the January 22, 2015 article from The Daily Front Row titled The Assistant Files, Vol. 62: Thomas Miller, Anna Sui.
Congrats to you, Thomas!
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Monday, January 12, 2015
Sunday, January 11, 2015
The past week or so has been really cold in NYC. It makes walking the city by foot pretty much impossible, and I long for warm sunny weather.
About a year ago, I got on the subway one evening to go to this bar alone where some friends were throwing a party. Last winter was pretty brutal too in terms of the cold, and I remember this day being particularly miserable as well.
As I gripped a pole and stood in the shaky subway while it pulled out of Union Square, I noticed a friend named Anna Margaret sitting nearby bundled-up in many layers and with a bag of takeout food. We knew each other from working together at a restaurant in the East Village, and I probably hadn't seen her in close to 4 years. I immediately said hi, and it was so great to catch up with her for a bit. Then I told her that if she had no plans, she should come with me to where I was going because the people at the bar throwing the party had also worked at the same restaurant as us, so we all were friends.
That's when she responded with, "Tae, I'm old and cold," and proceeded to tell me about how excited she was go to home with her dinner in hand and stay inside in the comfort of warmth. Now, Anna Margaret is not someone I consider actually old because we're the same age. But when she said that to me, I completely understood what she meant and wished her a good night.
What she said, "old and cold," has really stuck with me since. I find it popping into my head a lot more nowadays. And in this winter's current New York deep freeze, I too feel too damn "old and cold" to do the many things I once really enjoyed.
Below are some pictures from my time living in Bangkok that I never posted. They were all taken while I was on the backseat of a motorcycle-taxi (motosai), and it brings me a little warmth to think about my days in tropical weather when this was the way I traveled around town.
About a year ago, I got on the subway one evening to go to this bar alone where some friends were throwing a party. Last winter was pretty brutal too in terms of the cold, and I remember this day being particularly miserable as well.
As I gripped a pole and stood in the shaky subway while it pulled out of Union Square, I noticed a friend named Anna Margaret sitting nearby bundled-up in many layers and with a bag of takeout food. We knew each other from working together at a restaurant in the East Village, and I probably hadn't seen her in close to 4 years. I immediately said hi, and it was so great to catch up with her for a bit. Then I told her that if she had no plans, she should come with me to where I was going because the people at the bar throwing the party had also worked at the same restaurant as us, so we all were friends.
That's when she responded with, "Tae, I'm old and cold," and proceeded to tell me about how excited she was go to home with her dinner in hand and stay inside in the comfort of warmth. Now, Anna Margaret is not someone I consider actually old because we're the same age. But when she said that to me, I completely understood what she meant and wished her a good night.
What she said, "old and cold," has really stuck with me since. I find it popping into my head a lot more nowadays. And in this winter's current New York deep freeze, I too feel too damn "old and cold" to do the many things I once really enjoyed.
Below are some pictures from my time living in Bangkok that I never posted. They were all taken while I was on the backseat of a motorcycle-taxi (motosai), and it brings me a little warmth to think about my days in tropical weather when this was the way I traveled around town.
Friday, December 26, 2014
Thursday, December 18, 2014
"Many gay men that I work with see their bodies through the lens of future attainments. By this I mean that they tolerate their current body because they hold the belied that in a few months or years, it will be much improved. 'I need to lose this layer of body fat so my abs will show.' 'When summer comes, I will be in top shape for the beach.' They never actually accept their body as it is in the present moment."
From the book The Velvet Rage, written by Alan Downs PHD. Page 190.
From the book The Velvet Rage, written by Alan Downs PHD. Page 190.
In a work meeting a few weeks ago, the topic of personal blogs and blogging came up. The discussion on the matter was short and a bit random, but the one thing that was determined was that personal blogs have changed a lot in the past few years. And by "changed," meaning people don't update their personal blogs anymore, like ever.
That struck a note with me, because it's absolutely right.
I have been blogging here for quite some time now, and it is true that so many blogs I once enjoyed reading are just neglected now with the majority of them not having been updated for years. It bums me out, but life happens. I'm sure these former bloggers are in a new phase in their life where updating their site is something they no longer have time for, or something that doesn't even cross their mind anymore. Or maybe they've switched platforms and no longer care for Blogspot? Or perhaps their new fiancé or baby takes up much of their time now? Who knows, everyone has their own reasons.
And now I'm trying to think of what my own reasons are for not updating as much as usual. I know for a fact that among many other things, a part of it is laziness. But besides that, I don't really have many other excuses. I guess a part of it also has to do with the fact that I am getting older, and to some extent I feel like I should have my shit together at this age. But I don't feel like I have my shit together---and I'm not sure if that's something I want to always share here for all of my non-existent readers. Having your shit together can mean a lot of things to many people, but for me personally, I don't know if I'm anywhere close to feeling that. But then that also makes me think, will I ever feel like I have my shit together? Probably not. And I don't say that to be pessimistic, but only because I've recently come to a better understanding about my personality and the reasoning behind why I act and think the way I do sometimes. This learning process comes to me in small nuggets, but oh man when I truly do learn something about why my brain automatically thinks this or that, I treasure that information and use it as a tool to become better and happier in whatever way I can.
So about feeling like things are not where I'd like them to be in my life by this age, I know that's not just about accomplishing all of my life's goals. But it's also about realizing that in a lot of ways, I do have my shit together and I have gotten some stuff done.
And that is why I will continue on writing here.
Sometimes I'll read old entries here from years ago, and it feels so satisfying to see how much I've grown and bettered myself since then. But then again I know there's still a lot more work that needs to be done.
That struck a note with me, because it's absolutely right.
I have been blogging here for quite some time now, and it is true that so many blogs I once enjoyed reading are just neglected now with the majority of them not having been updated for years. It bums me out, but life happens. I'm sure these former bloggers are in a new phase in their life where updating their site is something they no longer have time for, or something that doesn't even cross their mind anymore. Or maybe they've switched platforms and no longer care for Blogspot? Or perhaps their new fiancé or baby takes up much of their time now? Who knows, everyone has their own reasons.
And now I'm trying to think of what my own reasons are for not updating as much as usual. I know for a fact that among many other things, a part of it is laziness. But besides that, I don't really have many other excuses. I guess a part of it also has to do with the fact that I am getting older, and to some extent I feel like I should have my shit together at this age. But I don't feel like I have my shit together---and I'm not sure if that's something I want to always share here for all of my non-existent readers. Having your shit together can mean a lot of things to many people, but for me personally, I don't know if I'm anywhere close to feeling that. But then that also makes me think, will I ever feel like I have my shit together? Probably not. And I don't say that to be pessimistic, but only because I've recently come to a better understanding about my personality and the reasoning behind why I act and think the way I do sometimes. This learning process comes to me in small nuggets, but oh man when I truly do learn something about why my brain automatically thinks this or that, I treasure that information and use it as a tool to become better and happier in whatever way I can.
So about feeling like things are not where I'd like them to be in my life by this age, I know that's not just about accomplishing all of my life's goals. But it's also about realizing that in a lot of ways, I do have my shit together and I have gotten some stuff done.
And that is why I will continue on writing here.
Sometimes I'll read old entries here from years ago, and it feels so satisfying to see how much I've grown and bettered myself since then. But then again I know there's still a lot more work that needs to be done.
Monday, December 15, 2014
"The Arab Spring, at first glance, didn't seem to have much to do with climate change. But, it does. One of the ways it caused the Arab Spring was through the spike in basic grain prices that happened between 2010 and 2011. When people can't get the basic necessities of life, they riot. There also were these basic economic demands of the rising cost of living, which were linked to the price of imported grain. It's not to reduce the Arab Spring to a matter of climate change, but you could see how that food-price spike was a trigger."
Said by author/journalist, Christian Parenti, on Journey to Planet Earth: Extreme Realities. PBS.
Said by author/journalist, Christian Parenti, on Journey to Planet Earth: Extreme Realities. PBS.
Saturday, December 06, 2014
"What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
You're just so fucking rong."
From the song Rong by Royksopp.
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
What the fuck is rong with you?
You're just so fucking rong."
From the song Rong by Royksopp.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
""I think it's extremely important to forgive. Otherwise it just builds up like toxic waste. There's nothing worse than holding a grudge. Listen, people can do unforgivable things, but you have to let it go and say, 'Look, we're all human beings. We make mistakes.' To hold any kind of resentment is like taking rat poison and waiting for the rat to die.'"
Said by Jennifer Aniston in the December 2014/January 2015 issue of Harper's Bazaar.
Said by Jennifer Aniston in the December 2014/January 2015 issue of Harper's Bazaar.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Monday, November 17, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Sometimes, 5am can feel just the same as 11pm to me. I'm not sure what sort of weird internal clock I was born with, but I've come to somewhat fully accept my lifelong sleep issues as a part of who I truly I am. There's no sleeping pill, breathing exercise, diet or routine that has ever been a dependable solution to my insomnia, and so here I am typing.
When I was living abroad in Thailand for years, I often went long periods without the Internet. The connection at my apartment was so outrageously slow and undependable, that I couldn't bear myself to pay for it any longer. I would spend more time trying to get a connection rather than being connected, and so I learned to live without it.
Instead, I would go somewhere in the daytime that had wifi, and download as much stuff on my iPad as possible to use for that night. I never had a television during my 2 years in Bangkok either, so my studio apartment was nice and mellow. I normally just listened to music and read, or sat on my balcony smoking a joint and daydreamed. Then when I discovered the magic of downloadable podcasts, the voice of Terry Gross and so many others often soothed me late into the night. When I first learned about downloadable podcasts, it really did help me so much. I was living in a foreign country alone, had no Internet or TV, no one to talk to, no smartphone, and basically no form of leisurely distraction to help pass the time. Listening to podcasts changed all that, both at home or while I was out. I used to ride the bus everywhere all over the city to get to where I needed, and podcasts got me through countless hours of insane Bangkok traffic. Even to this day, when I listen to Snap Judgement, it totally brings me back to staring out the windows of air conditioner-less buses with so much hustle and bustle happening around me.
Now that I've been back in New York living with a smartphone, I definitely still enjoy listening to podcasts. However, with access to high-speed wifi at home (along with so many other choice distractions), it's hard to get around to it sometimes when I can read the news or re-download an old video purchase from iTunes.
But nevertheless, there's nothing better than listening to a good podcast to fall asleep to---no matter where I am in the world.
When I was living abroad in Thailand for years, I often went long periods without the Internet. The connection at my apartment was so outrageously slow and undependable, that I couldn't bear myself to pay for it any longer. I would spend more time trying to get a connection rather than being connected, and so I learned to live without it.
Instead, I would go somewhere in the daytime that had wifi, and download as much stuff on my iPad as possible to use for that night. I never had a television during my 2 years in Bangkok either, so my studio apartment was nice and mellow. I normally just listened to music and read, or sat on my balcony smoking a joint and daydreamed. Then when I discovered the magic of downloadable podcasts, the voice of Terry Gross and so many others often soothed me late into the night. When I first learned about downloadable podcasts, it really did help me so much. I was living in a foreign country alone, had no Internet or TV, no one to talk to, no smartphone, and basically no form of leisurely distraction to help pass the time. Listening to podcasts changed all that, both at home or while I was out. I used to ride the bus everywhere all over the city to get to where I needed, and podcasts got me through countless hours of insane Bangkok traffic. Even to this day, when I listen to Snap Judgement, it totally brings me back to staring out the windows of air conditioner-less buses with so much hustle and bustle happening around me.
Now that I've been back in New York living with a smartphone, I definitely still enjoy listening to podcasts. However, with access to high-speed wifi at home (along with so many other choice distractions), it's hard to get around to it sometimes when I can read the news or re-download an old video purchase from iTunes.
But nevertheless, there's nothing better than listening to a good podcast to fall asleep to---no matter where I am in the world.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Thursday, November 13, 2014
It's nice to be home in comfortable stretchy pants doing absolutely nothing.
While I enjoy going out and having a good meal every now and then, or grabbing a drink at a low-key spot with friends, I'm equally happy sitting on my ass at home. Years of wandering, couch crashing and basically living like a drifter has helped me truly appreciate staying in. I've been watching too much television though, and need to curb that more. But it's so mindless and numbingly distracting and sometimes I just don't want to use my brain.
I recently started working at a new job that I'm really enjoying. After getting laid off 5 years ago from an epicurean magazine, almost every job since has been at a restaurant or bar, so it's really refreshing to transition back to an office gig. Waiting tables and working mostly service-related jobs taught me so much, and now I'm ready to apply all my experience and learned knowledge into this new position. I really feel so humbled to be working with such kind and professional people, and am forever grateful to my bosses for believing in me and taking a chance on me.
While I'm not working at an actual restaurant or bar at this new gig, it is still within the New York City restaurant and bar world. I feel proud to have worked my way through the industry to get where I am now, and I love everything about it. This industry is home to me, and running into old coworkers or acquaintances all the time makes it all that more feel like this is where I belong.
While I enjoy going out and having a good meal every now and then, or grabbing a drink at a low-key spot with friends, I'm equally happy sitting on my ass at home. Years of wandering, couch crashing and basically living like a drifter has helped me truly appreciate staying in. I've been watching too much television though, and need to curb that more. But it's so mindless and numbingly distracting and sometimes I just don't want to use my brain.
I recently started working at a new job that I'm really enjoying. After getting laid off 5 years ago from an epicurean magazine, almost every job since has been at a restaurant or bar, so it's really refreshing to transition back to an office gig. Waiting tables and working mostly service-related jobs taught me so much, and now I'm ready to apply all my experience and learned knowledge into this new position. I really feel so humbled to be working with such kind and professional people, and am forever grateful to my bosses for believing in me and taking a chance on me.
While I'm not working at an actual restaurant or bar at this new gig, it is still within the New York City restaurant and bar world. I feel proud to have worked my way through the industry to get where I am now, and I love everything about it. This industry is home to me, and running into old coworkers or acquaintances all the time makes it all that more feel like this is where I belong.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
I've always been the type of person to hold stuff in, letting things internalize in my head and then eventually rot inside me as my overthinking and analysis covered it with an impenetrable shell. The thing is, this process does not feel good at all. In fact, it can feel quite terrible. These cannonballs of emotion take a heavy toll both physically and emotionally, and because I'm not quite good at expressing myself verbally, putting things into words on paper---or the blinking cursor on a computer---has always been extremely cathartic. To me, writing is the opposite of talking because it's not just about expressing yourself in the moment of now, but having the ability to really think about what I want to say and how I want to say it in order to convey a methodical truth instead of a fleeting emotion. With all of that said, I should be writing a lot more honestly on this blog like I used to. Not an hour goes by in my day where some thoughts I need to express and let out here on my blog pops into my head, but I just let it float away. I should be grabbing these transient thoughts to turn them into something I can write about, but I haven't been doing that for a long time now. A part of it was because I had been looking for a new job, and I didn't want my honesty to be interpreted as a high-enough level of crazy to keep me from getting hired somewhere. But I feel like I did myself a disservice by doing that, because in reality this is who I am and no non-existent job (or anything for that matter) should ever hinder me. All of that behavior is related to my anxiety, and the crazy wheels that start spinning in my head when I feel like I need to predict what the most terrible situation of something could be in order to prepare myself to battle its consequences. If I am comfortable with someone, it's such a relief to just be myself and go with the flow. But I usually don't feel totally comfortable around a lot of people, and of course that's more my problem than theirs. It's like at my last job, my boss would joke that I'm too uptight but in reality all that stems from the fact that I want to accomplish whatever I'm doing in the most efficient and correct way possible because I don't want to deal with the aftermath of fucking up. Anyone who's never met me and is reading this must think I'm an anal nutjob, but I really don't think I am. I just tend to observe and soak things in more, that's all. We can't all be loudmouths who love to talk, right? This past Saturday night I went to a bar in the East Village with some friends and there were two people there who I didn't know very well. But we all just drank boilermakers and talked for hours in the comforts of a leather booth, and I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so free and absolutely at ease in front of people who weren't super close friends. It had been so long since I felt that that the next day, all I could think about was why can't I feel like that all the time? Why can't I just let go and chill out and join in on the conversation? There's a reason why I hate hanging out in large groups and big crowds. Spending time with someone one-on-one just always suited me better, and I like being able to immerse myself in the company that I'm in. Sometimes I just get so used to listening and observing that it's mistakenly perceived as so many other things. In all my travels while I was living alone in Thailand and went on many trips to nearby cities and countries, there were rarely any times where I made small talk or had a conversation with a stranger. And I traveled a lot! Actually there was one time in Laos where I kept running into the same old man in the streets of Vientiane and asked to take a picture of him, but there weren't many more. I guess what I'm trying to say with all of this is, since I'm not chatty by nature, I should at least be releasing my thoughts into the written word. Or if I'm not going to write as much as I should, I should be out meeting new people and shooting the shit. Just always being along with my thoughts and a joint isn't always going to cut it. Even at 31, I'm still learning how to break out of my shell. It's late in the night and I can't sleep and don't know where I am going with this entry, and that's okay. As long as I'm being unreservedly honest with myself, I think I'll be alright...
Monday, November 10, 2014
Dear friends,
Please check out my latest interview for VICE's MUNCHIES: I WAS AN INSANE CHEF UNTIL I STARTED DRINKING BROTH.
Thanks.
Please check out my latest interview for VICE's MUNCHIES: I WAS AN INSANE CHEF UNTIL I STARTED DRINKING BROTH.
Thanks.
Sunday, November 09, 2014
Friday, October 31, 2014
"Make sure that when you get out there and you show yourself to the world and you give them stuff, that it's quality work. And really pull yourself---your whole heart and self---into your work, because it's that important."
From the October 30, 2014 Cut article titled, Sharaya J is Alexander Wang's Rapper of Choice, by Véronique Hyland.
From the October 30, 2014 Cut article titled, Sharaya J is Alexander Wang's Rapper of Choice, by Véronique Hyland.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Friday, October 03, 2014
The other Sunday when I was returning from vacation, I lost my wallet.
My roommate and I had just gotten out of our cab from JFK when I decided to get some food alone before heading back in to our apartment. It was while I was walking and rummaging through my book bag when I realized my wallet wasn't there. The last time I even remembered seeing it was at the airport in Jamaica. I remember buying two bottles of water before boarding and then putting my wallet back in my bag, so I thought okay maybe I lost in somewhere on the airplane. When I realized that I really didn't have it, I filled out an online form from the airline that night. I didn't really let myself dwell on the fact that I lost it, because it was my fault and I need to just learn from it. I don't lose stuff that often, but when I do, I take it as a form of a wake-up call.
I'm happy to say that lo and behold, the airline found it and my wallet is now resting beside my bed. I had lost this wallet for a short time a few years ago as well (HERE), but it also somehow ended up returning to me even back then. Thank you to whatever force or universe that's making this happen.
My roommate and I had just gotten out of our cab from JFK when I decided to get some food alone before heading back in to our apartment. It was while I was walking and rummaging through my book bag when I realized my wallet wasn't there. The last time I even remembered seeing it was at the airport in Jamaica. I remember buying two bottles of water before boarding and then putting my wallet back in my bag, so I thought okay maybe I lost in somewhere on the airplane. When I realized that I really didn't have it, I filled out an online form from the airline that night. I didn't really let myself dwell on the fact that I lost it, because it was my fault and I need to just learn from it. I don't lose stuff that often, but when I do, I take it as a form of a wake-up call.
I'm happy to say that lo and behold, the airline found it and my wallet is now resting beside my bed. I had lost this wallet for a short time a few years ago as well (HERE), but it also somehow ended up returning to me even back then. Thank you to whatever force or universe that's making this happen.
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