Things are lookin' up in NYC!

I called my mother last week, in tears because I felt as if transitioning into living in New York, and transitioning out of my life back in California, too many things were familiar yet new at the same time. That scared me because, it is like you are having a bad dream when you wake up in your bedroom but everything has been rotated facing the opposite side of the room. Something is similar and safe of course, but there is still mystery and a huge unknown as to how your mind even created a new space.

Besides that, my mother told me to just think of happy thoughts. She told me that now is the time to really learn how to be alone, and more importantly, how to be alone and how to be happy. I appreciate my mother because she is so patient and kind. She teaches me the hard lessons but she says it in a way that everyone goes through it and I am perfectly fine on my own. She encouraged me to do the things I loved, or have always wanted to do.

The next day I decided to explore the city. I opened up my old list of recommended places to see from my friends. First place was Strand's bookstore. I made it there just fine, and it was really cool to see the old buildings of Union Square. I also found a nice organic coffee place for a cheaper price. The next day, in anticipation of another adventure, I did some job applications first, and then as a reward I went to explore. I got two sweaters from Forever 21 that were on sale (because that always makes spending money feel better). I think I got a bit tired of layering my clothes from Cali, and sweaters really do make a difference! Then the next day, today, I went looking for the Lady M. Boutique something...whatever the reason, I got incredibly lost and ended up 10 streets away from my destination. This has happened at least half the time I go on an adventure in NYC.

So the next best thing is to walk around and find something else. I found an even cheaper bookstore than Strand's, and I decided to get a book that I enjoyed reading on the subway later. Then I purposefully found the steps that Holly Golightly climbed in her depression. The New York Library on 5th Avenue. I absolutely love this place, and I walked in to take touristy pictures. I stumbled upon a public talk for Mary Ann Caw's The Modern Art Cookbook. Everyone sitting in the room looked a bit chubby, or, I dont know I am chubby too in some parts haha. But I could tell, "Cookbook" attracted us shy foodies. And the word "Modern" attracted, well, I would assume people who admire modern art but could never label themselves as Modern. I mean, that is how I feel anyway.

When we sat down and waited as Mary Ann Caws and her guest speakers continued on with their conversation. All they were missing was coffee and a huge glass window in between themselves and the audience. That is just how engaging she is I suppose. The hostess who would moderate the talk started the event - no wait, she ficed her microphone for 5 minutes and then started the event. But it was never really a rushed start to begin with. The powerpoint showed paintings, all featuring foods: fruit, bread, asparagus, eggplant! And everyone on the panel was fascinated by the paintings. The man to the left described the history of the industrialization of food when Campbell's Noodle Soup collection by Woody Allen popped up from the 1963 memory. All of a sudden we talked about America's higher sugar intake, and "how amazing is it that I wish I could go back in time 100 years, just to try the food. It would have signifcantly less sugar but it would be delicious!". What  a great thought, man sitting to the left. I admire his fascination with the timeline of popular food culture.

The man to the right of Mary Ann was even more interesting. His checkered blazer and skunk like hair-color screamed artsy, no, it suggested artistic expertise. And he spoke with fascination towards the artistic. Not the time of it nor the style, but the emotion that a viewer feels from viewing a work of art. He was poetic. One amazing aspect of Mary Ann's cookbook was that she included famous artwork featuring food, Manet to Picasso, and paired them with poetry to Hemingway. They discussed oysters: the rawness of oysters, the luxuriousness of oysters, the smooth finish of oysters, the perfect large size 1 of oysters from the Oyster Bar in France, Hemingway's love of oysters and white wine . . . and it would continue on until the next food: BREAD. BUTTER. PEARS. and then...

THE LEMON. The most perfect lemon.

If I were to here the conversation purely by radio ear, I would think it was a pretty ridiculous conversation. But I was so fascinated by this cookbook, which would come from famous renowned chefs from our history, accompanied by poetry and paintings and life! Wow they really sold it. I could see the picture of what owning the book would feel like. Perhaps I would transport through time and space in my very own kitchen. Or maybe all the emotions and flavors I would hope for in the kitchen would finally be released through the artistic colors and the poetry.

Well, the book costs $40. For me that is pretty steep for a book. But I will definitely look forward to experimenting cooking with it. I expect it should feel like travelling. But not travelling to the tourist attractions. It would be a travel back in time to places that can no longer be there ever again in my present time. How can a book possibly do that?

I guess I will have to find out sometime... but I asked the question of how exactly we are meant to experience Mary Ann's book, 3 years in the making. And she repeated her first sentence: "This was a book meant to be read in the kitchen." And as a perfect closing, the whole audience understood what she was talking about. I was glad to hear positive comments towards question. I left happy, knowing that I helped influence a really great evening conversation.

I bought a cheap baguette and softer bread, took the subway home, and cooked an eggplant omelette. It definitely didnt taste THAT great. I have to remember to get wine next time. All the artists and poets drink wine. I am sure it makes everything taste better.

Reflection on Calls to Action

On CAR, Syria, Palestine, Bangkok, and India . . . 

It is a powerful feeling to demand a call to action from your fellow humanity. It is an urgent crisis that begs you to make that call. It is your fellow humanity alone in high numbers who can multiply those calls to an infinite amount, as long as your are still living and causing the ripple. It is they who will end the crisis, even after your inevitable departure from the world of chaos and comfort. So speak out and organize your numbers, it makes a change every day.

Post-Grad Blues . . .

Yup. I am officially there. 

I thought that being away from Irvine and people I know would make it easier for my to work on my health and redefine my goals and values in life. But this is certainly much more difficult than I thought it would be. I knew this would be a journey and a challenge for me, but when it really happens and I can feel all the emotions associated with it, its a pretty awful repeat of that one scene in 500 Days of Summer when Tom tries to get his shit together. And well, I need to really start doing this.

I realized the only person holding me back is myself, and maybe that simple realization that it has been myself all along will help me get along with any place, and help me adapt to anywhere I dare choose to go. I admit that I know I can be awkward in crowds of three or more people. One person is fine as long as I am in the mood to engage in conversation.

All my other travel experiences in groups have been ok, but I could never get around to acting like myself or saying what I really wanted to say. Almost every other interaction with someone I was still getting to know became increasingly difficult. In Argentina, Honduras, the Middle East. As grateful as I am for having the privileges to travel to where I have been, I often wonder if I would be any different if I did it all over again .  . . would I be more adveturous? More honest? More open and upfront with people? Or would I flat out either make an excuse again that people are just not interesting to talk to, or that I am just awkward?

I don't know but, what I do know is that I need to be more comfortable in my own skin and with myself, and all the embarrassing words and actions that come along with it. I used to think that change was really hard for me to get used to. But I do not think its a change of location as much as it is the changes that happen inside of me.

But I really want to do it.

I want to adapt to New York and become the person I had hoped to be.

I want to be my complete self without inhibiting anything anymore.

I want to feel alive again.

Cheers, Tom.

Reflections on OTI and why it is so Hard to Reflect

**DISCLAIMER: Do not read this blog entry if you hate tangents and blog entries that are free-formed in writing.**

K Thanks...

ENTRY:

I originally started up this blog again 6 months ago to reflect on my trip to Israel and Palestine. I really should have reflected more right after the trip. But I realized, and I am not afraid to say this now, I still do not understand so much about the conflict. No, I am not an expert, nor do I ever hope or wish to be. And yes, me attending the trip to the region amongst a handful of aspiring experts felt like it was for completely selfish reasons. I had originally gone to see through different perspectives, enhance my world view, to discover a different part of the world, its politics, its friends, its enemies, and try to understand why it is such a difficult thing to figure out.

As if I was that middle school kid again who jumped in between 2 older guys fighting in the lunch courtyard while everyone else watched. Many called me crazy for going in, I could have gotten hurt myself. Others said what I did was the right thing to do. Others again felt that I should have just waited for the adults to deal with it.

Is it safe for me to say that I did it completely out of impulse? I didn't even think about it. I just wanted it to stop.

And thus, that weird, uncomfortable, force of habit has now evolved over time and throughout college. It is what pushed me to join the trip. No, it was not the Filipino activist I had told myself over and over about. And no, it was not really to enhance my world view. It was simply because I couldn't help to see people fighting and I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to stop on campus, I wanted it to stop in communities, I wanted it to stop for future kids like me.

NO. This is not pacifist, or whatever political thinkers want to label it. This is not a call for peace either. Peace is an agreement between parties to make ammends. But what I wanted, I wanted to see the truth. I wanted to see the truth as to why things haven't stopped. And I have concluded, we just live in a very toxic world. Sometimes the pursuit of justice is dirty, and its hurtful, and it causes regret in a life that was already so privileged to begin with. And justice does not take sides.

I now completely agree with my own theory that nothing in this world can truly be figured out. Somehow, someone will always lose.

Is it fair to say something so subjective about this trip that I had this privilege to attend? No, no I do not think it is fair at all, it is quite insulting, however, it is the truth and truth has never been fair. Especially to those who hide it or wash it in hopes that it becomes clearer and clearer when really all it does...is make the truth transparent, to the point that is disappears. And one realizes it can no longer be there.

I never believed in facts for this reason. I believe facts can be manipuated by people and politics just as much as stories and myth. So I do not want to ever tell myself that there are limits to what I can do, that a person can only do so much, that the world cannot be fixed by one person.

At night I dream I redefine my world. I alter it, in ways that are manageable until it gets bigger and bigger. This is a choice because I value my life too much and do not want it to be completely consumed. So in my lens, the lens that I wish was bigger after arriving back from the trip, the lens that I had wished would be more open and rational and practical, well my lens saw the following:

1. The people who work in the United Nations are brave, self-fulfilling, working in the confines of a strict political society. They have years of experience and understand people. They have eyes that look tired, held by faces that contort into expressions of hope and promise. They all believe in different things, but do not feel they have enough freedom within their workplace to express such views. They hope at the end of the day they can go home and relax and think about their own everyday problems. They wish they had higher positions. They work hard to earn those higher positions. The reason they do this is because they entered with the hope that they would change the world in their own way. They have learned that the only ones who actually make the big decisions are at the top of the tier. And in order to get to the top of the tier, you have to play the game. The game is difficult. But playing it will get you a higher paying job. So why not.

The people who serve the people of the United Nations, they are different. You look at them, and you do not see the regret that they wish they could do more. You see them as people who hope that they could do more good one day, but in the meantime, until they have the chance to make those big decisions, they will do their jobs well. They will go home and be greatful. They arrive in the morning again and are able to chat with friends over lunch or choose a healthier diet option. They are just grateful to be there, employed. This is the type of person I would strive to be if I ever worked for the UN. Sure, it might be slower to rise in position, and sure it might not create the most change in policy or design, but it is an example of the people who practice self care first. Those are the people who can make meaningul decisions that actually make an impact.

If you have no idea what I am talking about. It's ok, because this is through my own lens. I don't even know what I am talking about. But its best to let it out.

2. The food in Israel and Palestine is delicious. Especially the home-made ones because you know it took hours to make. The times I smiled the most during the entire trip is when I see a meal that was prepared by a mother. This always happened more in a Palestinian home. It is pure love, which means it was sure as hell difficult but you made it anyway because it was not for you. And you knew it was risky but you just hope its good.

3. Anyone during the trip who told us they had lost a loved one, they are ok. But it came with a price. They did their time of suffering that when they tell you their story and you cry, they are immune to reacting to you. Because they tell you the story in hopes that you get it. They expose themselves to help you understand the world. They do not want anyone else to go through that kind of pain. Not even their enemies. They may wish it, but if they really think about it, they wish they would stop thinking about it and just move on. But that would not give their lost love justice.

4. The ocean. Anytime you see it, it is beautiful. And it truly is a pool of tears for what it has seen happen on land. That is why the ocean is so big. It has seen a lot.

5. The cats are hungry too. You don't need to take pictures of them. As you would not take pictures of starving people. It's not cute and neither are the starving cats.

6. Yeah. There is fear. It is in everyone. And people fear each other.

7. There are Israelis who do not give a single second of a thought about Palestinians. There are Palestinians who do not give a single of a second of a thought about Israelis. There are Palestinians and Israelis who do not give fractions of single seconds of thoughts about Ethiopians, the Bedouin, Filipinos, or Americans. And this can be argument enough to explain why there is still conflict in this region, but I guess that is too easy and simple of an answer to those who do give seconds of thought about others besides their own.

8. People never want a simple answer. Or at least, they want an answer that scientifically makes sense to them. People look for follow up questions. But really it doesn't mean anything. We all were never that great of listeners to begin with. So we will pick up bits and pieces and hope we can figure out the rest later, over a series of events, experience, reading articles or the news. You know, we will read about it more later.

9. How old are these olives? Probably centuries old.

10. The Israeli photographer in his small shop carried down from his father, placed in the Old City. He thinks about the past. And he holds on to it because the memory of his father was happiness enough.

11. Civilians look at guns and feel safe. Tourists look at guns and feel afraid. Soldiers look at guns and think "it is pretty awesome that I get to hold this gun".

12. None of the Muslim girls that I exchanged emails with ever emailed me. I never got their emails. Dang it, we totally could have been friends. But its ok because for that brief moment we exchanged stories about dancing hip hop and that was pretty awesome.

Well, these 12 things should be simple and complex enough for one night. I will reflect more appropriately later. It's just, hard to reflect on, you know?