Bravery

What I really enjoy from my trips to places is not the stamps I get in my passport, or the surprise purchases I find, but the friends I get to catch up with.

This time in Hanoi, I had dinner with my dear angel N before her upcoming marriage in December. Part of our little Charlie & Angels group, she was the first to get hitched and even in a very prompt manner. But leaving behind a Sex & the City life with adventures, she felt a bit cowardish to choose such a family life. I kinda laughed at the idea - as I found her so brave to make such a decision while I couldn't even get myself in a relationship. Men after men, I shook my head and escaped as soon as I found a tiny reason to do so, therefore avoiding the tiniest possibility of failure. There she was, braving herself through a marriage with optimism - I considered her very strong and admired her so very much.

The following day I took a flight to Bangkok. Sitting in the evening traffic jam, I cringed at the thought of living here and suffering this jam everyday. The noise, the dirt, the bottleneck frustration represent the general feeling I get from Hanoi's political and social atmosphere. I can't wait till the first chance to get out.

As I yearned for the moment I would sit comfortably on the plane, I was a tiny bit troubled by such demonstration of my very own cowardice. Here milions of people braved though that chaotic madness to live by - people like my family who escaped the frustration outside to find even more sadness at home. My brother in law just declined a scholarship to Japan to stay and help out with the family. When facing options, not everyone rush for the first exit. And that's what I would call bravery.

If they can deal with that, why can't I brave through the tiny bits of bureaucratic hurdles at work to enjoy and make the most our of life?

An apartment built for one....

In the blink of an eye, the year-end holidays are already around the corner. As David Archuleta's new Christmas album suddenly seems so fitting with popperies and bubbling hot cinnamon apple cider - a night at home or indoor is never better justified.

Speaking of home - I ended up not having to move any time soon until possibly next June when my contract is up for renewal. This continuation calls for some shake up in the interior decor, as the fickle me cannot stand living in the same "condition" for so long. There is no better time for such a make-over project, especially with the current of interior hunting among my dear DC friends, who have bookmarked websites such as Craigslist and made more trips to Marshalls, Tjmaxx, Homewood, and the like than grocery stores.

So as part of my interior design adventures, yesterday I passed through West Elm with Alan for, partially, him to check out furniture for his up-coming home office. Somewhere halfway through our shopping adventure, I had a distinctive unease - something half sadness, half anger, and topped by a grin of exhaustion. I couldn't name it or understand where it had come from, but it was lingering somewhere in the back of my mind.

Later, I went to Tim & Huong's for dinner and to check out their new pad. As I was listening to my friends' grand ideas and like-steal purchases, I got to pause for a few seconds to think about "home-making." More than putting pieces of furniture together according to some model home from Elle Decor or Architectural Digest, my friends are building a home for themselves, be it a cozy loveshack of Huong & Tim, a 2+ cohabitation of No&Toan, or an indoor-playground-included family of Diep&Phi. There's something there that fits them, that sparks love, that nurtures their relationship through fun, fights, and fears.

And then at that very moment, I realized what had struck me earlier that day - I was home-shopping with a man I was not building a home with - and the result not necessary a home, but a well-decorated space - for one. As Huong's earlier observation - "I think you always look for a big love!" - rang in my head, I shrugged at the long yearning for a home-building partner, with an air of exhaustion blanketing my mind.

I am never pessimistic - but there are just moments like this, when I look back, look again, and then just have to shake myself hard to regain the optimism to look ahead.

Photo credit: Fashionation - by Elle

In conversations...

Autumn is supposed to highlight beautiful foliages adorned by glittery coats of soft sunshine and giggling in mildly chilly breezes - but this Fall, it has been pretty much just cold rains or cloudy sky in Washington.

In that weather, it is not unusual that I am spending more and more time indoors, even though I have been trying to diversify that with different ambiances and venues - from cozy cafes to fun fiestas - to improve the moodiness that the outdoors inflicted upon me. As a result, I ended up in a number of interesting conversations, among which, one particularly got stuck in my head was the one I had yesterday with my friend Linh.

As we exchanged stories about our childhood and youth insecurity, Linh mentioned the blatantly obvious preferential treatment for better looking individuals. These pretty ones - athletes, beauty queens, models - could sometimes have it so easy for them that they would not need to work as hard. I recalled a basket ball player in college who, despite his mediocre academic and sport record, became the posterboy of the economics department and went on getting some offer from an accounting firm. Again, big generalization here, as many so-considered "pretty ones" worked just as hard, and some less good-looking ones did get lucky at times - and for a self-claimed social scientist, I valued some hard evidence with rigorous evaluation before jumping into conclusion.

Yet, as I was left getting ready for a birthday party after Linh had left, I couldn't help wondering to what extent look could influence the success of our lives. This puzzle became even more intriguing as I observed some interesting phenomenon at the party I went. Two slightly older Asian gentlemen - one average looking, the other outstandingly tall, dark, and somewhat handsome. As the night progressed, it seemed obvious that a crowd gradually gravitated toward the latter, while the former struggled to fit in - even though I would concede that they were roughly equal in conversational quality (ok - very bad comparison here, but you get the point!). This difference left me thinking, if look could help one be social without being considered slutty, flirty but not aggressive, forward but not creepy, then one is guaranteed an entry-point comfortable and confident enough to show his true beautiful self. In social settings, that's halfway to success already.

If professional success is partially driven by interpersonal relations, then how much can look leverage personal success? Obviously this varies in different settings - and no study, no matter how rigorous, can specify the magnitude look influence professional success. But I think it is safe to say, if one is good looking, then the good hard-earned results can be enhanced exponentially.

Too bad I will never get to that point - so right now, just have to continue the hard-working life of a consultant. Enough for the weekend, xoxo.


Photo credit: Autumn by Slime.

On ICT - again...

So I finally got my driver license last Friday!

I put off driving lessons for a long while - thinking I will either become rich enough to have a chauffer or never become rich enough to have a car. Well, Zipcar changed that concept drastically and I finally said to myself that I needed to learn - and so I did. In 6 weeks, thanks to my friend Toan, I went from never touching the wheel to passing the Virginia road skills test and possessing my very own driving license. It was a big deal, yeah, so within seconds I managed to post an exclamatory remark on Facebook, via my Iphone. Ten minutes after that, I already got several replies from all over the world, before I even touched the temporary driving permit.

Facebook and IT have majorly changed our mode of interactions - I don't need to say much about this obvious fact but would only like to zero in the significant speed by which we are updated about our friends' lives. Even during an important meeting, I did no fail to update on my friend's break-down and efficiently sent a consoling little card. Even in between deadlines, I never forgot to timely wish a friend a happy birthday. Facebook saved me the hassle of searching for information, as they are all readily available, just seconds after the events themselves.

Yet as my friend Will contemplated keeping his blog - a mechanism to let his friends worldwide know about his adventures and daily minutias - I realized that Facebook, like any other utilility-generating mechanism in this world - was also driven by the law of diminishing marginal returns. The more information we get, the less utility we gain from each information. This is a big generalization I know, but I think it does take away a little bit of excitement to learn about a friend's new dog, new job, or new man (or men, to be precise).

So, what do we do? Should we change our mode of access to information? I personally think that the changes in IT is inevitable - and what we should do is to change our own attitude of embracing it. Go for specialization - a blog is for something more special, more personal, as opposed to daily updates to be posted on Facebook. But that in itself is a challenge, because not every blog can paint the best picture of the owner's life and thoughts.

But we live for challenges, don't we?

Photo credit: Spoongraphics.

Curiosity

As humans, we are born with curiosity.

Some people are constantly curious, such as my friend Alan who consistently looks up meaning of phrases or does basic info check on different things - an obsession that has been severed by the arrival of his IPhone. Some people are selectively curious, like myself for example - I only want to know certain things, and only do it when I have time.

Yet no matter what level of curiosity we have, there is always a topic that each and every one of us dies to know as much, if not everything, as possible – that is relationship. One date and all we can think of is how to get into the other’s head, exploring every single emotion and thought of ourselves that he/she may have had. There are thousands of questions are to be answered – while there’s no way to be asked. They creep into our head and haunt us for as long as we are still excited about the guy/girl. Recently I went on a date with this charming guy who I was very curious to learn more about. Somewhere between the gentleness of his kisses and the smoothness of his skin against mine, I felt indescribably comfortable and safe, like a haven of silky smooth cushions in which I crawled up and slept away. But as I left wanting more and more, my mind started to twirl with the thousands of questions which I bombarded on a common friend of ours. Questions like "What kind of guy is he?" "Is he worth pursuing?" and ultimately, “is he into me?” erupted like a volcano in our G-chat window as the charming gentleman texted me for a second date.

Such curiosity, however, was met by a harsh splash of cold reality – on which I will spare you the detail. Such disappointment, however, made me think of curiosity. We are living in an era of accessible information, when copyright-protected AI are easily cracked, when Google revolutionized the way we search for info, and when IPhone brings Google to any place with 3G connection. In such time when curiosity is so easily satisfied, does it oversupply information – including those we do not need to know?

Then I remember that it is us who choose our source of information and it’s my professors who always stressed the importance of primary sources. It is fine to be human. It is ok to be curious – but just have to make sure that we get the truest and most incredible source of the information inquired.

And just like that, I closed the g-chat window and texted a positive reply.

Photo credit: Curiosity by Jon Bertelli

Changing Season

It worked like clockwork.

No more sluggish August days. September suddenly came – and everything in Washington started running with high speed. Everyday there were several deadlines, which managed to punctuate the day in a fashion that guaranteed either a working lunch or a working through lunch. With such business, it was hard to find time to enjoy the cool breezes and the chilly temperature perfect for a light cotton cardigan.

Hidden by that sudden jolt of reality, it seems that Washingtonians are putting extra effort to find occasions for get-togethers, making sure that we get out as much as possible before the cold finally hits the city – from the institutionalized birthdays, housewarmings, welcome-back, good-byes (?!?!), to the random long-time-no-sees. My social calendar thus got a sudden boost of pride as I desperately need it to keep track of various types of engagements that I once thought I could keep all in my head.

Yet it is almost ironic that in the middle of this season, I started to feel the discomfort of being a social butterfly. With connections becoming more superficial from one event to another, I yearn for the cozy human contacts of close friends with whom I can share just about everything. It was suddenly dawned on me, however, that many of those are relocated to half-way around the world – and despite what we say about being only a phone call away, we are still half a world apart.

As a breeze naughtily blew through my collar, I shivered and thought of my friends, of our impromptu phone conferences, our own get-togethers, our special birthday presents, our road trips, and our special friendship. Out there in Hanoi, Saigon, Singapore, New York, or elsewhere, are you thinking the same?

Credit: Autumn Breeze - Kathryn Abernathy

Summer Fling

This past week, as Washington perseveres the late-summer humidity, it was dawned on me that the window for a summer fling is almost closed. With young interns packing up their belongings, the District waves goodbye to some beautiful summer memories - and yearns for the next May to come. In that spirit, I found it the perfect time to wrap up what was left from my summer romance and shrug off the dramas and baggages it carried.

It started out just glittery and romantic as those fireflies that sparkled the little trail from M Street to Georgetown when we walked through, hand in hand, starry eyes, and occasional kisses. He was so good on paper: 30, lawyer, avid runner, worldly and smart. Sure there were a few shortcomings. Sure he was not very much my physical type. But in some way, he was like a fedora - I knew it's not my style, but it was right there, so I tried it on anyway. Somehow throughout the improtu meet-ups and the abnormally frequent dates, the ideas of having him along was pleasant enough that it became almost like a bad habit - you know you should stop but it's too painful to go through the awkward conversation.

Yet as the summer gradually closed, I knew it was time to stop the realistically cruel romance when one night I painfully put on my shoes to go meet his friend in Georgetown. Sitting through what seemed to be an endless (or bottomless?) cup of coffee - I told myself it was too excruciating (and costly) to carry on. And I stopped it.

As I contemplated my summer and my fair share of summer flings, I couldn't help wondering why they have become so frequently addictive - is it because of the summer weather, an overly warming heart, or simply a groin in heat? It's hard to tell. But what is more mind-blogging is the gradually lessened degree of pain associating with it - I was heart-broken saying good-bye to Adrian, sad to see it ended with Gary, but this time, I only felt lightly regretful - without even knowing what I regretted about...

And then, suddenly, I realized that I was regretting the ability to feel crazy and angry, to feel the pain of a broken heart, of shattered memories. As we go through life and try to be stronger - there is just that little trade-off of becoming more jaded and cynical about life, about love, about others...

... or is it not so little at all?

Photo credit: Summer Fling by Megan Aroon Duncanson