Monthly Archives: August 2010

Morgan Freeman made me do it!

I will do pretty much anything Morgan Freeman tells me to

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You see a lot of interesting people every morning near the train station. There is Mr. Jim, the Salvation Army guy, who is the staple presence inside the building even in January, when people think they are done with their charity giving. I love coming into work and seeing Mr. Jim sitting on his stool next to his red bucket. He always has a jovial smile and a firm handshake for you.  Then there is the guy who hawks “designer” purses and hats, sometimes scarves and gloves. The guy who occasionally sells boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts, right on the side of the street. In the middle of the sidewalk across the street from the station, on most days when it is not pouring or freezing, you will see a bespectacled old lady sitting in her beach chair. Sometimes when people walk by they will greet her like an old friend. On some days, this old lady will be accompanied by an old gentleman. The two of them sit side by side in the midst of the current of people rushing towards the surrounding buildings.

When I came into work this morning, as usual, I stopped by Dunkin Donuts to get my customary “Large with cream and sugar” and as a treat, a bagel twist in Jalapeño cheddar flavor.  The old lady was not there today so the old gentleman was there by himself. As I rushed towards my office building, he extended his hand, the subtle movement of his hand pantomimed the question in jest, “Is that coffee for me?”

I recognized the glint in his eyes and the faint smile at the corner of his mouth. For the first time I noticed how much he looks like Morgan Freeman.

aka god.

“Of course!” I smiled and handed him my coffee. I looked at the paper bag in my other hand, “How about a bagel?”

“Thank you so much! You made my day!” He broke into a dazzling smile, “Take this!” and handed me today’s Chicago Redeye.

I took one look at the front page and I knew.

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God is trying to send me a message

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Seriously.  If this is not a message from god, I don’t know what is…

First Day of School – The Obligatory Post

Actually this year, the first day of school IS special:

My oldest will be going to junior high. THIS, is the first day of the rest of his life without his mama hovering over him…

Or at least that’s how it feels to ME. I am pretty sure from his perspective I am a pesky fly that won’t go away.

I could tell he was nervous because he woke up at 6:30 this morning without an alarm or me threatening to pour cold water on him. Well, that and the fact he said, “I am nervous.”

“I am nervous too, honey.” I said. “Ooops. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that, huh? Probably didn’t help…”

Tentatively I suggested that I drive him to the bus stop because of “the huge heavy bag of school supplies” (and not because I wanted to be there on his first day as a 7th grader). He startled me with a brilliant smile, “AWESOME!”

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You can never be sure when they want to be treated like an adult, and when, a child.

Trial and error.

Today, when I thought that he would want to look cool and not be seen with his mom, he asked, “Are you going to bring your camera?”

“I wanted to but I was not going to because I assume you will be mortified?”

“Nah. I don’t care…  Where is [younger brother]? Is he still asleep? I want him to say goodbye to me at the bus stop…”

Today is full of surprises. The two of them sometimes behave as if they were mortal enemies.

“Well, go wake him up then. Tell him that you are going to a different school from now on. That the two of you will never be in the same school again.”

When my oldest came downstairs again, I asked him whether his brother was going to the bus stop with us.

“Nah. He’s still asleep.”

“Oh. He didn’t want to wake up? What did you say to him?”

“Nah. I just said ‘I am going to junior high today’ and then I kissed him on his cheek.”

Today is indeed full of surprises.

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It is still possible that when he comes home from his first day in junior high this afternoon, I am blamed for ruining his life.

For taking pictures of him at the bus stop even though I tried to do it surreptitiously by hiding behind the neighbor’s big SUV.

For standing too close next to the neighbor who was chanting, “Junior High! Junior High!”

For laughing too loudly when she called out, “You guys are moving up in the world! Look, your bus has tinted windows!”

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For raising my hand and waving as the bus drove away. It’s a force of habit. I will try and remember to stop doing it.

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Two little monkeys jumping on the bed, one fell down…

Now that his older brother is going to junior high, the quieter, less outgoing Mr. Monk will be for the first time by himself in the school. No more living under the shadows of his older brother. He will be known by his name, not a little brother, and definitely not “So and so’s brother”.

He looks all of a sudden so grown-up. His own person.

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This is so silly on my part since this is not the first “First Day of School” I have gone through. Yet I know many mothers are the same: We cannot help the tears coming out even as we laugh at ourselves.

When they turn around to wave goodbye as they step onto the bus…

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When you look at their anxious faces through the window…

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Something tugs at your heart.

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I Comment Therefore I Am: Vaginas, Mama Grizzlies and War on Stupidity

Hello? *Tapping the microphone* Is this thing on? *Sorry for the screeeeching feedback*

Hi. My name is Lin. And I run my mouth here. I sometimes do a set called “I Comment Therefore I Am” because comments more often than not are the best part. In the interest of full disclosure: Today I am going to lure you in with VAGINA in the title of my post so I can later feed you liberal/DEM propaganda.

The set about vaginae is quite funny. I think. At least they are not “political”. However, if you think about it:  The personal is political has been the rallying cry for the feminist movement in the 60s and 70s, and we owe it to our foremothers/sisters for our freedom to say VAGINA! as loud as we wish without being stoned to death…

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Scene 1: Unknown Mami and Her Vagina Started an One-up(wo)manship

This was going to be a story within a story. Long story short: Unknown Mami commented on Nancy’s post at Away We Go in which a game of bluffing about what your vagina can do is suggested. Thus began an epic One-up(wo)manship, and hilarity ensued. Some of the choice bits (No pun intended. *whistling*):

Unknown Mami commented,

Puh-leaze, my vagina can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan.

My vagina was once cast as Richard the III. Sure people were confused, but I’m sure Shakespeare was proud.

Nancy retorted,

My vagina, thankfully, has never been compared to Falstaff.

My vagina once split the atom. Just sayin.

And it goes on and on. It is epic! Like The Lord(ess) of the Ring. You have to be there to fully appreciate the epicness. I spent the whole day trying to come up with a followup comment, a sequel that does not suck (Yeah, good luck! I know…) Here is what I would have commented if my vagina were not too busy surfing porn:

My vagina is having performance anxiety the whole day, wondering how she can beat your vaginas. In the mean time she finished reading all 15,637 posts on her Google Reader and left intelligent, perceptive, thought-provoking (and heartfelt, if the situations called for it) comments on all. She also tweeted this and immediately got more followers than @aplusk!

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Scene 2: What’s VAGINA! got to do with it?

Pardon me while I get my soapbox out. *Dusting it. Getting onto the soap box*

All this fun with our VAGINA!, perhaps paradoxically, brings up another point I wish to make: Having a vagina can only unite us this far. Aside from our bodies, there lies a risk of assuming some sort of solidarity amongst women across ALL issues. Do not assume that just because we all have vaginas, we are necessarily fighting all the same battles, from the same side.

Arianna Huffington‘s post Sarah Palin, “Mama Grizzlies,” Carl Jung, and the Power of Archetypes provides an interesting way of reading Sarah Palin’s Mama Grizzlies video, or rather, its resonance amongst certain segments in the nation.

Here are some of Palin’s memorable quotes from the now (in)famous video:

“It seems like it’s kind of a mom awakening… women are rising up.”
“I always think of the mama grizzly bears that rise up on their hind legs when somebody is coming to attack their cubs.”
“You thought pit bulls were tough? Well, you don’t wanna mess with the mama grizzlies!”

Ms. Huffinton’s point is that if we interpret the Sarah Palin brand and its effect on its audience from the perspective of Carl Jung’s “collective unconscious”, it is easy to understand and even appreciate how and why she is able to gain such a loyal following even when the more mainstream Republicans have tried to distance themselves from her. “Mama grizzlies” are archetypes, the unconscious, shared human instinct that Palin has invoked in her recent public appearances, touching upon the White middle-class fear of losing the established ground they have become so accustomed to, have taken for granted, inciting the basic human nature to fight for the survival* of the species, whipping her followers into a frenzy.

* You say “Survival”, I say “Compared to what?”

Here is what Carl Jung has to say on the power that archetypes wield over the unconscious:

[During troubled conditions experienced by large numbers of people] … explosive and dangerous forces hidden in the archetype come into action, frequently with unpredictable consequences.  There is no lunacy people under the domination of an archetype will not fall prey to.

Not to be outdone by Herr Jung, I decided to throw in my own missive:

Thank you for this enlightening analysis on the power and danger of the paradox that is Sarah Palin. I just want to add that I am pissed as hell. There are Mama Grizzlies on this side as well, no? I for one am wanting to rise up on my hind legs because I do NOT want my kids to grow up in a society where

ignorance is “appreciated” as genuineness,

inability to carry a logical and rational discussion is explained away as down-home-ness,

anti-intellectualism is at an all-time high and considered to be a heroic folk rebellion,

and intolerance is equated with maternal instincts.

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Scene 3. Stupid is as Stupid Does

From VAGINA! to a tirade against Sarah Palin… WTF? You are probably thinking. I know. I am amazed at my talent for random free association too. Those of you that have stayed with me so far are in this very very tiny sliver of a Venn Diagram intersection.

This is you —>  A ∩ B

I <3 you. All of you. Except Elly. For Elly, I *heart* you since she hates <3

But of course, I digress…

I came upon this online essay America Needs a War on Stupid by Japhy Grant, and I have been trying to internalize the wisdom imparted by Mr. Grant so I can whip out the choice quotes in times of need. I am quoting them here since I suspect that quite a few of you would appreciate a good comeback as much as I do:

The right to hold an opinion carries with it the responsibility to defend it.

The reason for this is cowardice.  Our society has come to believe that any viewpoint is a legitimate viewpoint, so long as there’s someone out there to espouse it.  While this might make for good jokes on The Colbert Report, it’s actually a greater threat to America than terrorism or drugs or any of the other causes we have decided to ‘declare war’ on.  Which is why I am suggesting that America ought to collectively declare war on stupidity.  If we are to wage an ideological battle against a concept, let it be against Stupidity.

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Being the easily excitable kind, I jumped up and down when I read this, yes, while clapping my hands. I also played the theme song from Team America: World Police because I love a good co-opting like every other liberal conspirator.  I would have been wagging my tail if I had one. Never shy away from an opportunity to repeat myself, I decided to leave a comment amongst the other more astute, intelligent responses, because “I comment therefore I am”…

Republicans are once again playing on the level of emotions (fears mostly) and not brains. The whole mama grizzly thing taps into our most primitive instinct: it’s either me and my brood or you. There is no reasoning with people when their survival instinct has been turned on and whipped into a frenzy. The news coverage of the misc. protests/gatherings always reminds me of the story “The Lottery”.

We need this right now. I personally needed to read what you said here right now. Thank you.

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Unknown Mami

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Sundays in My City – Jump!

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This post is inspired by MISSion Amy K.R., one of the WBEZ (Chicago Public Radio) blogs, where they conspired to save summer by making people jump at the same time on one designated night and encouraged people to stage their own gallery shows a la Philippe Halsman’s iconic photography book/exhibit Jump, and indeed, to Jump for Joy!

Naturally, I am recycling photos we took at the Outer Banks…

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Unknown Mami

How to Talk to People (Now with Visual Aids)

7 magical conversational phrases

I came across this article the other day on Match.com. (Eh. Don’t ask WHY I was on Match.com… That hot sexy blonde whose picture is winking at ya? Yup. That’s my profile: I used a picture I took of A Vapid Blonde… Now you know. People LIE about these things…)

It immediately caught my attention. I sure could use some help in social situations, and these are promised to be “magical”!

Smart phrase #1: “Tell me more about it”

Smart phrase #2: “What are the reasons for your opinion?”

Smart phrase #3: “I never thought of it that way”

Smart phrase #4: “That must have upset you”

Smart phrase #5: “How did it go?”

Smart phrase #6: “You are a really generous person”

Smart phrase #7: “I really admire that” or “That takes courage. I admire that.”

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As I read through the article, without much snickering, I became worried about the possibility that when the needs arise, I may not remember these 7 magical spells under duress. I remembered the days when I was trying to educate my kids the art of correctly using the alphabet: Yes. Flash cards work wonders, and visualization is the key to the mythical depth of human memory vault.

Here are the 7 visualizations to help me, and now you too, memorize these 7 magical conversational phrases and be the life of the party next time you are caught in one of those social occasions.

You are welcome.

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Magical Phrase #1: Tell me more about it!

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Magical Phrase #2: What are the reasons for your opinion?

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Magical Phrase #3: I never thought of it that way

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Magical Phrase #4: That must have upset you!

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Magical Phrase #5: How did it go?

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Magical Phrase #6: You are a really generous person

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Magical Phrase #7: I really admire that. I do!

Sundays in My City – A Night at the Opera

Ok. I lied. I went to the theatre with three boys under twelve with ants in their pants, what do you think? Just had to use it in my title because it is THE favorite album of mine, that’s all.

We went to see a Broadway musical… in Chicago… I wish I could tell you that I saw Spamalot.

Shut up! This is a hold-up, not a botany lesson. I want you to hand over all the lupins you've got.

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Or Wicked. Or The Lion King. Or Billy Elliot. But Nooooo….

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It is a musical based on a Disney movie. Like, 100% based on the movie... Wouldn't it have been enough to just watch the movie, again?

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Every time I walk into one of these classic theatres, I am startled by the beauty inside. The ornate, intricate designs overwhelm the senses and quicken my heart. Faced with the beauty, I feel guilty for not dressing up. I imagine that the walls and the chandeliers whisper, “We wish you had taken the effort to look as good as we do and help us remember those days…”

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Unknown Mami

Fallen From The Sky

“We don’t always have a choice on how we get to know one another.  Sometimes people fall into our lives cleanly — as if out of the sky, or as if there were a direct flight from Heaven to Earth — the same sudden way we lose people, who once seemed they would always be part of our lives.”

—  John Irving in Last Night in Twisted River

I have issues.

Ok. If you have read more than three of my posts, you probably have figured that out on your own already. By the way, thank you for staying after that realization, oh Brave One…

I am a social person. An extrovert. A vampire. I need to feed on people’s energy to feel alive. I revel in the small connections I make with friends and strangers. I become a great conversationalist. I am bubbly. I am chatty. I am flirty. I am fucking hilarious. I get a high.

I am also a recluse. An introvert. A hermit crab. I crash every time after I have battled through a social occasion. I replay everything inside my head. Over and over again. Did I say anything wrong? Did I offend anybody? Hurt somebody’s feeling? When I went crazy and all “I don’t fucking care what people think of me”, did I do something stupid? Was it obvious I am an insecure needy hanger-on? Did I come off genuine? Too genuine? Too genuine so as to come off as fake? Dripping with molasses? Was I too much of myself? And which one at that?

I don’t know why — Even though I’ll be the first person to tell you, all Chinese wisdom and Zen shit, that

There will always be somebody who dislikes you, for no reason at all, no matter how hard you try to get on their good side.

— I am dastardly bothered by the possibility that out there, there is somebody who hates my gut. This is a no-win situation of the pathological proportion. For example, when I am driving, I worry about what the other drivers will think of me. Will they be pissed if they are waiting for me to go through the intersection to make a left turn and I make them miss the light? I floor the car upon that thought.

I imagine the other driver thinking to themselves, “Wow. Appreciate that gesture, kind albeit reckless driver!”

Nah. Just kidding. I may be crazy but I am not delusional. I am fully aware of the futility. And the possibility this may be bordering on psychosis. (Oh, the irony…)

It takes one day for me to recover from each hour of my putting myself out there…  I was surrounded by strangers (women nonetheless) and more importantly, people who I genuinely would like to become friends with, for two whole days last weekend…

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Yeah… This is gonna take a while…

I could not understand why I have been restless and jittery and utterly exhausted and prone to crying this week until I sat down and started typing out these words above.

I am going through withdrawal. The detox process has begun.

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* I thought the whole night and decided to turn the comment function off. I did not write this post to fish for more compliments which many of you have kindly bestowed on me, deservedly or not. I just needed to get this out of my head, hoping doing so will help speed up the process or at least stem the tide that’s dragging me further away from what is deemed normal.

** No worries. I am ok. I am always ok.

“How to Be Alone”

I was going to write something about BlogHer… But my besties that I have had the good fortune to meet and grope in magical New York City have all done a much better job than I could have, esp. since after three days, I am still pissing and sweating vodka… So if you haven’t been bored to death by the blah blogher blah blah are curious about what went down (PUN FULLY INTENDED) last weekend, go read about Buggin Words’ No-Pot-Needed Hallucination, Brilliant Sulk’s brilliant musing on the vaginas and vodkas she’s consumed, Patty Punker’s suggestion for an alternative FuckIt10 that we have all signed up and are seeking attendee registrations, Dufmanno’s encounter with a naked cowboy which was not the most skin she saw last weekend, For the Birds’ restrained song that is really not about you, and yes, Vapid, I am drumming my fingers waiting for your BlogHer report here… Pull yourself together, woman! Stay away from the Dish even though I know you’ve missed him and the Python (Dear Soren Lorensons, this is surprisingly not what you think, you perverts!) terribly.

ETA: The blonde vampiress came through with poetry in motion…

Instead, Serendipity! I came across this video/poem today.

“How to Be Alone”

It is the perfect remedy we need in order to recover from the highs and lows after fighting through our fears of opening ourselves up and meeting strangers. The powerful reminder to combat that gnawing insecurity, that tiny voice, that propels you to down five shots of vodka within the first 30 minutes of setting your foot in a party so that you can be the Dancing Queen that you dream of being. The talisman to arm ourselves with next time we attend any social occasion when ironically we often inadvertently feel so alone within the crowd.

Watch this.

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I came across this beautifully written and performed poem through It Is Monday… Thinking Moment. The filmmaker is Andrea Dorfman, and the simple yet profound words were written and performed by Tanya Davis.

I cannot help but reprint the entire poem here just so I can read the words, slowly, hoping to absorb them into my being, to have them become part of the fiber of my soul.

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How to Be Alone

by Tanya Davis

If you are at first lonely, be patient.

If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.

We could start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library. Where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books. You’re not supposed to talk much anyway so it’s safe there.

There’s also the gym. If you’re shy you could hang out with yourself in mirrors, you could put headphones in.

And there’s public transportation, because we all gotta go places.

And there’s prayer and meditation. No one will think less if you’re hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.

Start simple. Things you may have previously based on your avoid being alone principals.

The lunch counter. Where you will be surrounded by chow-downers. Employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town and so they — like you — will be alone.

Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.

When you are comfortable with eat lunch and run, take yourself out for dinner. A restaurant with linen and silverware. You’re no less intriguing a person when you’re eating solo dessert to cleaning the whipped cream from the dish with your finger. In fact some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.

Go to the movies. Where it is dark and soothing. Alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.

And then, take yourself out dancing to a club where no one knows you. Stand on the outside of the floor till the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one’s watching…because, they’re probably not.

And, if they are, assume it is with best of human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats is, after all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you’re sweating, and beads of perspiration remind you of life’s best things, down your back like a brook of blessings.

Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you.

Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, they are always statues to talk to, and benches made for sitting gives strangers a shared existence if only for a minute, and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversation you get in by sitting alone on benches, might of never happened had you not been there by yourself.

Society is afraid of alone though. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after awhile nobody is dating them.

But lonely is a freedom that breaths easy and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it.

You can stand swaffed by groups and mobs or hands with your partner, look both further and farther in the endless quest for company.

But no one is in your head. And by the time you translate your thoughts an essence of them maybe lost or perhaps it is just kept. Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those sappy slogans from pre-school over to high school groaning, we’re tokens for holding the lonely at bay.

Cause if you’re happy in your head, then solitude is blessed, and alone is okay.

It’s okay if no one believes like you, all experiences unique, no one has the same synapses, can’t think like you, for this be relived, keeps things interesting, life’s magic brings much, and it doesn’t mean you aren’t connected, and the community is not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it.

Take silence and respect it.

If you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it, if your family doesn’t get you or a religious sect is not meant for you, don’t obsess about it.

You could be in an instant surrounded if you need it.

If your heart is bleeding, make the best of it.

There is heat in freezing, be a testament.