wanderer

Holiday is usually a happy distraction from daily routine, sometimes an inconvenient one, for example, this thanksgiving. I have no zeal to do the shopping, and the sleet only encouraged people to stay indoor. I spent a good chunk of time in the bookstore. Now I have been addicted to coffee, more and more I feel it is one of the biggest open conspiracy that the bookstore opens a cafe in its premise, it is meant to attract some idiotic patrons like me to keep coming back. The cafe usually is a busy venue, more often than not there are some born large volume customers make their chat like a broadcast speech, as annoying as a bad commerical. But the scent of coffee is a draw, especially in a freezing winter day. The main attraction is obviously the books.  The internet has invaded our lives to a great extent, we can literally find the electronic version of nearly all the publication in print. But you just can't beat the feeling of holding the material of reading, no matter how handy and multiple functionally the computer monitor illustrastes the readers. Paper in hand feels good, it enlightens me. it also confines me into a sedentary position for so long an hour that nearly cranks my back. I wonder whether this is a good way for sparetime activities. I can simply buy the books and subscribe the magazines with money I spend on drinks. What I hate to say is, books are read in the cafe, not at home. I have at least three unfinished books lying on shelf.  Another big excuse, the magazine websites are designed to make it tiresome to find the specific section or articles. Take Time.com and Newsweek.com.

In fairness, I should pay for the publishers and authors for their intellectual work. Obviously Time/Newsweek wants me to subscribe for their survival and profit. But man, the trend can hardly be reversed, thinking of new stuff coming out in bookstore nearly every week. Even I am rich enough, I can't bring home all I am interested. By then mostly I would just pike them up and end up doing something else. Imagine I have many copies of Time, Newsweek, Economist, Wired, Good Magazine, National Geographic, Fast Company, Equirer, New Scientist, Mind, American Scientist, so on and on at my coffee table. Then there's new novels by James Paterson, John Grisham, trendy book Outliers by Galdwell, page 89 reads pretty witty; funny book 'Stuff white people like' by Christian Lander, No. 45,'Asian girls', sounds darn funny and poignant; the list continues. If all books are within reach in the living room, I believe mostly I would be doing laundry or watching brainless football. Rather, in the doomy afternoon today, I glanced each one of the above, read some parts in detail, or scanned quickly over the blurbs and the acknowledgement, toying with the idea if I'd buy one. I casually stroll aisle by aisle, pleased myself with the note that I didn't stay at home all day long. The economy is bad, the bookstore however has won a loyal costumer in me. Read a book in store, or own one at home, it is a dilemma I haven't decided to solve any time soon.

Some friends of mine had this trend for a weekend dinner. It's a happy gathering. working gossip is a natural topic over the table. Yoen told us her relationship with her colleague Jackie was getting stiff. The reason, she scowled, is that Jackie got prompted a few weeks ago. He didn't want to be called 'Jackie' any more. And he is stepping up his authoritorial implication by commenting on his differential equations techniques, or giving directions on that modeling projects. It unfortunately left Yoen the belief that Jackie knows so skin of statistics, since Jackie was not trained a statistician, she knew how stupid his comment was by asking him questions back.  Yoen just started her work no more than half a year, she was not lucky enough to have to deal with a complacent climber on the ladder, apart from her technical challenges.

it is not surprising that those sports stars or entertainment celebrities have large size egoes, it is actually very revealing that there are many proud individuals in average people. Jackie is the one, for example. My previous officemate used to have a motto badge on the desk that reads, 'I AM DIFFERENT because .....' That says she has high self-esteem deep in heart even she is very friendly and helpful to her co-workers. The other day I was having lunch in an India store. A young guy paid off and waited for his order by the side. He wears this geeky glasses, bearing some untrimmed down beard on his upper lip. His hair is strikingly spiky, and his jean has holes on the knees. Plus one on the butt, which opened wide up as he went out and went back twice and had a bubble tea in hand. I couldn't help but noticing his existence and paid some turn-a-head on him. He didn't look back, he must have assumed the whole resturant was watching him. As he sipped the tea, he pulled out his iPod, must have imbued himself with the most cool music because his body was slightly, and hardly unnoticedly, rhythming. then he pulled out his cell phone, pushed the button and checked the screen. He used all his body language to tell the imaginary audience, 'Love me, because I am so cool..' He is a big-ego fellow pretending to be awesome, luckily I don't know him.

As our dinner went further, Yoen confessed the stiff relationship is due to mutual movement.  When Jackie mistakenly said her method was based on Baysian theory, she firmly said no. Though she didn't say another word to the whole group in the meeting, she gave this 'Phew! what are you talking about!' expression. That speaks a thousand words---we relentlessly pointed that out. Yoen is casual and easy-going to us, she is nonetheless highly self-esteemed. Now Jackie's request of 'love me' doesn't elicit a goodwill feedback, Jackie moves on to tell, 'and now back off!'

The sore relationship are due to lack of better communication, and then the clash of egoes. Alas, how wise I am to say so! Because I was an idiot to deal with a work asshole before. When I failed to keep my distance away from this person and had to interact with him, I did worse than Yoen. I said fewer words than Yoen, but all my despise and sarcasm was presented like a billboard on the freeway by means of my poise, my facial coldness and my curt response. I maitained to say 'Hey, how you doin'?'  and thought I behaved well. that obviously won't help a bit to change narrow-minded jerk's opinion. There is school smart, and there is street smart. Gossip said some B-schools are teaching students strategies to make a deal with difficult persona. That is a class I crave to sit-in, but I guess first of all the businessman shoulld have the mettle in mind, 'You are a load of turd to me. But for the purpose of business, I'll put that aside and try my best to reach a deal with you.'

It is not all a bad thing to have self-esteem, even some are unpleasant, like I mentioned here . Evan Esar is quoted as saying ' character is what you have left when you've lost everything you can lose.' Yoen, Jackie, the funky guy and me didn't need to change the personalities, but Yoen and Me would adjust our attitude and strategy for the better outcome.

News has it that John Leighton Stuart, the US ambassador to China  between 1946-1952, is finally buried besides his missionary parents' grave in Hangzhou, China, his birth place . It is a long long time counting his death in Washington DC in 1962. It is also incessant effort to fulfill his will. After his death, his children have tried and failed to allow his remains to be moved to China, then the children died without heir. The longtime assistant Philip Fugh continued the endeavor until his death. Mr Fugh's son, Maj. General John Fugh took over the effort. General Fugh, 74 years old himself and retired out of military duty, finished the tall order till now, to let the unsettling soul of Mr. Stuart rest in peace.

Why bother? Mr. Stuart is famous in history. He was born in China, speaks fluent Mandarin. After finishing college in the US, he went back to China for all sorts of Christian and educational activities. He founded Yincheng University in Beijing and was the first president. Yincheng was later replaced by Peking University, which happens to be one of the most prestigious schools in China. His wife died in 1925 and was buried there. Mr. Stuart was involed in the turmoil by turmoil in the  old China, he had sophisticated network in all ranks of China's society. He was jailed by invading Japanese for several years. Later he became the ambassador to China, developed this honey-acerbic relationship between defeating party Kuoming Tang and rising power Chinese Communist Party, CCP, led by divine Mao Zedong. Politics is never a pretty story by then, Mr. Stuart left China in 1949 not so gracefully. He irated the retreating Kuoming Tang, he didn't please Mao Zedong, either. Chairman Mao had a famous eassy titled 'Good bye, Stuart Leighton', that marked the emblematic failure of American Imperialism in China. Chinese youth with certain ages would recall that part of the essay was required to recite in primary school class. 

There is only pedagogic symbolism to grant a dead person's wish other than property cut. It is to comfort people alive. This is particularly the case for Mr. Stuart. He must be such a love-China-love-America figure, in the end held this mixed feelings toward the land he had spent most of his life on. Maybe he's calling China his hometown? There's a quote saying 'Outstanding individual always bears the loving and hatred feeling toward his/her hometown.' It is a catharsis to have a hometown in mind, even the real hometown has been altered completely. If 'outstanding' can be replaced by 'home-away', that quote applies to me, too. I deem Arizona as my second hometown, though I had nothing but memory left there. I root for Phoenix Suns and Arizona Cardinals, It is a psychological token to remind me of the good old past. My real hometown is at the edge of epicenter of the devastating earthquake in Sichuan months ago. Beichuan was the town that was leveled off in the diasater. The closest memory was that my friend Z and I visited another friend's home there last winter. The temperature made people shivering, we enclosed ourselves into a tea house. Z the blarney stone persuaded me into the gambling poker game, literally called 'pinch the landlord'. Being a noobie with on-site training, I was no parallel to the old guns,  soon Z won 150 yuan (20 dollars) out of me, they had so much fun watching me pouring the pocket. As the winner Z treated us hot pot dinner, paid more than he made. All the laughters in memory are in sharp contrast to the now disappeared place and people, the gambling scene would never replay. John Stuart didn't get the chance to compare his sight  in China with old memory, his ashes did. That's something nostalgic.   

Happy Brithday to me, a wise and nice man will be one year older tomorrow, wish myself find more bliss in the coming year.

I must have been subsequentially influenced by my high school history teacher, who was my dearest soccer buddy by then. This gaunt bespectacled man was 6 years senior us, didn't hold an ounce of condescending attitude towards his students. He's so low profile, and shrugged off people's greetings to him on his birthday, 'you are one year older again, what's the point of celebrating?' Ever since I didn't take my brithday seriously. The date of brith on my ID cards are all wrong. I don't remember I had a birthday party, or memorable one, and looked at others' an odd way, even I did pay my respect to people I care when they are celebrating. But it just looked  entertainingly amusing to me if someone was crying out loud if he/she doesn't receive any messages on the most important day in a year. Years ago, there was a pop chinese sissy song, singing about the cheesy pathetic birthday sentiment, the song was abused after every single self-pity soul was reciting it for the request of due attention. I did have one time birthday angst moment, though. That was my second year in college, cicrling around the lotus pond on campus with fellow green beings in that night, I was sighing, 'Dear God, I'm 19 years now and I still haven't achieved anything yet!' 

Birthday is an excuse to have fun, or have bane. My brother and I once planned a brithday party for my mother, we took home this beautiful cake, decorated with candles and asked mother to blow some wishes. Then we cut the cake and distributed a piece to everybody. When it came to mother, her piece was smashed on her face. She yelled out and chased us, 'you idiots sons, the cake is such a good food, and you good-for-nothing wasted it...' Her face was all smile. I played the same trick to my buddy Richard. This Mormon lonely old boy was glumly staying at home alone, listening to Peter Gabriel, when I knocked his door with a cake in hand. The ensuing surprise cake fight was such a mess, he showed good spirit of fighting, too, only the trouble was his hard time of cleaning the carpet later. My frisky trick didn't always generate happiness, my ex broke up with me due to my play. That's her excuse, of course. But to know a person with a cake I always hate to eat, it showed the silver lining.

Birthday should be remembered. My dad so wanted me to have a birthday party when I was at home this passing winter, he proposed to move it to celebrate. I routinely dismissed the idea. When I routinely called him this morning, however, I found his birthday was last Friday, and I don't even have a call for him. His birthday was on Chinese Lunar Calendar, days after mine, I had safely assumed that my day was not coming yet, I shouldn't have missed anything. What a blunder! Life is good if there is a happy surprise, life is a rub when there's a letdown. This is my birthday lesson. I will show you I love, dad; I will show you I care, folks. It is truly rewarding to send a birthday blessing, really shouldn't miss the chance to make a person happy. So let me start it from myself---Happy brithday, man!

I am helping a girl revise her writing lately. She is applying for graduate schools in the US. From the recommendation letters to personal statement, we try our best to beautify a viritual identity to those pundits hiding somewhere in ivy towers. This is a personal marketing effort, much like the those crooks on TV and on newspaper. More similarities can be found at the funding proposals, talent competition, election race and job search. It is like one is put on a stage and told, 'Show me what you've got. You have one minute and thirty second...'

Writing is art. Writing also becomes the most important functional weapon. A Chinese professor I used to work with had the amazingly appealing funding proposal writing skill, I was lucky to be exposed their early version of drafts, the paragraphs were fraught with grammar mistakes, awkward expressions, even the final versions were not decent for language sake. But the results, according to his many times bragging, he got three grants out of four submissions, among as many as six hundred  applications. His selling power? he knows the stuff and he tried his best to impress the reviewers with his first two paragraphs.

So the applied writing technique is like journalism, catch the eyeball at the very beginning. Advertising industry is said to draw many artistic talents away from liberal arts. Apart from their fantastic idea of presenting, photographing, the slogan and words appeared on the commericals turn out meticulously pondered. ( I wish I could show some example here.)  Maybe we shouldn't be too much annoyed by the ubiquitious ads in life, what we see is probably a piece of art by a top-notch essayist who detours his/her original pursuit to the art of selling. On the political stage, there are many factors that made Obama win the US general election, one of them was his highly compelling speeches, which were credited to his sophisticated political writers. And he is one of the best, too. I feel sorry for McCain's loss, because I was also sold to his graceful concession speech.

Writing in the blogsphere is not that applied but leisure, though there shouldn't be a conflict as to writing for usefulness or wriitng for fun. John Grisham shows a great example. Grisham is a prolific novelist with over 20 books published. He is a lawyer by profession, writes legal complaints and appeal papers for a living, day in and day out. He writes his novel from 5am to 8am before he leaves for work, everyday. That is amazing. Discipline rules. But the point is for some folks with this particular hobby, it is important to develop the passion for writing, either for the itch of self exposing, or for sounding echo of Ka-Ching, because writing is good to mind as running is to mind.