The new chapter begins...

So it's settled, I'm definitely off to Kellogg. While unceremonious checking of the Stanford website, I discovered the lovely ding letter - it was really really long. I fast forwarded through the whole thing and went on my merry way.

Of course, I am a bit bummed to not have the luxury of making a decision between two great schools. While I had been previously hovering around 95% Kellogg, even if I had the chance to select Stanford, it still would have been nice to know that it was my decision to make. Of course, another way to look at it is that I was saved from an excrutiating decision that would have made me close the door on something great one way or the other.

But y'know what's perhaps more telling? It's that I am bummed at not getting in not so much for myself but because it would have meant a lot to my parents. Getting into Stanford - much like Harvard - is the Holy Grail of every Asian parent's bragging rights. Somehow, if one's kid gets accepted, the arduous cross-Pacific journey to provide a brand new life for one's family becomes suddenly validated. Of course, I could be completely blowing this out of proportion and that, in reality, my parents are happy with how I turned out anyway.

If there's one thing about me, though, it's that I rarely feel satisfied with whatever I accomplish. Back in school (pre-college of course, back when I actually had a work ethic), I would beat myself over anything less than an A. Then, if I actually received an A - I'd bemoan any minor problems I missed. And if I had nothing to complain about, I'd just quickly stuff the test in my backpack and never look back. I wouldn't celebrate. I wouldn't feel that much happier. I'd just feel like it was status quo -- that that's the way it should be.

Just what exactly are these crazy standards I've ingrained in myself? Will I grow up to be the Asian parent who just asks for the A+ if my kid comes home with the A? Will I view critical feedback as simply a thoughtful example of "wanting what's best" for him or her? Am I ... unsatisfiable?

But still, I ponder this knowing that, in my heart of hearts, I am ecstatic about the experiences await. I am thrilled that I don't have to reapply - and that I will be attending a school that is a great fit for me. I think, more than anything, I am what you call, a "safe" complainer. Typically, I would have my truest needs met. Then, I will seize upon a periphery issue to analyze, muse, and complain about. While I am actually satisfied deep down, I frolic in critiquing my actions.

It is odd indeed. Maybe I am a well-to-do malcontent with nothing truly to yap about. Perhaps I like feeling like an underdog - even if it's not the case. Whatever the reason, I should really quit this little hobby of mine.

Why quit this fun game of complain-o-rama? Well, I think people may start getting the impression that I actually don't appreciate the people and events in my life that I, in fact, definitely do appreciate. Also, maybe taking a more outwardly optimistic approach will free of some of the self imposed shackles I slap on so frequently.

Of course, maybe this is simply a case of tough love. By being extra harsh on myself, whatever end result will be something I am happy with. It's like high-balling myself. Hmm.

Coincidentally, my Dr. Phil book is talking about this very issue. Being myself and not holding myself to anyone else's standards. That, apparently, is the secret to a fulfilled life. While easier said than done, I think I'll give this novel approach a shot.

We all scream for the Ring.

Q: What's funny?

A: A girl screaming.

Q: What's even funnier than that?

A: Lots of em screaming.

http://www.blennus.com/index.php?option=content&task=view&id=294&Itemid=

Filling Up On Phil

I prepared to get off the Bart and transfer trains. But the moment I felt the tap on my shoulder, I sensed the jig was up.

"Is it good?" she inquired. I'm not one of you! I'm not!

A deer in headlights, I stammered, "Sorry?" Maybe she's referring to something else.

"That." She motions to the book I had been entranced with during the entire Bart ride. "Is it as good as the ones before it?"

"Ahhh. Yes, it is quite good. It's really plainspoken and direct. But I haven't read any others." I responded softly. Maybe the others won't hear. Shh...Shhh....

"You should!" she exclaims. The entire train, I can feel their eyes. They pierce! They judge! C'mon lady, no more..."Dr. Phil is really the greatest!"

Thaaaanks.

***
But I kid, I kid. I've long gotten past the threat of public ostracization for embracing the uncool.

Wearing the bright orange cap-toed clown shoes my Grandpa bought me took care of that nice and early in life. And having my entire first grade class know that I took a bath with the girl next door sealed the deal. And for good measure, there was the announcement by my coworker during my first all-hands meeting that I watch Gilmore Girls.

So, yeah! It's called Self Matters and it's by Dr. Phil! And I read it right before I get my beauty sleep!! So there!

...Just don't tell anyone ;).

yaka yakatabune!

yakabune
Originally uploaded by funalley.

all you can drink asahi and sake, bottomless tempura and endless karaoke. this was a boat of hyberbolean porportions.

zoom zoom

zoom zoom
Originally uploaded by funalley.

Be it on the JR Rail, Shenkanzen (Bullet Train) or the Metro, everything passed in a Japanese minute.

Tokyo-Five-Oh

Konichiwa everyone! It's great to be back :).

The two week GIM Japan trip (Kellogg's international business research trip) was one Amazing Race of a time. Try as I might, I couldn't quite squeeze enough time into our insane schedule to blog at one of Japan's many manga cafes (internet-japanese comic spots). During the one moment I did have to settle into an Internet station, I fruitlessly fettered my yen away as I tried to make sense of my funky keyboard that kept alternating between Japanese and Korean. By the time I had it figured out, it was time to dash off to our next hot spot.

Suffice it to say (did you know most ppl think it's "suffice to say"? interesting, no? just like how irregardless isn't a word yet peeps use it all the time. crazy humans!), I loved Japan. While the land of the Rising Sun was indeed chockful of tasty delights, ultra friendly peeps, and dazzling technological coolness, I have to commend the group leaders in composing an itinerary that provided such a diverse glimpse of life in Japan that it rivals my normal experience here in the States.

The spots!

• Tokyo - land of: neon signs, rush hour that feels like the million man march, karaoke, all you can drink on the yakatabune boat tour (while being filmed for Japanese TV), trip to Namjatown (a Chuck E Cheese, but with gyoza instead of pizza) & visits to Sony, Dentsu (ad company), Celux (fancy members-only club of Louis Vuitton), BCG
• Osaka - land of: second fiddle mentality to Tokyo, Osaka Castle, visit to Toyota's famed manufacturing plant (think: robot attack in Matrix 3) & meeting spot of our homestay family
• Nara - land of: Japan's first capital, most famous temple & zillions of hungry hungry deer (think: Italy's St. Peters Square w/ deer instead of pigeons)
  
• Kyoto - land of: sumo wrestling, Zen overnighter (brr!), super-kabuki (hyped up take on the traditional Japanese theater - cirque du soleil meets samurai-ish melodrama)
  
• someplace - land of: Hayao Miyasaki's studio (Spirited Away, Totoro)
• Hakone - land of: kimonos, fancy 9 course meal, naked hot springs (fig leaf anyone?!)

The gasps!

• Me + First International Pressure Situation = When confronted with a flurry of Japanese while trying to exchange my money, I responded, "Si si....". No Alberto jokes, please.
• Buttons, buttons! Japanese toilets are fancy. How fancy? Well, there are two heated seat settings - warm and hot, buttons for "preparation" (runs some water to clean the bowl), "bidet", and "shower", a dial to control wash-water temperature. When you sit down, this water noise starts up as background noise (so thoughtful!). After a week and a half, I was bold enough to press the shower button. Think of it as a well-aimed Super Soaker. Very well aimed. Yikes!
• Elastic is not the answer. So the family Di and I visited had a four-old daughter and a one-year old boy. We immediately felt at home and I was bouncing Ryo, the 1 yr old on my knee, just like they do in the movies (and maybe in real life too). Well, I'm about three bounces in when suddenly the kids ultra loose pants and down around his ankles and I'm making cooing noises at this half-naked boy. Fortunately, the host family laughs good-naturedly and I quickly try to put his pants back on. No Michael Jackson jokes, please.
• The jumping bean. I was scarfing my mondo burrito when a black bean fell out. I couldn't find it for the longest time until I realized it had miraculously bounced two chairs away and resided underneath the socked foot of the guy next to the aisle. I couldn't decided if I should mention it to him (thus pointing out that I was one sloppy joe) or just hope he didn't extend his foot and squash it (hey, it was only an 11 hour ride). .... I took my chances. [for those who know my spit bean on the pants story or my slime on the sweats story, this one is par for course, eh?]
  

...and of course, the lessons...

• They are nice peeps. "Sorry" and "Thank you" are peppered throughout Japanese conversation. Manners, protocol, and respect are of the utmost importance. There is no such thing as being too polite. Whether it be at McDonald's, a fancy restaurant, in the hotel lobby, or just on the street - I was always met with a polite tone, a bright smile, and generous heaps of courtesy. I know, I know, this is a generalization and that there are all types of people everywhere. If so, I then puzzle over why I don't come away with that feeling here. If anything, I'd say courtesy is earned rather than standard and indifference is the golden rule. Just look at how we treat people who don't speak English.
  
• Sweet silence. Despite the insane population in Japan, it is not New York deafening. We walked through Tokyo one morning and noticed how quiet the streets were. There was the soft beat of people walking and swish of cars driving by, but absent were abrasive honks or loud conversations. During our visit to the Zen temple, the monks encouraged silence to focus on our tasks such as meditation and eating. It is important to be self aware, they reminded us. You could tell many of us were dying to just talk -- even if we didn't have anything to say at all.
• What if we all just did the right thing? Eating and drinking in public is impolite in Japan. Also, there's barely any litter in Japan, yet there are very few public garbage cans. When I arrived in SF to work this morning, I noticed the ubiquity of both garbage cans and litter. Tis a strange, almost contradictory, phenomenon, indeed. I think this is a case of being provided an inch and taking a mile. Because we Americans are permitted to eat anywhere, we of course produce garbage. Because we produce garbage, we feel compelled to discard with it immediately. Because there are garbage cans around, we reason that there must be some entity that cleans them out -- along with the streets surrounding them. Therefore, it must be fine to just toss litter wherever we want - it'll go away. This goes for cigarette butts too.
• Salad bowl. Mixing pot. Whatever you want to call it, there's no equivalent for a rich, diverse community. I took BART home today and was transfixed by the sheer differences between each of the riders. I had become used to seeing the ocean of black haired Asians every morning - and had come to forget how unique this home of immigrants truly is.

If you made it to the end of this blogathon, you're probably praying I don't go on another trip anytime soon :). At any rate, thanks for reading. Until next time, sayonara, over and out!