RIP Brownie 7.7.1995-2.20.2007

It's difficult for me to write this post. For as long as I can remember, Brownie has been part of our family. My family first purchased him from a breeder in July 1995 - the summer between my sixth and seventh grade. Right off the bat, we knew he might be trouble because he crapped in our car even before he found his way into our home and hearts.

Throughout the years, we watched him grow from a tiny puppy into a tiny adult dog; he never cared too much for exercise, and often times found himself over weight and under appreciated. During that time, he never did learn to do any tricks, nor did he manage to find the newspaper under the table over 50% of the time. Translation: When we were in the old house, everyone in the family has - at least once or twice a month – have woken up in the middle of the night only to find that he had yet again, desecrated our tile floor.

Nevertheless, we always thought that he was a stupid dog - one whose inability to understand anything beyond his lengthy naps and his appetite for food - could only be attributed to a lack of intelligence. How wrong we were; Brownie was the type of dog who would only give you the time of day when he wanted something from you. For the most part, he only obeyed commands when it involved a treat on his end. Otherwise, he could have cared less what anyone was up to. As for the uncontrollable bowels - well, needless to say, if I could utilize the world as my toilet, so be it.

For the longest time, and even up until the present day, he was the most photographed member of our family. There was just something about his features - whether it was his pointy ears, short stout nose, dark lips, or nice long hair - he was always an attention grabber. Unfortunately, I did not use him to my advantage in terms of utilizing his good looks to meet more girls. Nevertheless, he did command a lot of attention, and in particular, from the many guests that frequented our house; guests who were inadvertently fooled by his puppy dog eyes into relinquishing what scraps they could part with. Even I could not withstand the gaze from his dark brown eyes, and even though I was well aware of his game, I could not resist the temptation of satisfying his appetite and appeasing the relentless pawing at my pants that he did so well.

His antics will not soon be forgotten. However, even larger than his antics, was his place in our family history for the last 11 plus years. We have taken him to the White Mountains when he was only a small puppy. I have carried him into Chinese school – walked him in parks all over, and even managed to take him to school once for a Spanish show and tell presentation. He has been present in nearly all of our birthday parties from the time when we were young children. Brownie has been subject to many ridiculous outfits that we have put on him – often times resulting in ridiculously adorable moments. Time and time again, we watched him hump towels and sleeping bags and whatever else he could find. In a sense, he was a dog with character – a member of the family whom we may have not agreed with at every critical moment – but have certainly come to accept as our own.

In retrospect, I may not have been the best owner. As the years progressed and more activities seemingly filled my schedule, I began to spend less time at home and with Brownie. Even my ritualistic rubbing of his head every time I left the house became a distant memory as college came and went, and the crushing weight of work befell my life. I don’t recall exactly when he began to display his age – it must have started with that bald spot developing in the back of his neck – followed by an incessant wheezing that may have caused him slight discomfort. Regardless of the fact, he remained adamant about his pursuits in life: napping and trying like hell to get that food off the table. It still worked even after all these years.

Last night, though, I noticed something very peculiar with his mannerisms. Normally, his presence could be felt under the table as he weaves around the many legs nightly in order to get his food. However, during dinner time, he was sleeping – noticeably unbothered by the fact that he was passing up yet another golden opportunity to retrieve some sumptuous treat. This morning, he sat there next to his dish with a slightly lower posture as I was preparing for work. Deep down, I knew that he was sick and ready to depart this earth, but I refused to acknowledge the fact. I caressed the top of his head and left ear one last time, just like I used to before I left the house, even though it would be the last time I would do so while he was alive. Only when I received a phone call from my sister later on that afternoon, did I realize the significance of each little encounter I may remember with Brownie.

My family has never been one to express emotions. But each of us, in our own little way, said our own goodbyes to Brownie; and I can be certain that each of us shed a tear or more in the process. Even though his body remains frozen in time – waiting for nature to take her course – his memories continue and his spirit divine. I can only hope that he has found a little bit of peace. It was nice knowing you, pal, and you’ve managed to make better people out of all of us – if only for a little.

Delta Airlines

Delta Sucks.

It has been two days since I was stranded at Logan International
Airport for over ten hours and I have finally come to terms with my
situation. For the past two months, I have been looking forward to
attending my good friend's wedding in Houston, only for me to find out
at 6AM at the airport that my Delta flight 5677 was cancelled as a
result of 'inclement weather'.

Initially, I was surprisingly okay with the situation. But the events throughout the day has contributed to my severe disdain for the airline industry - and in
particular, Delta. Having discovered this unfortunate cancellation, I
was forced to wait in line for approximately 1h 45m before arriving at
the ticket counter. The reason for this lengthy delay was partly due to
the weather, and partly the result of school vacation week in which
thousands of families with young teenage children were travelling the
globe to warmer destinations such as Mexico or Orlando, FL. From my
experiences on Friday, I have come to realize that there is nothing
moreexcruciating than being stuck in an airport line behind a few
over-privileged teenage children who were on their way to some exotic
destination. It wasn't so much their youth status as it was the topics
of conversation - from how hot Leo DiCaprio was in Romeo and Juliet to
their endless list of things to do with regard to their school work.
Teenage verbal mannerisms also take a significant toll on my tolerance
level - as their pitch and tone and emphasis on every last word of
every sentence seemingly drove me up a wall. Needless to say, the line
itself was a test of my infinite patience.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by a friendly staff member who only told me what I had already knew - that my flight was cancelled and they could not get me on
another flight because snotty brats had occupied all the remaining
seats...and then some. Knowing full well that I still wanted to make it
to Houston, I opted for the standby option with some flights connecting
to Cincinnati. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee that I was going
to get a seat on an airplane. And even if I were to make it to
Cincinnati on Friday through some kind of divine intervention, I would
have to spend the night in this decrepit mid western city before being
able to fly out the next morning. Keep in mind though, that by electing
for this option, I had to forfeit my check in luggage because I would not
have been allowed into the secure terminals with my large luggage.
Therefore, while I wasputzing around Logan International Airport, my luggage was on the stand by flight that I was supposed to be on.

After a monumental failure in trying to get onto the 930 flight to Cincinnati
via standby, I opted to phone my friend who works in the airline
industry. He enlightened me to the fact that Delta in fact has two hubs
(which the original staff member neglected to inform me) and that I
should try to make it to the Atlanta hub en route to Houston. Again, in
order for me to exercise this option, I had to jump back into the line,
which by now actually started where the line barrier began. 25 minutes
later, I arrived at the ticket counter with a newly proposed idea of
going through Atlanta. The lady informed me that if I were able to get
on any flight to Atlanta, she would have me confirmed from the last
flight from Atlanta to Houston for that Friday. I agreed to take my
chances with the four standby Atlanta flights.

At this point,I had not realized the severity of the situation: It turns out that ice storms utterly paralyze entire airports for days at a time and for this
particular storm, it was no different. Passengers had been stranded at
the airport since Wednesday - trying to get home to their families,
jobs, school vacations, etc...- so my particular situation did not
warrant any sort of special treatment. Like the idealistic fool that I
am, though, I chose to wait for the standby flights to Atlanta. Six
hours, dozens ofphonecalls to friends complaining about my situation,
and 12 dollars spent on crappy airport food later, I finally realized
the futility in my efforts. After spending a better part of the day
with the same passengers who were trying to capture the same flight, I
bid them a hardy goodbye, and left to see if I could retrieve a refund
for my misery.

It is now 3:30 and I just left the secure area
and back into the original check out area. It turns out that the line
did not abate this whole time, and I was looking at another possible
45-1 hour wait just to get back in line to speak to a representative.
To add insult to injury, there was even a line to use the phones to
speak to a representative. After waiting for approximately 12 minutes
for a phone to open up, I decided that my time may be best spent trying
to find my luggage that was probably already in Houston. This part was
relatively painless as I went through the usual motions of submitting a
claim to retrieve lost luggage. Thankfully, Delta employees in this
particular office were extremely amiable. They even managed to tell me
that I was number 37 on the standby list...for six seats. Thank
goodness I did not wait.

My best friend who happened to be dropping his mother at the airport, ultimately picked me up at about 4:15 in the afternoon - 10 hours since I was incipiently dropped off at the airport myself...what a pointless day spent hanging out in terminal A of Logan International Airport.

Since I have had two days to try and rationalize my Friday, I'm going to try and recap the ways in which Delta completely screwed me. First of all, I had to take the day off to fly to Houston to attend my friend's wedding - and day off
equals lost wages. Secondly, I booked my ticket throughOrbitz.com, and of course, I received zero notification that my flight was going to be cancelled even though I signed up for the Orbitz alert which should have promptly called my cell phone to report any kind of irregular airline operations. I received no such call in the
morning, but I did receive subsequent calls regarding my other flights
on the trip, which indicates that Delta cancelled its flight very early
in the morning -if not immediately prior to when passengers were
scheduled to arrive. They have had two and a half days to handle the
ice situation. Therefore, weather should not have played such a
significant factor.

Moreover, it stands as Delta's policy to immediately place someone on the next available flight should their flight be cancelled. Because of the storm situation and school vacation week, the next available flight to Houston -as told by the staff - was Sunday. Perhaps it was a little too early in the morning for me to
truly grasp the audacity of this statement - but that information was
tantamount to rubbing salt on an open wound. Nevertheless, I never made
it to my destination because I was subsequently placed on standby
flights that personnel knew full well that I had no chance of getting
on (refer back to my previous statements regarding the severity in the
flight situation for this President's Day weekend) - resulting in ten
useless hours at the airport.

Mind you, I was only offered a refund for my ticket after this entire ordeal - a refund that I had to obtain through contacting theOrbitz .com representative because Delta service lines were busy the entire weekend. One might question the
sincerity of Delta's front office to attempt to appease disgruntled
customers after terrible experiences with the airline.

Perhaps this could be the result of price discrimination - if I were a platinum
meber, would I have been treated differently instead of being cast
aside? After this entire experience, should I really feel bad for Delta
Airlines for their continued operations utilizing such poor standards
in customer service? It should be obvious that from now on, the only
time I will ever fly Delta, is if they were to issue me a free ticket
somewhere. In fact, that is the least they could do to compensate me
for the worst airline experience of my life. Perhaps if they do not
understand the significance of trying to regain the trust of one
particular customer, then how can they be entrusted to provide quality
customer service for any of their customers?

Legal motivation

For as long as I can remember after college graduation, I have been immersed in this dreary world of law school preparation and the application process. I can still remember the many hours I spent reading outside on the Boston Common in an attempt to familiarize myself with the LSAT's, the god-awful LSAT course that I took for one month in September 2005, and the countless hours I spent at home taking practice test over practice test until my mind just gave out on me.

Even as I tried to score perfectly on this exam, I still managed to fall WELL short of my goal. Nevertheless, I put that notion behind me and instead, decided to concentrate on the 'soft' portions of my application - personal statement, letters of recommendation, work experience, volunteer experience, and generally anything that I thought would help me gain an edge in the law school admissions process.

It has been nearly two years since I graduated college, and this whole ordeal is sooner or later coming to an imminent end. I have been so focused on getting into a decent law school, that I have seemingly placed my life on hold. In particular, when I was writing my personal statement, I felt completely detached from the world. Never have I spent so much time focused on writing a two page essay that was only supposed to convey what I am supposed to know best - my life. With all events in one's life that influences the important decisions that ultimately leads one to their current life, how do you exactly pin point the tiny aspect that you think an admissions officer would care to read?

I happened to choose the two weeks that I spent in Vietnam as a focal point in my personal statement and how that experience essentially allowed me to reevaluate the life that I have come to live up until that point. The theme mainly revolved around overcoming obstacles, and realizing that in the end, my family and its background is ultimately one that should serve as an underlying motivation to succeed in what I do - because many of them may not be presented the same opportunities as I have.

Nevertheless, that essay took me roughly three months to write, re-write, rip apart, re-write, and edit again until I managed to find what I thought was perfection. As a result of the editing process, there were probably 15 more people than I would have preferred who now know about my family history. Of course, I had to complete this ordeal all while trying to balance work, a social life, and the seemingly relentless pursuit of letters of recommendation from the people who held the fate of graduate school admissions in their hands.

When I finally attached the letters to the LSAC website and sent them off to my respective schools, I probably felt the same kind of relief that most aspiring law school applicants felt when they accomplished the same feat - except I didn't. Sure, it was a fantastic load off my shoulders; but the fact of the matter was that the exhileration did not warrant the same kind of relief as my original college application process. Perhaps I can chalk that up to experience. But then again, this feeling may just be a signifier that I am in fact not that excited about law school. But, one may ask, why would I go through all this trouble of applying to law school only to not be excited about going? Wouldn't that constitute a complete waste of time?

Well, since this entry's focal point does not revolve around the logistics of the application process (more to come on that), I can discuss my sentiments with regard to why I am not excited about the prospect of attending law school. For one thing, I have been a walking shell of myself for the past year. Before graduation, I was an idealistic young man who aspired to do such great things - travel the world, undertake a job of great importance, meet a bunch of people, etc...

But the fact of the matter is that I have been stuck in a job that is literally sucking the life out of me. I may have overstayed my tenure at this job by about 8 months - but of course, during most of that time, I was engulfed in my law school application process. Therefore, quitting during that time would be tantamount to being poor, un-motivated, and quite frankly, completely outside of my character. Nevertheless, I have come to loathe my job - not necessarily because of the people that I work with (for the most part, they are a great group of people) - but because I came to learn that I want to have essentially nothing to do with the work that I am doing now.

As I have been told so many times, there are just such greater problems out in the world that grossly eclipses the types of problems that I run into as a paralegal at an IP law firm - having the printer jam every five pages is not what I spent four years in college for. As a result of these daily nuiances, I have become much more cynical to the professional world and that, in turn, as adversely affected my ability to communicate with people - basically the experience has shorted my patience, thereby relegating me to this mean, boring person.

I never thought the day would amount to what I am feeling now. At the same time, because I am so close to my law school goal, I try not to let this radiating negativity bother me as much. Instead, it is hard for me to get excited for the prospect of law school because so far, my overwhelming desire to pursue law school is simply so that I can evade my job. This sentiment should not be the driving desire for me to go to law school - and it is certainly not. But at this point in my life, it appears to be the case.

Give me a couple of months to wind down on this law school application process. Only then will I finally be able to travel and perhaps, for the first time, truly be able to clear my head and focus on the road ahead. In the meantime, I have to suck it up.

Pan's Labyrinth

Movies have always been fascinating to me - probably because I have watched so many of them either on TBS of FX reruns. Rarely, though, do I actually sit down and enjoy a movie that hooks me from the beginning and makes me empathize for the characters almost immediately. Watching Pan's Labyrinth tonight seemingly transported me back to 1944 Fascist Spain from the onset. Perhaps it was the English subtitles that made the movie more real. But the fact of the matter was that I walked into the movie not knowing what to expect - only to be pleasantly surprised by how well the movie was put together and executed.

For the most part, I was disturbed by the realistic portrayal of a posts World War II fascist Spain in the movie. The realism embodied by the stories and the characters leave little to the imagination - considering every bit of pain, every bit of torture, and every bit of Ophelia (main character)'s solitude, managed to escape the screen and befall the audience. On the other hand, imagination was all that this girl had to live for. Stuck in a military post with a stereotypically sadistic and murderous captain, along with his group of horse riding cavalry, she really needed an escape from the life that fate had chosen for her. As an outsider to this little world dominated by military men, she had turned to her imaginations as a means to preserve her sanity, and in doing so, made the movie all the more entertaining.

The most intriguing part of the movie was the fact that it was left to the audience to decide whether or not there really was a magical underworld - one that Ophelia is the supposed princess. The story goes that a princess had once escaped from her magical underworld that had no pain and no suffering. Upon entering the surface, she was sickened by the sun, and therefore, perished as all mortals do. Her spirit was reincarnated into a different form, and the audience was to assume that this new form was within Ophelia. In order for Ophelia to return to her magical world, she needed to perform three tasks – as outlined by the magical character, The Fauno (ugly SOB…kind of made you want to imagine the scarf wearing centaur from Narnia). Throughout the movie, the physical items that were part of her three tasks were visible to those that were in the dark about her secret world. At the same time, many scenes also eluded to the fact that she was indeed hallucinating and thereby creating this world to dull her own pain – the scene where the chalk line of her magical door was still visible – and the climatic scene where she was talking to herself were among the few examples.

Nevertheless, the realism in the movie was the true selling point. The movie was real in a sense that the characters all managed to develop a distinct personality; for the good guys, we were able to sympathize for the terrible situation in which they were in; and for the bad guys (namely the captain), we empathized for his life dominated by hubris, pride, and a history of militarism in his family. Everyone had their own agenda - it was rather the agenda that you most identified with that would cause you to get sucked into the movie. Everyone would have their own character to identify with, and mine uncharacteristically fell with the captain. He did what was necessary to protect those things that were of importance to him: his post, pride, and most importantly, his legacy in this world. Everyone has their own agenda and a priority list in life. Why should he be cast aside because he was portrayed to be the antagonist in the movie?

It is hard for me to fathom a more graphically violent movie that I thoroughly enjoyed - particularly a movie whose focus was certainly not on the violence, but about the strength of imagination by one little girl. Nevertheless, the storyline, the realism, and the eclectic mix of good and even better characters made this movie a worthwhile experience.

winter day smokers

I currently work in a corporate environment in Boston's financial
district. By definition, my life is narrow in a sense that I encounter
the same people on the bus every morning - the one's who go to similar
corporate jobs, and wait in same line with the same people craving
Italian food at the localViga restaurant. Normally, I don't pay them
much attention because things quite frankly, don't change very much.
Except for today - I felt inclined to point out something that really
stood out to me: corporate smokers. That's right - the men and women
who brave the elements and pending lung disease - so that they might
taste the sweet taste of nicotine and tobacco.

Like I said, I normally wouldn't pay them too much attention...except for the fact
that it was about 13 degrees for a high in Boston, with windchill
bordering negative temperatures at brisk 20mph+ gust. And believe me,
it was cold. Nevertheless, the observation came when I was making my
weekly trip to the local Seven 11 to purchase the loaf of stone ground
wheat bread that I would eventually turn into my mid morning peanut
butter and jelly sandwiches. Then I noticed them: a group of about 6-7
middle aged women - congregated in the general smoker's area - enduring
what I can only describe as blistering cold and numbing wind - all the
while they huddled close for warmth; each with a cigarette in their
hand.

I'm thinking to myself: smoking has already been proven
to be detrimental not only the smoker's health, but all those inhaling
second hand smoke. Despite all the surgeon general warnings, the
graphic truth.com commercials, and general public sentiment, these
women managed to break away from their presumably corporate cubicles to
smoke a butt with random strangers.

Rationally, I would conduct some sort of cost/benefit analysis to truly understand what could possibly motivate these women todo what they do. But as it stands, common sense trumps all! It doesn't matter whether they feel as if the nicotine
would get them through the day - or that they felt compelled to chat
about the new guy who happens to resemble a Hollywood star, during a smoke break - the fact of the matter is that there is a serious issue when one cannot withstand a
day without taking a smoke break - forced outside and into the blistering cold (thank you Massachusetts state ordinance); especially when it was only about 10:30 in the morning. Yup...1.5 hours in the chair and the nicotine is calling already. I wonder what is going to happen if there was a monsoon outside?

College Humor?

http://www.cnn.com/2007/EDUCATION/01/31/gangsta.parties.ap/index.html

As much as I love writing about race relations as it pertains to Asian Americans, I feel the need to branch out every once in a while with my range of topics. Hence, the link above pertains to a story that ran on CNN on January 31, 2007 regarding mostly white students at predominantly white colleges, dressing up as gangsters and hip hop icons as part of a particular theme party. Without coordination, these parties allegedly occurred on college campuses around the country - ranging from UCONN Law School to Clemson to some school in Texas.

As you may be able to imagine, these parties caused quite a stir among the public after information leaked to the major press in the country. In particular, the die hard liberals are seemingly jumped into the middle accusing everyone who attended these parties as blatant racists. As it appears, this incident is reminscant of the blackface of the early 20th century where the lack of black actors lead to white actors painting their face black to portray blacks on television. Please don't get me wrong: I am 100% against the notion of dressing up as a member of a misrepresented ethnic group. I cannot begin to fathom, in fact, how livid I would be if I were to hear about a story in which white students dressed up as their favorite Asian on TV.

Nevertheless, the tone of the article and other similar ones, is one that radiates negativity towards the college students who participated at these parties - and for good reason. America is supposed to be the paragon of educational institutions that churn out scholars in an attempt to create a more knowledgeable society. How is it that such a knowledgeable segment of the population, be so disconnected with race relations and how their actions could potentially draw a huge backlash among the liberal media channels?

As I may have mentioned before, I attended a small liberal arts college in the northeast where diversity is definitely not abundant. I have heard firsthand, the types of conversations that occur among white students when a black person may not be present. Most of the time, it's in the form of some poorly constructed ethnic stereotype joke - ones that find an audience among the un-informed college students. For the most part, these students (I am not particularly exempt) have had the liberty of living rather stable lives - away from the dangers and struggles of inner city living. In fact, their parents, much like mine, were probably consciously aware of the dangers of the inner city and thus chose to move to the suburbs.

The result is that there has been a vail pulled over their eyes and thus created a naive sense of identity. These kids, as mentioned in the article, might be inclined to listen to rap music and therefore prone to think that their dressing up as a gangster is acceptable - when in fact, the vail prevents them from seeing the repercussions of their actions. I have come to realize that these kids (white kids) rarely have had the eye-opening experience to which they discover how it must feel to be a member of a minority group. Their insistence on sticking with the majority population creates a sense of ignorance. Without an injection of diversity into the mix, I feel that these mis-interpreted party goers will end up ignoring a significant portion of the population and hence, perpetuate stereotypes that they haven't made the effort to dispel.


Regardless, I really should be making a point with this incessant ranting: To succeed in this world is to be able to play the game of life, and for the most part, the game of life, particular in this country, is one that forces us to play in the framework of a white dominated society. At the same time, it is important to stand your own grounds and protect the values of one's particular culture as a means to solidify identity. When one group crosses over and appears to be overtly mocking another group in a condescending manner (regardless of the awareness of their actions), then that should be constituted as white privilege and ignorance - and not necessarily racism. We have to keep in mind that these students are merely kids who might not have been given the opportunity to broaden their comfort zones. Can we really blame them for being ignorant as a result of their upbringings? By no means should this explanation suffice as an excuse for their actions because college students only know that these theme parties go both way (read: prep night or dress as your favorite stereotype night). But, as I am an idealist at heart - give them a few years and more interactions before we can really make the judgement that they are indeed racists. With all the coddling going on in our culture, it's hard to really pinpoint the beginning of true adulthood.

Remember: racism = hate + power.