Approximately fifteen years ago I was sitting in my house playing the game "Duck Hunt" on my Nintendo Entertainment System. For those who don't remember, instead of the traditional rectangular controller, Duck Hunt had a special controller that was actually a gun, or the "NES Zapper."
Showing posts with label random musing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random musing. Show all posts
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
100 Years*
A bit of history to make up for the posting drought? Why not?
As witnessed by TONS of people (just ask Karen) on the streets in Taipei, there were some pretty impressive fireworks to celebrate the opening minute of 2011.
Worldwide, the eve of 2011 was just another night of partying in preparation for another year for failed resolutions.
For some, 2011 was more significant.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
A Material (Under)World
Today when I was driving my scooter home, once on the little alleys and lanes near my apartment, it became necessary to start weaving and zig-zagging around clusters of people watching paper burn in metal wastebaskets.
Enter "Ghost Month," or the 7th month of the Lunar Year
Friday, August 27, 2010
Back in Action
I'm back in Incheon International Airport in Korea's capital city, smack dab in the middle of a 7 hour layover. After spending 14 hours on a place in a middle seat (limiting my arms to T-rex style usage only), I arrived here at about 3:00 in the morning Korea-time, then had to wait about another three hours until anything in the airport opened. Oh, the joys of travelling.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Free money
How great is it when you put on your coat for the first time since last winter, only to discover you left a $5 bill in it? That's essentially free money. You just got paid to wear that coat.
Having an extremely optimistic attitude towards everything helps grasp this crazy "free money" logic
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Right of Passage
I think now that I've been here for over a year, I can start to vent some pet peeves and idiosyncrasies about Taiwan. Every place has them, and most probably aren't exclusively practiced in one place, so that makes it fair to point them out.
When navigating your way through Taipei's train/subway system, the "right of way" is granted exclusively to those pedestrians boarding the train/subway car. And in crowded Taipei, there are a lot of people trying to board trains. As soon as the car doors open, they simultaneously drop their shoulders and try squeeze through.
Here's the issue: You're heading into the city and Taipei Main Station is your stop. You and everybody else in the train are bunched together in a cluster at the door, they slide open and you're met by a frenzied group of juggernauts that have no regard for you, each other, or anything but the inside of that train. They can't put it together that the train passengers need to "alight" before they can get on. But they try to make it happen anyway.
So the typical situation is you standing in the doorway with nowhere to go. You are a stone in rapids, a rioter against a fire hose, Simba against stampeding wildebeests. Frozen in place, catching shoulder after shoulder to the chest until somebody realizes that if people get off, there will be more room on the train.
What may be even more obnoxious is that it also happens on a smaller scale. In my building, when I take the elevator down to the 1st floor, where it's quite obvious that I'm getting off, I'm never surprised to be in a 1-on-1 battle with somebody who insists on getting in the elevator before I get out.
To be fair, I don't think everyone in Taiwan does this.
When navigating your way through Taipei's train/subway system, the "right of way" is granted exclusively to those pedestrians boarding the train/subway car. And in crowded Taipei, there are a lot of people trying to board trains. As soon as the car doors open, they simultaneously drop their shoulders and try squeeze through.
Here's the issue: You're heading into the city and Taipei Main Station is your stop. You and everybody else in the train are bunched together in a cluster at the door, they slide open and you're met by a frenzied group of juggernauts that have no regard for you, each other, or anything but the inside of that train. They can't put it together that the train passengers need to "alight" before they can get on. But they try to make it happen anyway.
So the typical situation is you standing in the doorway with nowhere to go. You are a stone in rapids, a rioter against a fire hose, Simba against stampeding wildebeests. Frozen in place, catching shoulder after shoulder to the chest until somebody realizes that if people get off, there will be more room on the train.
What may be even more obnoxious is that it also happens on a smaller scale. In my building, when I take the elevator down to the 1st floor, where it's quite obvious that I'm getting off, I'm never surprised to be in a 1-on-1 battle with somebody who insists on getting in the elevator before I get out.
To be fair, I don't think everyone in Taiwan does this.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
A new man
Maybe not a new man, but certain adaptations need to be made. Here are...
5 things I do in Taiwan that I never do in New York:
5 things I do in Taiwan that I never do in New York:
- Sing- I now have 4 different classes that I teach every week and they use 4 different text books. However, every unit in all the books includes a song, and well, it's not going to teach itself.
- Dance- I'm often told by my superiors that the kids will only show me 30% of what I show them. So if I dance like a maniac, maybe they will dance normally. See previous post.
- Go clubbin'- As far as Friday and Saturday nights go, this is about the only thing for a foreigner to do in Taiwan. Rap, techno, and expensive cocktails are not my scene at all, but Taipei has loads of them and it's the best way to meet people that speak English.
- Carry an umbrella- I honestly can't picture anyone I know from home that carries an umbrella. Living in the rainy valley of She-jersey, I've come to realize that umbrellas are a practical accessory. I own two.
- Drive a scooter- I haven't actually bought one yet, but I will. They're cheap, small, efficient, and in Taiwan everybody has one so you don't risk the social embarrassment that would happen if you drove one in New York. I can probably tack "ride on the back of another grown man's scooter" on to this.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Eureka!
I've discovered a way to learn Chinese while teaching! A simple, yet coy, operation where both parties can share a language exchange. My students and I have formed a successful symbiotic relationship. Here's the catch: My Chinese lessons are all in English. Sometimes terrible, broken English.
But that's just it. My students are at a level which they are both able and competent enough to use their English abilities and run with it beyond their comfort zone. They don't need to stick to the grammar patterns we've been learning, but they rather say whatever is on their mind using what they already know.
This is an idea that I've taken into consideration in the past few weeks:
I've stopped trying to teach, as one might conventionally think of teaching; filling someone's head with facts. Instead, I've started teaching by asking "how," and "why," and "what if" questions.
Try to remember what you learned when you were in kindergarten. Really. Try. Or don't, because it doesn't matter. The purpose of kindergarten is to build a foundation for education. I would put a large sum of NTD(New Taiwan Dollars) on the claim that my students won't remember what a stethoscope is or that a giraffe's tongue is 50 cm long(almost 2 feet...gross). However, assuming they continue their English studies, I hope that it will benefit them knowing that if someone asks them to describe a trip to the doctor, they have the confidence and ability to take a situation that happens in Chinese and recap it in English.
It's during these moments, which Oxford seminars has appropriately labeled "magic moments," when you, as a teacher, realize that the kid has just uttered a series of English words by utilizing every tool and every resource they've ever learned from you. It's pretty incredible listening to a kid try to tell you something, then stop mid-sentence because he realizes he doesn't know the English for the word he wants to use, start from the beginning and take a completely different approach on the same thought, using what he does know, and ultimately achieve his goal, which is usually teacher comprehension and satisfaction.
However precious these moments are, perfection is hardly the aim and almost never the result. And this is where my Chinese lessons come in(you either forgot or thought I forgot what I was talking about).
For months I've been teaching English without understanding exactly who I'm teaching it to. I've been trying my best to abolish what my class now refers to as "Baby Sentences," which I've come to realize are only literal translations from Chinese to English. Cue the lighting of the epiphanic light bulb because my job just got easier. After a few conversations with some of my Chinese speaking friends, they've translated the Baby Sentences back into Chinese, and I can understand what the students are trying to say, therefore making it easier for me to correct them.
"There have cockroach." This sentence pattern drove me nuts! That is, until I realized what it means. There (that place, i.e. the wall) have (in this case we'd say 'has,' as in 'in its possession') cockroach (species of indestructible insects that are ever-present in my classroom). "That wall has a cockroach," or how we'd probably say it in English, "There's a cockroach."
And what I extract from the situation is the Chinese grammar. In Chinese, it seems like everything "has" something; here, there, he, I. With the same approach, I've learned grammar patterns that make sense out of "I give you see," "So big check," "He used me," so on and so forth.
At the end of this long-winded post, I can only compare myself to the very kids that I teach. I, too, but at a much lower level, am taking words that I already know and using them in sentences that I've picked up on. While this may come across as logical, because yeah, it is, but like so many other things in life, without that "eureka" moment, logic just doesn't seem that logical.
But that's just it. My students are at a level which they are both able and competent enough to use their English abilities and run with it beyond their comfort zone. They don't need to stick to the grammar patterns we've been learning, but they rather say whatever is on their mind using what they already know.
This is an idea that I've taken into consideration in the past few weeks:
I've stopped trying to teach, as one might conventionally think of teaching; filling someone's head with facts. Instead, I've started teaching by asking "how," and "why," and "what if" questions.
Try to remember what you learned when you were in kindergarten. Really. Try. Or don't, because it doesn't matter. The purpose of kindergarten is to build a foundation for education. I would put a large sum of NTD(New Taiwan Dollars) on the claim that my students won't remember what a stethoscope is or that a giraffe's tongue is 50 cm long(almost 2 feet...gross). However, assuming they continue their English studies, I hope that it will benefit them knowing that if someone asks them to describe a trip to the doctor, they have the confidence and ability to take a situation that happens in Chinese and recap it in English.
It's during these moments, which Oxford seminars has appropriately labeled "magic moments," when you, as a teacher, realize that the kid has just uttered a series of English words by utilizing every tool and every resource they've ever learned from you. It's pretty incredible listening to a kid try to tell you something, then stop mid-sentence because he realizes he doesn't know the English for the word he wants to use, start from the beginning and take a completely different approach on the same thought, using what he does know, and ultimately achieve his goal, which is usually teacher comprehension and satisfaction.
However precious these moments are, perfection is hardly the aim and almost never the result. And this is where my Chinese lessons come in(you either forgot or thought I forgot what I was talking about).
For months I've been teaching English without understanding exactly who I'm teaching it to. I've been trying my best to abolish what my class now refers to as "Baby Sentences," which I've come to realize are only literal translations from Chinese to English. Cue the lighting of the epiphanic light bulb because my job just got easier. After a few conversations with some of my Chinese speaking friends, they've translated the Baby Sentences back into Chinese, and I can understand what the students are trying to say, therefore making it easier for me to correct them.
"There have cockroach." This sentence pattern drove me nuts! That is, until I realized what it means. There (that place, i.e. the wall) have (in this case we'd say 'has,' as in 'in its possession') cockroach (species of indestructible insects that are ever-present in my classroom). "That wall has a cockroach," or how we'd probably say it in English, "There's a cockroach."
And what I extract from the situation is the Chinese grammar. In Chinese, it seems like everything "has" something; here, there, he, I. With the same approach, I've learned grammar patterns that make sense out of "I give you see," "So big check," "He used me," so on and so forth.
At the end of this long-winded post, I can only compare myself to the very kids that I teach. I, too, but at a much lower level, am taking words that I already know and using them in sentences that I've picked up on. While this may come across as logical, because yeah, it is, but like so many other things in life, without that "eureka" moment, logic just doesn't seem that logical.
Monday, October 26, 2009
I'm glad you asked
Happy birthday Mom!!
I think October can be chalked up under the tag "months that went missing." It's just another relatively long period of time that swiftly passed undetected, again striking up the realistic question of just exactly how much time can sneak by before I notice that I've been here for too long. Only time will tell.
My lack of blogging is exactly as it appears to be: I have nothing to say. Starter X has finally settled into a nice groove, where I can demand and expect control and productivity. The Squirrels are still angelic geniuses who literally have left me speechless with the things that come out of their mouth. For example, during a brainstorm activity related to a book we were reading, I decided to bring up evolution. When asked "Why do you think a cheetah has spots?", a question which I was only half prepared to answer, one girl raised her hand and answered quite matter-of-factly, "I think a cheetah has spots so we can use its skin to make a bag." I know what you're thinking, and you're right; In addition to hiding enormous brains behind adorable faces, they've got style. Next question: "Why do you think a rabbit has long ears?" Good question, Teacher John, why don't you at least try to challenge us. "A rabbit has to have long ears, otherwise it will not hear the other animals that want to eat it." I've spent the past week since this incident trying to figure out how, if I was required to, I would even explain the word "otherwise." I'm open to suggestions.
During nap time, it's a kindergarten joke that after all the other teachers are finished complaining about how idiotic their kids are, they turn to me and ask me what the Squirrels thought of War and Peace. (They hated it. I made sure they are Shakespeare scholars.)
If you haven't seen through it already, this blog is less of me trying to convince you how smart my kids are, and more of me trying to use them to show you how much fun I'm having.
I tell stupid stories for a living. I talk about animals all day, and as long as I explain the grammar I'm using, it's considered teaching. For International Day, I got to choose a country to have my class present (Spain) and I got to pick out what I thought were the coolest things to have my kids say. They listen when I talk, because as long as I'm acting as if it's the most awesome thing I've ever said, they believe me. And when I'm finished, they say "Cool! I want to learn more!" (true story).
It's a total cliche, but like Confucius said, "Find a job you love and you will never work a day in your life." Or, as Kanye West said many years later, "Welcome to the good life..."
I think October can be chalked up under the tag "months that went missing." It's just another relatively long period of time that swiftly passed undetected, again striking up the realistic question of just exactly how much time can sneak by before I notice that I've been here for too long. Only time will tell.
My lack of blogging is exactly as it appears to be: I have nothing to say. Starter X has finally settled into a nice groove, where I can demand and expect control and productivity. The Squirrels are still angelic geniuses who literally have left me speechless with the things that come out of their mouth. For example, during a brainstorm activity related to a book we were reading, I decided to bring up evolution. When asked "Why do you think a cheetah has spots?", a question which I was only half prepared to answer, one girl raised her hand and answered quite matter-of-factly, "I think a cheetah has spots so we can use its skin to make a bag." I know what you're thinking, and you're right; In addition to hiding enormous brains behind adorable faces, they've got style. Next question: "Why do you think a rabbit has long ears?" Good question, Teacher John, why don't you at least try to challenge us. "A rabbit has to have long ears, otherwise it will not hear the other animals that want to eat it." I've spent the past week since this incident trying to figure out how, if I was required to, I would even explain the word "otherwise." I'm open to suggestions.
During nap time, it's a kindergarten joke that after all the other teachers are finished complaining about how idiotic their kids are, they turn to me and ask me what the Squirrels thought of War and Peace. (They hated it. I made sure they are Shakespeare scholars.)
If you haven't seen through it already, this blog is less of me trying to convince you how smart my kids are, and more of me trying to use them to show you how much fun I'm having.
I tell stupid stories for a living. I talk about animals all day, and as long as I explain the grammar I'm using, it's considered teaching. For International Day, I got to choose a country to have my class present (Spain) and I got to pick out what I thought were the coolest things to have my kids say. They listen when I talk, because as long as I'm acting as if it's the most awesome thing I've ever said, they believe me. And when I'm finished, they say "Cool! I want to learn more!" (true story).
It's a total cliche, but like Confucius said, "Find a job you love and you will never work a day in your life." Or, as Kanye West said many years later, "Welcome to the good life..."
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Do you miss me?
I had a chat with one of my co-workers the other day about what in fact is so appealing about living in Taiwan. He is one of the many people I know who planned to stay for a year and now has been here for about 5 years. I think he really hit the nail on the head with how he worded the situation.
He basically said that because we don't really live here, or speak the language for that matter, we aren't really involved in Taiwanese politics, drama, and other domestic issues that would normally strike our nerves back at home. On the other hand, we aren't at home to have to deal with those certain issues mentioned above. We are more or less isolated in our own worlds. It's a liberating feeling being a foreigner who is far away from home and politely ignorant to the immediate surroundings. It really gives you time to focus on yourself and your own life.
Speaking of reasons why I love Taiwan, apparently it's pretty cool if you have zits and are balding. Allow me to explain...
A few weeks ago I was chatting with my boss' husband and another of my superiors, both of whom are Taiwanese. I had just recently shaved my head and was telling them how I didn't really like my new hair cut because of how obvious it makes the fact that I am bald(ing).
"Not to worry," they assured me. "In Taiwanese culture, balding is a sign that you will be very successful. If you lose your hair it means you think a lot." (This is right on par with Billy Joel's thoughts on balding: "It's not about less hair, it's about more head.") Then, of course, they referred to the very man I was speaking with, who owns the school. He is, of course, very successful. However, his 40-year-old hairline has only receded approximately the diameter of 2 strands of hair. If that's all the hair-loss it takes to be successful, then at age 22 I should be ready to open a Swiss bank account in no time.
Also recently, I was talking with my co-teacher when she stopped mid-sentence and stared at my nose.
"Do you have a zit?" I hadn't seen a mirror in about 10 hours and she had a pretty good view of my face, so I presumed I did.
"Uh... I guess so," I answered sheepishly. In general, back at home, I think people politely pretend not to notice blemishes on their friends' faces.
"In Taiwanese culture that means that somebody misses you."
Well, I've had very clear skin since I've been in Taiwan, so that belief is either a really clever way to avoid embarrassment throughout middle school, or nobody really misses me (especially since that "zit" didn't even turn out to be one). You tell me...
.
He basically said that because we don't really live here, or speak the language for that matter, we aren't really involved in Taiwanese politics, drama, and other domestic issues that would normally strike our nerves back at home. On the other hand, we aren't at home to have to deal with those certain issues mentioned above. We are more or less isolated in our own worlds. It's a liberating feeling being a foreigner who is far away from home and politely ignorant to the immediate surroundings. It really gives you time to focus on yourself and your own life.
Speaking of reasons why I love Taiwan, apparently it's pretty cool if you have zits and are balding. Allow me to explain...
A few weeks ago I was chatting with my boss' husband and another of my superiors, both of whom are Taiwanese. I had just recently shaved my head and was telling them how I didn't really like my new hair cut because of how obvious it makes the fact that I am bald(ing).
"Not to worry," they assured me. "In Taiwanese culture, balding is a sign that you will be very successful. If you lose your hair it means you think a lot." (This is right on par with Billy Joel's thoughts on balding: "It's not about less hair, it's about more head.") Then, of course, they referred to the very man I was speaking with, who owns the school. He is, of course, very successful. However, his 40-year-old hairline has only receded approximately the diameter of 2 strands of hair. If that's all the hair-loss it takes to be successful, then at age 22 I should be ready to open a Swiss bank account in no time.
Also recently, I was talking with my co-teacher when she stopped mid-sentence and stared at my nose.
"Do you have a zit?" I hadn't seen a mirror in about 10 hours and she had a pretty good view of my face, so I presumed I did.
"Uh... I guess so," I answered sheepishly. In general, back at home, I think people politely pretend not to notice blemishes on their friends' faces.
"In Taiwanese culture that means that somebody misses you."
Well, I've had very clear skin since I've been in Taiwan, so that belief is either a really clever way to avoid embarrassment throughout middle school, or nobody really misses me (especially since that "zit" didn't even turn out to be one). You tell me...
.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
This deserves its own post
.
Taiwan farts don't stink.
Yeah, I said it, and I think I would know by now. Ladies and gentleman of the jury...
Exhibit A:
I lived with Dave for a month in a room small enough for one small squeak to smoke the place out, but nothing. I slept in the same bed with him for a month. Not a single Dutch Oven. (Cold stare into the eyes of the jurors.)
Exhibit B:
I've been living with Mike for 2 months now and I'm not embarrassed to admit that we are not gas deficient. Odor, on the other hand, is definitely in short supply.
(Refill glass of water, only to pour it right down the hatch.) No further witnesses.
I don't know what to attribute this great phenomenon to, but I do know that it scares me. I will begin collecting evidence to figure out this mystery.
Taiwan farts don't stink.
Yeah, I said it, and I think I would know by now. Ladies and gentleman of the jury...
Exhibit A:
I lived with Dave for a month in a room small enough for one small squeak to smoke the place out, but nothing. I slept in the same bed with him for a month. Not a single Dutch Oven. (Cold stare into the eyes of the jurors.)
Exhibit B:
I've been living with Mike for 2 months now and I'm not embarrassed to admit that we are not gas deficient. Odor, on the other hand, is definitely in short supply.
(Refill glass of water, only to pour it right down the hatch.) No further witnesses.
I don't know what to attribute this great phenomenon to, but I do know that it scares me. I will begin collecting evidence to figure out this mystery.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Bizzaros
At some point or another everyone has come across a "bizzaro" of someone they know. You know, the person who has an uncanny resemblance to someone you know, to the point where you would swear by insisting they are twins separated at birth, if not distant relatives.
As much as we like to play up the "unique individual" card, I'm gonna have to go ahead and sorta disagree with that. Sure, nobody shares your fingerprints, but I bet there are tons of people out there that could get away with being your stunt double.
Take snowflakes, for example. We all know that "no two snowflakes are exactly alike." But let's face it, when you are staring at two feet of snow on your driveway wielding a shabby plastic shovel, snow is snow is snow. You sure as hell aren't going to fingerprint any of those flakes. Isn't that what life is about, anyway? A bunch of snowflakes claiming originality, but all floating aimlessly in the same direction, praying that they can avoid a gaping mouth with a fat, warm tongue hanging out.
And for what? Maybe you get packed into the head of the biggest snowman on the block. Maybe you get pissed on. Maybe you get balled up and tossed into battle. Or maybe, if you're like most snowflakes, you just end up lying there among the rest of the flakes, waiting for the next one to fall on you and take your place on the front lines of the beauty of an untouched snowfall. And at what price? The closer to the surface you are, the sooner you are going to melt. But they keep coming, one after the other, fighting to be on top.
Whatever snowflake you have become or are destined to be, don't we all have the same fate? As sure as the sun will rise, Spring will come and the snow will melt. Once a blinding white blanket of snow is now a puddle turning dirt into mud. Are there any two drops of water that are alike? Are there any that are different? Where do you draw a line between a drop of water and an ocean? At one moment you are a frozen crystal with never before seen beauty, and the next moment you are seeping into the ground and can't tell yourself from the guy next to you, helping you hydrate the weeds in somebody's garden.
If the glass is half full, or if your religion allows it, one day you will find yourself again, after what seems like an eternity of evaporation, condensation, etc., until one day you're floating with the grace of a falling rose petal from a gray cloud on a winter day, a one-of-a-kind snowflake.
...anyway, back to bizzaro people. Since being in Taiwan I've seen a handful of people's Asian Bizzaro. Mike and I have both have had a few instances where we see an Asian person and claim, "If my buddy from home was Asian, that's exactly what he would look like." And there's really no more explanation you can come up with. The two people probably look nothing alike, but there are some people that are distinctly Asian Bizzaros.
Here's an interesting fact:
The only reason I sat down and even opened up a new post was so that I could post this picture. The Asian Bizzaro theory became too real when I saw a Bizzaro Stanley!
As much as we like to play up the "unique individual" card, I'm gonna have to go ahead and sorta disagree with that. Sure, nobody shares your fingerprints, but I bet there are tons of people out there that could get away with being your stunt double.
Take snowflakes, for example. We all know that "no two snowflakes are exactly alike." But let's face it, when you are staring at two feet of snow on your driveway wielding a shabby plastic shovel, snow is snow is snow. You sure as hell aren't going to fingerprint any of those flakes. Isn't that what life is about, anyway? A bunch of snowflakes claiming originality, but all floating aimlessly in the same direction, praying that they can avoid a gaping mouth with a fat, warm tongue hanging out.
And for what? Maybe you get packed into the head of the biggest snowman on the block. Maybe you get pissed on. Maybe you get balled up and tossed into battle. Or maybe, if you're like most snowflakes, you just end up lying there among the rest of the flakes, waiting for the next one to fall on you and take your place on the front lines of the beauty of an untouched snowfall. And at what price? The closer to the surface you are, the sooner you are going to melt. But they keep coming, one after the other, fighting to be on top.
Whatever snowflake you have become or are destined to be, don't we all have the same fate? As sure as the sun will rise, Spring will come and the snow will melt. Once a blinding white blanket of snow is now a puddle turning dirt into mud. Are there any two drops of water that are alike? Are there any that are different? Where do you draw a line between a drop of water and an ocean? At one moment you are a frozen crystal with never before seen beauty, and the next moment you are seeping into the ground and can't tell yourself from the guy next to you, helping you hydrate the weeds in somebody's garden.
If the glass is half full, or if your religion allows it, one day you will find yourself again, after what seems like an eternity of evaporation, condensation, etc., until one day you're floating with the grace of a falling rose petal from a gray cloud on a winter day, a one-of-a-kind snowflake.
...anyway, back to bizzaro people. Since being in Taiwan I've seen a handful of people's Asian Bizzaro. Mike and I have both have had a few instances where we see an Asian person and claim, "If my buddy from home was Asian, that's exactly what he would look like." And there's really no more explanation you can come up with. The two people probably look nothing alike, but there are some people that are distinctly Asian Bizzaros.
Here's an interesting fact:
The only reason I sat down and even opened up a new post was so that I could post this picture. The Asian Bizzaro theory became too real when I saw a Bizzaro Stanley!
Monday, April 20, 2009
"Quote-unquote"
To read the title aloud, you'd have to say "quote, quote-unquote, unquote," which then leads to an endless amount of quoting, which is a bit of a mouthful. I was thinking today that quotes are very important. I mean that in two ways:
Quotes are important because saying...
I'm singing singing in the rain in the rain.
...makes no sense. But if you say...
I'm singing "singing in the rain" in the rain.
...it becomes a little clearer. Quotes, as you can see, are important.
Quotes, in the sense of the word referring to things other people have said, are just as important. To quote somebody means that you have at some point absorbed a nugget of knowledge about that person. After all, and I quote, "Copy from one, it's plagiarism; copy from two, it's research."1 People use quotes often, and not just for research, but for inspiration. People live by quotes, and quite frankly, for the amount of time that the concept of language has been around, by now everything we say is a quote. If you can't find the words to say, the chances are someone else has said it already, and in more eloquent rhetoric. Naysayers will say, "Wise men make proverbs, but fools repeat them,"2 and will I say, "Aha! You fool!"
The dumbfounded stallion will stand there perplexed, not being able to think of anything original to retort.
"You see, my friend," I will say. "'Originality is the art of concealing your sources.'3 It worked for Shakespeare, 'after all, all he did was string together a lot of old well-known quotations.'4"
__________________________________________________________________
Concealed Sources:
1 Wilson Mizner
2 Samuel Palmer
3 Unknown (ironic, eh?)
4 H.L. Mencken
Quotes are important because saying...
I'm singing singing in the rain in the rain.
...makes no sense. But if you say...
I'm singing "singing in the rain" in the rain.
...it becomes a little clearer. Quotes, as you can see, are important.
Quotes, in the sense of the word referring to things other people have said, are just as important. To quote somebody means that you have at some point absorbed a nugget of knowledge about that person. After all, and I quote, "Copy from one, it's plagiarism; copy from two, it's research."1 People use quotes often, and not just for research, but for inspiration. People live by quotes, and quite frankly, for the amount of time that the concept of language has been around, by now everything we say is a quote. If you can't find the words to say, the chances are someone else has said it already, and in more eloquent rhetoric. Naysayers will say, "Wise men make proverbs, but fools repeat them,"2 and will I say, "Aha! You fool!"
The dumbfounded stallion will stand there perplexed, not being able to think of anything original to retort.
"You see, my friend," I will say. "'Originality is the art of concealing your sources.'3 It worked for Shakespeare, 'after all, all he did was string together a lot of old well-known quotations.'4"
__________________________________________________________________
Concealed Sources:
1 Wilson Mizner
2 Samuel Palmer
3 Unknown (ironic, eh?)
4 H.L. Mencken
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A serendipitous reflection
I really wonder if there is some mysterious force that floats through the air, channeling thoughts and emotions, connecting minds in contemplation. Have you ever been thinking about something in a specific way, and then someone around you recites your thoughts in such a way that it seems more impossible that they didn't read your mind than if they claimed to have done so. The eerie lack of an even miniscule connection between coincidences often drives me mad. In a few instances I've wondered if I have a habit of thinking out loud, and I've toiled with the idea that I am an ESP prodigy and that I have some supernatural force surrounding me, connecting me to the minds around me.
The population of Taipei City is well over 2.5 million people, who are spread out over 272 square kilometers. On Monday March 30th, I knew exactly 5 people in the city, including Dave. On my way to an interview at 8:00 AM, I was walking through Taipei Main Station, which is the hub terminal for the MRT, the TRA (Taiwan Railway Administration), and the HSR (High Speed Railroad). Basically the Taiwan equivalent to Penn and/or Grand Central station at rush hour in the morning.
Sure enough, in the midst of the three-floor hustle bustle of Taiwanese commuters, I crossed paths with one of the people I know. Perhaps an insignificant part of my day, but I don't stop thinking about these things. Ever. Had I let one more person squeeze in front of me on the escalator, had I stopped to tie my shoe, traveled in a different car on the MRT, or even been looking in the opposite direction to try to find where I needed to be, I would have walked right past him. We would have been 10 feet from each other, but we would never have known.
While it would not be very undesirable for many people, you can probably trace almost everything in your life back to a 5-second window of oppurtunity that led to it. The people you've met, or even scarier, what about the people you haven't met? It's fascinating how many life paths could have been, or already have been, altered by a seemingly insubstantial amount of time.
Next post: video of a bunch of stoners and some religious fanatics discussing the butterfly effect and the idea of "fate."
The population of Taipei City is well over 2.5 million people, who are spread out over 272 square kilometers. On Monday March 30th, I knew exactly 5 people in the city, including Dave. On my way to an interview at 8:00 AM, I was walking through Taipei Main Station, which is the hub terminal for the MRT, the TRA (Taiwan Railway Administration), and the HSR (High Speed Railroad). Basically the Taiwan equivalent to Penn and/or Grand Central station at rush hour in the morning.
Sure enough, in the midst of the three-floor hustle bustle of Taiwanese commuters, I crossed paths with one of the people I know. Perhaps an insignificant part of my day, but I don't stop thinking about these things. Ever. Had I let one more person squeeze in front of me on the escalator, had I stopped to tie my shoe, traveled in a different car on the MRT, or even been looking in the opposite direction to try to find where I needed to be, I would have walked right past him. We would have been 10 feet from each other, but we would never have known.
While it would not be very undesirable for many people, you can probably trace almost everything in your life back to a 5-second window of oppurtunity that led to it. The people you've met, or even scarier, what about the people you haven't met? It's fascinating how many life paths could have been, or already have been, altered by a seemingly insubstantial amount of time.
Next post: video of a bunch of stoners and some religious fanatics discussing the butterfly effect and the idea of "fate."
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Jaywalking
At the end of almost every crosswalk in Taipei City, there is the familiar "walk/don't walk" indicator. Along with a little green man, whose glowing bulbs actually flash to show it walking in place, there is the countdown of how long you have to cross the street. I have very mixed feelings about crosswalks in Taipei. On the upside, it takes all the guessing out of crossing the street. Many times I have been almost a block away from the crosswalk and saw the green man pacing in his yellow box. Instead of breaking into an uncomfortable trot to try to make the light, I see that I have a 68 second cushion, allowing me to continue my leisurely stroll across the street.
One thing is for sure, though: People don't jaywalk in Taiwan. No matter how many seconds left until the light changes, how wide the street is, it just doesn't happen. As a New Yorker, I'm inclined to step out onto the pavement as soon as I see an opportunity to squeeze between two cars. However, the amount of peer pressure I've felt from the Taiwanese people has done nothing short of snuff out those temptations.
Consider this... I was walking by myself, and I came to an intersection where my green man had just fizzled out only to be replaced by his evil twin- the little red man. He reappeared on the adjacent corner along with the number 97. The scene was desolate. I was at the only intersection in Taiwan where there weren't any cars or scooters. I looked around, and it was only me and a Taiwanese gentleman, who was next to me, waiting patiently on the sidewalk. At 85 seconds, still no cars had passed. I could see at least a quarter of a mile in either direction. Nothing. 70 seconds. I glanced at the man, as if to say, "If you go, I'll go, too. We don't have to tell anyone about this," but his eyes remained fixed on the red man. I glared at him, then leaned ove
r the curb, giving an exaggerated look in both directions, then looked back at him. I could have easily been 100 yards closer to my destination, but the 3-way stalemate between this Taiwanese man, his glowing red counterpart, and the green pedestrian was too much for me to overcome.
Finally, I gave up trying to mentally persuade the man into crossing the empty street with me. 30 seconds to go, and a lone scooter zips through the intersection. 3, 2, 1. There is always a 5 second grace period where everyone gets the glaring red man. The man held strong. Finally, our little green savior appeared, and the Taiwanese man looked both ways and crossed the street.
The only conclusion I can come to after a few episodes similar to this is that Jaywalking is a capital offense, punishable only by tar and feathers, followed by being paraded through the city to be hanged in front of a large crowd.
One thing is for sure, though: People don't jaywalk in Taiwan. No matter how many seconds left until the light changes, how wide the street is, it just doesn't happen. As a New Yorker, I'm inclined to step out onto the pavement as soon as I see an opportunity to squeeze between two cars. However, the amount of peer pressure I've felt from the Taiwanese people has done nothing short of snuff out those temptations.
Consider this... I was walking by myself, and I came to an intersection where my green man had just fizzled out only to be replaced by his evil twin- the little red man. He reappeared on the adjacent corner along with the number 97. The scene was desolate. I was at the only intersection in Taiwan where there weren't any cars or scooters. I looked around, and it was only me and a Taiwanese gentleman, who was next to me, waiting patiently on the sidewalk. At 85 seconds, still no cars had passed. I could see at least a quarter of a mile in either direction. Nothing. 70 seconds. I glanced at the man, as if to say, "If you go, I'll go, too. We don't have to tell anyone about this," but his eyes remained fixed on the red man. I glared at him, then leaned ove
r the curb, giving an exaggerated look in both directions, then looked back at him. I could have easily been 100 yards closer to my destination, but the 3-way stalemate between this Taiwanese man, his glowing red counterpart, and the green pedestrian was too much for me to overcome.Finally, I gave up trying to mentally persuade the man into crossing the empty street with me. 30 seconds to go, and a lone scooter zips through the intersection. 3, 2, 1. There is always a 5 second grace period where everyone gets the glaring red man. The man held strong. Finally, our little green savior appeared, and the Taiwanese man looked both ways and crossed the street.
The only conclusion I can come to after a few episodes similar to this is that Jaywalking is a capital offense, punishable only by tar and feathers, followed by being paraded through the city to be hanged in front of a large crowd.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Speaking Up
My pics
Dave's pics
Its been about 10 days since we landed in Taiwan and I feel as though I am adapting very well. By now, I get tired around 11 PM and sleep through until 8 AM. And its not like I'm starving; Dave and I are perfectly able to get two meals a day out of the hotel by ourselves. Sure there is a giant language barrier, but I'm starting to pick up the basics, even though resorting to caveman grunts and pointing like a child at things I want has been working just fine.*
One thing that I have both experienced and observed is that speaking another language to a native speaker brings a tremendous feeling of accomplishment. For example, I used my Mandarin phrase book to come up with a sentence to ask a waiter for another beer. When he brought over another beer, I did a mini touchdown dance because I broke down the barrier. When I finally reflected on these moments, I started to notice how many people go out of their way to try to speak to Dave and me in English. Just like my Mandarin, it is well rehearsed and carefully artiuclated, and usually ends with a goofy look of wide-eyes looking for approval.
For me, trying to speak to people in their native tongue is like picking up one of Tiger Woods' irons and telling him, "Hey, look what I can do." But after he grimaces , he grins and walks the 3 yards to pick up my ball, and another 7 yards to pick up the piece of earth that belongs on the fairway at my feet. (Side note- I have a tendency to pick a metaphor and run wildly with it) It's a nerve-racking experience, but its essentially what's happening. I'm on the PGA tour of Chinese speakers, and yeah, everyones watching me tee up, yeah, everyone sees my knees quivering, but knowing how it feels to play their role is a huge confidence boost.
Hitting the links is still a long way away for me, but caddying is the best place to observe and learn first hand. For now, I'm satisfied with the pleasure brought on by communicating in small sentences, although I'm told that like any gateway drug, pretty soon I'll be trying bigger and more complex sentences to reach a greater euphoria.
* I <3>
Dave's pics
Its been about 10 days since we landed in Taiwan and I feel as though I am adapting very well. By now, I get tired around 11 PM and sleep through until 8 AM. And its not like I'm starving; Dave and I are perfectly able to get two meals a day out of the hotel by ourselves. Sure there is a giant language barrier, but I'm starting to pick up the basics, even though resorting to caveman grunts and pointing like a child at things I want has been working just fine.*
One thing that I have both experienced and observed is that speaking another language to a native speaker brings a tremendous feeling of accomplishment. For example, I used my Mandarin phrase book to come up with a sentence to ask a waiter for another beer. When he brought over another beer, I did a mini touchdown dance because I broke down the barrier. When I finally reflected on these moments, I started to notice how many people go out of their way to try to speak to Dave and me in English. Just like my Mandarin, it is well rehearsed and carefully artiuclated, and usually ends with a goofy look of wide-eyes looking for approval.
For me, trying to speak to people in their native tongue is like picking up one of Tiger Woods' irons and telling him, "Hey, look what I can do." But after he grimaces , he grins and walks the 3 yards to pick up my ball, and another 7 yards to pick up the piece of earth that belongs on the fairway at my feet. (Side note- I have a tendency to pick a metaphor and run wildly with it) It's a nerve-racking experience, but its essentially what's happening. I'm on the PGA tour of Chinese speakers, and yeah, everyones watching me tee up, yeah, everyone sees my knees quivering, but knowing how it feels to play their role is a huge confidence boost.
Hitting the links is still a long way away for me, but caddying is the best place to observe and learn first hand. For now, I'm satisfied with the pleasure brought on by communicating in small sentences, although I'm told that like any gateway drug, pretty soon I'll be trying bigger and more complex sentences to reach a greater euphoria.
* I <3>
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