I got an A on that Midterm by the way

Plato, Sophists, Aristotle, Pseudo-Longinus spelled an A in Rhetoric! Oh did we have a good laugh over the name Pseudo-Longinus. Why Pseudo? Because scholars are uncertain whether Longinus was the guy's real name...

Giggles aside, it was a fun and rigorous class and I am satisfied with the work I put in. An A is an A and it's better than an A minus. Or a B, which stands for "B...ut you've gotta be kidding me". 

In other news, Vox Femina Los Angeles 15th Season is officially underway! First two rehearsals have been promising, in terms of both sound, and how the rehearsals went. Fingers crossed that it will be as spectacular as I suspect it will be.

I will be playing photog for Santa Monica Symphony in their upcoming season, hopefully at their concerts, but I am booked for at least the first few social events. I am also singing in a contemporary church service... to which I said "you can run but you can't hide" after finding out that (a) it's an Episcopal Church and (b) Bishop B. will be there.... haha.

Other musings...

The responsibilities that come with being 30. Still trying to define the age for myself. Still trying to reconcile my 'idea of what it means to be 30' with what my reality is. There were expectations. Not just with personal achievements or physical anticipations ("Metabolic slowdown!! Wrinkles!!), but the idea was holistic. I am not exactly at peace with my lack of financial independence, although having experienced it, it's not an area that I'm concerned with not being able to achieve again. However, the lack of financial stability has meant that many of my other expectations are falling miserably short. As a simple example, in the most superficial level: there comes a point when one does not have to resort to Ikea to furnish a room. I also didn't think I'd be wearing the same clothes I am still wearing. 

These are just examples of how I am unable to outwardly express how I inwardly see me and my surroundings.  What's more representative of yourself than the clothes you wear or the house you live in? They're not everything, but they are important. 

Where did I honestly think I'd find myself at 30?  

Married - yes. Kids - probably. House - yes. Traveling - yes. 

I really don't think those were unrealistic expectations.  It's just taking a helluva longer to get there. I'm having a great time yes being somewhat vicarious/unconventional yet consistently sensible. I am aware of my responsibilities. I am aware of my commitments. BUT, I worry that the longer I wait, the less spontaneous and energetic I become... it becomes a matter of physiology. There is less fear in youth.  To take chances. To make a move. To say to yourself "why not?" instead of "but what if?". I worry about losing my optimism... about stopping 'wishful thinking'.  Jaded and cynical are two things I would wish upon no-one, especially for myself.

Meanwhile, it's one day at a time. One commitment at a time. Need to make time to dream more.  To do more things like Shakespeare in the Park... chatting up strangers at a bar is one thing, spending time in the company of smart and delightful individuals is so much more rewarding.

On that note, I think I'll go buy some happy flowers for myself tomorrow!

Reminder to self: BLOG MORE DAMMIT.

Rhetorical Ponderance

Plato: "Rhetoric is winning the soul through discourse."

Aristotle: "Finding the available means of persuasion in any situation whatsoever."

Lovely, 2:10am in the morning and I've dead Greek philosophers on my head. Granted, I took a midterm much earlier tonight, and I suspect I'll be getting a B for "at Best, it might be a B". Admittedly it has been awhile since I've had to recall definitions of words I thought I knew. Nomos, doxa, episteme!!! The latter means knowledge!! I put down "truth". I also failed to write the complete definition of what a rhetorician is, which is someone who studies, theorizes, teaches and practices Rhetoric. I wrote down 1 out of the 4. It's quite possible a 6-10pm class is not the best time for me in terms of 'ideal testing situation'... but now I know (and knowing is half the battle...! Right...?). I hate B's.

In other, more exciting news:  BF got his Lincoln back! I have not seen that car since August of 2009 when it went out of commission. Wowza, Granted, it's missing a few things but it's a looker and the BF is happy, which is most excellent ^.^

Segue to canine children: Delilah looks like a sheep after getting shaved down, and subsequently chomped on Duke's already busted left ear in her version of tag, causing a sizable gash, not that he even took the slightest notice.

The rest of America is suffering from excessive heat, the Brits are experiencing a scandal unlike any other, Libyans are still embroiled in their fight... sigh. Time to sleep and feign ignorance. 

Osama Bin Laden's death... and the loss of something far, far greater.

You know that feeling you get when you've procrastinated on doing something... that all the gratification you should have felt when the task was accomplished has been replaced by a sense of guilt, that it wasn't done well enough, that it should have been different, or better, that more was lost than gained... I think that's what I'm feeling.

I was at a performance of Gershwin Alone at the Pasadena Playhouse when a woman shouted out "the news over the phone says Osama bin Laden is dead!" Thankfully she had waited until after the actual play had ended. To his credit, Hershey Felder responds with "...and what were you doing on your cell phone??!"

Thoughts raced through my head as BF and I drove home and I wondered what I would see when I turned on to the forum of all public reaction - Facebook. Stream after stream of outpouring emotion and fervor for our troops, our nation, cheers for the death of a man, articles citing details of crowds gathered singing our national anthem while chanting "U.S.A! U.S.A!" and "Hey hey, goodbye".... my heart dropped and I felt nauseous. This was a defining moment for me. There are moments that define your beliefs, the moments that answer the question to which you answer "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it".

I was 20 when 9/11 happened, and I remember the surge of patriotic fervor I experienced when we waged war on Iraq. I don't remember reading up on the process of how we arrived at this decision, I remember Colin Powell's presentation on WMD. I don't remember researching the background of our relations with Iraq and Saddam. I remember the take-down of Saddam's statue, I don't remember asking about our Exit Strategy or what Saddam had to do with Osama bin Laden.

These are questions I ask today. These are things I do today. And the more I read and the more I ask the fuzzier the picture becomes. It's much, MUCH easier to think linearly... to rely on a single doctrine and be steadfast on my own convictions regardless of what differing information I read and obtain. The word that's been ringing in my head has been "measured".  I know individuals to be measured, especially when they've had a moment to pause and consider the situation. I find immediate reactions to be unreliable, that given time to deliberate, when presented more facts and opinions, many are more than willing to adjust their opinion. The frenzy to react, to declare with overwhelming enthusiasm your feeling on the matter, is while commendable, perhaps less than ideal in certain situations. I found this to be one of those situations.

I am feeling rather subdued. This was not a victory for humanity. This was not the death of the symbolic evil. I'm deeply troubled by humanity. I'm troubled with calling someone evil and by those who subscribe to the Christian faith to think that THEY have the power to determine whether someone is good or evil. Bush called him evil, designated an axis-of-evil and what followed was a decade of war and destruction in the name of the greater good, a higher power. Osama bin Laden saw us as evil. What does that mean?

This followed on the heels of the news from Libya. Two days ago when I scrolled through the news headline on my phone and came across the report on death of Gaddafi's son and grandchildren. I was stunned, the word 'grandchildren' stared back at me. Turning to my BF I hold up my phone, "I don't know how I feel about that..."

"What did you think we were doing?" he asked.

This is going to take awhile. And a lot more thought.

I'm supposed to be...

I'm supposed to be writing a critique on President Obama's Address on Libya.
I'm supposed to be finishing my presentation on Burke's Dramatic Form Critcism.
Instead, I'm commenting on political blogs and Facebook regarding the lack of our (Americans) ability to engage in civil debates without resorting to 'snarkisms', broad generalizations, scathing indictments and 5th-grade name-calling. It's jaw-dropping to read through some of the posted comments. Disheartening, discomforting and really, JAW-DROPPING.  Where do these people come from!? HOW were they raised?  I attribute the latter question to my Chinese upbringing, where how one behaves as a person is a direct reflection of the manner in which they were raised. To that end, I think they were raised poorly. SEVERELY poorly.

Thanks to the class I'm taking this Quarter, I have rhetoric on my mind, regardless whether I'm awake or asleep. Sure it's been a nice jolt to the left side of my brain after a nice long period of la-dee-dah-ing but hyperactivity is not doing anything for my ability to get a good night's rest.  Reminder to self, rhetoric is not empty. Rhetoric is not just excessive words. Rhetoric is, as defined by my textbook, "the strategic use of communication - oral or written - to achieve specifiable goals." To that end, I am NOT wasting precious time over-thinking this stuff. I am learning. I AM learning. I AM LEARNING!

What are you doing today?

Apparently it depends on whatever's in the box that will arrive at my doorstep.

I'd ordered my textbooks and received notification from Amazon.com that one of it had shipped. Determined to be a proactive and studious, I pick up the brown box that had been left on my doorstep by a delivery man who had surely been run off by the sound of multiple large dogs barking, and decided reading would be at the top of my afternoon's agenda. It was not to be, as I heaved the box onto my bed, cut it open and instead of a textbook, I was presented with a gallon of concentrated BioGroom rinse for dogs. Reading instantly dropped off the list, and the only prioritizing I had to do was to figure out which dog to wash first. While I had every intention of postponing the daunting task of washing her, Delilah volunteered herself as Duke crept further and further back. An hour and half later, I had a clean dog and soreness all over my body that is becoming increasingly familiar.

Fast forward to today, no box on my doorstep, which meant the dog-washing agenda was still in play, and voila, Duke is clean. My leg muscles are cramped up, my bathroom smells of dog, but my puppies are happy.

Where are my books?

2010, the Year in Review

I'd told my friend Missy this blog entry would be titled, "2010, a year that sucked ass." But being the sensible person that I am, I quickly amended it to a less offensive title.  And then included it in the first sentence, where it's actually more visible. I can be glib.

I am in a reflective mood, which usually doesn't bode well. But wait! It is now 2011, and in 2011, reflection will be a positive thing! Yes, I find the silver lining in most situations, like sifting through a pot of mishmash, there are good things to be uncovered, lessons to be learned. However, I never found truth to the phrase, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  Uhm, try "what doesn't kill you leaves you battered and deeply wounded."  Typically the damage incurred isn't physical, which makes it that much worse. Yes, scars are visible and generally permanent, such as the ones on my knees that remind me of my happy and reckless childhood, but scars that are emotional and non-physical hurt that much more. Cuts that much deeper.  Cue bad Frances segue -

Why do pop singers have to ruin poetic phrases? As I am about to type 'cuts that much deeper', I hear the annoyingly poppy melody of "Firsssttt cut is the deeeeepest...." and instantly, although I haven't even typed it, the sentence feels cheapened.

Back to train of thought. Here are two reasons why 2010 will live in infamy:

Reason#1:  My grandfathers passed away. Plural. The only two I had. I just saw them, late 2009. A year later they're gone. What's that all about?  How do you explain that?  Don't give me the 'it was their time', or even 'they were old'. NO. Unacceptable. Bullshit. Yes, acceptance is the last stage of grieve. Well it sucks ass.

:::deep breath in::::

Reason#2: Settling for a joke of a job. I knew it was a joke because every time I received a ridiculous email banning another electronic device, sat in on a conference call that was two hours longer than necessary or overheard a conversation ten feet away from me carried on by management that was largely gossip? I threw my head back and laughed. The lack of judgment and professionalism exhibited by my former employers cannot be, and I've said this before, exaggerated. It was, unreal, and at the same time, too painfully real.

I think two reasons will suffice but I will relent, there were plenty of glorious moments and goodness that will sustain itself from now going onward. In chronological order, to my best estimation:

1. I could not have wished for a better year in sports. It was like the 90's all over again for me. Lakers championship run with Ron Artest! World Cup! Giants World Series!
2. I make friends at work. No that's not a shocker, but I met quality people that I enjoyed spending time with and have maintained friendships with since I left the company. Talented, quirky and personality-heavy individuals. 
3. Vox freaking Femina Los Angeles. My heart.
4. The few, the proud, the newly minted Foxy Voxxies. Both in and out of Vox, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.
5. A good friend's wedding. She finally got to walk down the aisle with the man she's adored for eons! I thought so and I'm just her friend! Thank the lord!
6. Reunited with my family in Taiwan even though it was for my grandpa's funeral.
7. Duke & Delilah. They inspire moments of hysteria - good and ugly.
8. And, my heart of hearts, who tells me at the end of the year, that he "super-duper loves me". I can't even begin to explain what those silly words meant to me. I've no words, just a well of emotions.

Quiet thoughts: I just realized there was a third reason for the year's negativity in terms of politics and my many private and sometimes published battles with those who think differently than I, but I'll let it rest. It was only appropriate we had record rainfalls near the end of the year, to wash away the nonsense, the grime, and the symbolic heartaches and troubles of a year, that in the end, I guess could have been better, but just was.

Rolling blackouts, maybe it should happen more often...

Earlier today, I played some Chopin for the first time in 6 months, wiped down the dogs, groomed Delilah, cleaned my kitchen, sang from Faure's Requiem (I like it better than Mozart's), read through half of my stack of to-read magazines and articles and and filed away bills.  My phone had gone cold in the middle of a call to the DMV, my netbook had died hours earlier and my car was still safely tucked away in the garage, albeit inaccessible. With the sun creeping lower and the skies darkening, I locate two candles and a book of matches and quickly realized I was ill-equipped for a real power outage, save a disaster. While romantic, my decorative candles provided shit for light as I sat in the dark, digging into a can of corn. A nap seemed natural if not the only remaining option and of course, just as I doze off, ding! The lights come on and I hear a cheer from the neighborhood kids who'd been playing outside all day, riding their bikes and bouncing around a basketball. I pull up the covers and go back to sleep.

Unplugged, it was a strange but beautiful day.