New Housing?

Besides finals, for a lot of my friends the end of the semester also means changes in housing.

Since my lease is up in October, I'm on a rather strange timetable compared to everyone else. The plan was that, since I'll be done with school next June and moving on to other things, it doesn't make sense to renew my lease in the city for another year. Instead, I'm supposed to move in with my mom for the remainder of senior year and spend October 2010 - June 2011 at home. It's the financially conservative decision, if not the most fun.

However, a group of my friends are looking to renew their apartment for next year and need another room mate. If I signed with them I would have a place from June-June, the time slot I need, with the added bonus that I love their place and crash there almost once a week already.

Actually, this new option makes a lot of sense, because my current room mate has a cousin who wants to take my spot and it's awkward for him to wait till October to do so. If I moved out in June (or even in August, which is possible), he would be here for fall semester, I would have a place in the city for the time I need, and everyone (except maybe my mother) would be happy.

Trouble is, there's a lot of moving pieces, not least of which is convincing my mom to fund another apartment. If we're concerned about the cousin moving in by fall semester, the financially sound decision would be to move me home in August without any talk of a different apartment. Charging "The House" to represent my living situation, I did a quick reading:

Bear + Gentleman + Flowers + House + Cavalier + Key + Tree

Bear + Gentleman = A man who's not in complete control of his life, who owes financial considerations to another person.
Bear + Gentleman + Flowers = A man caught between financial responsibilities (The Bear) and social desires (The Flowers).

I think this aptly describes my situation, since I'm really under the financial jurisdiction of my mother at the moment. Even though I realize living with her is the practical thing to do, nevertheless I want to stay in the city with friends.

House + Cavalier + Key = The Cavalier means "movement" and the Key says, "Yes!" so it seems like some sort of change is inevitable that was not part of the original"stay till October" plan.

Key + Tree = The Tree as the final card makes me think the chances of moving with my friends are unlikely. The Tree is about stability, putting down roots, and long-term considerations. This seems to go against moving anywhere else but home, since getting another temporary lease is volatile and unstable. Or does it mean I'll finally find a plan and stick to it?

There's something to be said about doing simpler, more straightforward readings in the future. In any case, I'll discuss my options with my current room mate and with my mother as well.

Know Your Status?

A quick public service announcement from me: I hope everyone out there is getting regular check-ups for HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases!

I know it sounds hokey, and I usually have to follow with a disclaimer like "I'm not promiscuous!" because there's a certain stigma that, if you need an HIV test, you're probably sleeping around. This isn't always the case, and if you're holding back because of what people might think about you - don't!

Get tested. Know your status. Protect yourself.

If you're in the Chicago area and looking for a place for HIV tests, I recommend the Center on Halsted - it's quick, free, and confidential. The staff is also extremely helpful and welcoming.

My counselor might have thought I was nuts, though. Being a bit of an obsessive-compulsive hypochondriac, I got increasingly nervous as the timer counted backwards, ticking away the seconds until my results were ready. Even though I wasn't initially worried, something about the timer really makes you wonder "What if...?" So when the results came back negative, I couldn't stop staring at them, just in case they changed after a second or two - unlikely, but you never know. Finally the counselor had to ask if I wanted to take a picture to look at later...and I nearly said "yes" before deciding I didn't want to be that client.

Anyway, spread the word about safe sex. Here's a snippet from my friend on Facebook:

- The guy was like, "Your hands are really soft. I can tell this is gonna hurt."
- Ha. You got hit on at the HIV clinic! 
- He was NOT hitting on me. Though he was a little cute.
- "Your hands are really soft." If that isn't a pick-up line...!
- So if I were giving you a venipuncture test and was like, "My, could you flex your arm for me?" that would be a pick-up line as well?
- Uh huh. And I would say, "I'll flex whatever you want me to flex." And then it'd be on! Don't you watch porn? Bow chick-a wah wow.
- I'm not sure I'd watch a porno called "Regular HIV Test Goes Bad."
- Well geez, you wouldn't title it that!

Updates

Okay, I lied about going to bed and having no time to blog during finals week. I'm having too much fun right now (this will be my third post in the last hour), and I know I won't be able to sleep for another while anyway.

I was going through my old entrees and realized I went for a long while only blogging intermittently. As a result, there's no record of some major lifestyle changes I've made this past year. Most notably, I never mentioned I don't live at this condo anymore, which was in a really sketchy neighborhood on Chicago's west side. For those who don't know, there was a homeless shelter behind me at this place and once a week the Salvation Army truck would park beside my building and hand out food and drink.

Back in September my room mate was coming home at night when a thug on our street picked a fight with him. We shut ourselves indoors but the guy came back with reinforcements at 4 in the morning, jumped our gate, and pounded on the front door looking to jump my room mate. I've never had to call the police before that morning, but we grabbed our things when the officer came and got the hell out of there. A week later we started apartment hunting.

I have to say, a lot of good came out of that night. I live in a bigger, nicer place in much better neighborhood now, and just a ten minute walk from campus. There's actually businesses and restaurants around me, and a lot of my friends live within a few blocks from here. Actually, I feel this move had to happen in a way, like my life couldn't have become what it has without the move, and I can hardly remember living at the old condo. Even returning there from class last semester seems like a vague memory.

On the home front, my mother took her boyfriend to Thailand last month to meet my family and, I suppose, show him what he's getting himself into. Apparently he loved the trip, and my family loved him: even my grandmother, who we thought might have a few old-fashioned reservations about the guy, didn't object. He and my uncle became drinking buddies, my little cousin liked playing with him, and he can imagine living over there after retirement. He even refers to me as his "other son" now.

***

Something about blogging tonight and writing off the top of my head is really therapeutic. I should do it more often. Sometimes I hold back on strictly mundane blogging because I have the sense I should produce something "literary" all the time - that is, write personal essays, cultural critiques, and little articles, as if this were some sort of magazine. That's bullshit. I know hardly anyone's reading stuff like that, and for once it's nice not to think about structure, plot, narrative arc.

This blog is for me and I write for myself. I often lose sight of that.

Finals Week Blues

Hm, my readership's dropped significantly in the past two months.

...but I suppose that's natural, since I haven't been writing much of anything lately, much less anything interesting.

I do have a very feisty post in the works concerning an unfortunate racial remark I had directed at me the other week, but I'm so swamped with final papers and exams I won't be able to tackle it for some time. That's a good thing, however, since I have time to collect my thoughts instead of just ranting. It's really something that has to be understood from a collective level and not as an isolated incident. In the meantime though, I have more than enough writing to do: two more papers and I'll be home free.

At the same time, the end of this school year is, though much anticipated, also bittersweet. A lot of the friends I started freshman year with are graduating and moving to grad school, including some really close ones. Most of them are staying in the area, but it's amazing three years have gone by, a reminder that I am, in fact, growing up. Seems like all I obsess about nowadays are my post-undergraduate plans, and I still have a year left.

Nevertheless, I'm expecting a fun summer: I'll be living and working downtown, turning 21, and not taking any summer courses for once.


In other news, I'm so proud of my friends from Mahidol International College for participating in the "Pink Shirt" protests in Bangkok. Not affiliated with any political group, they're just average Thai citizens calling for an end to the violence that's dogged Thailand lately.

You tell them, girls! Maybe I'll get to join you in a few months...but hopefully this chaos will be resolved soon, and peacefully. I'm pretty impressed by the artwork that's emerged through the politics. I want to blow this picture up and frame it in my room:

Anyway, my Honors seminar was rescheduled from 3 PM Monday to 9 in the morning tomorrow, so I should crash. I'm a little peeved I took the course; I didn't need to, but did it for a friend, and as a result have looked at it as busy work all semester. But since it's only an hour long, it's really the last of my worries this finals week...

Songkran 2010

Last week was Songkran, the traditional New Year of the Tai people, at the Cultural and Fine Arts Center.

This was actually my first time participating in any of the traditional Songkran activities, which includes a water blessing ritual, folk dances, and, of course, a potluck.

Rinsing of the hands and face is especially important to the holiday, as it symbolizes the washing away of the past year's grievances and misfortunes.

Unfortunately even this happy day couldn't escape the shadow of Thailand's recent political events. For their dance the girls all wear red loincloths, and one student remarked the color seemed rather faded, asking if the cloths were really old or just a muted shade of red.

My favorite teacher said, "They're supposed to be that color. No one wants to be truly red."

We all had a good laugh about that one.

What's Keeping Me Up

It's nearly four in the morning and I can't sleep.

My mind refuses to turn itself off, a condition I like to call "mental diarrhea." Mostly I'm keeping myself awake imagining hypothetic situations concerning school and work that may or may not ever occur. So to idle away the time, I've decided to list them. I wonder:

1) Whether or not I'll be able to take English 492, the last class I need for my major, next semester, since it's at maximum capacity right now;
2) If I should wait to take it next spring, even though the time is somewhat inopportune and I may be involved with a large research program;
3) If I'll get into the aforementioned program;
4) Whether or not I'll do well at my summer internship, and if they'll decided to hire me afterward as an employee;
5) Where I can find nice clothes that actually fit me - on a budget;
6) That I really want a bright yellow dress shirt and a tight-fitting black vest to match;

7) That I also want a powder blue Oxford shirt;
8) That the belt my mom got me from Thailand, which I really like, is too small and I'll have to punch extra holes in it myself;
9) If I will get the Fulbright scholarship after graduation;
10) If I really want to do the Fulbright after graduation;
11) If I should apply to a graduate program instead;
12) That I don't know the first thing about graduate programs in English or Creative Writing, though apparently the programs in Iowa and (West?) Virginia are very good;
13) That I'm probably not good enough to get into those programs;
14) If I should re-think my plans to teach in Thailand after graduation;
15) If I would rather open a restaurant instead;
16) If I will ever have anything worthwhile to publish;
17) If I should do an Honors thesis next semester;
18) Who would agree to be my faculty supervisor for the Honors thesis;
19) If I should get a gym membership at the student rec center this summer;
20) If having a muscular physique will make more guys like me;
21) If I'd have a more fulfilling sex life as a result;
22) If I really want to have a "sex life"...

The list goes on and on, but I'm feeling the first swirlings of drowsiness in my head now. I may continue in the morning.

Dejection: A Post

I'm in a strange sort of funk today: a sort of floating listlessness. Nothing interests me, I can't focus or pay attention, the poems and songs I like don't please, and on top of that I'm completely drained.

This is problematic because, for me, tiredness is something I have to earn. I've done very little productive work this week (though I suppose it's only Tuesday): finished a novel, critiqued a few essays, the bare minimum to maintain appearances in class. Otherwise, I've gone out a lot since last Thursday, and that's not an excuse for being tired, especially when some of my friends are working 40 hours a week on top of school or are involved in a dozen time-consuming extracurriculars.

I think on some level this is an exaggerated response to certain feelings that are entirely routine for me. As an aspiring writer, my self-confidence wavers periodically: times when I think I have nothing to tell and no skills to do it if I did. There's a personal essay for class that needs revision, but starting it has felt like pulling teeth because I sense I'm forcing a story where none exists, and that begs the question whether or not I have anything worth telling at all. It feels fake. Then my poetry translation project makes me wonder if I have any penchant for poetry or if I'm only fooling myself, and reading the works of published, well-established writers only depresses me. (Though I wouldn't call what I have depression. It's really a lack of any type of emotion.)

I know I'll go to bed and wake up feeling fine in the morning, but for right now I just don't want to do or think about anything.

Finding My Poise

It's my third week volunteering with the Thai Culture and Fine Arts Institute of Chicago, and I'm really enjoying it. For once I feel like I'm doing something not only worthwhile but productive and enjoyable. Sure, I'm not great with kids (today's batch was particularly young and disinterested), but at least I'm getting something out of it, and I'd like to think they are, too - even if I have to force it into them.

On top of that, lunch is provided potluck-style by volunteers who alternate cooking each week, and so far I've been impressed by the time and effort they're putting in the food. They're not making your standard Thai restaurant fare, but some rather complicated traditional dishes I only find on festival days. Then there's the stud who works the front desk, the 6-foot-something, extremely well-built Latino guy with a tattoo on his right bicep. He came up to grab lunch today and I nearly bore holes staring at him. I think he noticed too. Can't be long before he corners me in the bathroom and has his way with me. God, I wish they'd serve me for lunch.

But before I give the wrong impression, my favorite part is rejoining my old dance troop. Thai folk- and classical dance looks deceptively simple, but it's actually an art of carefully studied postures that require dexterity to perform and maintain. Poise is key: the head has to be tilted at exactly the proper angle, the arms held neither too high or low or spread too wide, and every body part synchronized with each other. The greatest compliment an instructor can give is that her pupil's joints are malleable, that they don't resist when she bends and positions them.



I always leave with arms and legs sore from awkward contortions or bearing my weight unevenly, but really satisfied also. I've fancied myself as a classical dancer since I was a little kid and I'm finally pursuing it. There's a group of 16-year old boys being forced to fill the remaining male roles in the dance, and they revile it: they take grace, beauty, and refinement as a blow to their burgeoning manhoods ("Dude, this is so emasculating."). What's with this meat-head culture and why do so many adolescent men buy into it? When I was their age I let this kind of inanity and the consequent teasing get to me, but I've got the maturity and seniority now to do what I please.

Today I felt a little ungainly though, with my long, scrawny arms and big hands, so the instructor hovered behind me and helped modify my posture. (If the other dancers are swans, I am an ostrich.) I spread my arms apart in the standard "circle" position, with my fingertips curled inwards towards me.

"There, spread your arms about this wide, and your fingertips shouldn't exceed your eyebrows. Keep your back straight and your head up," the instructor said. "Everyone is different, so you have to find the posture that suits you best."

Ash Wednesday

I don't come from a Catholic - or even a Christian - background, but I love Ash Wednesdays. I like to see people walk around campus with the sign of the cross smudged across their foreheads.

We live in an age of such cynicism and anxiety that it's heartening for me to know there are still people with the faith and confidence to believe. Even if their beliefs are different from mine and, in some cases, not entirely accepting of me. These students weren't trying to impose their beliefs on me. They were just pious individuals, practicing their faith in peace, and I find that encouraging.

So, to those who practice and those who don't, have a great Lent season. I hope you find what you're looking for.

***

On a completely different note, look how my blog gets neglected when the semester gets busy. More updates soon. I wish I had more time for creativity.

Taste the Difference

Thai food is rather vogue nowadays, with even major food chains touting "Thai-style" dishes - Noodles & Co. comes to mind, whose pad thai is actually quite good. This was hardly the case about ten years ago when, even though Thai restaurants existed in some number, Thai cuisine was not yet widely-recognized. These days most people I encounter have at least sampled Thai food; most have favorite dishes they can order by name.

However, with increasing popularity comes the need to cater to a broader audience, which leads to certain concessions in taste and use of ingredients. That, combined with the abundance of pan-Asian restaurants, fusion dishes, and packaged products masquerading as "authentically" Thai, has somewhat blurred Thai cuisine's "identity" in popular culture - a distinction that was perhaps not altogether vivid to begin with.

I bring this up because today my lunch-partner commented that Thai food is not much different from Chinese. Initially I was taken aback (in my typically nationalistic manner), but after my senses returned I couldn't blame him for the misconception.

The most popular and widely-recognized Thai dishes in the US - noodles and stirfries - confess a clear Chinese influence. The reasons for this are partly historical: in urban areas like Bangkok, people of Chinese-descent form a large portion of the population. Secondly, and more practically, noodles and stirfries are quickly prepared, appeal to tongues already familiar with orange chicken and chow mein, and package nicely in to-go boxes.

If you go outside the cities, where the population is more ethnically Thai (or our close relatives, the Lao), you'll find what might be more truthfully called "authentic" Thai cuisine: dishes like green papaya salad or minced meat tossed with lime juice and fish sauce. It's these dishes that have yet to win over the average American palette. And so, except for the aficionado, the food at local Thai restaurants may seem suspiciously Chinese.

If we define a region's cuisine as the way local and traditional ingredients are prepared, presented, and to some extent eaten, Thai cuisine is easily distinguished from Chinese. For example, Thai cooks use fish sauce over soy, and hoisin is virtually unknown in Thai kitchens. Instead, herbs like lemongrass, kaffir lime leaf, and galangal are more commonly found in Thai cooking. Finally, on a topical note, chopsticks are used in Thailand expressly for noodles and other Chinese-influenced dishes. Otherwise, tables are set with spoons and forks.

(I realize that using umbrella terms like "Chinese" is troublesome; of course I don't mean to say that I can make decisive generalizations about China's profusion of cultures and ethnic groups. My judgments are based on the "common fare" typical of Chinese restaurants and buffets in the US.)

However, my purpose here isn't really to expound on the intricacies of Thai cuisine. Instead I'll say that, ultimately, if Thai cuisine is confused with Chinese or other Asian culinary traditions in the American popular appetite, the fault lies squarely with the owners and managers of Thai restaurants, who are the primary transmitters of Thai cuisine into the US. If they do not strive to uphold traditional standards and make instead a sort of Americanized concession ("McThai Food"), Thai cuisine will inevitably lose the unique flavors that make it a joy to those of us who appreciate it most.

Finally, here's an excellent primer to Thai cuisine, categorized by region, by the Tourism Authority:

Christmas Update

I hope everyone had a nice holiday this week. May your family life be far less complicated than mine (see this post).




I got dressed up to meet my mom's boyfriend's family, but as it turns out only his daughter and little niece showed up. So, the pressure was off. I wore these striped pants I bought a year ago but had never worn before; they're rather "different" and I've always been too self-conscious to put them on. What do you think? They're really comfy!

Mr. Lonely

I'm feeling lonely in spite of myself.

I blame these long winter evenings - 4 p.m. looks like midnight a week before the solstice, when the days start getting longer again.

School's also out for the holidays, so my friends are spread all over now. Most of them went home to the suburbs, but since my parents divorced earlier this year, my mom moved to Chicago, and I got a place in Pilsen, on Chicago's south side, I'm rarely back there now.

My room mates and I don't hang out very often - we don't have much in common, and they're with their girlfriends a lot since Break started. I have the apartment to myself for a couple hours each day, all three floors of it. At least, I think I'm alone. Dave (one of my room mates) and I always hear noises like someone's going up and down the stairs when we're home alone, and we've actually suspected this place is haunted since we moved in. Now that's exactly the type of company I want.

To make matters worse, the Chicago public transit card my university gives each semester expired last night. That means that, to go somewhere and back, I pay a total of $4.50 in singles and spare change. Lame. I mean, seriously, who even carries change? I have my car, but driving and parking in the city, especially in the winter, isn't always optimal.

*Sigh.*

I should find a book club or a volunteer group. (Or, conversely, I guess I could get a job.) It looks like I'll be a city boy for some time yet, and I might as well expand my social circle up here.

Drunk Driving

Don’t drink and drive.

A car ran the light while I was going through an intersection. Boom. Feet off the gears, hands off the wheel. Floated across the street. Police lights flashing.

The OnStar program responded faster to the situation than I did. “We have just received notice that your vehicle’s airbag was depoyed. Are you hurt? Would you like us to call medical assistance?”

I didn’t know where the voices were coming from at first. I thought I’d died.

“Are you okay?” A guy outside the window. “I’m your witness, I saw everything. He ran the light, it’s not your fault.”

Calling Mom. “Something awful’s happened, Mom, please, come quick. No, I’m not hurt, just please, come quick.”

***

It’s not for sure, but we’re pretty certain the driver who hit me was drunk or otherwise incapacitated. The officer told him to get lost and take a cab home after the paperwork was done. He admitted fault on the spot. His car could run (unlike mine), but he was told to leave it there. His girlfriend had to lean against a tree for support.

Mom insists I see a doctor tomorrow. More for insurance purposes though. I’m shaken up, but there’s no physical damage.

Hello, Twenties

Hey everyone,

I've been settled at my new place for almost a week now, and finally got wireless up and running this morning. It was actually a simple procedure, but I'm rather proud of myself. Last time I tried hooking up my Macbook to the home network, I ended up crashing the system. Someone had to come fix it. I was worried I'd have a repeat, but things went by without a glitch.

I have to say the condo is nice, the kitchen especially - so much wider and newer than the one at home, and there's so much storage and preparation space. For someone who's always cooking, it's awesome to have. The area I live in itself isn't so great - people raise their eyebrows when I name the intersection - but my side of the block is alright, and the people who lived here before us said they never had any problems.

My room mate - who, despite what everyone automatically assumes, is not gay - is a really nice guy. Yesterday he bought me a bottle of Grey Goose for my birthday, which was a surprise, especially since I myself was not planning on celebrating this weekend.

My birthday seems to have fallen on bad timing this year. I was sick earlier this week and wasn't sure if I'd even be free this weekend until yesterday (I have a term paper due Monday morning). I had envisioned hitting the bars and letting guys buy me drinks (ha), but not enough of my friends have fake IDs, and the ones that do are either busy or sick.

However, my friend Raj did have a little get-together last night at his new place. I ended up falling asleep in someone's bed rather early though, which I don't quite understand because I wasn't all that drunk. But it was fun while I was conscious! Last night was the nicest weather we've had all week: it was warm, completely calm, and without a cloud in the sky. We drank on the balcony underneath an (almost) full moon. Nothing big, but not a bad way to welcome my twenties either.