Lynne Guey

College, Part II

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 00:13:00 -0500

I was at a networking event the other day, mostly for the tasty hors d’oeurves and the opportunity to imbibe free drinks, but figured I’d entertain some awkward conversation so my freeloading wouldn’t be so conspicuous. When someone approached me, I’d hurriedly finish my chewing (lest the silence be deafening) and begin talking mouth full with a load of quiche crumbs tumbling out. I’d chirpily extend my hand, “Hi my name is Lynne! Nice to meet you. What’s yours?!”

Nothing like an overly enthusiastic greeting that labels the “new girl on the block!” title square in the face.

So be it. I’m a Florida girl at heart and if my sunny disposition makes people squint, get some Ray Bans. Being from Florida in a cold city actually works to my advantage because it immediately creates an easy topic for conversation: weather. Inevitably, weather talk leads to the ultimate ‘elephant in the room’ question “What do you do?” which subsequently triggers an incessant chatter up in my prefrontal cortex on how to explain who I am, what I studied, and what on earth I think I’m doing here in the city. I panic, realizing I have no lucid way to introduce myself. So I usually start with, “Well, I drink a lot of wine…” (true story)

I’m not in any position to bestow wisdom on how to create your perfect elevator pitch and I’m not writing this post to pretend like I’m close to ‘figuring it out’. I probably won’t ever know how to describe myself in a witty one or two-liner and the day I can, my life will be officially pathetic. We are more complex (and interesting) than titles allow us to be.

That said, all this weather talk reminds me of another time not so long ago when I partook in a lot of chatty mingling, albeit in a less classy environment. Memories of a frenzied freshman year of college when I rushed to sign up for every organization offering community, value, and free food flood my guilty psyche. “You’ll find your best friends here!” “Make an impact!” Back then social situations were more beer pong and club meetings offering free pizza, less wine and cheese with keynote speakers from [insert reputable global organization].

I’m about 9 months out of the old stomping yard (college) and while it’s fair to say I’m no longer a college student, I still feel endowed with a somewhat privileged collegiate mindset. Perhaps even more than I did during my four lecture-sitting years.

I don’t roll out of bed and spring to class anymore, and I don’t bump into people I try to avoid every five minutes. Instead, I dress up, hopstop to work among suited up strangers, and carry a brown tote that looks slightly like an old man’s briefcase (it was the only one at the thrift store that could fit my dang laptop!). During my subway ride, I whip out my cranny nook and read up on design. Trust agents. The digital sphere. Or “how to get rid of that gut!”, which just conveniently happened to be on the latest cover of Shape.

After graduation, the learning doesn’t stop. My current line of work forces me to think digital, social media, and e-commerce while tasting new products and writing about them (which involves wine…what a bummer). It keeps me busy, but the knowledge appetite is still not satisfied. Curiosity widens like the mouth of a hungry child with a bottomless stomach. Now that I don’t have professors to direct my questions to (ironically whom, I barely ever spoke to when I was actually in college), I am more curious than ever.

As a newcomer to the city, I am still trying to determine the activities and people that are worth my limited time and energy. Of course, in order to play the game, you have to put up with some ‘small talk’. Slowly but surely, in this so very refined adult life, you whittle down the prospects to your truest, deepest interests, one glass - escargot - smooth talking schmooze-at a time.

Tomorrow I begin a wine tasting class called ‘Raise Your Wine IQ’. (Shameless plug- my boss is teaching and you can register here!) I’m also enrolled in a month-long online course called “How to launch your startup idea for less than $5000” which sounds gimmicky, but I’m getting information far more valuable than what I sat through in college without spending a penny. The class is being offered through the education startup Skillshare (a cool startup that is trying to revolutionize education). I’m very interested to see how I can apply what I learn to a possible venture. Throw in my dance class and bible study, compounded with the professional life, and I have my own class schedule! I’ve never been more excited to learn in my life!

The Florida sunshine is probably blinding you but before you put on your blockers, keep this in mind:

Your 20’s are your ‘selfish’ years. It’s a decade to immerse yourself in every single thing possible. Be selfish with your time, and all the aspects of you. Tinker with shit, travel, explore, love a lot, love a little, and never touch the ground.

Kyoko Escamilla (a.k.a Brain-Food)

Even without a bell tower or quad, the collegiate mindset stays for however long you allow it. I am experimenting and exploring more now than the past four years. Do I regret not doing more of this when I was actually in college? Yes and no, because it’s never too late.

CREDO

Thu, 02 Feb 2012 01:25:39 -0500

1. I believe the next generation is charged with the challenge of gracefully coalescing with a rapidly evolving world,

2. I believe the current status quo in institutional education does not equip us with relevant tools to meet this challenge, nor does it produce the best version of our selves,

3. I believe in devoting our technological resources toward tackling this disconnect, by empowering individuals to explore a wide array of interests, then providing opportunities to hone the skills most meaningful to each of us,

4. I believe in the need for a creation-based platform that displays our works as a learning package for others to follow,

5. I believe individuals should create their own curriculum: learning by consistently producing content that contributes to public discourse and education, and doing by connecting with the right people on collaborative projects,

6. I believe in using said platform to simultaneously craft our individual and shared biographies,

7. I believe that when we creatively express, discover, and collaborate among various disciplines, we can reach an unprecedented level of synergy in the world,

8.I believe that by creating this platform our generation will be more than able to meet the challenges presented,

9. And I believe the world will be a better place when we each find our bliss, beautifully giving to the world what it deserves of us.

Thinking.

Thu, 26 Jan 2012 14:58:13 -0500

Thinking.

A Manifesto

Thu, 26 Jan 2012 01:31:55 -0500

To those who read the following in its entirety, thank you. This is not intended to be a monologue but a conversation. In an attempt to practice the collaboration I write about, I welcome all comments- positive or negative - because they are the only way to combat my individual bias. Regardless, thanks for entertaining.

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I sit at my computer periodically to compose my thoughts. I do this because most of the time my thoughts are an unintelligible mishmash and therefore cannot legitimately be considered thought. It takes a good amount of ‘me’ time to carefully sift through and transcribe my neurotic ideas to decide whether they are even worthy of the word, or simply bull. Call it naval-gazing, but it is a necessity.

I’m not here to complain about my poor brain’s strain from our overstimulated environment, and be labeled a philosophizing, good-for-nothing hippie. Unless my nostalgic soul actually decides to defy modern civilization and frolic in the fields (which would be great but I’d severely miss my iPhone), I’m stuck with the present life of chatter and noise.

Or am I? My musing today brings an idea that involves reengineering our environment to filter out the haze, one where we can breathe long uninterrupted gulps of fresh insight without being engulfed by dirty thought pollution.

I use this analogy to draw attention to the other environment that is being decimated as we graze the digital sphere: our mind. I opened my clean word processor to write this post but not before checking Facebook, mindlessly flitting between profiles that say a lot of nothing, including my own. It’s the soda of our information diet. Sweetening and yummy- despite zero calories and no sugar!- yet ultimately a nutritionally empty concoction.

I think we deserve better. And by that, I mean a better time-waster.

I often think about how to live a perfect life imperfectly. It’s unrealistic to be a 24/7 carrot-eating, Economist-reading, productive machine when cat videos and Ben & Jerry’s lie waiting. It’s more fun to have our cake and eat it too. But couldn’t our indulgence involve something more exciting than glancing through photos of people whose lives are obviously so much cooler than ours. Facebook makes me feel lame and ugly when all these people I never talk to are always out and about taking beautiful pictures!

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“You are a mashup of what you let into your life.” We are what we eat and our creations are unique manifestations of our consumption, even during idle procrastinating time. So, wouldn’t it be nice to snack on something healthier?

Think of it as eating yogurt instead of ice cream, skim milk instead of whole, dark chocolate instead of white, wine instead of beer - just as tasty (if not more) and better for you!

Wasting time isn’t really wasting time if you’re learning and filling your mind with the right stuff. I see so much potential in our generation of Facebook gluttons. Between amazing music remixes to crafty DIY projects or ingenious apps built by tech-savvy coders, amid the trolling, we are talented! Heck even those Shit “insert ethnic group with overused stereotypes” Say videos require a commendable level of creativity and wit; I bet even Albert Einstein would laugh. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not confusing YouTube videos and tumblr reblogs with the resurgence of a creative class. We have potential to be renaissance folks- academics/professionals by day, artists by night, Tebows on the weekend- but it is strictly potential until we actively do. To do, we need a platform to encourage creation and original thought, rather than passive sharing and reposting. Ultimately, Facebook is just a sharing platform that reinforces old connections; nothing original comes out of it.

So imagine a platform that facilitates new connections, that bombards us not with images from last week’s drunken glory but with ideas, creations, substance; then fosters connections that enable us to collaborate on projects of mutual interest. Better yet, what if that type of platform stuck like candy? Talk about a good vice.

If we continue consuming this syrupy social facebook, our potential remains simply potential. We will be known as generation stuck. There are so many people graduating from college unsure of what to do and fearful of going after what they really love, what they really care about. If you like dancing, well go the heck ahead and continue dancing. Knock the world’s socks off. Financial concerns are understandable but with today’s technological tools, there exists a wealth of information online to enhance your trade, and with a bit of savvy marketing, you have all the resources at your disposal to make something of your interest at minimal cost. Content production, distribution, and monetization tools are becoming democratized through the web, enabling anyone to reach and build an audience directly through push-button creation and distribution.

To take this further, imagine a world where bloggers, producers, dynamic artists create their own curriculum, one that consists of a compilation of their interests, connections, and actual projects.

For instance, my curriculum would look something like this:

I know I want to learn about everything related to storytelling, education, and digital media.

As such, to enhance my knowledge, I would actively produce and follow relevant content. I would publish my stories, digital media pieces, and write thoughtful commentary on education issues. These would be posted on my page as a knowledge portfolio/blog of sorts, demonstration of my expertise. I would also repost what I consider to be relevant material to the subject. This would be helpful to others also interested in learning about the topic. If they deem my portfolio useful, they could follow my “content package”.

I, too, have the choice of following people whose work I admire, gaining insight into where they get inspiration from, the books they read, and a direct understanding of what goes into their work. I can easily reach out to them for input on best practices and tips. Better yet, with a little bit of proof that my work is up to par (as displayed on my page) collaboration is possible!

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I envision a world where we each create content for others to follow- not just status updates and photos- but real meaningful content. I believe we each have talents. We create. We are artists. We are teachers. On this theoretical platform, users create content packages. You gain followers, not based on friendships or acquaintanceship, but by the substance of your work and the things you choose to publish. You follow people for their “expertise”, their lesson plans, the packages they create.

Of course, this is all still a bit of a utopian shell in my mind. There are many holes and flaws in the proposition. How is this different from Tumblr? And how do you actually get people to actively produce, connect, follow, and collaborate? Doing this requires a shift from thinking “I’m going online to mindlessly browse through people’s photos” to “I’m going online to create something, to learn, to write a meaningful post about the Middle East filled with thoughtful analysis that others can glean insight from.” The former is a lot easier. The latter takes motivation, a lot more than some may have.

Such a platform is not for the faint of mind. But I never said this would be easy. This is where my thoughts go. I can’t do it alone. Only we together can build something great.

Is it Serendipity, or Life?

Fri, 13 Jan 2012 01:24:00 -0500

Have you ever thought about how certain people entered your life? Not why, but simply how. What event planted the seeds for that life-changing friendship? Partnership? Love?

The answer is often as mundane as, ‘I had no choice. We were forced to work together on a group project.’ Or as awkward as ‘We both really liked cats and were the only ones who had nothing better to do than spend lots of time perusing the shelter on a Friday night.’ (true testimony)

Not all of our lives are blessed to be as beautifully serendipitous as those good-looking stars who reached for a pair of gloves, brushed hands, locked eyes, and fell in love in that movie called- ah yes, Serendipity.

But when you think about it, many of our lives do follow a similar story line, albeit in a slower, slighter lamer way.

Take my week for example. It’s been rather ordinary. I went to work, exercised, ate, talked on the phone, slept. Nothing worthy of writing to Hollywood about.

But returning to my original question: over the course of the week, who were some of the people I talked to and how did I meet them? Well, there’s the guy who I beat in a silly college debate competition and to this day, still can’t get over it. Then, there’s this girl who I was in a college organization with. Also, a man I sat next to at a random tech talk last month. Such amazingly blah stories!

But wait. The real juice lies in the details and progression:

Person #1- we started our rocky relationship as debate opponents; he called me Shark, I called him Aardvark. Fast forward through 4 years of this awkward name-calling and we’re now joining forces as partners in crime on a collaborative digital project. The details are still being hashed out, but what’s crazy is that our original competitive relationship has turned into something collaborative. Even crazier, we no longer resort to ugly animal nicknames but actual names (never mind that they still aren’t our real ones; we work with aliases.) To think, we might end up co-founding something together…

Person #2- former college acquaintance, now NYC roommate and good friend. We were both part of a large organization in college, which means we were merely friends by association. We found each other in New York at similar points in our lives and as fate would have it, ended up living together. We’re good for each other. She’s a great cook, an artist, and an insightful conversationalist- she teaches me so much about the joy of fresh flavor. I already sense a heightened appreciation for beauty because of her. We both encourage creativity and do what it takes to find inspiration for weekly projects. We also kick each other’s butts with Jillian Michaels so we keep each other in shape quite literally. I would have never guessed a year ago that we would be roommates, sharing deep conversations, and embarking on this New York journey together. I can only now marvel at how it was all in place to begin with…

Person #3- entrepreneur building an exciting iPhone app. He handed me an independent consulting agreement today, which effectively gives me access to the startup life I originally set out to learn. We met because I happened to sit next to him at a random Foursquare talk which I didn’t quite feel like going to, but for reasons I will never know (fate!) mustered motivation I didn’t know I had. While waiting for the talk to start, we made idle chat. After meeting, I casually followed up with him, sending him an email and a link to my blog, not really thinking much of it. Two days later, he writes that he likes my writing style and offers me an opportunity to develop launch strategy for the product. All based on a blog. Life certainly does work in funny ways…

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The most interesting tales are tales of progression, the ones that start with a view of the life before, then lead up to the uncanny circumstances that made it all happen, and finally culminate in a surprising conclusion with a life significantly changed from the beginning. The central message: “look how it all began…”

These are the stories worth writing about. What’s more, we all have them.

Hollywood may glamorize the lives of others, but when you think about the little events in your own life, doesn’t it play out like a movie in and of itself? Maybe I’m just easily enthralled, but I don’t think I’m the only one who marvels at the slow and calm forces of chance. Serendipity doesn’t happen overnight and it certainly isn’t as monumental as what we see in the movies. However, I find great awe and power in its normalcy. When I look at my life now, I know that the people in it are playing a role far greater than I can imagine. But wonder - when exposed to everyday - can easily turn stale, routine. It is only by viewing each commonplace interaction as something with a larger purpose that your thinking shifts and you begin to witness opportunity. Then life’s true possibility is unveiled.

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I think the future calls for each of us to craft our own story. It’s already happening. People all over the world publish volumes about themselves every second- on blogs, Twitter, forums, Facebook. I’m sure even private people marvel in the inner recesses of their souls at the way things happen in their lives.

We each have a story to tell. Call me a narcissist, but I don’t think we’re far from a future where we are all movies stars. We’ve already been handed the lead roles. The question is, how do we craft an individual narrative that is real and compelling to ourselves?

Moving In, 2012.

Sat, 07 Jan 2012 20:41:00 -0500

Not for me. On New Years Day, I officially moved to New York. So far, it’s been a dream too good to be true; part of me is just waiting to wake up. Fortunately the Chrysler building proceeds to stare back from the window every morning. For now, I’m still in a sweet sweet dream.

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I came to the city last month for a job interview, though in reality I didn’t care much for the job . As fate would have it, they didn’t care much for me either. I was then able to continue with my real reason for coming up: to learn more about the NY tech startup scene.

The great thing about the tech industry is that it lives online. Everything is open, connected, and completely accessible. Startup offices don’t have front desks or secretaries. There is no barrier to entry. If you really want, you can waltz right in to startup headquarters with no appointment, no affiliation, not even a suit or tie. So that’s what I did.

I visited the offices of a few startups, including Grooveshark, Skillshare, and 33Across. I attended a Foursquare talk. I talked with fellow free-lancers at co-working spaces like the New Work Community. I’ve been able to meet talented and forward-thinking people like filmmaker Jason Silva who are willing and kind enough to dish out helpful advice to a tech newbie like me. Not coming from a tech background, I initially wasn’t sure what niche I could fill. My training has been in producing content, but all I have are a few bylines and reporting standups to my name, none of which are entirely relevant to a digital cutting-edge world. Anyway, the question remains: “How do I stand out?” The answer is still being drafted.

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For the time being, I’ve found some part-time gigs to pay the bills and quench my entrepreneurial thirst. I’m working as a personal and editorial assistant for the owner of a vintage wine shop in Harlem. While it’s slightly comical that I, of all people, am charged with organizing someone else’s life (if you looked at my room right now, you’d laugh), I actually think I’m suited for the job. I flex my social media muscle, build online strategy, help write a wine column, and drink wine! All while learning about the serious business of owning a local business. It’s completely different from academia, but I’m intrigued. It has since spurred my interest in learning about strategy behind some of the most successful small businesses. Walk the streets of New York and there are so many examples of ingenious business brands. Since I am charged with the task of ramping up social advertising/PR efforts for the store, I am using the city as my textbook.

In the meantime, the flexible nature of my work allows me to continue dabbling in other fields I want to experiment in, mainly:

- Videos/Film-making/Storytelling

- Networked Knowledge

- Emerging Technology

- Education

Eventually, all of these will converge. Here’s to moving in, 2012.

My 2012 Theme Word: Forward

Thu, 29 Dec 2011 00:52:56 -0500

Last year around this time, I dubbed 2011 the year of flight. I meant that in all positive respects. Literally, I wanted to take off and explore more of the world. Metaphorically, I wanted to escape my comfort zone. The overall goal was to not be bound to anything too familiar that limited my potential.

Well, I flew for sure. If 3 months romping around Europe teaching English to Italian kiddies and going broke doesn’t fulfill the free-spirited vow I made to myself, then maybe next time I’ll go to Tibet and become a monk.

What I learned while living out of a suitcase is that no matter how hard I try, I’m not a minimalist traveler. My oversized luggage will forever label me that girl with too much ‘baggage’. I’m pretty sure my suitcase caused me more trouble than even my lack of Italian with all the times I had to check that damn thing in ‘baggage deposit’.

More importantly, I spent a lot of time in 2011…lost. While navigating the streets of Europe, I constantly faced the question: zig or zag? With no smart phone to turn to, I was left with no other option but to zig and zag. 3 hours later, with the original destination still nowhere in sight, I settled for hidden gems in unknown territory. When you’re hungry, everything is delicious. You learn to enjoy the scenery regardless.

Back in the States, I did the same. I zigzagged between life paths. Zigging toward Teach for America one month, then deviating toward 30 Rock in pursuit of their page program, zagging toward a startup venture back in Gainesville, and finally jetting off to New York for what remains to be seen. I mulled over each prospect deeply, so deeply that I emerged out of the maze of my mind less sure about the original intent. And with a glorious headache.

2011 was the year of flight because I took off and jumped from city to city with no set direction. And honestly, that’s what I wanted. I neglected to build a mental map because I wanted the freedom to go without one. Also, I didn’t know where I wanted to go. But now I think I know.

For my 2012 theme word, I debated between words like intent, care, and focus. My thinking was that I once was a flighty bird, now it’s time to build a nest. Think of my intent. Handle everything with care.

But what am I? A nesting bird? There’s a time and place for everything. I don’t believe that 2012 calls for settling or more thinking. I think that I think enough already to know what my intent is behind every action. The biggest challenge now is to actually take the plunge. Move forward.

2011 was a year of zigs and zags, arrivals and departures, flights. Since May, I haven’t stayed in one place for more than a month before venturing elsewhere to shake things up. I emerge out of the maze happy to have survived, but like a shaken up child just off a roller coaster, I realize now back on solid ground that I haven’t actually moved forward.

I’ll try to be realistic here. If I can make just one tiny decision that moves me closer to being my best self, whatever that may entail, wherever that may be, that’s a success in my flighty mind. 2012 is the year forward.

Thanks for Thanks: Chapter 3

Thu, 24 Nov 2011 13:38:21 -0500

Thanks for the obvious: family, friends, food.

Thanks for the subtle: hard times, resilience, faith.

Thanks for a mobile body and a functioning mind.

Thanks for the five senses, awakening the moment.

Thanks for the carefree existence I’ve been afforded, a luxury not often allowed in this frazzled world.

Thanks for home and all its comforts.

Thanks for art and its ability to communicate beauty.

Thanks for teachers.

Thanks for chocolate.

Thanks for sunshine.

Thanks for being nice.

Thanks for not being too nice.

Thanks for those who aren’t afraid.

Thanks for keeping things interesting.

Thanks for smiling. :)

Thanks for new life.

Thanks to God.

Most of all, thanks for thanks.

Thanks, for birthday cake: Chapter 2

Mon, 10 Oct 2011 10:48:13 -0400

When my sister Wendy turned 6, she received two unexpected pieces of news. The first was that she would no longer have her own birthday cake. This was heartbreaking, because it meant she’d have to share. As if it weren’t enough that there were already a million other people born on September 29, stealing her spotlight on her special day, she couldn’t avoid this cake-stealer. That’s because it would be living next door, wailing at all hours of the night and needing its ass wiped every few hours. That delightful creature would be her little sister- me, born exactly six years after her first candle was lit.

The second thing Wendy learned was that her super sweet 6withouttheteen birthday bash at Rapids Water Park would be cancelled, or at least postponed until our Mother could recuperate from my birth. This was almost definitely the more devastating of the headlines, for 6 is one of those years when birthday parties are obligatory markers of social standing within the kindergarten hierarchy. Not having a birthday party was like coloring outside the lines - sacrilegious and ugly. Yup, her life was effectively ruined.

So at the ripe age of 6, my sister didn’t exactly welcome my arrival with a bed of roses. Though over the course of the next ten years, we did share many a bed, igniting some violent blanket tug-of-wars. I once punched her in the middle of the night (I was dreaming okay!) and she slapped me in return. This is the truest reflection of our relationship- mutual abuse, no holds barred.

I write as if we’re two dueling dragons, but we breathe friendly puffs of air, not deadly balls of fire. She can beat me at any game involving mental acuity (aka brains), but I compensate with a…zest for food? We’re friends. Most of all, she keeps it real, never indulging me with things that appease. And yet when she criticizes, she does so with such sophistication and good humor that you forget she’s actually pointing out your wrongs.

Last week, she and I celebrated our birthdays together, which was nothing special of course because we’ve been having joint parties since my diaper-wearing days. Pretty clear who got the better end of the deal there…partying with 5 year olds is always the best!

We are now 22 and 28.. This year’s party got rockin’ at Wendy’s apartment in Cambridge with me, our Mom, Wendy, her husband John, and their 3-week old baby boy. As we sat on the anniversaries of our existence with a simple home-cooked dinner, the thought of our passing age barely crossed my mind. Baby Christopher sang the birthday tune with his wails, necessitating several pauses for diaper-changing. This was a different celebration indeed.

For 22 years, I’ve relished in all the glory of my birthday by devouring cake and ripping open gifts. But there’s something about new existence that feeds the appetite of your own. Gluttonous craving for your cake subsides (and I’m not just saying that because we opted for pie this year).

The birth of my beautiful baby nephew has given me a small taste of what it must have felt like for Wendy when I came into the picture 22 years ago. I not only took her cake, I took her birthday party, I took her clothes, I took the very essence of her identity and blended it into my own. And since the age of six, she’s graciously shared, asking for nothing more than an occasional massage in return. :)

Wendy is my sister by birth, soul sister by choice. She’s sparked my envious interest in the many activities she excelled in, yet continuously encouraged me to be my own person and follow my bliss. I am grateful for her wisdom. Most of all I am grateful for who she is: living proof of selfless living. 22 years ago, I joined her at the table for cake. I devoured my share with all its extra toppings- frothy whipped cream with a cherry on top and dribbling chocolate sauce on the side. She graciously provided my selfish indulgence and now my appetite for life is well-fed.

It’s time for me to make room at the table for baby Christopher, yet another September baby who will be digging into life’s cake. My slice of cake will heretofore be smaller but that’s okay. With more people at the table, we will still manage to have our cake, eat it, and yes, perhaps even enjoy the deliciousness of life more too.

Thanks, Across Cultures: Chapter 1

Mon, 26 Sep 2011 12:54:05 -0400

I remember the day I met Jacek Holzwieser. He thought I was someone else, I thought he was just another ignorant European boy.

It’s funny how our first impressions often veer so far from the truth. In the case of Jacek’s and my meeting on that sunny Singapore afternoon, we instinctively gravitated toward our respective cultural stereotypes. As I greeted this blonde-haired blue-eyed dazzler, he interrupted my proper introduction, overconfidently stating, “We’ve met already. At the beach, remember?” Well, as we later came to discover, that beach meeting never took place…not with me, at least. That was another Asian girl. To his defense, she was tan and Taiwanese. So it wasn’t too far of a stretch…

Flash forward 2 years. Captain (my adoring nickname for Jacek) is married to a beautiful Mexican-American woman named Stephanie. They live in Austria and he works for a renowned bank. I was lucky enough to attend Jacek and Stephanie’s wedding in the cozy Polish town of Zakopane. Nestled in the mountains and adorned with wooden log cabins, the picturesque tourist haven is recommended as a place of healing for people with lung discomfort or anxiety. I could see why; the air of calm instantly pervaded my lungs with a fresh sense of being!

As I inhaled the cool air - remarkably cool at 40 degree temperatures for September - I reveled in the awe-inspiring nature of this event. Two years before, I barely knew the groom, merely thinking he was a sleaze who had a lot to learn about culture outside his Austrian bubble.

I realize now that I was the one who learned.

The wedding was a truly international affair. People of Polish, Austrian, Mexican, American, and Asian descent attended. The ceremony and reception were translated into four languages: German, Polish, Spanish, and English. The only thing that beat the diversity was the food. Traditional Polish weddings proceed in a very simple fashion: food, toasts, dancing, food, dancing, food, dancing, food…drinks are present at all times. Get me to more Polish weddings!

The fanfare was one thing. But alas, there is more significance to this story. Let’s return to the groom’s pre-marital days. What began as an annoyance toward this impish character for misconstruing my identity, of course, only grew into an affection of sorts. An affection that could only be reserved for the big brother I never had. We traveled together, ate together, sat under the stars together, talked about life together. We became best friends. I arrived in Singapore so young and naive, expecting to diligently attend to my studies. I left having barely touched my books, yet smarter. I was still young and naive, but a lot more open to the world and willing to defy arbitrary rules. Never would I dare to freeload off the subway in America, but in disciplinary “we cane people for chewing gum on the streets” Singapore, that’s exactly what I did. Captain and I would run through the handicap entrance gates on one ticket. We would go on nightlong food escapades, sampling copious amounts of Singapore goodies for free, and getting full off them. Any previous inhibitions I held about my weight were digested as I swallowed mooncake #I-don’t-want-to-know. I let go, for I realized that life just wasn’t as tasty if you were constantly worrying about your sample intake at the FREE buffet of life. And though I returned a bit heavier, I would never trade those extra pounds for what I ultimately learned from Captain: how to be alive.

Since I’m now on this mission to cultivate more gratitude, I thought I would thank Jacek and Stephanie for their most recent hospitality in Austria. On second thought, I owe them a lot more than a housewarming gift. Their relationship, which crosses geographic, cultural, and language boundaries, is a perfect example of living bravely in today’s modern world. She left her close-knit family in California behind for love. He wrestles with the possibility of eventually moving to America, despite the great job he enjoys now. They face challenges, sometimes with even the most fundamental of communication. But they love on. In a world where people get divorced as quickly as they can find fault with each other’s words, Jacek and Stephanie’s persistence toward achieving the highest form of love and trust in the institution of marriage is inspiring. Thank you.

Two years ago, Jacek taught me how to love life. Now, through their own example, he and Stephanie will teach others how to love one another, against the odds.

Thank you.

A small taste of my summer job: teaching English in Italy....

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 12:12:21 -0400

A small taste of my summer job: teaching English in Italy. Adorable kids, silly camp songs, and an excuse to act like I was 5 again. Thanks ACLE!

This is not about me. More than 3 months ago, I made the decision to stop blogging because I needed...

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 21:23:00 -0400

This is not about me. More than 3 months ago, I made the decision to stop blogging because I needed to stop looking within and start looking out. I wrote, “My experiences in Europe will be mine alone.” Now that I’m back, I can truthfully say- THEY WERE. But is that all? Am I crazy to think that 3 months of travel- that’s 88 nights in 21 different beds - being laid to rest in the dusty crevices of my brain is an extraordinary tragedy? Call me attention-seeking, but I did not just return from Europe broke and bandaged to keep quiet.

However I hold true to my promise in refusing to enter the danger zone of my overanalyzing mind. Just allow me one personal note, and that is: in my disconnection from the world, I learned that I can’t NOT write. Though I didn’t publish anything in the virtual world during my travels, offline I still wrote (often by candlelight with ink and feather of course). My experiences are now bound in a journal and if I become a modern-day Jackie Kennedy, maybe they will one day be reincarnated and shared for all the world to read about what a loopy freak I am.

For the purpose of this little blog though, I’m reverting my focus to other people. Because simply, I am fascinated with them. During the course of my travels, I came across a lot of characters: some in passing never to be seen again, some in direct collaboration, some who made my life a living hell, some whose kindness melted my heart, and some whose existence touched me in such monumental of ways that it would be a disservice not to share a parsel of that goodness which brightened my life.

We all hopefully have people like these in our lives. It’s not their prestige or status which merits our respect; it’s their consistent demeanor and acts of kindness. I return from my travels indebted to so many- 5 host families, for instance- that I am reminded to cultivate gratitude. The subjects of my future writings belong to those who make my heart smile. To good people, good friends, good character- simply all things good.

Sidewalk wisdom: 3 months ago, I went to Europe in search...

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 15:26:00 -0400

Sidewalk wisdom: 3 months ago, I went to Europe in search of…something. I found it on the ground near the Augusteum in Rome. Now I’m back and waiting for the letters on the chart to sharpen.

This is my last post for a while. I declare this with all the certainty of an A.A. graduate who...

Fri, 03 Jun 2011 00:20:00 -0400

This is my last post for a while.

I declare this with all the certainty of an A.A. graduate who soberly vows to never drink while holding a glass of wine. That’s as certain as my certain gets.

Writing is my drug. As with everything, writing is productive in healthy doses but counterproductive in extremes. For the past month, I made a point to write every single day, whether privately in my journal, more publicly on this blog, or professionally in college publications. Sorting through jumbled thoughts and transferring them out of my mental jungle was a priority because I thought doing that would unlock the biggest unsolved mystery in my life: self.

In some ways, it did. The memoir remains unwritten, but the first sentence would read:

“I am as much a slave as empress to my own realm.”

Owning my thoughts at this age, while a worthwhile attempt, is like hopping on a fast-moving train and asking the inexperienced conductor to come to a sudden halt without screeching brakes. It’s not possible. You can’t just stop the wheels of a moving mind, whirring at thousands of rpms per seconds for two decades, and expect new free falls of understanding to arrive. The elusive search for self comes smoothly and gradually only after years of experience.

I recently received an interesting comment from a reader:

Despite the fact that you obviously enjoy writing and sharing your thoughts with others, and the fact that this website serves as an outlet for you to do so…..by spending any appreciable amount of time talking/writing about things that you want to do or things that you want to change (such as the current state of your education), you are losing the time that is available to actually go do those things; in essence, you are directly contributing to the vicariousness that you regret by reflecting so deeply on such abstract thoughts. You would probably do a better job of finding your “self” by immersing yourself in activity — losing yourself — than by searching directly for some answer that doesn’t exist in a single source.

And he/she is absolutely right. I cannot allow my life to be defined by a stream of posts, photos, tweets, and blog entries that are published under the justification of self-expression, connection, and looking within. Truly finding yourself involves venturing out and stumbling across a problem that summons your presence. Duly noted.

However, it’s also equally important to mention that the value of this advice would have fallen on deaf ears had I not been writing regularly up to this point. It is only through the lengthy process of thinking, filtering, and fleshing out thoughts in writing that my conscience can fully appreciate the observation that life’s calling does not exist within, but out there. It is only through writing and listening to myself that I know it is my instinct to rathole and I now must find my way out of the hole to uncover life’s possibilities.

“We need to stop asking the meaning of life, but rather what life expects from us. Think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life- daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and conduct.”

- David Brooks, ‘The Social Animal’

Right on, Mr. Brooks. (Stop being so wise.)

So I’m withdrawing, detaching- whatever you want to call it- yes, killing these virtual musings of mine. My experiences in Europe will be mine alone, and yes life will no longer seem so stimulating because no one will be telling me how well I write nor validating how awesome my life is via a push of a button on my artfully written status nor commenting on how pretty I look in that mobile upload. I’ll turn to my close friends and family for ego stroking.

I speculate but maybe, just maybe in living a life undocumented and unshared, I’ll cease to be dispersed into a cloud of electronic input and finally find not what I can write to life, but how life itself writes my story.

Life, Post-College

Tue, 31 May 2011 14:07:17 -0400

Life, Post-College:

My editorial on NextGenJournal: ”College, Graduation, and Reality- The Real Education Awaits.”

I understand that others may disagree. Everyone’s college experience is different. But in the spirit of discussion, I’d love to hear your opinion, especially if you’re a college student in another field, about what your college education means to you.

—————————

A REFLECTION

Last month, I received an official paper emblem attesting to my academic worthiness. Congratulations were exchanged and I added a Bachelors degree to my resume. But after all the pictures were snapped, mortar boards thrown, and celebratory statements made, I wondered, what is the real significance of this meritorious document we call a diploma?

Generally, a diploma demonstrates the completion of courses deemed necessary to prove mastery in a field. Mine was broadcast journalism, so I loaded my transcript with a sea of communication-heavy classes. There were the occasional deviations but for the most part, I knew who I wanted to be. Think Asian version of Christiane Amanpour. If that didn’t work, Katie Couric or Barbara Walters would suffice. It only seemed appropriate since my childhood was influenced more by Peter Jennings than Barney or Sesame Street. The resonating voices of newscasters, which made regular appearances at the dinner table, were somehow more reassuring to my toddler ears than the words of Mr. Rogers.

Despite my desire to shine as a jet-setting international correspondent, I knew that learning about other fields would be helpful. After all, skilled journalists are defined as much by their ability to communicate as they are by the amount of cursory knowledge they can spout on cue about a newsworthy subject (which these days could be ANYTHING). Therefore, you must know a little about everything. To this end, I took a few engineering, education, and business classes. Still, my stubborn mind was set on the land of war zones and cross-cultural conflict.

Before I could worry about losing my life on the front lines, I had to survive the oft-times more vicious battle in the newsroom. There were news egos to slay, words to cut, and ignored pleas for more air time. The ultimate mission: pack some crisp writing, captivating images, and clear sound into a neat 1:30 package before the ticking time clock goes off and…boom, you’re on! News can be as real as real gets, but more often, it’s a performance. I rehearsed my reporting lines, crafted words in news lyric, and framed visual shots like a Picasso (okay not quite, but my point being that videography is an art).

In essence, this is what I learned in school. I learned to broadcast. Knowledge eluded me, but I got others to spill knowledge (on camera, of course). My accomplishments were few, yet I knew everything about other people’s accomplishments. l learned to concoct bits of reality for others, but could barely construct my own reality. My life was a vicarious one.

I’m appreciative of what I’ve learned through others in college. While I rarely lingered after class to talk to professors, I did talk to people. I came across these people while covering stories for my TV news shifts and pursuing story leads. Often, the leads were dead ends but I still learned lessons as far-reaching as the diversity of these characters. A migrant worker confessed that his daily worry is not about how little his hourly wage is, but whether he can even land one of these low-paying tomato picking jobs due to the seasonal freeze. Meanwhile, in what seems like a world away, our generation of college students pits itself in a race against time, the central dilemma being, “Too much to do, too little time.” We all inhabit the same sphere, but lead such different lives. One group suffers from lack, the other from excess.

This is perhaps the greatest lesson college has taught me: complicated subjects require multi-faceted perspectives. I cannot conduct a research study nor can I balance a budget, but after talking to the right people, I can write about the findings while incorporating different viewpoints. I can talk to strangers, communicate, and simplify.

Do I wish I learned more during college? Of course. I wish I sharpened a more analytical mind and knew more about the classics. I wish I could devise a scientific experiment. I wish I could talk at length about philosophy, the Battle of Normandy, or the theory of relativity.

But more than any of this, I wish I could explain why. Why now that I’ve passed a supposed major milestone in life with “flying colors” and am endowed with certain skills, I’m still so damn confused.

A CRITIQUE

Here is where my commentary turns slightly sour. Our society places so much hope in the higher education system as a vehicle for success but realistically, does it do any more than permit our entrance into the white-collar workforce? I am nothing but a young dilettante who possesses little in the name of experience and a lot in the name of mere observing. But I feel the need for a candid discussion about college, which enlightens in so many ways yet fails at resolving the most critical question of self.

College claims to be a time when students find themselves. But I only find myself lost in a sea of discordant talk. I’d argue that other people feel the same. In fact, few people my age know where their true interests lie. We can’t possibly. We’re young and haven’t experienced a whole lot of anything to know ourselves with certainty. I’m not asking for college to answer the age-old question of self, but I do think it could provide more mechanisms to uncover it. For instance, most- including myself- approached college in a focused, targeted manner: find a field, land a job, end mission. But when the singular mission is accomplished, too few can adequately answer why such route was taken. Why are we studying this certain field? Why do we believe the things we believe? We should be required to develop and defend our decisions and value systems as individuals. I think we’d be surprised to discover that when the majority of students are asked, “Why do you as an individual believe this?”, a stuttering “because…” trails into a vacuous stare.

I can’t speak for all, but there are many people graduating from college who don’t know what they’re doing, nor why. We are filled with knowledge, but devoid of an understanding of ourselves and how our knowledge can be applied in a way that simultaneously fulfills our individual passion and contributes to societal improvement. We hold the world in our hands, but a lack of self-awareness may be our Achilles’ Heel.

College would do its tuition-paying customers a favor by not solely focusing on hard facts/skills. They are important, but an even greater need exists in helping students develop soft skills- an understanding of themselves so they can own their beliefs, how they align with the world and its changing sphere. We need to make factual knowledge applicable to real life by discussing the implications of modern events. Ask what lessons we can draw from the latest patterns of the world. Powerful married men knocking up other women. The economic crisis. Libya? The digital media revolution? By answering these questions, we will cultivate a generation that possess a lot more than skill, but something far more powerful: CONTEXT. Students will be able to answer the larger question of “why”, in addition to the “what” and “how”.

A RESOLUTION

I speak in the abstract, the hypothetical and of course, I’m probably placing too high an order on the old college yard. After all, it is just college. We are 21, 22…and no matter the extent of our schooling, we are still beginners in every sense of the word. Who says we’re supposed to know everything about ourselves? A few college semesters can’t possibly accomplish that lifelong quest. But in the name of progress, I suggest that college work on laying a firmer foundation for reflection, inquiry, and contextualized decision-making.

I venture to say that the undergraduate diploma, as it stands, is not a huge measure of worth. Don’t get me wrong, I applaud every single graduate for making it. Statistics are on our side. We’re going to make on average 84% more than those with only a high school diploma. But aside from possessing more money and maybe a few more obscure facts, we are not necessarily any more capable or prepared for the school that really matters: reality.

My diploma says I know a little about a lot, but not a lot about anything. Essentially, I know nothing. I emerge from college, freshly equipped with a paper that should render my knowledge valuable to the world. I’ll apply this knowledge in hopes of showing the world what I’ve got but more likely, the world will show me what it’s got. The real education begins now.

OBSESSED. Wish I had the guts to dance and carouse all around...

Mon, 30 May 2011 20:32:50 -0400

OBSESSED. Wish I had the guts to dance and carouse all around NYC like this. Then again, if I could dance like them, I probably would.

(via girlwalkallday)

Perspective

Mon, 30 May 2011 15:56:05 -0400

News of the recent tornadoes is devastating and breaks my heart. Mom and I have been glued to the TV, staring in shock and terror at the utter apocalyptic destruction towns like Joplin have experienced.

So, here’s a different perspective. A couple days ago, Mom turned to me after watching a little too much CNN and said (in Mandarin), “Have you ever wondered if our natural disasters are viewed as the same to other species? Tornadoes destroy our world, but do you think insects or other life from afar view our disasters as entertainment? Just as when we set off fireworks, blow up buildings, and tear down trees- we derive a sense of pleasure from the sensation- we could very well be destroying other species’ worlds, their natural habits. It’s entertainment to us, but our firework spectacles could be completely demolishing some unknown world in the sky. Similarly, a tornado may be a fun roller coaster ride for a species incomprehensible to our imagination. Little does that world know that it is unleashing destruction on another world- our world- unbeknownst to their imagination.”

A bit ludicrous, yes, and scientifically speaking, not a very valid perspective. We’re talking possible extraterrestrial worlds here. UFOs, martians, and weird stuff! Nonetheless, while I don’t expect a news flash declaring signs of other life giddily throwing tornadoes into our sphere like its a game or something, Mom’s perspective surprised me and made me think about the possibility. Plus, aren’t most things we determine as truth previously viewed as huge untruths? On that note, here’s a recent article stating the universe may be more hospitable to life than we thought.

cheatsheet: Some pictures say a thousand words. This one just...

Thu, 26 May 2011 17:28:14 -0400

cheatsheet:

Some pictures say a thousand words. This one just says two: No Touching.

No better caption.

via

Legacy

Thu, 26 May 2011 00:06:00 -0400

I’m not an Oprah child by any means. As a kid, I watched her show maybe once every few weeks but was honestly more immersed in dweeby stuff like spelling bees and beanie babies to care about such weighty topics like self-empowerment.

However take one look at Oprah and even the biggest of cynics cannot deny her far-reaching influence. Her fan club borders on cultish- an empire of people hanging to her every word, a vast following of people who credit her for saving lives and empowering a generation of do-gooders. Her big heart envelopes the world. She’s raised a fortune for charity, established a foundation that is used as a marker for philanthropy, and sent over 60,000 children to school. It’s awe-inspiring, to say the least.

(Plus, anyone who can be recognized without a last name leaves a pretty solid impression in and of itself. That’s why if I ever have a child, I’m giving the puppet a one-of-a-kind name.)

As I stand at a turning point in my life, unsure whether to zig or zag, Oprah shines as a guide with all the resounding luminescence of her megastardom. I’m not set on becoming the next Oprah. Nor am I claiming that Oprah has altered the course of my life. But the course of HER life is certainly an example to live by. I’m not necessarily referring to her philanthropic pursuits or her standing as the most influential woman-ahem, PERSON- in the world, though those feats are outstanding. What’s most impressive about Oprah is her very fundamental ability to connect. It’s so simple that it’s magical. Regardless of race, socioeconomic background, or gender, she’s able to reach you, whether it’s by making you cry, leap for joy, or donate money to causes.

Connection is a quality one may or may not be born with, but regardless, I aspire to it. Oprah is a living example of connection manifested. The legacy she leaves is one in a billion. I can only hope to possess a string of Oprah’s web of influence one day. Until then, I’m still framing my future. But the haze is beginning to clear. More than any material success, I want to leave a legacy, however small it may be. To know that I’ve made even just a few lives substantially better is enough of an accomplishment for me to report back to God (and yes, Oprah) about in the afterlife.

Lessons from the King

Mon, 23 May 2011 00:15:00 -0400

…China King, that is. Alas, my two week stint at Tennessee’s most established Chinese fast food joint has come and gone as quickly as the syrup oozing from its sweet honey chicken clung to my skin…and senses. Off my appetite for an undercover ‘worker’ lifestyle goes, dissipating with the rising steam of the chow mein, which is sure to be gobbled soon by the next batch of ravenous customers.

My view of the Eastgate Mall Food Court from the register.

You can’t say I didn’t try. I made a pretty darn good button pusher during my 4 day tenure…all with exception for those few (aka hourly) instances I double-charged customers because of a rare Spastic Finger Disorder, which releases uncontrollable urges to push buttons more times than necessary, and that time I may have handed a customer a $100 bill as change, mistaking it as the ten. Thank goodness for good samaritans. Other than that, I greeted people with all the cheer and obligatory “Would you like anything to drink with that?…Well, here ya go!” grace of a cute Southern wind-up doll. Smile, wave. Rewind, repeat.

I joke but in all seriousness, there is something about dealing with customers and God forbid, having to be nice, that definitely forced me out of my regular insularity. On my first day, a rather pleasant-looking man with a shiny head remarked, “You speak really great English for an Asian.” I wanted to plunk a coin onto that smooth vacuous head of his, but refrained. Figured it wasn’t a great way to start my first day on the job. I simply smiled sweetly, all the while fuming inside, and stated, “After all, I was born here.”

I got along well with my colleagues: Evelyn, Aidan, and Efrain. They were my Guatemalan compadres, from whom I Iearned helpful lessons about hard work, albeit through often difficult communication routes. My rusty spanish couldn’t make it much past the “Donde….” or “Que…” but patience won the day, and they would stare at me with their big brown chicano/a eyes, waiting seconds upon seconds for me to muster the right word, however ill-conjugated it was.

Admittedly, after only a few hours of standing on my feet, I’d be grumbling. I couldn’t imagine returning the next day and thereafter. The thought of the syrupy honey chicken stench emanating through my clothes was enough to make me go Febreze-crazy on my entire wardrobe and I don’t even like Febreze.

During breaks, I would converse with Evelyn, who turned out to be only a year older than me but acted worlds wiser. She rarely smiled but diligently served customers even when they couldn’t understand a word she uttered and probably vice-versa. She’s the only one in her family who resides in the US; the rest remain in Guatemala.

Aidan and Efrain were cheerful workers, especially Efrain. He always greeted me with an exuberant, “Buenas Tardes!” and spoke embarrassingly slow to me in Spanish, just to make sure I could understand. Feeling like a kindergardener was never more appreciated.

Evelyn’s intensity kept me on my toes but occasionally, I caught her peeking at her phone and smiling. She kept most of her personal life under wraps, but I gathered that she had a lover back in Guatemala. To think that she left all she loved behind for an underpaid job at China King doesn’t make much sense to me. Is this life really any better? But then again, I wouldn’t know.

My brief entrance into the “working” lifestyle taught me several things: lo mein is tricky to serve with slippery tongs, my brain ain’t no calculator, and I’m not very cut out for the service industry. But this stint has given me a newfound appreciation for those who graciously serve us gluttonous customers. I wish we could see ourselves staring greedily at food from the other side, for we all look like animals. To our feeders, thank you.