Jimmy Ruffin Was Right to Ask

Hey you,

How've you been over the last week?  Things are getting on alright here.  I have a few more hours at work now than I expected, which is nice.  I still have plenty of time to write and study in the morning.  I had planned to read some news articles in Spanish and Chinese this morning, but I'm having trouble focusing today.  It's been one of those days, you know?  The kind where you try to make the eggs and bacon smile back at you from the pan, but the bacon just keeps curling the wrong way.

Anyway, I'll try to get back to work now.  I hope your day is going well and that the weather might be a wee bit warmer where you are.  It's supposed to snow here today.  I hope the roads stay nice and safe.


.jy.

Thrifty or Tacky?

Some weeks ago I had the immense pleasure of dining with my mother, my aunt and uncle, and my two younger cousins.  Although they live relatively close - only a fifteen or twenty minute drive away - I had not seen them for a half year or so.  I guess it goes without saying that needed very little coaxing to follow along to a local restaurant.

While we were out to dinner, the conversation turned from this to that - my cousins' soccer tournaments, Puerto Rico, the state of the Catholic church, and so on - and, before I knew it, the time to leave had crept up on me.  Unable to finish my meal, I asked for a box for the rest of my dinner and for the dessert I hadn't made it to, just as the conversation turned to the recent rise of plastic bag taxes.  My companions turned just as quickly to a more exciting topic, but I couldn't help letting my thoughts linger on the idea of charging people for creating unnecessary waste.  And then the feeling of hypocrisy began to sink in!  The waiter returned with my two styrofoam containers, each wrapped neatly in its own plastic bag.  I felt absurdly guilty the whole way home.

So here's my question - one that I hope will help me find a way to dine out, not eat like a pig, and still avoid the creation of non-biodegradable waste -

Is it thrifty or tacky to bring your own plasticware to a restaurant if you know you won't be able finish your food?  And what about reusable bags for the containers?  Is it the same kind of frugal forethought employed by those hip shoppers at Trader Joe's?  Or is it tacky behavior reminiscent of grandparents who lived through the Great Depression?

You tell me.


.jy.

Back to School? Really?

I know I haven't written you in a while, so I wanted to check in.  The weather's a little dark here, but it's not too cold quite yet - it's a rather balmy 52 degrees outside for a January afternoon.  I've been keeping myself very busy this week, which has left me much less time for studying Chinese and doing laundry than I had expected.  Still, it's been a pretty enjoyable week so far, so I can't complain.

How are things with you?  Is the weather nice or cold there?  Sunny or cloudy?  Is the room you're in now as quiet as this one?

It was a little weird to wake up from a nap this afternoon and feel as though I was the only person left in the house.  Now that I think about it, this may be the most alone I've been all week save for the mornings when everyone else is still sleeping, and the evenings when I retreat to the basement to read or play Call of Duty.  The week started calmly enough - it's my first week of work since my hours were cut to part-time - but picked up when I started my independent studies.  What studies?  Well, I don't have the money yet to go back to school, but I've constructed my own at-home curriculum based on the current offerings at my alma mater:

The Search Continues

So I'm on Month 11 of my job search.

I don't mean to be ungrateful, but that's not a call for unsolicited advice.  Taking advice has been exhausting enough every time I've asked for it - several tense conversations with my father come to mind - and I don't think I can absorb anything more at this point.  It's not an invitation, either, for anyone to tell me that I'm lucky to have a job to tide me over while I search.  If I were so lucky I might not be looking for a different job.

I know that was a bit testy of me, but it does get a little frustrating at times.  I've gotten to the point that when someone starts to tell me what websites I should have checked and what things I should add to my resume, all I hear is Wow, you haven't found a job?  You must be doing it all wrong, you silly little thing!  I'm sure this isn't the attitude that most people are trying to present, but is it too much to expect that these people - oh so bent on telling me how it's all done - first ask me what methods or approaches I've already used?

As for those who tell me I'm lucky to be in my current job, I do understand that they mean I'm lucky to have some amount of income.  But really - what about tact?  People who have jobs now are under so much pressure to keep them that employers can just get away with making them run through hoops to keep the paychecks coming.  I wouldn't give up my job to be unemployed, but it sure isn't peachy keen to have to work more hours than you get paid for, or....  Well, you can have the whole story when I'm no longer employed there!

Lost

I'm not usually all that into poetry, but every once in a while I feel like sitting down to look up an author or two to see what they had to say.  I say "had" because I'm more curious about poetry that was written when poetry still had set forms that writers tended to adhere to, before people could just spit out a series of words or phrases and call it poetry.  There's one poet in particular that I always come back to, and it's usually to read the same poem.  If you can guess who that writer is from the poem he inspired I will be very impressed!  It's not a lot to go on, but here it goes:

Lost

The heat beat down upon the ground, no wind to cool a face,
They made their way across the land to find the hiding place.
Twelve men trudged on through thirst and heat while dreaming of the cold,
Through day and night they battled on, the young beside the old.

While forging on the greenest lad did try to do his part
By chanting out in cracking notes a song to ease their hearts.
But long before they reached the end of song or of their flight,
The noise and force of one false step boomed forth with dust and light.

The broken earth met blood and bone where boots had just then been,
As men - some boys - looked to the sky to ask why they'd not seen.
That life could be shut out so quickly, snuffed out like a light,
They mused upon in final moments fading into night.



Best,
jy

Memories of Yijo

I had an interesting recollection while eating at a local pho restaurant today.  Desperately in search of something to help end my cold, I figured pho would be as good a remedy as any, and so I made the trip down the street to the local noodle place.  After tearing the fragrant basil leaves into my bowl and drizzling sriracha over it all, I took my chopsticks to work - this was the moment I had been waiting for all afternoon.  One in each hand, I untangled the dense mass of noodles.  The delicious smell of a rich broth rose higher to meet me as my hands moved, but I was affected by more than the aroma. Something in the motion jostled the library of my neglected school day memories.

When I was a university freshman - and still working in the sciences - I was blessed with the luxury of always having someone to look out for me.  The group of graduate students I worked in the lab with formed a strong safety net that was ready to catch me whether I had trouble with boys or just trouble with homework.  The baby of the lab, I was used to being taken care of by the time we parted ways, especially at lunch time.  Though everyone treated me to lunch at some point or another, there was one grad student in particular that I remember when I dust off my memories of those three semesters.

On Gratitude

I don't want to get too complicated or deep on this topic (I leave that to you), but when was the last time you took a moment to appreciate your life?  I don't mean appreciating all the things you've done or the stuff you've accrued - I really do mean your life.  When was the last time you got home and thought to yourself I am so happy I made it home safely and get to live another day.  I don't want to be a Debbie Downer, but have you ever considered that there are indeed people who don't make it home at the end of the day?  Even if going home means that your parents nag you for a bit about this or that, or that you're doomed to see that your roommate ate the last of your cereal again, or even that you have to spend the whole way home staring at the back of someone's car in standstill traffic... doesn't making it home safely at the end of the day beat the alternative?

I'm not trying to set the tone for what I'll write from here on out, or radically change your worldview, but it's something I really want you to think about.


Love always,

jy