Category Archives: Good Days

Impact

Originally posted on my defunct Blogger account on: SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 2011

We were passing each
other in the hall when
she shouted, “Wait!
You need to know that
a professor asked
for people to
call out and name
those who impact lives
so we could celebrate them.
A classmate
raised her hand high,
tears in each eye,
and thanked
you.”

My takeaway: Live well by treating others genuinely – someone may benefit from it. Live carelessly, and the harm may never be undone. Stay humble, tread carefully, and learn either way.

Hunter

Descending on the Prey by chispeak
Descending on the Prey, a photo by chispeak on Flickr.

You can see the egg’s reflection in my family’s cat’s eyes if you look closely.

She is focused. Captivated.

Great News! Grandpa Owns a Nook!

“Alright, my girl, so I just charged this thing overnight. Can you help me set it up?” my grandfather said, holding up a rectangular black case.

“What is it?” I questioned with interest. My grandfather is traditional in many ways, but a little adventurous when it comes to learning about how to use computers. The man forwards e-mails regularly without apology.

“A Nook Color,” he announced proudly, “Your cousin got some fancier tablet computer and gave me this thing…still have a lot of books to read, but…”

“But this is pretty cool, right?” I grinned at him.

“Yes. Your grandfather is a pretty cool guy. He’s with the times,” he joked.

We set him with up with a Barnes & Noble account and spent several minutes adjusting the settings and getting him used to the user interface:

“Oh, please get rid of that ridiculous background with the ‘N’.”

“Let me get my credit card. I don’t have any Nook gift cards…yet. My birthday’s coming up any month now though.”

“Yes, set a password because I’ll end up buying too much by accident.”

“So, this little button controls pretty much everything, yeah?”

“The screen cuts to black too quickly. These people think I can read a page in less than a minute, don’t they? Change that for me?”

“I was reading something about how to zoom in the user manual. Ooh, you just…pinch with two fingers like that? This is kind of fun.”

“Yes, link my Nook to my Facebook account, if you can. I want to be able to lend books to you. More likely, you will figure it out first and then you can lend your library to me. I’ll get more free books that way. Win-win.”

“Why doesn’t Barnes & Noble separate out a ‘free books’ section instead of making me type out the word manually in the search bar?” – Good question!

“The ‘web’ function…is a real browser? I can go online with this?! Ha! Your cousin thinks his computer is fancier, but this is really functional. Technology is really something.”

“How’s the battery life with your Nook Color? The battery drains pretty fast, but I think it’s because I leave it in sleep mode all the time. It takes so long to load up if I turn it off completely.”

I enjoyed answering his questions and watching my grandfather get acquainted with his new gadget. He worked hard all his life and found the idleness in retirement difficult to get used to, a disappointment. Discovering the Nook may provide some excitement for him, along with a new way to communicate and bond with his family. He helped me so much when growing up, especially through college. I could never repay him for his support and approval along the way, but helping him in this instance let me show some of my gratitude. I am also pleased that my love for tech is not generational, but perhaps more genetic after all.

Do you own an e-reader? What was the most challenging part about making the switch from paper to electronic? If not, what feature(s) would push you over to giving an e-reader a try?

Bullied, but not Victim

A kid gets known as
the class act for
falling
down
with perfection,
gets called clumsy
and classmates sear
that adjective on his soul
like an unforgivable sin.

He does not see
the others with
scarred knees like him.
Understand,
his kind are too
busy staring
at
the
ground,
hoping not to stumble,
too afraid to fail
to notice or worse,
be seen.

Time seems slow,
but passes as it
never forgets to do
and the boy grows
tall in character.
Repeated words
promise less pain
and he begins to
feel a shift in
the balance.

He stops paying
attention to the
sidewalk and stares
ahead for a change.
He’s stunned.

The same knuckleheads
try to crack the same jokes,
but loop around
their rotten smiles
and jovial rib jabs
in tight circles.
It’s dizzying and
he wants none of it,
none of them.
He owns his words,
even if they are
loose with theirs,
and walks on.

This boy reaches where
broken concrete ends
by muscle memory.
He does not look
as the grass softens
beneath each step -
he feels the difference,
a lessened rebound,
somehow lighter.

He does not turn back.

Return from Sin City (Las Vegas, NV)

Sweet CrepeBellagio, Las VegasBellagio, Las VegasBellagio, Las VegasBellagio, Las VegasBellagio, Las Vegas
Bellagio, Las VegasBellagioBellagioBellagio FountainsBellagio FountainsPan con Tomate
Wonder of the SeaCirclesRocky MountainsRocky MountainsAerial Shot
Burbank, CALas Vegas BlvdThe LuxorNY, NY Casino & Hoteldalmation fish?

Sin City, a set on Flickr.

I recently traveled to Las Vegas, and it was an experience I will never forget.

Everything is extravagant and large there- each tourist attraction and hotel aims to outshine its neighbor. Loose morals, bright lights, and smoke-filled interiors are lined by transplanted palm trees, outdoor escalators, and velvet-rope taxi waiting stands. People do not cross the Las Vegas Strip, but use overpasses to avoid getting hit.

It is a hedonistic, manufactured oasis in the middle of the Nevadan desert, a decadent, almost surreal capitalistic empire with $1 jello shots and $8 bottles of Fiji water. I despised and loved it at the same time.

My lungs will recover in time if I never visit again. However, the aerial views were incredible to and from, and the dry, sunny 80‌°F weather reminded me that humans evolved in desert conditions and can easily adapt again when given the chance. I reveled in returning home, but my skin, partial to the cold before, somewhat misses the promised warmth I grew accustomed to last week.

Here are some photos from my trip. Enjoy, and thanks for sticking by me these past few silent days.

This post overlaps with this week’s BlogHop at The Writers’ Post. Topic: Adventure.

Orchids and Honesty: Found in New York City

New York City is known as (dare I say it?) the cultural epicenter, a destination spot for those seeking excitement, a ‘big break’, and its glittering lights. I never liked the rough, crowded lifestyle as a teenager, but college transformed me into a defected suburbanite who bit into The Big Apple’s allure and has not looked back (much).

This wonderful, grimy, fast-paced place offers so much by way of entertainment, diversity, opportunity, and numerous parks (with free Wi-Fi, by the way), but ‘tropical oasis’ isn’t a descriptor the average tourist or New Yorker would use. However, the New York Botanical Garden‘s current effort in Patrick Blanc’s Orchid Show exhibition will convince you otherwise:

Continue reading

the wonder of children, pt III

Two years ago, I wrote about a little boy who made my mornings bright. His family’s early routine changed somewhere along the way because we did not see one another after a few more months.

Last week I saw a vaguely familiar woman, this time without a stroller. She held the hand of the little boy, older and still smiling. He wore glasses in the same style as when young, but these frames were a little bigger.  In the style of so many young urbanites this winter, he also had a warm hat knit in an animal pattern, a cartoonish bear.

He walked well beside her, not running ahead or attempting to tug his hand from hers. His family taught him wonderful manners. The best part? He tilted his head as they passed me and cheered merrily, “Good morning!”

It was a nice start to the day.

Also read the earlier posts about how children are precious and wonderful here: Pt I, Pt II (as linked above).

Good Luck Parachutes

Wordless Wednesday: Chinatown, NYC on January 29, 2012.

Finding Serenity in Snow

Rough, rectangular bricks made an uneven pattern in the small enclosure, edges sticking up and others cracked in half, but the groundwork lay beneath the powdery cold, partly covered. The blanket rested undisturbed, pristine and layered. Rarely anyone or anything ventured into this abandoned space. The children grew up and left, returning sporadically, but still ignoring the basketball net replaced several years back to entice its use.

The chain link fence bowed in areas from remaining upright for so long, bullied by the heavy, insistent snow. Deep gouges edged into a tree trunk like chapped lips, a lost limb appearing cauterised from its side. Young girls swung hula hoops around the branch in earlier years, and a brass bird-cage before they were born. The garage door also reflected age and wear, cracked in places once painted annually in shady spring afternoons.

The woman walked on the brick, boots sinking into the ice and frost. She paused and looked, really saw. She breathed in the memories slowly, closing her eyes, then opening them to attune herself to the moment and empty her mind.

She considered her hesitation in visiting this sacred space at first, afraid to notice any oddities or differences from the carefree days of her childhood. Yet, she did not dare to walk over the forward steps and continued despite her fears.

Nothing stirred except the winds blowing through the frozen pine needles; a torn rag somehow caught in the tree branches above and waved at her to move ahead. Her methodical procession led her to circle the yard with care. She thought about Lao Tsu and wondered if she was a closet Taoist; the internal chatter ceased and she felt purified, whole, and at one with her surroundings. She felt the air alive with God and hope, pushing away the darkness from the past few months.

There were strange things present; things she did not understand or want to know. Some changes amused her.

Other alterations suggested loneliness, death, and lost companionship. She remembered hearing her grandmother’s laughter, the squeaking line of laundry hung to dry in the summer heat and playing in a turtle shaped sandbox. She felt warm, despite the outward chill and knew to leave when her cheeks hurt from the cold and happiness.

She saw herself as a six-year-old, picking fennel from the garden, washing the bitter leaves with a hose and eating it to appease her proud grandfather. She recounted good memories- hopscotch games with friends, feeding her dog saltine crackers so he would lick her face and make her laugh, and building an island for a Lord of the Flies project as a middle schooler.

I will return after  the winter gives way to weeds and wildflowers, she vowed, turning back down the alleyway, but only after buying a basketball.

Chinatown, NYC: Spring Festival 2011

Chinese New Year. Lunar New Year. Spring Festival. A grand holiday of many names and still my favorite, aside from Christmas.

I did not get a chance to visit Chinatown this year, but long to relive memories from the 2011 parade.

Thousands walked joyfully, a swaying mass spilling over the curbs to witness the lion dancers, wave banners, and steady cameras and smartphones. People leaned on each other for a better view, ignoring usual social proprietary for personal space; their single purpose held more power than any need for elbow room.

People spoke their minds and respected one another’s differences.

The healthy supported the unsteady elderly and young children dressed in fine brocade, little girls gaily shaking their braided pigtails in glee rested on top their parents’ shoulders.

Lavish restaurants served to capacity, long lines extending outside their doors and frantic staff waiting on the hungry with weary, but welcoming smiles.

Tourist shops and novelty stands promised good fortune through usual goods- bamboo plants, fans, red envelopes, puppets, noisemakers, and confetti poppers, which tourists purchased in abundance. Multicolored and metallic paper covered every conceivable concrete and asphalt surface, burying any regular debris. Street vendors waved spiced meat and steamed dumplings while the fresh produce markets displayed ripe fruit, Asian vegetables, and seafood packed on ice.

Heavy drum beats, excited voices, and general cheer echoed along every alley, one-way, and dead-end. Eventually, police cleared the area and city sanitation picked up bling as they cleaned the littered roads.

I will always celebrate Chinese New Year with hope, optimism, and happiness. Most of all, this holiday represents love and familial perseverance; I look forward to sharing how I celebrated it this year in the next few days.

Gung Hay Fat Choy to you and yours!