Monday, July 30, 2012

Time for a Break

After some consideration I think it's time to pull this blog off the air. For one thing it's not quite appropriate for admissions if anyone decides to google me. I have truly enjoyed maintaining this blog over the years. The intent was never to write the next great American novel. What started as a documentary of an adventure has turning into an continuous journey of self discovery. There were times of joy and exhilaration and times of struggle and despair. With every places I've visited I always come back a little different. And for everyone I've interacted with I find something new in myself. I've come to learn through all of life's contradictions and complexity that nothing definitely right or wrong, good of evil. And in the midst of uncertainties there is such thing as unconditional love.

When I was young I thought I was beyond influence. What I accomplished was mine and what mistakes I may have made I was responsible for. With time comes humility. And when in doubt always be grateful.

Although you may not be seeing any more published posts for a while I will continue to write. At this point I don't know if I'm capable of stop writing. Someone asked if I'd be ok in solitary confinement. I think maybe for a short while as long as I have pen and paper.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Addendum

I'm trying to get as much of the application ready as I can right now so I can dedicate all my time to prepare for the exam again. Personal statement, recommendation letters, transcript request...it all takes time and energy. Transcript processing, what I thought would be an easy check turned out to be a total nightmare. After a dozen emails back and forth between me and the processor my account is still not showing the proper institution and degrees. I guess the whole double degree business is just not all that common after all. Now I have to seriously think about writing an addendum as part of my application to explain the situation.

When I was at the forum a couple of weeks ago I met with admissions people from schools all around the country and listened to some of the questions posed by other applicants. Addendum is a common topic of discussion, when to write one, what to write about, etc. One girl asked, my grades suffered for a semester because I over exerted myself on the rowing crew, should I write an addendum? God, my eyes about rolled to the back of my head when I heard that. Rowing crew? Seriously? That was your biggest challenge in college? How about completing two unrelated degrees concurrently while maintaining a practice and work schedule? I'm not saying I overcame some monumental hardship. I just have a hard time listening to people talk sometimes. 

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Friends

I'm really fortunate to have some of the best people as my friends. They comfort me when I'm down and cheer for me when I succeed. And when Ernie is sick they asked to help so I could still have the weekend I had planned. And then there are those with whom I cross path with unexpectedly. However brief the encounters are they never fail to leave an impression. Thank you for the myriad of small miracles that have adorned my life. 

Content

Today is one of those rare days that I actually feel content. When I stepped into the shower this morning I felt the pain I've been feeling on my left shoulder is gone and I thought to myself, it's going to be a good day. I'm not overcome with happiness or joy, just centered and maybe a sliver of subdued optimism. It's a good feeling.

I had planned to meet someone for brunch at Oak Park at noon. With a couple of hours to spare I took a drive to Berwyn, a western suburb of Chicago. The idea came to me on a whim as I vaguely recall reading an article a couple of months ago about the bungalow neighborhood in that area on American Bungalow Magazine. The details escaped me except for a photo of a light brown brick bungalow with green tile roof. Not knowing the exact address of the bungalow on the magazine I set my GPS to Berwyn and off I went. There wasn't much to look at coming off the highway exit, just your typical strip malls and convenient stores. Eventually I found a nice residential area near Proksa Park and decided to get out of the car and take a walk around. There were a couple of bungalow style houses in the immediate vicinity but little did I know a boat load of bungalows awaited me just a block away.

For those who don't know, I feel the same way about bungalows as Rose feel about Art Nouveau balustrades, in that it's one of very few architectural designs I would go out of my way to see in -2*C weather. Upon stumbling onto what I believe to be THE bungalow neighborhood described on the magazine I felt as if I had died and went to bungalow heaven. And luckily, the overcast sky and mild temperature made it a perfect day for a neighborhood stroll.

The bungalows on Maple Ave and the adjacent streets are not what you would picture for the typical horizontal siding or stucco bungalows on the Pacific coast. Rather, to accommodate the harsher climate here the bungalows are mostly brick with tile shingle roof and no open front porch that is prevalent in the bungalow design. It's kind of an unique look in that it feels more formal and restrictive than its counterparts in California.

I don't know much about the history of this neighborhood but bungalows in general were extremely popular in the 20s. The improvements on mass transit systems and urban sprawl helped to fuel demands for low cost housing developments for middle class families and bungalows were the answer. The designs were so popular at one point people shopped for them on catalogs and the houses came prefabricated for as low as $300. Still, the low cost is not to be confused with low quality. Back when old growth lumber from the upper Midwest was in plentiful supply, bungalows often came with built-in furniture, closets and breakfast nooks in order to make efficient use of small spaces. The craftsmanship for the interior woodwork is something that's rarely seen in new home constructions nowadays.

The walk down Maple Ave was delightful. Every small lawn was perfectly manicured. Some of the houses came with original art glass windows, some with matching awnings. I couldn't stop snatching photos of all the bungalows. And then, in the midst of all the brick bungalows I saw the one from the magazine! See, good travel karma is at work. Somethings are just meant to happen.
IMG071
On the way back I took Wisconsin Ave and really fell in love with it. The street is lined with more mature trees and water fountains in front of some of the houses added to the sereneness of the quiet neighborhood. The houses and bungalows on this street are not as uniform. Some of them look so whimsical as if they came straight out of a story book. And then I thought, Chicago wouldn't be so bad if I could lived in one of these houses facing the park. What a beautiful neighborhood! I could walk here for hours every week. I could even picture myself driving up two hours on a Sunday in the fall just for a walk.
IMG095
I got back to the car just in time to get the very last slice of quiche at Cafe Buzz. Made with fluffy eggs, bri, asparagus and bacon, it was easily the best slice of quiche I've ever had. I had originally wanted to visit the Hemingway house in the afternoon but I felt so content after the meal all I wanted was to get back in bed for a nap. I took one last walk around the block and got back onto the road. Listening to One Republic all the way back I felt good. No work, no study, nothing to get done. It's been one of the best weekends I've had in a long time. 

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Paraglide

With gears strapped to my back, standing on a gravel path between a corn field on one side and soybean on the other I felt like I was on an episode of Myth Busters: can you take off in a paraglider in a perfectly flat and windless field in the Midwest?

Jaro grabbed hold of some dry weeds off the grounds and threw them into the air; they fell straight down. The small broken straws laid on the ground, still, like our black and yellow paraglider.Under the scorching sun and an occasional breeze that's barely strong enough to sway the tall grass and constantly changing direction Jaro said, "we're going to have to run for it."

Run, sure, why not. I thought. I had been waiting for them for nearly two hours by then baking in my underwear. I was getting hungry and cranky but the thought of maybe making it up into the sky kept me going...so what if we have to run. 

When I spoke to Jaro a few days ago over the phone I asked where do we jump off? He responded "we'll be towed behind a car." I started laughing and thought for sure he was joking. Well, he wasn't joking.

So on the path we stood: me attached to a long line to the back of the van and strapped in front of Jaro, who is strapped to the paraglider. He said, "when the car starts to move I want you to run like you're in the Olympics. Just keep running as fast as you can. This is the only way we're going to get up."   
Take off van
So that's what I did. I ran as fast as I could even though I felt like I was barely moving. I had no idea how long we had to run for. I'm not even sure if Jaro knew. In a mere 20 meter dash I felt a pull from behind, Jaro let out a shout, "we're going up!" I couldn't believe it. The van kept moving forward, getting smaller, coming closer to an intersection, Jaro said into the speakerphone, "clear."
Even though both devices work on the same principle, this is an entirely different experience from hang-gliding in Rio. It was a strange feeling, one that I hasn't expected. I had been so occupied with getting up I felt no adrenaline rush, no excitement once I was up in the air. Instead, I was calm, too calm. I thought, this could be really therapeutic with that anxiety thing. The air cooled down instantly. I could feel my ears pop a little. As we reached a certain altitude Jaro instructed me to pull the cord to detach from the van. We were free. I could see birds flying under us and flat land covered one of those cheap lawn green carpets.

Jaro asked, "how do you feel?" "A little scared" I said, as I listened to the strings rubbing against each other in the carabiner. It was a very discomforting sound. Imagine what would happen if the whole thing just came loose. There's no lifeline no safety net. There's nothing.

Then Jaro said, "now you steer. Just take the handles on each side and hold them steady. To turn you first shift your weight and then pull down the break on the same side."

I followed the instructions, turned right and left as Jaro directed me. "You're flying! You're a pilot!" Jaro screamed. It was surreal. I was really in control and flying! I could get use to this!

Landing was a bit rough. We fell onto the grass. Jaro nearly displaced his knee. I'm not sure how it's even possible to have a good landing with people attached in front of one another. You really can't run very well especially when two people touch down at different times due to different heights.

We talked about flying lessons the whole way back to my car. For $1500 and the cost of a paraglider I could get certified to fly on my own. What sold me was when he said I could just pack up my glider and go fly in California. Now, that's an idea...


Friday, July 20, 2012

Ulcer

Sitting quietly in the waiting room, half-assedly holding back my tears, I thought: was I good to him? I should have spent more time with him. That wouldn't have helped his condition now but it would have made me feel better.

I didn't grow up with pets. My first pet was a hamster named April. She didn't live very long. The store didn't tell us hamsters are prone to cancer and tumor when we got her. I had a major mental breakdown the night she passed away and we buried her in the woods in the rain. All I could think about at the time was why didn't I play with her more? Was she happy and comfortable during the brief time she spent with us? Why didn't I clean her cage more often? Should I have given her more yogurt treats? Maybe let her run around in that hamster ball more often? It went on and on and I couldn't stop crying. The experience was so traumatizing I couldn't bare the thought of ever getting another pet. 

Then years later, Rob said I should get a cat. I've always loved cats. It's only the thought of loosing them I can't stand. When a coworker's cat had kittens we brought home Teddy, an active orange tabby. He was such a cute little thing. He would respond when I call his name and sleep on top of me at night. When I finally started on a full time job Teddy meowed incessantly every evening when I came home. He was lonely so we brought home Ernie from the shelter. Ernie is the same age as Teddy and also orange. That's about all they have in common. Teddy is social, playful and aggressive at times while Ernie is more shy and reserved. It took a couple of weeks for Ernie to get used to his new surroundings. They've been buddies ever since then, sleeping and playing together. For the last three years I've had them I've looked forward to seeing them every time I come home. I talk to them when I'm stressed out or down. Sometimes they listen to me as if they understood me. And as much as I think my cats know that I love them, they can't talk to me. They can't tell me if they're not feeling well or how they are not feeling well. It pains me to see them suffer.

After blood tests and x-rays, the vet concluded that Ernie is having an ulcer. He's been digesting and vomiting blood. He's lost weight and not eating. They gave him antacid, antibiotics, fluids and other medication trying to get his stomach back in order. I have to take Ernie back to the vet for two more treatments tomorrow. I hope he'll have lots of more happy years to share with me and Teddy.

We never know how long we can have them with us. All we can do is to provide them with the best life we can. The rest is not up to us. 

Monday, July 16, 2012

Second Draft

Somewhere near you, a couple is joining each other in close embrace and navigating through a labyrinth of other dancers. The two may be familiar partners, mere acquaintances or complete strangers. In a crowded room they find each other not by words but by meeting of a glance. The event is a milonga; the invitation: cabeceo and the dance: Argentine tango. Traditional tango bands perform in a style called ‘a la parrilla,’ which literately means ‘on the grill’ or created on the spot. Tango, the dance, is done the same way. The man plans and leads the steps while the woman responds and embellishes. Tango is the dance of the moment; it constantly evolves and transforms itself as the dancers communicate with each other through music creating a dialogue without words. I have danced this dance thousands of times. No two dancers are alike; no two dances are ever the same. This is why I love tango: it is the beginning of a beautiful partnership every time I step onto the dance floor.

My obsession with tango first started at a classical guitar concert I attended while in high school. Just before the performance of Piazzolla’s Libertango, Ricardo Cobo gave an introduction to the piece that went something like “Tango music holds a constant beat. Underneath the melodies you can hear subtle intricacies, tension and release…as if you can almost hear the dancers planting each of their steps.” I didn’t have time to explore the tango during my training at the Eastman School of Music but Piazzolla never escaped my mind. Upon the completion of my dual degrees in guitar performance and economics, I concluded that music just wasn’t the career for me and with the mass exit on Wall Street at the time I wasn’t in the right time for the financial industry. With a bit of time on my hands I decided to tango.

People say if you can walk you can tango. In my case that was true. I picked up the dance with ease, became a permanent fixture on the local tango scene and even made a few performances in the region. Tango became an obsession and I was determined to experience it at the heart of it all: Buenos Aires. There was excitement and curiosity but I was also nervous and scared. Until that point I had very little international travel experience; I didn’t speak Spanish; I didn’t know anyone in the city and I was alone. The first time I stepped into Salon Canning, a popular milonga in Buenos Aires, I felt an instant sense of belonging. Like me, most of the dancers have traveled here from different parts of the world. Without having met each other before or even speaking the same language, the dancers form a bond of trust with each other through music and traverse along each other effortlessly in a counterclockwise motion. The scene is nothing short of a master piece of human choreography.

What started as a two-month stay extended itself into almost a year, during which I became a certified ESL teacher and taught business English seminars at numerous corporations in order to supplement my living expenses and to get a slim glimpse into the private lives of the Portenos. I felt as if the world had opened itself to me and it was both enormous and small all at the same time. The experience in Buenos Aires gave me confidence and an unquenched thirst for travel. For the year that followed, I visited the guitar makers at the foot hills of Alhambra, hang-glided off of the cliff in Rio, rod a moped in Ephesus, climbed the Notre Dame cathedral and charged up the same hill as Maria in the Sound of Music. Through tango I shared intimate bonds with people everywhere I traveled and formed friendships that have deeply impacted my life. At the end of my world tour I didn’t have an epiphany to become a lawyer but I knew whatever career I did pursue it would have to have a worldly connection.

A few years have gone by since those traveling days. I’m still very much active in the local tango community and attend festivals around the country whenever possible. And as for my career, I found my passion in international trade. Every step I have taken since that realization has helped to shape my professional goal of becoming an expert in the field and an advocate for cross border trade efficiency. Just as I once navigated the crowded dance floor in Salon Canning, I now play part in choreographing the movement of containers and ocean vessels for one of the world’s largest agribusinesses through the labyrinth of international trade regulations. My work relating to trade remedies and international policies have sparked my interest in the formation of multilateral trade agreements and dispute settlements. Like the music that moves and synchronizes the dancers, experiences have showed me that the harmonization of international standards and regulatory convergence are necessary factors in bringing fluidity to international trade. One day I may become the next U.S. Trade Representative, the successor to Jimmy Reyna on the Federal Circuit, or a member of the WTO Dispute Settlement Body but one thing I know for certain is that when given the choice between sit it out and dance, I will always dance. 

Sunday, July 15, 2012

A Meal to Remember

Unlike Minneapolis, Chicago is just one of those places that fails to grow on me no matter how many times I visit it. The thought of the city always conjure up images from the poem by Carl Sandburg, "hog butcher fro the world, tool maker, stacker of wheat, player with railroads and the nation's freight handler..." To me the city feels coarse, industrial unrefined and uncultured. The verdict has only been strengthened by a dozen of other worldly cities I've had the luxury to visit. All this has made it tough for me to admit that I actually had one of the best meals ever on Saturday night at a restaurant in the city called Nightwood.

I'll eat anything that's cooked but it takes a truly special meal to impress me. And on Saturday night I was truly impressed. Nightwood is a relatively newer restaurant specializing in what seems to be the new trend on the American culinary scene: American bistro or Contemporary American. Just think of the creative dishes one would see on the dozen of so on-the-fly cooking competition shows on the food network. The restaurant is tucked away in a rather unassuming neighborhood just outside of downtown. I would never thought of going there or even finding it if it wasn't for a good city guide. Partially because of its location we were able to get seated right away for a late night dinner.

I don't judge a restaurant by its decor but when a restaurant gets it right it deserves to be praised. Nightwood is extremely well put together and I can see a lot of thoughts went into maximizing the small space. The main wall and part of the side wall facing the street are large floor to ceiling glass panels that expands the space and brings in an urban feel. The exposed brick wall and dark metal hardware gave the place substance and warmth. Rather than the typical faux tin ceiling tiles there is a contemporary light hardwood coffered ceiling adding depth while creating contrast to the other elements in the room. The lighting was almost dreamy with the perfect mixture of dim lighting on the inside, incandescent light coming from the street lamps through the glass panels and small candles on each table. The atmosphere was definitely urban, contemporary, personal and unpretentious. There was no tacky music. The noise level was just high enough to not feel awkward but quiet enough to to allow one to easily carry a private conversation with a companion across the table.

Now onto the good stuff, what we're here for: food. Appetizer was a combination of lightly sauteed cauliflower, nectarines, sorrel and stracchion cheese (from Italy) on top of a big slice of Wisconsin bacon. The dish was a delightful little summer affair. I had my fair share of cauliflower but it's rarely used in American cuisine other than as a mash potato substitute on low carb menus. This cauliflower had just been barely warmed in a greased pan to retain its crunchiness and fresh flavor. This appetizer made me realize that a great dish is one that not only brings out the true flavor in each high qualify raw ingredient but also one that inspires one to experiment with the preparation at ones owe kitchen. I can't wait to incorporate cauliflower into my next homemade meal. For entree I ordered the spit roasted Illinois rabbit. Always have to go with something a little different when opportunity presents itself. I've had rabbit a few times before in Chinese dishes and French preparations. This one is, again, nothing like what I've had before. The meat was succulent with a faint woody note, not at all gamey as rabbit sometimes can be. The sauce was a savory broth made of finely diced bacon bits, fennel, porcini and whole shishito peppers. I didn't taste a wine reduction but I would be surprised if none was used in the process. This dish was very flavorful and satisfying. My dinner mate had the strip steak cooked to medium well. I was really concern about that when he ordered but when I tried the steak it was perfection. To be able to get a steak to such tenderness at medium well is nothing short of a true testament to the chef's culinary skill.

Another thing I realized over dinner is that a good restaurant motivates the guests to want to try everything on the menu. With such good food in the first two courses I would go take a walk outside and make room for dessert if I had to. Luckily I didn't have to do that. Both the appetizer and dinner were good portioned, not small that leaves you hungry and not large enough to feel completely full. For dessert I picked blueberry crisp with strawberry ice cream. I'm usually not a dessert person unless it's a perfectly made creme burlee, which is almost never the case. This dessert absolutely blew me away. I could even venture to say that it was the best dessert I've ever had. The strawberry ice cream was packed with flavor. The blueberry crisp was almost good enough to die for with fresh whole blue berries at the bottom. I was so sad to eat it and not knowing when I'll be having another one like it.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

First Draft

Somewhere near you, a couple is joining each other in close embrace and navigating through a labyrinth of other dancers. The two people may be familiar partners, mere acquaintances or complete strangers. In a crowded room they find each other not by words but by meeting of a glance. The event is a milonga; the invitation: cabeceo and the dance: Argentine tango. I have danced this dance thousands of times yet no two are ever the same. The leader makes up the steps on the fly while the follower responds and adds her own interpretation to the music. There are three things I love about Argentine tango: like jazz, it is an improvised art form with no standard paradigms; the dance relies on nonverbal connection that is not limited by language barrier and most importantly, the fact at music is the sole force that brings the two people together and moves them in a perfect union.
My obsession with tango first started at a classical guitar concert I attended while in high school. Just before the performance of Piazzolla’s Libertango, Ricardo Cobo gave an introduction to the piece that went something like “Tango music holds a constant beat. Underneath the melodies you can hear subtle intricacies, tension and release…as if you can almost hear the dancers planting each of their steps.” I didn’t have time to explore the tango during my training at the Eastman School of Music but Piazzolla never escaped my mind. Upon the completion of my dual degrees in guitar performance and economics, I had decided that music just wasn’t the career for me and with the mass exit of Wall Street at the time I wasn’t in the right time and place for the financial industry. With my studies coming to an end and no immediate plans on the horizon I decided that it was time to learn to plant my own steps.
People say if you can walk you can tango. In my case, that was true. I picked up the dance with ease, became a permanent fixture on the local tango scene and even made numerous performances in the region. As soon as I completed my senior recital at Eastman, I hopped on the next flight to Buenos Aires to experience tango at the heart of it all. There was a lot of excitement and curiosity but I was also nervous and scared. Until that point I had very little international travel experience; I didn’t speak Spanish; I didn’t know anyone in the city and I was alone. The first time I stepped into Salon Canning, a popular milonga in Buenos Aires, I was overwhelmed by the number of dancers, the fluidity of their movements and their ability to traverse a tightly packed dance floor effortlessly. Like me, most of the dancers have traveled here from different parts of the world. Without having met each other before or even speaking the same language, they are able form an instant bond of trust with each other through music. The entire scene is nothing short of a master piece of human chorography.
What started as a two months stay had extended itself into almost a year, during which I became a certified ESL teacher and taught business English seminars at numerous corporations in order to supplement my living expenses and to get a slim glimpse into the private lives of the locals. The experience gave me confidence and a sense of belonging. I felt like the world had opened itself to me and it was both enormous and small all at the same time.  By the time I concluded my stay in Buenos Aires I was consumed by the thirst of international travel. I came back to the States, saved up some money from part time jobs and got back onto the road. But this time I was self-reassured. I knew I wasn’t alone. I visited the guitar makers at the foot hills of Alhambra, hang-glided off of the cliff in Rio, rod a moped in Ephesus, climbed the Notre Dame cathedral and charged up the same hill as Maria in the Sound of Music. And through tango I shared intimate bonds with people everywhere I traveled. At the end of my world tour I didn’t have an epiphany to become a lawyer but I knew whatever career I did pursue it would have to have an international connection.
A few years have gone by since those traveling days. I’m still very much active in the local tango community and attend festivals whenever possible. I am happy to report that I found my niche in international trade compliance. Just as I once navigated the crowded dance floor, I now help to choreograph the movement of containers and ocean vessels for one of the world’s largest agribusinesses through the labyrinth of international trade regulations. And like the music that moved and synchronized the dancers, experiences have showed me that the harmonization of international standards through organizations such as the WTO is one of the key factors to bring fluidity and efficiency to international trade. One day I might become the next U.S. Trade Representative, the successor to Jimmy Reyna on the Federal Circuit, or a member of the WTO Dispute Settlement Body but one thing I know for certain is that when given the choice between sit it out and dance, I will always dance. 

Monday, July 9, 2012

Coffee Isle

Managing anxiety and depression is a constant recovering process. I feel social interaction a big part of my life that is missing, meaningful conversations, empathy, sympathy.

Yesterday before I came back I stopped by Trader Joe's to pick up a few random things not available at the local markets here. An older man recommended fair trade coffee to me as I searched the shelves for a suitable decaf blend. I told him although I would normally have gotten the fair trade brands, I now have to stick with decaf. He then started to looking through all the containers for a fair trade decaf for me. At the end we didn't find any.

For some reason, perhaps loneliness and desperately in search of people who could understand, I shared with him the fact that I've been having anxiety attacks and it has led me to the conclusion of cutting myself off from caffeine in-take. He looked up and me and said, 'I had the same problem! I used to have panic attacks that was completely debilitating to a point where I couldn't drive a car or interact with people. It was so bad I felt like I was going to have a heart attack.'

Instantly, I felt relieved and vindicated. Although my symptoms are not as severe I know exactly what it feels like to chest pain and the sensation that your heart is about to jump out of your chest. I leaned in and asked, what helped you? He looked at me in the eyes and said, 'you need to seek professional help. Not talk therapy. You need to see a psychiatrist. Panic attack is a physiological problem. You can talk to people all day long. It might help to resolves some underlying issues but you need the right medication to get better. Look at me, I'm talking to you now, I can drive, I can be around my friends, I'm functioning like a normal human being again. Before I got on medication I couldn't do any of this."

I responded, 'I know, I've tried everything I can on my own and nothing has really helped. I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next month. No one seems to understand what I'm going through. Everyone just tells me I should try to relax.' He then said, 'no one will understand this unless they've had a panic attack themselves. It IS a physiological problem, like diabetes, that needs to be treated with medication. You can't go to yoga and expect it to go away. No one tells a person with diabetes go just go walk it off."

I then asked what type of medication he is taking. I don't recall the name of it but it led him to say that he had to opt for more affordable formulas due to lack of health insurance because he's a freelance musician. I don't usually like to talk to people about my music background because their eyes just frost over when I say Eastman but since we're already this far into personal issues I volunteer the fact that I went to school for classical guitar, which the prompt him to say, I teach the guitar! Another few minutes went by as we continued some guitar talk.

All this happened at the coffee isle. However causal, brief and maybe even insignificant the conversation might have been it made me feel better. At end of the day we all want to be understood and cared for. I feel a great void in my life and I don't know how to fill it. 

Friday, July 6, 2012

This is me: when given the choice between a 100% logically decision and one that is true to my heart I will always pick the latter. I am pragmatic and I take pride in my sensibility. But when examining my life as a whole there is an overarching sense of major decisions left to matter of the heart. Music, tango, travel, love, relationships, just to name a few. Overtime these decisions and how they are reached have shaped my life and my character. Every decision is made with extreme finesse. But never in my life have I thought I want to navigate down the most logically correct path, who does? I thought the whole idea was to pick the road less traveled!? Dr. G said 'breathe deeply and feel the movement of the earth under your feet.' Steady steps and a solid foundation allow one to every now and then take a leap of faith. That's me. I feel good about the decisions I have made in my life. I'm decisive, introspective and most important of all, I stay true to my heart.That will always be me. 

All that being said and knowing what I know now, I take a step back to look one more time through the prism glass. I can see myself being happy. Even without retaking the exam I have a good shot at getting into a reputable school in an area described as having a Mediterranean climate, “laidback and outdoorsy, with bike paths nearly everywhere and myriad parks dotting the landscape” all within an hour away from one of the greatest cities in the country and surrounded by some of finest vacation spots. The kind of place I’ve always dreamt of living. What’s not to be happy about that? Logically I know the kind of pressure I put on myself is needless and counterproductive. Somehow I have to internalize it. I have to believe in myself, not for my ability to get whatever score on the exam but the capacity to find happiness no matter what. That’s the Liren I know and want to be. Everything else is peripheral.

When I was traveling I met one of the more inspiring couples from LA on a bus down to Patagonia. Tired of the corporate life, the two decided to quit their jobs, take a hit on the house, put everything in storage and volunteer together in Equator and travel through South America for a year. Like Carrie said in SATC, some women aren’t meant to be tamed. I’m looking for a life partner who would take that leap of faith with me. One of those Sundays years from now I’m going to wake up mentally and emotionally drained. My partner is going to look into my tired eyes and say f all this and let’s go do the Inca Trail together.

Last month was rough. This week I’ve went through a whole array of emotions and bucket loads of tears. Now it’s time to clean up and head to the big city for some tango. It’s time to hold life in close embrace. There will always be beauty in life. If there is only three minutes left to live, I would dance.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Day four without caffeine. I think it's getting better. It has to be. I wonder if I've finally reached my tear quota for the week. My eyes are tired. I can't cry anymore. I've been through a lot; I've overcame a lot. I've loved a lot and I've made many sacrifices. This is not the time to fold. There are people who love me, support me and have faith in everything I do. It's time to put things in perspective, breath deep and go forward. 
"Never Scared", my favorite stand up from Chris Rock where he talked about the stripper myth: "The stripper myth is: I'm stripping to pay my tuition. No you're not! There's no strippers in college! There's no clear heels in biology! Shit, I don't know they had a college that only took one-dollar bills. if they've got so many strippers in college, how come I never got a smart lap dance? I never got a girl that sat on my lap and said 'if I was you, I would diversity my portfolio. You know, ever since the end of the Cold war, I find NATO obsolete.' I haven't met her yet. If I do, she's gonna get a big tip."

Chris Rock owes me a big tip.

How's that topic for admissions essay? I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Everything I've read about personal statement says to write something personal, something unique, something passionate, a transformative experience, blah blah blah. The problem is that there are way too many of those for me to pick. I'm not going to write a travel essay, not a music essay. Tango is a possibility especially if I dig through my old blogs for inspiration. How about if you have three minutes to live, what would you do? I would dance. If given the chance to sit it out or dance I would always dance. Or tango is one of the very few things that allows one to travel to any major metropolitan around the world, walk into a crowded room and in close embrace with a total stranger with whom I have nothing else in common? Still, it would be quite something if I could wipe up a personal statement on clear heels.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

My parents came to visit today. I had a minor mental breakdown. I cried so much I have a terrible headache. This is probably by far the most teary 4th of July ever. I feel like I'm in a catch-22 position. If I don't take the exam again I might regret it and kick myself for the rest of my life. If I do take it again, which I will, I'm scared to death. And to top it all I'm extremely confused as to what the future holds. I need to stop thinking and I can't. Thoughts race through my mind like a meteorite shower. Damn it, I need to see that psychiatrist sooner. 
Day two of caffeine free. It's not so bad since there's no work today. Stayed up to talk to an old friend last night. The problem with like minded people is that we all think of each other as being perfectly normal when in fact we probably all need to be medicated. Everyone I know goes through what I go through. It's very possible that I'm going through a stage of life where once the superficial needs are met we struggle to understand the bigger picture, what is the reason for all this and what is it that really makes me happy.

I have no method of escape, no reset button. When emotions get convoluted I only have my thoughts as a cop mechanism. That and talking to people who knows me. I need clarity. Regardless of what it may seem on the surface I think thoroughly of every decision I make from every perspective I can imagine. The thought process can happen very rapidly at times thus making my actions seem rash or irrational. But the reality is that no decision is reached without being analyzed from multiple perspectives after considering all possible outcomes.

After talking a bit, it was reassuring to hear a familiar voice through the phone that said, it sounds like you have a crystal clear picture of what you want, it's just matter of choosing which path to take to get there. You have clarity. And here is how we arrived at such conclusion.

I know the primary purpose of considering law school is not necessarily the monetary payoff. Partially it's the result of my frustration with my job but more importantly, I want to be intellectually challenged. I don't know exactly what it is that's going to bring me happiness. There is no such guarantee in life. What I do know with 100% conviction is that I need to operate at my maximum capacity. If I make some money and find happiness in the process of pursuing personal excellence, great, if not, it is at least one necessary factor for my happiness.

I have to admit that the name and prestige of the school is a bit superficial. Part of the reason I'm obssessed with the name is because I correlate the ranking of the school to the caliber of people I would be studying with. That's the kind of environment I want to be in. Then the friend said, if you want to be surround by truly intellectual people with no concern for the practical side of getting a job you don't go to law school, you go get a PhD. Ding! Light bulb moment. The reality is that if I really have no interest in working for big law I have no business of going to law school. But if I this is what I want to pursue and if I absolutely need to go to a top 15 law school, I need to take the exam again in October. It's not the end of the world. I just have to decide to do it and then do it.

I need to make sure I have the right mental and emotional strength to do it all over again. No one takes the exam with the intention of taking it again the second time but I know one of the biggest reason I forced myself to take it in June was so that I have the possibility to retake it in October. I had intentionally made room for plan B, what's with the irresolution in taking it now? If it's that important to me and I can't be satisfied with my life without it then there is only one thing left to do. Now suck it up and do it. 

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Day one of caffeine free. When all else fails start running experience on oneself. This morning was difficult but at least I didn't feel like I was going to have a heart attack any moment. When anxiety strikes, which now happens on a daily basis, I feel as if my heart is going to jump out of my chest. Try getting off caffeine might be a start. After all, I can't imagine it helping with my overactive mind.

The stupid score hang over my head like a nightmare that just won't go away. I don't know what went wrong and I'm not interested in indulging in the hows and whys. It's almost comical to think that I'm likely to have gotten the lowest score for someone who has worked through 4500 practice questions. As soon as I saw my score I thought, fuck, there's no way I'm going take this again in October, I could really go mentally insane by then. Some might say I deserve better but I've never think of anything that way. It's not about who deserves what. Sometimes life happens and we all just have to deal with it.

A friend of mine used to say the biggest difference between smart and average people is that smart people  can find ways to rationalize everything they do; they over analyzing. Hence my initial analysis of the situation follows.

I need to do some serious soul searching to find what is it that I really want and would make me happy. Getting a poor score might have been a good thing for me. Had I scored above 170 I would have applied and got into the schools I wanted and then off I go, no second thoughts. A low score forces me to step back for a moment and re-evaluate just exactly what my intent is.

Why am I so unsatisfied? If I want to go to law school for the sake of going to law school I still can. I just might not get into the exact programs that I want, but so are over 90% of the people who apply to those programs. Besides, the end results are the same. There's nothing that says I can't go to the school here and come out making twice what I'm making now as a first year associate. In fact, I see someone doing that right now.

Then a scream comes out of my head, "but I don't care! I don't give a rats ass about the money. I want to go to the school I want to go to and nothing less." I know that's a little prima donna-ish but that's what I want. So now I'm going to scream, pout and stomp my feet.

All my life I've been taught do this now so you can have a better future. Well, I'm done with living life now for what I may or may not have 3, 5, 10 years from now. The Chinese way of life revolves around means justifying the ends. The idea that the sacrifices you make today will eventually pay off at such a such time is bullshit. Why not just promise 72 virgins and get it over with.

Liquidity is an important issue in finance and one way to improve cash flow is to shorten cash conversion cycle. That's the deal with the business of ends and means. Instant gratification is not always possible or sustainable. However, prolonged period between initial investment and final payoff can be damaging, unnecessary and counterproductive. What happened to living life in the now?

Of course, nothing is absolute. Do I want to go to law school in order to get a better, more challenging job, work among peers of higher intelligence and finally live in a geographical location I don't despise? Yes. Do I want to go to law school for the prestige and challenge myself intellectually just for the sake of learning new things? Yes. Will I be challenged no matter where I go? Sure. So the final question is how important is the name of the school? If I can't get in the top 15 would it be worthwhile for me to go given my intentions.

And finally, I'd like to think a low score is not a true reflection of my intelligence but I'm sure the admissions people would beg to differ. LSAT score is the most important part of admission because schools believe that it provides the most accurate picture of how someone would perform in law school. Do I believe that? Not necessarily. And people always think of themselves as exceptions to the rule. But in reality, there is a lot to be said for the exam and the fact law schools and admissions have been around and thriving for a long time must imply they know what they are doing. Are there extraordinary people who otherwise could have been the greatest attorneys who ever walked on earth and were rejected from admissions due to low test scores?Maybe. But who cares, good lawyers and attorneys are in plentiful supply so that's no problem to society. The point at issue is if I'm having such a hard time with this exam would I really be capable of performing at top of the class in law school? Do I have the intelligence and emotional strength required to weather the stress and excel?

I know all this sounds like self doubt but not many people know me better than I know myself. This is not the time to sugar coat anything. If I can't give myself an honest assessment no one else will.

So the bottom line is that I will still apply to the schools I want to attend. As for "safety" schools, I'm not sure. There is no point to apply to anywhere that I have no intention of going. Do I think I'm better than the 21-year-old who just finished undergrad with not a day of life/work experience but scored a 170? Yes, absolutely. I have yet been on an interview where I didn't get an offer. Even business partners, clients and suppliers want to hire me after working with me. Like Polly Prince, "I've been living my life, okay? I've been in good relationships and I've been in shitty ones...and I've moved a lot...and I've been happy and I've been sad...and I've been lonely...that's what I've been doing." Would that come across to the admissions? And would that be enough to persuade? Maybe, maybe not, we'll just have to wait and see. 

Monday, July 2, 2012

Talked to a friend last night who understands and has been through it all. I was told that intelligence comes at a price. The fastest race cars are the most fickle (or the most wrecked in my opinion). Long store short, what is it I need? Medication. I've tried everything else there is and I'm getting worse all the time.

I scheduled for a professional evaluation today. Had to tell them over the phone that I'm mentally stable enough to not pose a threat to myself or anyone around me. I'm still functional on my worst day but I constantly feel like I'm on the verge of a major breakdown. I took some online manic depression test today and passed it with flying colors. It was as if they were writing about me. Anxiety, agitation, frustration, hopelessness, low self worth, overactive thoughts, shortened sleep schedule, periods of hyperactivity, etc. you get it, me!

Came home and got the worst news on my exam and I'm not freaking out about it. Here's the thing, I can handle catastrophes very well. It's the day-to-day kind of crap that I can't deal with. It is what it is. I either get into a school I want to go to or I don't. If not then law school is just not in the cards for me.

Just saw on FB that it's the 7th wedding anniversary for this friend. I remember being at his wedding. Time is really flies. 

Sunday, July 1, 2012

The Park

Progress. Jody had suggested that I go into the woods and imagine myself being happy. Well, it's not quite the woods but a small park will have to do for now. The second part is still a work in progress. Those fawns probably have a better idea on being happy than I do. On the bright side I know if/when I figure out where I am going I have everything it takes to get there.
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