A graduate student from Texas recently discovered that a supernova 44 trillion miles away from Earth might possibly explode within 50,000 years. If we are still alive on planet earth when it does, only folks in the southern hemisphere (the current one) will be able to see the explosion.
Reading this news, and then reading about the ongoing research into the potential 3-year missions to Mars, makes me believe even harder in the human spirit. No matter how skeptical I am about our intelligence, no matter how fearful and wary I feel about our hubris and our fallacies, I am still amazed by the depth of our abilities, our genius -- whatever it is that was instilled within us during our creation.
When JFK talked about landing on the moon, did he imagine that one day we would be planning trips to Mars?
That little spark, that internal motivation that inspired the graduate student to research and explore and eventually discover this supernova -- perhaps I too could discover that little spark.
May 8, 2007
May 7, 2007
Picasso and TAT
I was pleasantly surprised yesterday at the Picasso (and American Artists) exhibit at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art when my brother turned to me, while standing in front of a Picasso painting, and said, "I love this painting."
Now, you must understand why I was astonished to hear him say this. He is not a professed art lover. He loves WOW (World of Warcraft, folks, and I'd never have figured it out if he hadn't told me). He follows the avatars and tracks the value of his paladdin on eBay. He works with computers and science and loves to cook. He does not usually go to art exhibits. He prefers reading science fiction and is not an art critic. And after 25 years of being his sister, I would never have pegged him as being an art afficionado.
But, life always brings us surprises. After living years apart from each other, the T. siblings have returned to the Bay Area, and the discoveries never cease. On this warm Sunday afternoon, not only did my little brother explain to me why Picasso's piece was especially significant in the art world, noting the brush strokes and the colors and the texture, he very elegantly used the artist's dismissive wave, saying, "It's just art."
Silly me. What do I know about art or brothers. Apparently, nothing.
Now, you must understand why I was astonished to hear him say this. He is not a professed art lover. He loves WOW (World of Warcraft, folks, and I'd never have figured it out if he hadn't told me). He follows the avatars and tracks the value of his paladdin on eBay. He works with computers and science and loves to cook. He does not usually go to art exhibits. He prefers reading science fiction and is not an art critic. And after 25 years of being his sister, I would never have pegged him as being an art afficionado.
But, life always brings us surprises. After living years apart from each other, the T. siblings have returned to the Bay Area, and the discoveries never cease. On this warm Sunday afternoon, not only did my little brother explain to me why Picasso's piece was especially significant in the art world, noting the brush strokes and the colors and the texture, he very elegantly used the artist's dismissive wave, saying, "It's just art."
Silly me. What do I know about art or brothers. Apparently, nothing.
Ca Dao
Mỗi đêm mỗi thắp đèn trời
cầu cho cha mẹ sống đời với con.
Còn cha còn mẹ thì hơn.
Không cha không mẹ như đờn đứt dây.
Đờn đứt dây còn xoay còn nối.
Cha Mẹ mất rồi con chịu mồ coi.
Mồ coi khổ lắm ai ơi!
Đoí cơm không ai biết,
lỡ lơì không ai phân.
Chiều chiều nhớ Mẹ ta xưa.
Miệng nhai cơm búng lưỡi lừa cá xương.
Mẹ già như chuối ba hương,
Như xôi nếp một như đường mía lau.
Như xôi nếp một như đường mía lau.
- Đặng Quang Vinh
Loi bai hat cua Dang Quang Vinh dua tren cau ca dao "me gia nhu chuoi ba huong, nhu xoi nep mot nhu duong mia lau." Day la mot trong nhung cau ca dao minh thich nhat, va strangely, minh nho tu thuo nho mac du kg biet gai goc cua no tu dau ma ra. Nhan dip Mother's Day, minh load bai nay cho cac ban nghe, de nho den nhung nguoi Me trong doi, nhung nguoi Me ma da tung buoc qua doi song cua cac ban. Co the ho kg phai la Me ruot cua ban, nhung neu lam Me, ho cung dang duoc nho den.
Va bai nay cung de tang cho cac nguoi Con. Khong phai ai cung lam Me, nhung ai cung lam Con. Dieu dang chu y trong loi cua bai hat nay la cai niem "communal responsibility" cua viec lam phu huynh cung nhu cua bon phan lam con cai.
NB: This is a very typical older style of music in VN, almost like how country is particular to American music. It's folksy melody is combined with a very traditional proverb about mothers, celebrating motherhood, and bemoaning the fate of parentless children.
cầu cho cha mẹ sống đời với con.
Còn cha còn mẹ thì hơn.
Không cha không mẹ như đờn đứt dây.
Đờn đứt dây còn xoay còn nối.
Cha Mẹ mất rồi con chịu mồ coi.
Mồ coi khổ lắm ai ơi!
Đoí cơm không ai biết,
lỡ lơì không ai phân.
Chiều chiều nhớ Mẹ ta xưa.
Miệng nhai cơm búng lưỡi lừa cá xương.
Mẹ già như chuối ba hương,
Như xôi nếp một như đường mía lau.
Như xôi nếp một như đường mía lau.
- Đặng Quang Vinh
Moi dem moi thap den troi
cau cho Cha Me song doi voi con.
Con Cha con Me thi hon.
Khong Cha khong Me nhu don dut day
Don dut day con xoay con noi.
Cha Me mat roi con chiu mo coi.
Mo coi kho lam ai oi!
Doi com khong ai biet,
lo loi khong ai phan.
Chieu chieu nho Me ta xua.
Mieng nhai com bung luoi lua ca xuong.
Me gia nhu chuoi ba huong,
Nhu xoi nep mot nhu duong mia lau.
Nhu xoi nep mot nhu duong mia lau.
- Đang Quang Vinh
Loi bai hat cua Dang Quang Vinh dua tren cau ca dao "me gia nhu chuoi ba huong, nhu xoi nep mot nhu duong mia lau." Day la mot trong nhung cau ca dao minh thich nhat, va strangely, minh nho tu thuo nho mac du kg biet gai goc cua no tu dau ma ra. Nhan dip Mother's Day, minh load bai nay cho cac ban nghe, de nho den nhung nguoi Me trong doi, nhung nguoi Me ma da tung buoc qua doi song cua cac ban. Co the ho kg phai la Me ruot cua ban, nhung neu lam Me, ho cung dang duoc nho den.
Va bai nay cung de tang cho cac nguoi Con. Khong phai ai cung lam Me, nhung ai cung lam Con. Dieu dang chu y trong loi cua bai hat nay la cai niem "communal responsibility" cua viec lam phu huynh cung nhu cua bon phan lam con cai.
NB: This is a very typical older style of music in VN, almost like how country is particular to American music. It's folksy melody is combined with a very traditional proverb about mothers, celebrating motherhood, and bemoaning the fate of parentless children.
May 2, 2007
Beautiful day in Berkeley
On Saturday, Cesar Chavez Park was filled with kites. The park grounds were abuzz with energy and excitement. Little children and adults like were running around underneath kites of different colors and designs, some of which included 2 butterflies, 1 red dragon, 1 stingray, 1 Pokemon character, 1 turtle, 1 airplane.
David Sedaris: Eat a Big Sandwich
At his reading in UCB's Zellerbach Hall last Friday, David Sedaris read four major pieces and promoted two books: Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules, which he edited, and The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks.
As I am not a zombologist (his term), I couldn't appreciate that he spent almost 20 minutes talking about the survival guide. But, if I were Max Brooks, I would very much appreciate David Sedaris for going on the road to promote the book. I know so very little about the writing world that I don't know what the connection is (if there is one) between Sedaris and Brooks, but perhaps it has something to do with their publisher, or it has something to do with... oh never mind -- I don't know where I'm going with this.
The second book is a collection of short stories which he chose, and though I never bought nor read it, I had to admit the title was quite intriguing.
David Sedaris began with a disclaimer about some of the "untruths" in his essays (actually he said there were only two). He very wittily flirted with the fine line betweent truths and lies, and the disclaimer lengthened into a long essay about how every single word in his essays is true, except for two instances. The first instance was when he misquoted his mother, and thanks to a neighbor of his who happened to be testing out his new tape recorder at that time, the conversation in question was replayed and the accurate wording was noted. Unfortunately, the book had already been published and it was too late to edit each of the books in print.
The second untruth/lie became reality when the cashier he falsely named Brenda in his essay changed her name to Brenda (was it really Brenda? I can't remember clearly... perhaps I should have had a tape recorder with me).
The second essay was "April in Paris", mainly about his obsession with a spider named April, who lived on the tenement-window in his home in Normandy. Sedaris regaled us with the stories of him catching flies to feed his arachnid tenants, and told us how he carried April to Paris and showed her the Eiffel Tower as they drove past.
The third piece for the evening was an essay he had published in the New Yorker, and though I didn't catch the title of the piece, it doesn't really matter b/c he said the New Yorker used a different title anyway when they published the essay. It begins with him waking up in desperate need for coffee but the water has been shut off (w/o prior notice as is the custom in Normandy). It (very swiftly and smoothly) segueways into a contemplation about and a questioning of traditional gender roles, with the typical Sedarian humor slicing into bending gender roles. There is one unforgettalbe image (an imagined one at that) of Hugh washing clothes by the riverbank, beating the clothes on the rock, with a baby hanging onto his breast, by the gums. You'll never guess where he got the water to make the coffee (and no, he did not use green tea like he did previously).
The last piece he read was not a complete essay because he read excerpts of his journal entries from his 3 month stay in Japan. I must admit that while some of his material was funny, I felt that his entries exhibited an un-Sedarian (or perhaps late Sedaris vs. early Sedaris style) kind of humor that bordered on racist and was very clearly Orientalist. It was an uncomfortable feeling for me, especially since the only statement that noted his consciousness of being orientalist was the statement he made almost halfway through the piece. He was in the process of making fun of some of the English that he saw while living in Japan, and before launching into his story, he said in an aside that he understood the irony of his statement given that he did not know Japanese (and, I might add, was a rich, white, gay man living in Japan). Besides that statement, there was nothing else except his very skewed depictions of Japan and the Japanese people -- it was sort of disappointing to hear (and it's not just because he was writing about Asians), and uncomfortable. It was even more uncomfortable that the audience was pealing in laughter. They lapped it up without blinking an eye.
Despite my growing disenchantment with Sedaris, I was still star-struck and managed to be the 5th person in line to get his autograph. Given my objections to his To Do list which he gave me previously, I asked for another list, which he promptly wrote down:
After handing me the book, he asked if I've seen the movie Hanabi -- and I can't remember the director that he mentioned so I don't know which Hanabi he was talking about. I'll just have to watch them all. So, in the end, despite the fact that I found a large part of his reading objectionable (much of it was very crass, for my taste), I was still enamored with him, so much so that I couldn't find anything intelligent to say when he suggested that I eat a big sandwich. I mean, what does it mean to eat a big sandwich? A poet would have been more precise and said what kind of sandwhich instead of something generic like "sandwich." An avocado brussel sprouts on dark rye is very different from a salami on Dutch crunch. A spicy falafel sandwich roll is very different from a tuna salad sandwich on french baquette.
Somehow, I don't think he meant any of this figuratively. David Sedaris really did tell me to eat a big sandwich. Is that what my life is about? I have so little meaningful conversation with good writers that I'm reduced a pittering, puttering mess when I face someone like Sedaris and then I don't even have the guts to take him to task for displaying so proudly his Orientalismm. Not even to ask him to modify his list. Sigh.
That's it folks. The evening was had. The fun is gone. Back to work. Put on your corduroy and denim and get to work...
As I am not a zombologist (his term), I couldn't appreciate that he spent almost 20 minutes talking about the survival guide. But, if I were Max Brooks, I would very much appreciate David Sedaris for going on the road to promote the book. I know so very little about the writing world that I don't know what the connection is (if there is one) between Sedaris and Brooks, but perhaps it has something to do with their publisher, or it has something to do with... oh never mind -- I don't know where I'm going with this.
The second book is a collection of short stories which he chose, and though I never bought nor read it, I had to admit the title was quite intriguing.
David Sedaris began with a disclaimer about some of the "untruths" in his essays (actually he said there were only two). He very wittily flirted with the fine line betweent truths and lies, and the disclaimer lengthened into a long essay about how every single word in his essays is true, except for two instances. The first instance was when he misquoted his mother, and thanks to a neighbor of his who happened to be testing out his new tape recorder at that time, the conversation in question was replayed and the accurate wording was noted. Unfortunately, the book had already been published and it was too late to edit each of the books in print.
The second untruth/lie became reality when the cashier he falsely named Brenda in his essay changed her name to Brenda (was it really Brenda? I can't remember clearly... perhaps I should have had a tape recorder with me).
The second essay was "April in Paris", mainly about his obsession with a spider named April, who lived on the tenement-window in his home in Normandy. Sedaris regaled us with the stories of him catching flies to feed his arachnid tenants, and told us how he carried April to Paris and showed her the Eiffel Tower as they drove past.
The third piece for the evening was an essay he had published in the New Yorker, and though I didn't catch the title of the piece, it doesn't really matter b/c he said the New Yorker used a different title anyway when they published the essay. It begins with him waking up in desperate need for coffee but the water has been shut off (w/o prior notice as is the custom in Normandy). It (very swiftly and smoothly) segueways into a contemplation about and a questioning of traditional gender roles, with the typical Sedarian humor slicing into bending gender roles. There is one unforgettalbe image (an imagined one at that) of Hugh washing clothes by the riverbank, beating the clothes on the rock, with a baby hanging onto his breast, by the gums. You'll never guess where he got the water to make the coffee (and no, he did not use green tea like he did previously).
The last piece he read was not a complete essay because he read excerpts of his journal entries from his 3 month stay in Japan. I must admit that while some of his material was funny, I felt that his entries exhibited an un-Sedarian (or perhaps late Sedaris vs. early Sedaris style) kind of humor that bordered on racist and was very clearly Orientalist. It was an uncomfortable feeling for me, especially since the only statement that noted his consciousness of being orientalist was the statement he made almost halfway through the piece. He was in the process of making fun of some of the English that he saw while living in Japan, and before launching into his story, he said in an aside that he understood the irony of his statement given that he did not know Japanese (and, I might add, was a rich, white, gay man living in Japan). Besides that statement, there was nothing else except his very skewed depictions of Japan and the Japanese people -- it was sort of disappointing to hear (and it's not just because he was writing about Asians), and uncomfortable. It was even more uncomfortable that the audience was pealing in laughter. They lapped it up without blinking an eye.
Despite my growing disenchantment with Sedaris, I was still star-struck and managed to be the 5th person in line to get his autograph. Given my objections to his To Do list which he gave me previously, I asked for another list, which he promptly wrote down:
- 1. Eat a big sandwich
2. Buy sandals
3. Watch a Japanese movie
After handing me the book, he asked if I've seen the movie Hanabi -- and I can't remember the director that he mentioned so I don't know which Hanabi he was talking about. I'll just have to watch them all. So, in the end, despite the fact that I found a large part of his reading objectionable (much of it was very crass, for my taste), I was still enamored with him, so much so that I couldn't find anything intelligent to say when he suggested that I eat a big sandwich. I mean, what does it mean to eat a big sandwich? A poet would have been more precise and said what kind of sandwhich instead of something generic like "sandwich." An avocado brussel sprouts on dark rye is very different from a salami on Dutch crunch. A spicy falafel sandwich roll is very different from a tuna salad sandwich on french baquette.
Somehow, I don't think he meant any of this figuratively. David Sedaris really did tell me to eat a big sandwich. Is that what my life is about? I have so little meaningful conversation with good writers that I'm reduced a pittering, puttering mess when I face someone like Sedaris and then I don't even have the guts to take him to task for displaying so proudly his Orientalismm. Not even to ask him to modify his list. Sigh.
That's it folks. The evening was had. The fun is gone. Back to work. Put on your corduroy and denim and get to work...
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