Today marks the two-year anniversary of my blog. Yay! =)

Okay, enough about spoiled brats! I want to write about some happy news.

In this month, two sets of friends became first-time parents! My friends Rej and Kumar are proud parents of a baby girl, and my friends Helen and Kenny are proud parents of a baby boy. Yay! Best of luck and congratulations!!

And today is Hannah's birthday! Yay!! August is a blessed month! =D

Sometimes I'm not sure which kind of student I dread working with the most. Is it the severely ADD? The severly ADHD? The unresponsive autistic child? Little boys requiring lots of energy? Teenage boys with raging hormones? Young girls who love to chatter? No, I can actually handle most of these cases fairly well. My work does have its challenges, but most of the time I believe I can make some sort of difference.

Today I decided which student I absolutely dread. I dread working with...little...spoiled...bratty...girls.

These days I've been working with a six-year old named Lauren (who just happens to share names with my roommmate). She insists that her mother stay in the room with her while she works, so her mother sits in the room for two hours every day...because she can't so "no" to her child. What's worse is that Lauren orders her mother around. "I need some water NOW." "Can you push my chair in?" "This water tastes soapy! Get me some other water! In a bottle!"

Needless to say, it's a challenge to work with her. She pouts when I tell her to do something she doesn't want to do. I have to be as firm as I can be...with her mother around.

I and my other colleages who have worked with Lauren have had to tolerate her tantrums, her attitude, and her mother's spinelessness, which is the saddest of all. Today, however, I was totally and completely appalled.

Lauren's mother was unable to be with us during the start of our session, but even with her pouting and complaining, I was able to get Lauren to start reading a few sentences. Then her mother came in. She immediately complained to her mother that her finger was hurting. Her mom put a band-aid on her finger to alleviate the astronomical pain that was preventing her from doing her work. That's fine.

I should add that Lauren does have difficulties. I'm sure she has some kind of attention deficit and she most certainly has auditory processing problems since it's quite normal to repeat questions and directions to her before she understands. The fact that this work is difficult for her is understandable.

So there I was trying to keep her focused to decode some nonsense words. Without looking at the workbook, Lauren responded with her own made-up words. "Lauren, can you look at the word please?" "Lauren, can you point to the word we're working on?" I kept insisting. Finally, her mother feebly chimes in, "Lauren, sweetie, look at the word."

"I AM!" Lauren yells. Not only is she flat-out lying, but she's yelling at her mother.

A few minutes later, it's the same thing. Her mother sweetly tries to get her to point to the word she's looking at.

"I AM! SHUT UP! LET ME DO MY WORK! YOU'RE BOTHERING ME!" she yells as she turns to give her mother a mean glance.

I can't believe it. A six-year old girl is being totally disrespectful to her mother.

Maybe someone should pull the mother aside and tell her not to let her daughter walk all over her. Not only is it disrespectful to the mother, but I fear what kind of person the daughter has already become.

I've learned many things from this job...about patience, about listening and learning what's really going on, about handling tantrums, about caring for a troubled child...and about how NOT to raise a kid.

I think I'm mentally constipated. I mean...I am capable of producing thoughts, but I just can't seem to get it out these days. (Perhaps this is not the most pleasant imagery I'm presenting.) I know there are things on my mind...things I want to express...and I think about it...but...

You know this brings back a memory from a missions trip I went on a few years back. In a particular Central Asian region of Russia, the people use the euphemism of "thinking" when referring to going number 2. When I discovered this, I had a lot of fun coming up with different phrases and sharing them with my teammates. It's amazing how easy it is to use "thinking" to explain the condition of your bowel movements: "I'm having a mental block." "I had to think for a long time today." "It was a stream of consciousness." "My thoughts were all over the place." HAHAHA!

Okay...somewhat seriously now...back to my mental constipation. Maybe I just have too much to process right now so that I need more time. Maybe there is something going on in my subconscious that's causing blockage. Maybe it's just because some things aren't meant to be expressed but should be kept brewing in my soul. I don't know. I need to chew on mental fiber.

Man, this is an odd blog entry. I'm going to post it anyway.

At least a half a dozen blog topics have been running through my mind today. Some possible entries have been partially composed in my head. Yet I don't know that I want to actually write any of them out. At least not today anyway.

Maybe tomorrow?

Dude! Besides spending time in wine country, there is another reason to journey up north. Marc Chagall!! =)

Oh, the vagaries caused by an unsettled spirit! I've been noticing (and I believe many others have) that my behavior has become increasingly odd as my departure draws closer.

Earlier in the week I had a bit of a mild panic attack...or something. I'm not sure what to call it. There was certainly an impetus of some sort that was driving me...a sudden fear, perhaps, that time was slipping fast...and in response, I scurried to my room and began cleaning out my closet. I guess it wasn't such a bad thing; I needed to get rid of clothes anyway.

And yesterday I was making all sorts of weird noises in front of my roommates (and Erik) for most of the evening. At one point I began snacking on edamame with an unexplained ferocity, still making strange noises. I guess Susan found it rather obnoxious. She began pelting me with edamame. "Ahhh!!! Death by edamame!!" I shouted as I struggled to protect myself from the attack.

Yes, these days I have been needing to deal with my fluctuating emotional state...and it's not PMS...it's even more unnerving than if it were. On Wednesday when I shared with my small group about how I have been feeling, someone asked if I still felt called to go to the East Coast to help with the church plant. (Interesting question when you think about it, "...still feel called?")

I have been pondering for the past several months if I was ever really called to do this or if I'm fooling myself. I have to admit that I still can't say I "feel" called. My decision a few months ago was to move ahead anyway and trust that God will either keep me on this path or steer me in a different direction. After making that decision, there was a sense of peace, but the process of leaving has still not been easy. Often the peace is wanning.

The other day, Hannah asked me to describe my time here in California with an image. The picture that came to my mind (as cheesy as it may be) was that of a bird flying in a clear blue sky. The bird has happily joined a flock of fellow birds...well, come to think of it, all the birds are different, but they're still a flock moving in the same direction.

And now that bird is getting ready to leave...there is sadness. How else should I feel?

A couple of weekends ago, I had brought up the topic of mediocrity in a conversation. I brought up how I despise it yet at the same time, how tired I am of trying to beat it. Why am I so afraid of mediocrity anyway? Why am I afraid of being ordinary? Is there a reason I want to stand out in the crowd? Why do I feel the need to accomplish great and noble things? Am I afraid of being easily forgotten? Yet when I really think about it, I realize how I am basically like everyone else. I have the same basic needs, desires, and fears. Why is it hard to accept that?

Well, sometime last night after a conversation with a friend, I sensed God telling me to look at 1 Corinthians 13. My immediate response: The love chapter? The one they recite at countless weddings? Why?

Being the unholy person that I am, I opted not to go to church today. =P Instead I wanted to ponder this chapter and its relevance in my life. I realized God was telling me that it didn’t matter if I accomplished great things, the most important thing I can offer the world is love. It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to excel in whatever I do, but if I end up being ordinary, as long as my love is extraordinary, then that is the greater thing. That is what I should be remembered for.

Bah. Isn’t accomplishing great things easier to do?

Last night, thanks to Peter, I was rescued from a Friday night of nothingness. Susan and I joined Peter and his friends for an evening at the Beer Garden. With a name like "Beer Garden", I would have pictured....oh, I don't know...a garden of barley and hops with beer cascading into a reflection pond. That wasn't quite the case. There was a garden, and there was a cascade of water. And they did serve beer. I guess that's enough to make it the Beer Garden.

If you are thirsting for ice-cold draft Kirin, the Beer Garden is the place to go. If you are seeking a large quantity of food, the Beer Garden is not the place to go, unless you are willing to pay for multiple orders of barbeque. I'd go back for the beer...and the garden...at the Beer Garden. Anyway...

After the BG, we parted ways with Melvin. Peter, Peter's cousin Tony (my newest friend on Friendster), Jenny, Susan and I caught a showing of Northfork. The story, set in the 1950's, takes place in a small town that must be evacuated before being flooded for the sake of technology promised by a newly constructed dam. The story centers around a dying orphan and his encounters with an odd foursome. Throughout the film, the real and imagined are blurred which, in my opinion, made the film absolutely intriguing. Artistically, the movie was brilliant with some of the most creative scene transitions I have seen. And it was funny, not in an obvious slap-stick way, but funny nevertheless. (Although, at some points I did wonder why it seemed like I was the only one laughing.) Something about it...some of its humor and its dealings with the realm of fantasy and its blurring with reality...reminded me of the Adventures of Baron Munchausen (which is another great film, by the way). Northfork is another film I'm recommending this summer along with Whale Rider (which I recommend for the story and the amazing performances). Northfork, however, moves along at a slow pace, which I actually appreciated and I'm sure the slow pace was intentional, but don't plan to watch the film if you're sleepy.

I'd actually be up for watching the film again. It's even a film I'd consider owning, and that's saying a lot! =)

How is it that I, of all people, would be orchestrating a set-up? For one, I generally cringe at the idea for myself, and secondly, isn't this something happily coupled people do to their single friends? As a rule, I don't believe in meddling, so why am I doing this?

But, come to think of it, it wasn't originally my idea. It was Lauren's (who is happily coupled). A few weeks ago, she had mentioned to me that she thought so-and-so (let's call her Lady X) would be a nice match for our friend (let's call him Mr. Z). (That would make me Ms. Y, the go-between.) I kept that thought in the back of my mind.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the chance to talk with Lady X...total girl talk which is what I was after since I didn't really know her type. She proceeded to inform me of the qualities she is seeking in a guy. I was happy to hear her describe the very qualities of Mr. Z.

"So what are you looking for in a guy?" she asked in return.

I totally ignored her question. I wanted to take the opportunity to mention Mr. Z. "The reason I ask is because (blahblahblah)..." was instead my response. I told her how Lauren had thought she might be a good match with someone. I knew there was also a chance they might already know each other, so I mentioned how she might know him.

"Wait. Are you talking about (Mr. Z)?" she questioned.

"Yeah! So you know him?"

"You're the fourth person in the last month to mention his name to me!" she exclaimed.

Whoa. Weird, huh?

She shared about the three other friends who had mentioned his name but that nothing had come out of it. I asked her if she would be open to having me talk to him. She agreed.

So today I finally had the chance to talk with Mr. Z. He mentioned that two people had brought the idea up to him, but since nothing had happened, he figured that was that. After establishing with Mr. Z that Lady X was open to meeting, I realized my role as matchmaker was not yet over. Now it would be time to contact Lady X. Would she be open to meeting him on her own? Would she want to do a group thing? If so, as Mr. Z pointed out, it would probably be him, me, Lady X, and another person.

Another person? Oh, goodness. Who? At that moment, I realized another reason why this is generally something for happily coupled people and not for the solo person. It's called the double-date. Who in the world would I bring? Obviously I would need to be comfortable enough with this "other" person. What do I do if I can't find a date? Is Mr. Z supposed to then bring one of his friends?

*sigh* Oh, well. I'm going to stop right there. There is no need to let my mind create an endless series of possible scenarios. If it's meant to happen, it will. I'm not going to worry about it.

Mr. Z, apologies for all the pent-up expectation. I'm wishing you the best! =)

On Friday, I learned that LA fans are rather rude and very loud.

On Saturday, I learned that quite a few people do their laundry on a Saturday evening. (But maybe that's because it was so dang hot during the day.)

On Sunday, I learned that Jeff can indeed rap, and that Yo-Yo Ma and his impressive entourage can completely captivate the audience with the sounds of Brazil at the Hollywood Bowl.

Today, I learned that the sixth degree of separation is more than true, and through those connections, Friendster can re-connect you to people from college who live on the other side of the country. It's actually been interesting/freaky to see how many connections I have with people, whether I know them or not.

Another thing I've been learning these days: It's way too hot in Pasadena!!

Tomorrow I'll be at Dodger Stadium with some co-workers watching the Dodgers versus the Cubs.

Yay! Dodger dogs and beer! =)

After situating myself for my 11 a.m. session with Pat, a 17 year old (who frequently makes inappropriate comments and asks inappropriate questions...that can be a blog topic all on its own), I glanced down at the small slip of blue paper on the table. The slip of paper listed the names of all four of Pat's clinicians for this week. Next to the names, Pat had penciled in what appeared to be grades. Pat gave his first teacher, Matt, a B+. He gave his second teacher, Tina, an A-. Elisa was next on the list with a C-. And then there was me...with a grade of F+.

"You gave me an F+??" I asked in disbelief. I looked closely and saw that my grade had been lowered from a D-. What had I done to this kid? I didn't think he disliked me.

And if that wasn't bad enough, right under my name, he had written in the name of another clinician he wasn't working with that week: Johnney, A+++

"You gave Johnney an A+++??" Oh, the growing jealousy. A lot of kids like Johnney. In fact, later in the afternoon, I worked with a new kid, Marino. He asked whether the remaining teachers on his list were male or female, and I told him the last two were women. I then asked if he would rather work with guys since I know most boys do. He said he would rather work with Johnney. I was completely dumbfounded. It was the kid's first day. He hadn't even worked with Johnney. And he was already saying he wanted to work with Johnney. What's up with that?

That's it...I need to be like Johnney. I need to get myself some cool tattoos.

(Apologies for another blatantly honest post...)

I've had a bottle of vitamins (with minerals and herbs) for over a year now, so I decided I should use them up. Among the many nutritional supplements, these vitamins contain ginkgo biloba which people use to enhance memory. It works by increasing blood flow to the brain. It also happens to increase blood flow everywhere else...

Never mind that the vitamin sometimes has a funny herbal after-taste or that my pee is slightly green after taking it, these damn vitamins are making me horny! And what's really scary is that they recommend taking three of these pills a day, and I've only been taking one! I certainly could not handle taking three!

So what should I do? Throw them away? Finish taking them anyway? The vitamins are guaranteed potency until December 2004. Do I keep them locked away and wait? But wait for what? Marriage??

Damn these vitamins! Damn them!

After leaving the Jazz Bakery last night, we parted ways with part of our group, and the remaining four of us (me, Hannah, Eman, and Jonathan) headed over to a late night cafe in Alhambra for some food (across the street from what some speculated was the scene of a recent drive-by).

I had been in a silly mood earlier in the evening, but after the performance...maybe in part due to the performance but coupled with my recent musings about life and my need for conversation...I began asking questions that had been on my mind and also used the opportunity to think out loud about some things.

Hmmm...I was actually going to write about the whole chain of thoughts and ideas that were discussed, but I think I'll wait...

Today I finally had the opportunity to join Nick (who *ahem* went to the Ivar this past week and didn't mention it to me) at the Thai Temple in North Hollywood for some really cheap and delicious Thai food. Yay! I savored a heaping of spicy papaya salad, meat-on-a-stick, a sample of chicken salad, and Thai iced tea for $5. The meal was followed by a tasty coconut dessert, mango and sticky rice, and fried banana.

Oh, I'm definitely going back. =D

Last night, a few of us headed to the Jazz Bakery for what we were expecting to be a night of...well, jazz music. I hadn't bothered to check who was performing, and it turned out that the evening's event was a theatrical/spoken word performance.

Although it wasn't what we were expecting, I must say, I really enjoyed it. The title of the piece was "Nobody Walks Like My Daddy", and it was performed by two African-American actors and a percussionist who played throughout the piece. It opened with the younger man pretending to hold a baby. As he talked about how he was now, in his fifties, a father again, the older man sat off to the side singing in rhythm to the younger man's speech. The older man represented his father, now passed on. The younger man went on to share about his father...about the man he was...a colored man who had grown up at the beginning of the 20th century.

The actors reenacted scenes from the man's past...his childhood, his early twenties as a young father...and scenes from the father's past...about what his father was like.

Part of the lives of three generations were played out on the stage, and the performance ended back where it had started...with the younger man and his new son...and the father sitting off to the side singing. It ended with the idea of legacy...of what you leave behind for the next generation.

I found the performance fascinating. There was plenty of humor mixed with seriousness and deep insight. The style of delivery was not always incredibly smooth since it was sometimes difficult to hear and some complained of being confused by some of the role changes, but what it lacked in smoothness was made up for in creativity. Overall, I thought the actors did a great job and the script was well-written.

If you happen to be interested in catching a performance and happen to be reading this during this weekend, "Nobody Walks like My Daddy" plays through Sunday. My only forewarning to you would be the opening act. Let's just say, improvising is an artform that the bass saxophonist had not mastered. =)

Ho-hum...

My roommates and a visitor are busy stamping away. Normally I would have excused myself to run some errands or chill at Borders, but today after eating and showering, I didn't really want to leave the house.

So, anyway, how are you doing? The downside of blogging is that everyone gets a chance to read up on my life (or what I choose to reveal about my life), but I don't always get to hear about you, the person sitting in front of the computer reading this.

How's it going? What's new? How is your soul doing today? What things have you been learning about yourself, good or bad? What has recently brought you joy or recently brought you pain?

Writing, blogging...it's nice...it's therapeutic at times...I like to think I'm allowing people a peek into my life through my writing...it's certainly a form of communication...but when it comes to really connecting, I still long for conversation...whether silly or serious...the verbal and non-verbal.

Since when did life become too busy for conversation?