Came upon this article at a friend's travelblog.
I'm not really a "travel writer", since that would suggest that I travel and write for a living, as opposed to... whatever it is that I actually do. But the article still got me wondering, "which of these 6 travel writer personalities am I?"
Process of elimination comes in very handy. I'm clearly not an Epic Adventurer (my trips are usually stunt-free), Walking Party (don't know how to party), PR Pro (I've got more than 8 adjectives... and doesn't the prototype sound a bit slutty?), or Guide Book Writer (I'm no longer young and bright-eyed, though still bushy-tailed).
That makes me... an Intrepid Monk (except for the intrepid part)? Or a Naked Introvert (minus the naked)?
What do you think, dear readers? Now, I'm obviously pandering for comments from the 6 of you who actually visit me here, so humor me. Vote!
28 June 2008
27 June 2008
hang up or pay up
Starting July 1, drivers in California and Washington state will be prohibited from using hand-held mobile phones while driving. Drivers must use headsets, speakers or other devices to keep their hands free. When these laws go into effect, the roads will be safer because drivers won't be distracted by the complex motor skills required to hold a phone against one's face.
Or not. So what if my hands are free? Free for what? Better to grasp and jam that burger into my face? To apply mascara? To gesture to other drivers? Besides, most times when I've been distracted by conversation while driving, the person distracting me has been inside the car (usually backseat driving the hell out of me).
People talk on the phone and paint their nails and read New York Times while driving because, for the most part, driving on smooth roads with others who follow traffic laws does not seem to require a whole lot of concentration. If the legislature really wants drivers to focus, the better plan would be to create unpredictable road conditions that make absent-minded driving a more obvious hazard. Dig some potholes. Eliminate lane markers. Randomly release goats and other farm animals into traffic.
This plan works beautifully in Uganda. Sure, people still talk on their mobile phones in Uganda, but they tend to focus on the road and carry on absent-minded conversations. And sure, driving conditions there exemplify vehicular chaos, but that motivates people to use public transport. It's a win-win situation.
Or not. So what if my hands are free? Free for what? Better to grasp and jam that burger into my face? To apply mascara? To gesture to other drivers? Besides, most times when I've been distracted by conversation while driving, the person distracting me has been inside the car (usually backseat driving the hell out of me).
People talk on the phone and paint their nails and read New York Times while driving because, for the most part, driving on smooth roads with others who follow traffic laws does not seem to require a whole lot of concentration. If the legislature really wants drivers to focus, the better plan would be to create unpredictable road conditions that make absent-minded driving a more obvious hazard. Dig some potholes. Eliminate lane markers. Randomly release goats and other farm animals into traffic.
This plan works beautifully in Uganda. Sure, people still talk on their mobile phones in Uganda, but they tend to focus on the road and carry on absent-minded conversations. And sure, driving conditions there exemplify vehicular chaos, but that motivates people to use public transport. It's a win-win situation.
13 June 2008
12 June 2008
thrill of the chase
There is something very familiar about internet dating. I haven't had much experience with it. (Apart from the time I tried it out of panic at turning 26. And the time it matched me with a bona fide Trekkie.) But it is surprisingly similar to another activity in which I'm quite experienced; to wit, job hunting.
It all starts with a posting that strikes the fancy at first sight. I read it once. I return to it again and again in the ensuing hours, scouring for new details. Because so little is known, the possibilities are endless. This could be "the one" - the job that I'd happily work forever, or for a very long time (say, five years). This is where my interests and passions and ambitions converge. Could it be? No. But what if...
I reach out. What to include in the cover letter, this introduction laden with the weight of first impression? Then there's the resume, a chronicle of predecessors that didn't last. Spin. Weave an upbeat rendering, the occupational equivalent of "It was mutual. It was for the best. We're still friends."
Then I wait. For the call. For the interview. For the face-to-face encounter where we each get to meet or fail expectations. Firm handshake; check. Eye contact; check. Clean hair and suit; check. Feigned interest and laughter; check, check. But the kicker - and this doesn't always happen - is when the interest and laughter are sincere. He's a riot! She's brilliant! What a fun bunch; I would love to work with them. Gulp. Do they like me the way I like them? Maybe I shouldn't have told that story about that time with those other people. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten everything on my plate. Maybe I shouldn't have been so obviously interested, so... eager.
More waiting. Days feel like weeks feel like eternity. Timing is everything now. Quick reciprocation capitalizes on the euphoria of a good meeting. Seal the deal and doubts and second-thoughts never enter the picture. Keep me waiting and the perfect match turns into unrequited love, then sours into rejection. Pride takes the mic. Not calling, eh? Well, I wasn't too impressed either. Let's see, what else is out there? The search begins for another, one more interesting, more challenging, with a bigger and better package.
By the time the belated call comes, the offer has lost its luster; it might as well be for a janitorial position. And it'll be nothing compared to the new contender. Because it's true what they say: there's always more fish in the sea.
It all starts with a posting that strikes the fancy at first sight. I read it once. I return to it again and again in the ensuing hours, scouring for new details. Because so little is known, the possibilities are endless. This could be "the one" - the job that I'd happily work forever, or for a very long time (say, five years). This is where my interests and passions and ambitions converge. Could it be? No. But what if...
I reach out. What to include in the cover letter, this introduction laden with the weight of first impression? Then there's the resume, a chronicle of predecessors that didn't last. Spin. Weave an upbeat rendering, the occupational equivalent of "It was mutual. It was for the best. We're still friends."
Then I wait. For the call. For the interview. For the face-to-face encounter where we each get to meet or fail expectations. Firm handshake; check. Eye contact; check. Clean hair and suit; check. Feigned interest and laughter; check, check. But the kicker - and this doesn't always happen - is when the interest and laughter are sincere. He's a riot! She's brilliant! What a fun bunch; I would love to work with them. Gulp. Do they like me the way I like them? Maybe I shouldn't have told that story about that time with those other people. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten everything on my plate. Maybe I shouldn't have been so obviously interested, so... eager.
More waiting. Days feel like weeks feel like eternity. Timing is everything now. Quick reciprocation capitalizes on the euphoria of a good meeting. Seal the deal and doubts and second-thoughts never enter the picture. Keep me waiting and the perfect match turns into unrequited love, then sours into rejection. Pride takes the mic. Not calling, eh? Well, I wasn't too impressed either. Let's see, what else is out there? The search begins for another, one more interesting, more challenging, with a bigger and better package.
By the time the belated call comes, the offer has lost its luster; it might as well be for a janitorial position. And it'll be nothing compared to the new contender. Because it's true what they say: there's always more fish in the sea.
10 June 2008
i complete me
A friend casually suggested that I get on the dating scene while I have an abundance of free time. I confess I'm reluctant to foray into this field while I'm unemployed and living with my parents; what guy in his right mind would actually want to date that?
All the same, I mozied here and answered about a bazillion questions to generate a personality profile that will lead me to my soulmate(s). I somewhat expected a flattering profile, an ego boost to get the reluctant dater to fork over dues for services. But I was still surprised by the one generated by my answers, which described me not as a generally nice person, but as one who is emotionally mature and both familiar and at ease with who she is.
Then I read this, and found myself checking off all of the items on the list at the end. It's hard not to immediately recognize that most of the credit belongs to God or to recall that most of the good changes that took place in me during my 20s occured as I got to know Him better. But still... it's hard not to let this stuff go to my head. I mean, daaaamn, I'm a catch! I'd date me, in a heartbeat.
I'm going to make out with the mirror now.
All the same, I mozied here and answered about a bazillion questions to generate a personality profile that will lead me to my soulmate(s). I somewhat expected a flattering profile, an ego boost to get the reluctant dater to fork over dues for services. But I was still surprised by the one generated by my answers, which described me not as a generally nice person, but as one who is emotionally mature and both familiar and at ease with who she is.
Then I read this, and found myself checking off all of the items on the list at the end. It's hard not to immediately recognize that most of the credit belongs to God or to recall that most of the good changes that took place in me during my 20s occured as I got to know Him better. But still... it's hard not to let this stuff go to my head. I mean, daaaamn, I'm a catch! I'd date me, in a heartbeat.
I'm going to make out with the mirror now.
03 June 2008
after ever after
I love action and chick flicks, so I love the months of June, July and August, during which such movies abound. These movies depict a world unrestrained by the laws of physics and rationality, a world in which the the good guys survive all sorts of death-defying shananigans unscathed, the good-looking guys survive unscarred and lust at first sight leads to love at the altar.
I haven't had enough (or any) MacGyver moments to qualify me to judge the plausibility of action movies. But I do know that many relationships, however romantic their inception, do not end at the altar. So while I appreciate the value of the cinematic trifecta of a bended knee, a (blood) diamond and a white dress, I often find chick flicks to require greater suspension of disbelief than action movies.
Imagine, then, my delight, when I joined my mom for an episode of her latest Chinese drama. Entitled "Golden Anniversary", it chronicles the marriage of the lead characters from 1955 through 2005, from their first year of marriage through their fiftieth. In other words, it picks up where most movies end. There's no melodrama involving murder a la "Desperate Housewives", only the drama of everyday life. In one scene, for example, the couple bickers about personal hygiene. My mom tells me that the show - wildly popular in China - accurately depicts both life in China and life in a marriage.
I stopped watching after about 20 minutes because the storyline was almost too realistic, too familiar. Besides, I know how the story ends; it's called "Golden Anniversary", not "Divorce Court". And perhaps that's the fairy tale element of the show: that despite statistics to the contrary, people who vow "I do" actually stand by each other and stay through better and worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health.
Then again, maybe it's not so fantastical. These days, I have a recurring guest role in such a tale.
I haven't had enough (or any) MacGyver moments to qualify me to judge the plausibility of action movies. But I do know that many relationships, however romantic their inception, do not end at the altar. So while I appreciate the value of the cinematic trifecta of a bended knee, a (blood) diamond and a white dress, I often find chick flicks to require greater suspension of disbelief than action movies.
Imagine, then, my delight, when I joined my mom for an episode of her latest Chinese drama. Entitled "Golden Anniversary", it chronicles the marriage of the lead characters from 1955 through 2005, from their first year of marriage through their fiftieth. In other words, it picks up where most movies end. There's no melodrama involving murder a la "Desperate Housewives", only the drama of everyday life. In one scene, for example, the couple bickers about personal hygiene. My mom tells me that the show - wildly popular in China - accurately depicts both life in China and life in a marriage.
I stopped watching after about 20 minutes because the storyline was almost too realistic, too familiar. Besides, I know how the story ends; it's called "Golden Anniversary", not "Divorce Court". And perhaps that's the fairy tale element of the show: that despite statistics to the contrary, people who vow "I do" actually stand by each other and stay through better and worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health.
Then again, maybe it's not so fantastical. These days, I have a recurring guest role in such a tale.
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