Fighting the future of terrorism, brick-by-brick

Taken from the Honolulu advertiser; Saturday, December 22, 2007. Photo caption:

A Chinese soldier smashes bricks on a colleague’s head in a qigong performance at the China-India Joint Anti-Terrorism Training code-named “Hand-in-hand 2007,” the first war games involving Chinese and Indian troops, in Kunming, Yunnan Province. The nine-day drill started on Wednesday.

This photo cries out for so many wise-cracks that I’m not even going to say anything…

Meet-up in Madison

I just received this photo of Rama and Dad, taken when they met up for the first time in what — 15, 20 years? Rama and his wife Susan made the stop in Madison on their way down to Chicago (they live in Minneapolis). The reunion came about after I put the two of them in touch — but only after Grant tipped me off that he’d found Rama’s contact info on classmates.com. Long story short: it was a good visit. Dad asked me to have Rama forward the photo because he thought I’d like it. Correct-a-mundo! (photo link)

Friendship: true or false?

I just woke up from a dream I was having about an old friend in Santa Cruz. Aside from all the usual weird stuff that happens in dreams, the two of us were just catching up and reminding each other of things long since passed. It was nice, you know? Then I woke up and remembered that we haven’t spoken for real in nearly four-and-a-half years.

First off, it should be known that I’m the one who closed the book on our friendship. We last met after I’d returned to Santa Cruz from Japan (in part) to consolidate all the crap I’d left behind at people’s houses three years prior. This had been our first reunion since a rather fractious rendezvous in Okinawa that had left our relationship severely strained — especially from Yumi’s perspective. (What’s troubling is, I’m not even sure if our friend is aware that anything ever happened.) Without going into detail, the fact is I didn’t stand up for Yumi as one very awkward and humiliating incident played itself out — my inability to act stemming from a sense of shame and the shock of our friend’s sudden condescension. For Yumi, that was the last straw. She has a low tolerance when it comes to getting stepped on, and, once-wronged, takes little issue in dismissing her offenders — even those close to her.

For me it’s not that simple (though sometimes I wish it were). I cannot so easily overlook the good that I know is inside someone — especially a friend — no matter how malicious an act they may commit. I attribute this to my own long-standing drive to please others, manifestations of which would include my seeming inability to say “no” or cutting people too much slack when my conscious tells me to speak out. My attitude in this regard has hardened somewhat over the past few years, but three or four years ago I still felt dogged by my ethical dilemma: exactly when is a friend no longer so?

Time does have a way of healing over old wounds, but while in Santa Cruz it wasn’t long before many of the same issues came up again that tightened the knot in my gut. I didn’t feel comfortable, yet I never brought up the issue of Okinawa. It just didn’t seem worth it at that point. After I got my guitar back from his place, I figured that was just sort of it.

What bothers me about this quiet parting is that it still, you know, bothers me. I’m pretty sure I had this dream as a follow-up to a podcast I was listening to about the meaning of friendship. In it, the speaker describes a bad falling out he’d just had with his best friend, who abruptly ended the relationship in a very hostile manner after a particularly harsh disagreement. Sad, really. In trying to justify the friend’s reaction, the speaker discussed a recent talk he’d heard on four Buddhist precepts of true love, which he transposed onto the concept of true friendship. Briefly, they are: 1) the capacity to make someone happy; 2) the ability to take someone’s pain away; 3) joy; and 4) freedom to let the other person be themselves. Based on what had happened, the speaker came to the conclusion that he was no longer able to satisfy these criteria with respect to his friend and, thus, the friendship died.

I can’t say the same applies to my situation, but some comparison can be made — especially with respect to number 4. During the “Okinawan incident”, Yumi and I were in a bit of a vulnerable position and were made to feel humiliated to some extent. Our friend took advantage of this power inequity — I think more as an expression of frustration more than anything else — and loused up our trip. Whether the intent was conscious or not is unknown, as we never confronted him about it. (See, there I go again making apologies for others…)

I guess what I’m left wondering now is, what should I do? This obviously stills weighs heavily upon my mind; it isn’t the first time it’s come up. I felt pretty bad for not inviting this guy to our wedding because he really should have been there, only it wasn’t the right time to think about making amends on such short notice. (And besides, Yumi was having none of it.) I guess what I need to do is first come to an understanding of what true friendship means to me —do I feel completely comfortable when I’m with someone? do I like the way I am with them? — and then decide whether or not to clear the air and give an explanation as to the sudden freeze in relations. I’m not looking to rekindle our friendship, but there’s really no sense in me carrying around this mental burden if I’m the only one having stress dreams. I just don’t know.

Adrian Cardoso Crain

I just found out this morning that Chad and Denise became parents on December 31st, and to prove it, here’s Adrian Cardoso Crain! I’m so happy for the two of them, but was surprised (and a little ashamed at myself) to learn that Denise had even been pregnant. (!) Guess it has been a while since we last spoke… In any case, this is great news. Here’s one little boy who has a lot to look forward to with Chad and Denise for parents, don’t you think?

From the vault

If any of you use Flickr, you’re aware that photos taken before the date you created an account cannot be uploaded. Well, they can, but in order to display them chronologically you need to “fool” the database by altering the upload date of older photos to the date of your account creation, then reconstruct a reverse time-line within the hours, minutes, and seconds of that one day. Sound confusing? It isn’t, really, but it can eat up a lot of time.

That said, I long ago made the decision to keep things in order as best I can. Yet, with thousands of older prints, negatives, slides, letters, souvenirs, etc. remaining to be scanned, most of this stuff will obviously not see the light of day anytime soon. And, as items do make their way out of the vault, you’re not going to find them at the top of our Flickr page. Instead, they will be (appropriately) filed deep within the chronological stack of virtual pages.

To help keep tabs on recently added items — usually determined by whatever project I happen to be working on — I’ve created a new set entitled recent archive additions. (Snappy, eh?) This new group will always be the last selection on our Flickr “Sets” page and will feature changing content, accordingly. (link)

Cruising the carpeting

Staying on the subject of bikes, the past few nights the muffled trill of a bicycle bell has echoed outside our door as Richard — our neighbors’ 2-year old son — cruises up and down the hall (with Mayumi’s help) on his brand new, candy-apple red Schwinn. The realities of apartment living… Mayumi said it’s safer to ride inside the building than out on the street. Plus, if you’ve got to learn how to fall, taking a tumble on the carpeting is definitely the way to go.

Ride down memory lane

Winter break is always good for getting to those odd little projects that niggle quietly in the dark corners of your mind during busier times. One thing I’ve been wanting to do for a while now is create a photo-set showing all the bikes that I recall ever owning. Why? Aw, who knows. And who cares! But it was fun, let me tell you. I was able to dig up pictures of the majority of bikes that have come into my life over the years — though I had to make do with a few substitutes from the Web. That’s not to say I won’t unearth photographic evidence in the future, but for right now this is what I’ve got. (link)

Exhibit B: the Trader Joe’s bag

Continuing on this theme from the previous post, take a look at these fabulous multi-purpose bags from Trader Joe’s. I just love them: beautifully designed with a color palette that will brighten anyone’s day. I’m harping on this issue because the few stores here in Hawaii that even sell reusable bags have such bland offerings for sale that most purchases can only be motivated by guilt. I have a hard time believing that people would ever freely use the bags in public because they actually like them. Which is my point: as long as you’re going to go to the trouble to make something, why not make it pleasurable, imaginative, and just happy?

Bag boy

Just returned from a run to the Apple Store to see about a malfunctioning fan (in my MacBook). I had to wait over 20 minutes past my appointment before being seen, but to the store’s credit I received some of the best face-to-face customer service I’ve ever had. I was duly impressed. While waiting, though, I noticed an acquaintance of mine working the floor. I should have gone over to say “hi”, and I’m sure she must have seen me in all the time I was standing there gawking above the crowd, but I never did, and the next 30 minutes I had to keep turning away from whatever part of the store she was in and pretend that I’d never seen her in the first place. Pathetic. What the hell am I afraid of?

As I stood there, a graying yuppie guy at the “Genius Bar” (gag — Apple, for god’s sake, change that) in front of me conspicuously checked his stocks on an aluminum MacBook Pro, dressed <em>down</em> head-to-toe in Patagonia clothing. Jesus, if I ever get to that state I hope a friend will take me out to lunch and have kindly ask me what the matter is. A stripper — I mean, she <em>had</em> to be a stripper, come on — came in to buy a thingamajig for her iPod, and god bless the male associates for trying their best to focus on her face. It ain’t easy to fight what only comes natural. I perused the conquer and colonize simulations and wondered how much time you’d have to commit to such an endeavor. I was so excited this past summer to pick up a free copy of the final Myst game but wonder when I’ll ever have the time…

Stopped at Daiei on the way home. Saw Noy at the seafood refrigerator but kept on walking. That’s 0 for 2. (So how many people had seen me, then?) The woman in front of me at the checkstand unloaded her cart (wagon here in Hawaii) of Frosted Flakes, ribs, soda, cookies, ad infinitum while nervously eyeing me eyeing her. Her mother and two children cut in line with a whole new basket full of items just as I was about to start unloading my own supplies — which happened to be mostly vegetables. I don’t know if she thought I was judging her, but she spoke to the cashier in very gruff, local speech to win solidarity, yet ordering her to ring up the late entries separate. The cashier just seemed to be getting pissed. The kids looked embarrassed and that only got the woman more animated. I thought about something I’d seen a while back about chemical imbalances in the mind brought about by diets that include a lot of Frosted Flakes, ribs, soda, cookies and so on.

On the way home one of the handles in my Sainsbury’s bag ripped free, though the handle kept the bag supported from my handlebars. I’ve had a bunch of these bags for years now (four, five?) and use them for everything from storage to moving to shopping. It’s nothing to load them up with 20-30 pounds each on a typical run to the store. I knew that one of them would give out eventually, but I expected it to happen years ago. I relate this little story because Hawaii is considering a ban on plastic grocery bags — a move that has some people up in arms but which makes perfect sense to me. Almost without fail, people strike up conversations about my bright and beautiful bags when I produce them at the markets. People love them! “Oh, isn’t that lovely!” “Where did you get that?” “I didn’t think you’d be able to fit everything in there!” “You know you could make a lot of money selling those here…”

Hear that? I’m giving you free business advice: start importing reusable shopping bags that are brightly colored and well-designed and you’ll not regret it. Several stores have started carrying their own branded, “eco” bags, but they’re no more exciting — perhaps even less so — than plain old brown paper ones. What’s so wrong about a bag that stirs the imagination?

Don’t touch that dial!

Last night Yumi was channel flipping when she came across “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” about mid-way through. She began to moan about having missed the first half of the movie when I informed her that, in fact, we do have that movie on DVD. Rather than act upon this newly-presented information, however, she contented herself to watch the remainder of the film on the tube, commercials and all.

This got me thinking about the attraction of “live” television viewing and notions of community. There must be something in us that finds security in knowing that others are watching (or listening to) the same program we have on our own sets or radios. Why else would we bother to put up with the interruption and annoyance of commercial breaks? Case in point: for the past several years now on Christmas day, TNT has been airing back-to-back showings of “A Christmas Story” — a movie many people (myself included) already own in one format or another — during a 24-hour merry marathon. And yet, this year as the last, I had it on while Yumi was away at work and I was puttering around the house. What the f%^& is up with that? Why not just play the DVD several times in a row?

While somewhat related, the same goes for the excitement I feel when chancing upon a favorite (though perhaps not so popular) song on the radio. I crank the volume and hoot even though I have the same song on my iPod, in iTunes, on CD, vinyl, and/or cassette. Maybe it’s the nod of tacit public approval that makes this experience internally more satisfying. I’m sure Sociology has demonstrated and named this phenomenon, so if anyone knows about this please let me know. In the meantime, the advertisers and media execs can rest easy on the continued assurance that our petty insecurities and communal cravings won’t soon put them out of a job.