Top 10 Albums of the Decade!

No compilations, 'best ofs/greatest hits', or soundtracks. They must have album release dates after 1/1/2000. It's kinda hard to whittle down but really how many albums are there that you can listen to from beginning to end? I reserve the right to modify. These are mine in no particular order:

Confessions on a Dancefloor, Madonna
Supernature, Goldfrapp
The Reminder, Feist
The Fame Monster, Lady Gaga
Lovers Rock, Sade
FutureSex/LoveSounds, Justin Timberlake
Kala, M.I.A.
The Greatest, Cat Power
100th Window, Massive Attack
A Rush of Blood to the Head, Coldplay

Runners-up:
Simple Things, Zero 7
Finally Woken, Jem
X, Kylie Minogue
Fever, Kylie Minogue
808's And Heartbreaks, Kanye West
Ladyhawke, Ladyhawke
Back to Black, Amy Winehouse
Some People Have Real Problems, Sia
Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson
Versions, Mark Ronson
The Breakthrough, Mary J. Blige
Come Away With Me, Norah Jones
I See Red, Uh Huh Her
Most Sigur Ros albums

Thanks for the idea Joanna! What are everyone else's favorites?

random acts of barbness

it's a beautifully crisp day in new york. i just went for a bike ride 'round Prospect Park and realized it was a little too crisp for shorts perhaps. i don't know why every physical activity revolves around shorts for me, even if it is the dead of winter. dense much?

a few things:

i'm going to Buenos Aires on Tuesday, not Brazil. And no, Argentina and Brazil are not the same country and wont be. Ever. well, it's unlikely.

i have been there before. i'm going again bc i got a cheap ass (though likely not so comfortable connecting flight) by happenstance, it's 80 degrees there right now and i like traveling. i think that's enough of a reason. fingers crossed Mexicana!

Switzerland and Sweden are not the same country just as New York and New Jersey aren't the same state. put's it in perspective no? no? really?

Hong Kong is part of China which is not the same as Japan. supposedly we all look the same but even i know London is in the UK and not France. yeah, i wrote it. what?

no i am not half Swedish and half Japanese.

no i am not turning 30. not that there's anything wrong with that.

yes i work at glamour.com. yes, the website for the same Glamour magazine placed just so on your coffee table.

no, i don't write, edit, or test makeup. once upon a time i did write, edit, and test things but no longer.

what exactly do i do? words and pictures don't appear magically on the interwebs, someone has to put them there (whether they write them or not) and make it look pretty for you to 'read.' it's like christmas, just believe it.

i went to Binghamton University and no, it's not located the next town over from Southampton, Long Island. and yes, i did just look up exactly how to spell 'Southampton.'

before that i went to Birch Wathen Lenox for grades 8-12. don't you dare think for a moment i don't dread saying it every time because NO ONE catches it the first time. 'Birch, like the tree. Wathen, like i dunno what. Lenox. yes.' wonderful school otherwise.

yes, it was on the Upper East side but no it wasn't like Gossip Girl. yes, there were 18 people in my graduating class. 18. yes. really? yes. and you probably have met 10% of my graduating class.

i really did grow up in Manhattan. no, i am not a unicorn.

i lived in Hells Kitchen before it was clean, Battery Park City before it became a suburb, and the Upper East Side before it was...? currently i live in Brooklyn. a strangely passport free experience.

with the same roommate.

for 7+ years. yes. really. really.

i was born in Hong Kong and strangely i'm not Japanese.

yes, i like to travel.

no, i am not a trust fund baby. (i know you're thinking it. stop thinking it. right. now.)

yes i speak Cantonese but no i wont 'say something.' do i look like a trained monkey? and i most definitely will not order your next delivery order for you in Chinese.

Cantonese is a dialect of Chinese.

my name is spelled like so: Barbara. thanks Mrs. Streisand for screwing it up for the rest of us. that's right, look it up, there's a difference.

feel free to call me any pre-approved (please submit written requests via email) iteration you like except for Babs, Barbie, and Asshole.

my last name is not pronounced 'Hoover.' so, no, not like the vacuum.

i am not a monk, despite how i may sound at times.

no, i do not steal children. stop spreading lies.

generally i prefer a handwritten love note on my birthday rather than a gift.

that is, unless you were planning on giving me a Land Rover Sport.

my main pet peeves are flakiness, bad spelling, and general misuse of the English language.

yes, i am a snob.

people don't read yet i bother writing...riddle me that.

you have just read (probably scanned) the answers to the most often asked* questions in my life. now back to regularly scheduled programming.

xoxo,

that is all :)

*these may not reflect reality

'i just heard myself'

i went up to Beacon this weekend to see my oldest friend E. she took part in an open studios event and i thought it'd be lovely to see her. off i went with 3 peeps in Hubie2 Saturday morning.

i wont bore you with details about the day other than that we saw some lovely art, went to a vineyard, and crashed a house party.

what i came away with, (you knew this was coming!) was a realization about what dear E means to me and why i've always felt such a strong attachment to her.

picture it: we met when i was all of 8/9 years old. she was my 15/16 year old teacher in Saturday morning German language school. (my mother wanted me to learn the language since i'm Swiss.) she was smart yet chill, completely charming yet humble, one of the most approachable and accepting people i've ever met and to top it off...she's a halfie. she was my first halfie role model. you may not ever think of this, or maybe you do, but it's not often that i'm face to face with someone who looks like me.

whether you recognize it as important or not, i never realized that very fact until i attended a Loving Day event a few years ago and was in a room full of halfies. i daresay most of the others in that room probably felt the same as i did. it was neither a feeling of woe and isolation nor one of happiness, rather it was a feeling of shared experience and solidarity. as you know, i have some of the very best friends in the world but i believe even they would have a hard time comprehending the feeling of awe i felt in that room simply because it's not likely something they've ever encountered. and it's not something i'd expect from them as non-mixed people. why would i? would i say i comprehend the black experience to my black friends? no. it's one of the few things in life one has to be to understand.

so it was this past Saturday I fully recognized my connection with E and why I've always held her friendship so close to my heart. i saw her almost every Saturday for 5 years and to be as young as i was and see a well-adjusted, unaffected, and brilliant biracial, i think, really had an effect on me. as i've said before, being biracial is only a part of who i am and i'd never want it to be more than that but it's an important part nonetheless. there was so much that didn't need to be spoken. we just understood each other. at one point on Saturday she said, 'it was like i just heard myself' while she listened to me rant about my Loving Day experience. precisely, how i've felt in her presence my whole life.

i know i have friends who don't see me as biracial and i honestly love that they're colorblind to it. but it's something i've always been aware of. in my impressionable years, it wasn't something that conjured a feeling of pride. i had been on the receiving end of one too many racially charged comments. i knew people didn't accept my mother because she had a kid with a non-Chinese and out of wedlock nonetheless. gasp! undoubtedly some of it was also self-imposed. was it why my dad left? and where were the role models who could've showed me otherwise? so you see, all this internal and external loathing made an indelible mark.

the silver lining is, as i became more confident and self-assured, i came to recognize my difference as uniqueness. it didn't automatically make me less and just because i didn't see many people around who looked like me (and by extension, felt as i did) didn't make me less worthy, less loved or less worthy of being loved and i needed to stop looking at myself that way.

so, dear E, please know that in the 20 years i've had the pleasure of your acquaintance you've unwittingly become my main halfie role model in all realms of life. i know you're so much more than being someone of mixed race but that part of who you are has been important to me. thank you for showing me tolerance and acceptance.

p.s. apologies for not retaining a lick of German! :)

September 14th

Much like Mother's Day, September 14th has always been a strange occasion for me. It was 13 years ago today. Yes. Yes. THAT day. The day my life changed forever. Not in that melodramatic way but in that it irrevocably changed who I was at the time and who i was to become. Believe me, I've thought about it and I know I would've been different and, i daresay, less happy which is why i believe, so wholeheartedly, that everything. happens. for. a. reason. Ironically, September has become a month of celebration since many of my close friends have September birthdays so perhaps i'm meant to think of September 14th not as a day of death but a day to celebrate life? then again, shouldn't we be celebrating life every day? i think so.

i recognize that if someone just read the first 2 lines of this post without knowing me they'd think, 'Geez Barb, that sucks. how shitty. i'm sorry.' but, i'd prefer that people not think about it that way. i'd rather people realize, as i do, how incredibly lucky i am and have been. i don't have to try to be glass half full, it's really how i am and i recognize that i could've gone in the opposite direction. but i didn't and so again, i'm lucky. i'm healthy. i've got amazing people around me and a lifestyle that i just cannot complain about, even though i do at times. it's not to say that it's all been roses, which, obviously it hasn't. but all of it has made me who i am. all of it. as a result, i'm quite resilient. i know i can get over pretty much anything in time. life is too important and fragile. sometimes i think we all let such insignificant things ruin our days. i believe there's great value in knowing what's worth truly fretting over and what isn't. it saves one's time and sanity.

this is NOT about me tooting my own horn. this is about me saying, i don't know any other way to be. these are the cards i've been dealt. this is how my brain has reacted. my mother went through too much shizz getting me here to not appreciate it. i. am. lucky. so, to a life well lived.

p.s. to a life well lived to you too, dear reader.

Barb goes country

i know no one would ever expect me to ever say that which is why i, and everyone around me, found it amusing that i'd go rural for a weekend. dear j graciously opened up her family to me, why would i say no?

after a stressful half day at work i hit the road for my 5+ hour journey to Garrett County, Maryland. i was stressed out about being stressed out and 5 hours of solitude, music, and beautiful scenery turned out to be just what the doctor ordered. i have a strange fascination with small towns, not sure where it comes from and Accident, Maryland certainly fit the bill. the last 3 miles of my drive were through narrow country road, not a car in sight.

i could give you a play by play of the weekend but i'd rather sum it up by saying that i had no idea Maryland was far south enough to garner a Southern accent. i thought i'd have to go much further South to find this kinda charm. so wrong! plus i have a whole new appreciation for agriculture. it's easy to think that food just magically appears at the supermarket. these days we have so much less connection about where our food comes from and more importantly, who provides it. farmer's markets are the main exception, but even then, i realize there's a difference between knowing a farmer on a personal level and just purchasing from them once a week. you'd learn so much more about their ethics and be certain about what's really in the food that you're about to put in your body. i imagine my experience is the exact opposite of the industrial agriculture described in "The Jungle" or any recent Michael Pollan tome. i found it all incredibly interesting.

the other striking thing was experiencing a small town with someone who grew up in a small town. the notion of knowing everyone on your street, having your entire family and extended family within shouting distance, being able to point out the house where your mom grew up in, and following the same traditions your whole life are all foreign to me having grown up in Manhattan, with a single mother, far from any extended family. (though it's true that i find NY to be very small at times.) it's not to say that any one way of growing up is better than the other, i'm just noticing the difference and appreciate the opportunity and awareness of finding out.


because of the Edgemont crew i've always thought it was awesome to say that you've known someone (not in your family) since Kindergarten. i can't really say that about anyone, though there are people i've known for a very long time. there's no way to simulate that kind of familiarity and thus i've always treasured the lengthy relationships i do have because they remind me who i was and how far i've come. ultimately i treasure all my friends and family because they are who i am. if you ever question who you are all you have to do is look around at who you choose to surround yourself with.

so before i bore you further dear reader (me), i shall end this bout of introspection right here.

p.s. thanks to the Striders for a wonderful weekend and all this reflection!

oh whitney

making playlists is a hobby of mine so today Whitney's "My Love is Your Love" came on and this lyric struck me:

'If tomorrow is judgement day
and i'm standing on the front line
and the lord asks me what i did with my life.
i will say, i spent it with you.'

firstly, i hope she's talking about her kids and not bobbi bc we all know how that ended. secondly, how amazing would it be to have someone say that about you? what did you do with your life? i spent it with you. ugh, i'm such a sap.

Perspective

i'm generally a glass half full person and even when things bring me down, it doesn't take me too long to pick my head up, look around and realize how lucky i am in life. why? because it's true. for example: yesterday, i was hemming and hawing about something to ajoy. she graciously listened, as she always does. but then she talked about something on her mind that had much more gravity to it. life and death stuff of someone close to her. and the switch flipped in my head. what the hell was i complaining about 10 short minutes before?

now, as a wise woman once said, it's not to say that one person's problems are more significant or important than someone else's. (though undoubtedly there are scenarios that could easily invalidate that.)

it was a matter of seeing outside my bubble, looking into someone else's and realizing that there are much more important things to fret over. it didn't erase my problem but recognizing that there was only so much i could do and only so much that'd be accomplished by fretting, i felt better. i have so much. to be annoyed as i was yesterday was greedy of me. it's like saying, i have 1000 apples, 950 of which i can't eat, but i still want more. (wow, that was the worse analogy ever! but i think you know what i mean.) to me, it's about being happy in the moment and workin' wit what choo got because there's no guarantee of anything else. one can just hope the rest will come. wheeeeeeee.

paris

so. i know i promised a Paris wrap up but then i tough, what can i say about Paris that's never said before? instead i'll share some pics that didn't make it into my Facebook album:

post trip recap

ya'll know i always find it hard to sum up trips in response to the 'so how was your trip?' question. i feel like my responses are limited to great, horrible, spectacular, crappy, wonderful, etc. and so i prefer to write these little recaps where i try to do the trip justice, but in most cases, barely scratch the surface. so here goes...

Reykjavik is teeny weeny. one can walk from one end to the other in about 20 minutes, i think, at a leisurely pace. it's clean, the people are general nice, and 80% speak English. i gather it's because very few people speak 1,000+ year old Viking outside of Iceland so it's probably advantageous to learn English as well. the people weren't as ginormous as i expected even though I know they believe in gnomes. the homes weren't vast, not even outside the city (and there was a lot of space). by chance we happened to be there during Eurovision, what is it, you ask? it's a singing/talent competition between certain European countries that has taken place for the last 25+ years (or so i've been told). it's like American idol but between the contestants represent their countries. Iceland came in 2nd this year and the people were ready to celebrate! i didn't know whether they partied like this every day/night/weekend but i'd never seen anything so crazy. it's actually more what i imagine Mardi Gras to be like. picture it: it was as if all 200,000 of Reykjavik's population came out (though it was mostly the younth) to celebrate on the main street covering a few city blocks. people were standing out of car sunroofs as they drove by. i mean, ocean drive isn't even this bad. INSANE. needless to say i claimed a front row seat for people watching.

partying aside, Iceland is great for people who enjoy the outdoors, i'm not talking about camping here (which i'm not a huge fan of), i'm talking horseback riding, seeing glaciers, geysers, and waterfalls. it's all within driving distance of the city and it's supremely beautiful. the Ring road goes almost all the way around Iceland, it's two lanes, some of which (we were told) are still unpaved but a completely beautiful drive (from the little we saw). the land looks either like old lava or like moorish Scottish countryside.





The most interesting part to me was the endless daylight. And I mean endless, at least in May. I went into a bar at 1am ('dusk') and came out an hour or two later in time to catch the sunrise. I don't recall it ever being pitch black in my 96 hours there. I think i'd go mad if i stayed any longer though i enjoyed every minute of it. On the converse I don't think I could go there in December or January when the opposite is true. But despite the name, Iceland's climate is actually quite moderate. I learned that in January parts of Iceland are usually warmer than it is in NY! and the weather while we were there was generally sunny and glorious if just a bit chilly in the shade.

I think that's it for Iceland. On to Paris.

The Land of Fire and Ice

This poem is constantly on my mind here:


'Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.'

--Robert Frost


The landscape is so dramatic here. We rented a car and drove through the countryside today. I would say it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, but in a different way from Maui. Obviously, Maui is a tropical paradise, lush and beautiful. Iceland is the exact opposite. It's beauty lies in it's starkness. One can't tell whether the soil is indeed soil or lava remnants. It's dark, marshy, but not in any way scary or creepy. Perhaps because the weather has been so spectacular here thus far. Maybe if it were dark and gray i'd think less of it but somehow I don't think so. its got that very quite beauty. like comparing angelina jolie to rachel weisz.

in any case, the city itself is teeny. 300,000 people in the entire country, 200,000 of which live here in Reykjavik. i think we walked the whole city center in 20 minutes yesterday. but the residential areas of the city have a lot of charm. it's quiet. small buildings. small streets. clean. very Scandinavian but none of the uptightness i'd imagined. the funniest part thus far has been the street names. i think every name is at least 15 letters long an composed almost entirely of non-vowels and entirely unpronounceable to foreigners. i bet the locals get a kick out of listening to tourist pronunciations. for example our street is on Spitalastigur and Odinsgata and those aren't even the bad ones. but overall the people are super friendly and helpful. everyone speaks english. the food has been tasty although i don't think we've experienced much local cuisine. places we've been so far have been sandwich shops or more italian themed.

Today we went to a geyser and an amazing waterfall. We were also supposed to do a glacier walk too but it took us longer than expected to get there so we ended up missing it entirely. Tomorrow we ride Icelandic ponies but not before we go out tonight. Apparently it's a big night here because of Eurovision, something i'd never heard of until recently. it's like Europe Idol from what i understand and people from all the countries vote. the point is it's supposed to be a rollicking good time tonight so we'll see.

it seems because Iceland is so isolated that it feels like the uncool younger sibling to the other Scandinavian countries but i think it's super cool in it's own way. in the way that overshadowed younger siblings tend to be. there's a sense of quite self-assuredness and they're proud of who they are. they're the original Vikings after all. how cool is that?

mother's day

it's always been an auspicious day for me i guess though i've honestly not thought about it too much in recent years. when i was younger, i'd get sad more often than not. mostly because i felt guilty. guilty that it was only one of a handful of days in the year that i actually thought about my mother. but i have to remember that i am her. without her i wouldn't exist. there's no denying that. so even if some of my memories of my mother aren't the fondest there are many more that are awesome. she raised me as saw fit. can't question that. so living every day with happiness in mind is really the best i can do to honor her. that's what she'd want right? every mother just wants their kids to be happy yes? yes.

i think the fact that i can't 'visit' my mother at a grave has had a big impact on me. she was cremated and her ashes got lost in the shuffle somewhere. i never had the guts to sort it out when i was a kid (i mean, i was a kid) and now i think it's too far gone. but because of that i don't really believe that there's any value for me in 'visiting' because the person isn't there. it's just a body, a spot, a location. instead i chose to have her name tattooed on my spine because the spine is the epicenter of our bodies. so i don't have to visit a physical location. the sense of obligation would just make me feel guilty anyway. (damn this asian guilt!) ha.

in the back of my mind i keep track of the number of years i will have been without my mother. when i turn 30 in a year and a half i will have lived without her as long as i lived with her. i know i am a completely different person than i would've been. i know everything happens for a reason. and i know there isn't much more that i know for certain.

the point is everything that has happened to me has made me who i am. every step. every decision. every day. with every new person i meet. every last second is a contribution. it would be too easy to throw my hands up in the air and say woe is me. i've never wanted to be the victim. i don't want pity. because you know what? it could've been worse. it HAS been worse for many other people in this world. i think i've actually been very lucky. certainly when it comes to the people i've met. my people. i really couldn't ask for more amazing people. sometimes i actually feel like i'm depriving others of these wonderful people because i keep them on a 'short leash.' haha.

in the last two days two very thoughtful friends asked me about my mother and i'm very grateful for it. it's generally a debby downer conversation so it never really occurs to me to talk about it. and i really have no problem talking about it. there's just rarely a time or a place when it comes up. but i also must realize that by not talking about my mother i'm depriving my friends of the opportunity to know me better. because, again, it was her crazy asian parenting that's made me. me. so every story i tell about how she'd call the cops if i came home late from school sometimes, or how i wasn't allowed to watch tv after school, or how i was a tennis burnout. these are all important pieces of me.

i think once i have kids, the second installment of the affects of losing my mother will hit me. my grandmother died when my mother was young too. i don't want that to happen to my kids. but really, there's nothing i can do about it. it's an irrational fear. and hopefully it wont be too bad.

but every time someone says to me that they live vicariously through me i think, 'well i must be doing something right.' i think mom would be happy to hear someone say that about her kid. so there.

G L A M O R O U S

Since Friday's post was so somber I thought I'd share this little piece of delight that I created:

incredible sadness

i feel

deflated.

sitting upright is a chore. i'm hunched over my keyboard. i don't know what to do. thoughts are rushing through my head.

and so i write.

does one feel this kind of overwhelming sadness because death is truly sad? or because one is so deeply connected to the survivors?

when i heard J's voice this morning i thought something had happened to JF and was actually relieved (horrible, i know) it wasn't as i thought. i am continually in awe of my thoughts.

i don't think anyone deals well with death but i think i'm even more ill-suited than most. probably because of what happened to my mother. i think i was an emotional piece of stone at the time which probably laid the groundwork to my current state of paper flower sensitivity. isn't it interesting how things work? how our minds work? how i internalize things so much when it's not even about me boggles my mind. it's not about me right now.

i feel small and insignificant. here i am whiling my days away. what am i doing to improve humanity. am i making a difference in anyone's life? what is my contribution?

but alas, i guess that's the purpose of death.

it forces you to value life.

in the words of Maxwell (thanks V):

'I should be crying but I just can't let it show
I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things we should've said that were never said
All the things we should've done that we never did
All the things that you needed from me
All the things that that you wanted from me
All the things I should of given but I didn't
Oh darling make it go away
Just make it go away now.'

to never having to say 'should've'

it is with this realization. at this moment. that i once again sit upright and continue plugging away...

JF i love you.

I hope everyone has seen this

'The "National Organization for Marriage" is responding to the amazing marriage equality victories in Iowa and Vermont with this national TV ad filled with fear about a same-sex marriage "storm" gathering across the country.

This disturbing ad -- airing across the country and 8 times a day in California -- uses actors to push lies claiming that marriage equalty threatens personal freedoms.'

https://secure.couragecampaign.org/page/contribute/TurnFearIntoHope

subway characters

i was surrounded by a cast of three just now on my way home.

on my right was father time, could also be ole St. Nick except he had a very stern look on his face. he was wearing a too-tight black tee that had writing in multiple languages. actually, he was wearing black from head to toe. tres chic. not really. he had the prerequisite father time beard and thinning bald spot on his head. he had the belly. but he was crabby, perhaps the crazy wind bothered father time today. he had a shopping bag, looked like he hit up the book store except there weren't any books. they looked more like pamphlets. perhaps he just went to the New Museum and picked up some brochures.

on my left was a classic 80's pimp. i can't even come up with an alternate identity because he was spot on. he was wearing a light blue velour sweatsuit. the big ring. the thin mustache. the fedora-esque hat. the longish greasy black hair. the you-better-pay-me-on-time look on his face. i think the only thing he may have missed is some longer finger nails and a lady of the night on his left.

on the right of father time was a little boy sleeping on his mother's lap. completely passed out. completely. father time's shopping bag came precariously close to grazing the little boy's face. mom was not pleased by father time's callousness and quickly shielded the boy's face with his too-large baseball hat. father time managed a weak but genuine smile as an attempt to apologize. once father time got off the train i scooted over to his spot next to the little boy. he slept and slept. i wish i could sleep like that. mom had to move him from one leg to the other, likely that her leg was falling asleep. it was quite adorable how she was looking at home. so adoringly. especially when she was trying to wake him up as their stop was approaching. she nuzzled his very pinchable cheek. put his hat back on and gently patted him in an attempt to stir him from his deep slumber. his eyes were struggling to open and i'm pretty sure every person on that side of the train was amused at their little struggle. her to wake him. he to go back to his peaceful sleep. she propped him up on his feet. he just leaned forward onto her legs. she walked him towards the doors as the train was pulling in and he just swayed and stumbled back and forth eyes opening and closing. and then they got off and that was their moment in my life.

you do realize you can comment on these posts right? i think it's funny that people email and text me to comment on my posts. that's what the comment button is for! but i'll take it either way. :)

In threes.

i'm sitting in the Porter terminal in Toronto waiting for my flight back to EWR that's delayed because of major air traffic in the NY area. better safe than sorry right? right. one day i'll learn the lesson to not fly back on Sundays. instead of skipping out of work on Fridays I should skip out on Mondays! dumb. dumb. dumb.

i've got that feeling again. the same feeling i had last time i was sitting in this terminal. what is it? i think it's a combination of things. of course, it's sadness at leaving peeps behind and getting back to regularly scheduled programming on monday. and i just get upset with myself for being upset. my mind is vicious! have to get over the fact that there's a time and a place for sadness and i have to let it happen. don't fight it barb! slap. slap. slap. it's okay to be down once in awhile.

i love new york so much. but there's also a feeling i really love about discovering another city. i know i've been to toronto a gajillion times but this time around i got to stroll about a bit and explore areas i hadn't gotten to before. the feeling of the new, the unexpected, not really knowing where you are. not being in control. not being asked to pick this? or where's that? bc, i try to control so much of my life in ny. it's refreshing to let go, follow other people's agendas. walk at the back of the pack and stare at the clouds in the sky. really live in the moment. honestly, genuinely, earnestly. it's both mentally and physically exhausting to be 'on' all the time. and when i'm not 'on,' people notice and then i feel bad about that. what's wrong with you barb? what's wrong with you? it amazes me how much i think about thinking. how silly does that sound? how much i think about thinking. what? why?

i know i do it to myself. it's a responsibility i choose to take on because, generally, it makes me feel happy and fulfilled. particularly, to facilitate other people's fun times and general merriment. it's a selfish thing. i want to be the go-to person. i want to be the non-flake. the planner. the organizer. i think you get the point. if i say i'll do something, i want to do it. and i say 'yes' a lot. A LOT. i have this idea of perfection in my mind and it's a really high bar. i'm always trying, trying, trying to meet it and sometimes i feel like i fall short, short, short. i also hate that i impose that high bar on other people (through little fault of their own) so i let myself get disappointed when people don't meet that bar. but how are they supposed to when they don't even know it's being imposed on them? and the bigger point is...why is my bar 'the' bar? who am i to expect my version of perfection? how can anyone possibly meet 'my' bar when i can't even do it myself? but, hey, maybe that's why i impose it. projection! god i love stream-of-consciousness writing. so cathartic. hopefully, it's at least mildly entertaining to read. so it's projection. makes sense. now i gotta work on it. let go barb. like Frou Frou says, 'let go.'

i think partly why i love music so much is because it's an escapist thing and secretly i know my wanderlust is an escapist thing too. but i also know i have to let it play out. and really, i don't think there's anything wrong with escapism as long as i acknowledge to myself that it is because i'm searching for something in everything i do. every place i go. every one i meet. what is it exactly? i don't know. and who knows if i'll ever know though i hope i do. but i'd like to think that i'll recognize it when the universe chooses to reveal it to me. i have to acknowledge that there's nothing for me to control. there's nothing i'm in control of in this scenario. except to do my best to enjoy the process. the ride. the experience. i have to trust that everything happens as it's supposed to, and will, regardless of any efforts i make. i can't force it. i can't. i can't. i can't.

lead me.

the moral of the story is that i have stop trying to control. i have to let go more. inwardly and outwardly. it's okay to not meet my 'bar' because, really, who can? and why? what's the point? intellectually, i know no one's perfect. so why am i doing this to myself and the people around me? i read this and think that sometimes i envy people who aren't in their heads so much. ha. but we've all got our own process right?

believe it or not, if you've made it this far down in the post. this has been very cathartic and i feel the little cloud over my head lifting. this is my process. but know that i'm harder on myself than anyone can ever be but i'm working on it.

thanks for reading! i'm finally getting on the jetplane...

"Colombia. Food capital. Fun as hell.'

So Thursday night I got back from a week in Colombia. (Yes, it's spelled with two 'o's.) I had a spectacular time. I went in with no expectations and I was simply blown away. Makes me think I should try going into more situations with that mindset. It's definitely one of the poorest countries I've been to and yet the people have a zest for life I don't see very often.

As we were driving through the shantytowns in Barranquilla I thought, "I feel lucky to be able to see places like these because it makes me appreciative of where I get to go home to." It's sad that I have to see that kind of poverty before I realize the privileged life I lead in comparison. However it also makes me think that in this age of entitlement in which we live, my peers could stand to benefit from the wake up call only that kind of reality check could bring. These people live on cents per day. Cents. When I say shantytowns, I mean that I saw structures that didn't even have four walls. They didn't appear to all have indoor plumbing and electricity. Even in Cartagena there were vendors who rented cell-phones on the street for people to use as if they were telephone booths. But I don't want to dwell on the poverty. I'd like to move on to the highlights...

Cartagena's Old Town is probably one of the most magical places I've been to. The Spanish influence is apparent. It's a UNESCO world heritage site so many of the buildings are well preserved. The vibe is a cross between the French Quarter of New Orleans and Sevilla, Spain. One of the most striking things is how colorful the buildings are ranging from Greek Island blue to mango orange. The narrow (yet clean) streets are littered with street vendors, small taxis, and shops. Walking aimlessly, we encountered a multitude of romantic squares where locals congregated near restaurant patrons dining in the warm breeze. If I had to describe the Old Town in one word, I'd say it's romantic. Unbelievably so.



Coincidentally we also traveled in the shadow of Anthony Bourdain. We came across La Cevicheria, a restaurant where he dines in the episode where he visits Colombia where we wiled away an afternoon. Tierrabomba, an island he visits for serious 'local' food where the time from ocean to plate is whittled down to minutes and not hours and days. We happened upon a number of other spots recognized from the episode. In his words, "Colombia. Food capital. Fun as hell.'

Papaya. Papaya. Papaya.

I love it. I've never had papaya (and mango) as sweet. I'd had never cut a papaya until this trip and I know I'll be cutting many more.

Coconut rice. Coconut rice. Coconut rice.



Have you heard of a better (yet more simple) combination of flavor?

Patacon.

I think I've had enough but also delicious.

The pearl, the hidden gem, the masterpiece of our 7 days...Isla del Pirata (pictured below). We felt like we were our own private island. It wasn't luxurious. But as luck would have it, our timing was perfect. We were there for 3 days/2 nights and there were only a handful of other guests aside from us. We were spoiled with 3 days of perfect weather, 3 delicious meals per day, and cocktails to boot. And it was cheap! Did I say it was cheap? It's cheap!



Also, it's where I saw my first "22° halo" (a circular rainbow around the sun)! Unbelieveable.



Props to Luis for the halo image.

I could go on and on.

But seriously, the people are friendly and incredibly eager to show you the best of their country. They are well aware of the reputation Colombia has in the world and in my mind they're doing their best to change that rep. Check it ouuuuuut. Don't drink haterade without good cause.

Way to sum it up

'In the opening sequence of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Mary's in a supermarket, hurrying through the aisles. She pauses at the meat case, picks up a steak and checks the price. Then she rolls her eyes, shrugs and tosses it in the cart.
That's kind of how I felt. Sure, I would have liked for things to have been difference. But, roll of the eyes, what can you do? Shrug.
I threw the meat in my cart. And moved on.'

- p.302, Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs

Madea makes me think

"You never had anything happen to you in your childhood? Then what kind of adult are you?" - Tyler Perry

I'm watching The Black List: Volume 2 right now and this quote struck me. Apparently Tyler Perry had a colorful childhood, to say the least. He followed by saying, 'It's made me who I am. It's made me the man I am.' (I wouldn't say this is verbatim but it's the jist of his comments.) He prefaced the first quote above by saying that he felt sorry for people that had a 'perfect childhood.'

I think and I think and I think and I look and I look and I look around me and the people who understand me best have experienced some kind of adversity in their youth (or young adulthood). And while, I wouldn't wish a 'colorful childhood' on anyone, especially a child, it appears there's something to be said for what it does for personality and character building. It's not to say that everyone that has been through adversity is more well adjusted or that people who haven't been through adversity are any worse off. I'm just saying that it's a pattern I've noticed in my life. It's hard to pinpoint what it is. Perhaps it's a slightly different model of empathy and compassion. Perhaps it's an acknowledged understanding and respect. Perhaps it's a different kind of humility. It's why gays understand gays differently than straight people understand gay people, and visa versa. Same goes for people of the same race or, in my case, of mixed race. If you haven't dealt with it, it never occurs to you that there's anything else. And it's not to say that the people who haven't dealt with 'it' can't understand. I think one of the most amazing things about some people is the ability to recognize that it's something that hasn't been part of their experience and then consciously make an effort to try to understand. I have such great respect for people who acknowledge that they don't know. Because it's a humbling thing. We like to think of ourselves as open and worldly but it's not about ignorance, which has a negative connotation, it's about acknowledging and then opening up yourself to broaden YOUR experience. Because, in the end, it benefits everyone.

Here I go separating. Making myself and these people around me 'the other.' But like I've always said, normal is boring.

Great quotes

“The most important thing in life is your family.... Sometimes it’s the family you’re born into, and sometimes it’s the one you make for yourself.” - CARRIE BRADSHAW

“Fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life, and the procedure, the process is its own reward.” - AMELIA EARHART

“It’s better not to expect approval from people, because you’ll just be disappointed. You have to be who you are.” - MADONNA

- Glamour Magazine, April 2009 (p.225)

Oy

I'm 'oying' myself for this post but I feel it's a service so I will sacrifice myself:

'...if you can replace the word with "it is" or "it has", then the word is it's:

It's a long way to Tipperary.

If you can replace the word with "who is" or "who has", then the word is who's:

Who's that knocking at my door?

If you can replace the word with "they are", then the word is they're:

They're not going to get away with this.

And if you can replace the word with "there is", the word is there's:

There's a surprising amount about the apostrophe in this book.

If you can replace the word with "you are", then the word is you're:

You're never going to forget the difference between "its" and "it's".'

- From Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss

Colorless?

And not because it's mid-winter and I'm horribly pale:

I went for drinks with coworkers Friday night and was confronted with something interesting I'd never really thought about before. As always, I've forgotten the context of the conversation but it came up that I've always people thought people looked at me with questioning looks on the street because my ethnicity is visually ambiguous. Is she Filipino? Hawaiian? Possibly half white? What's the other half? It's not a good or bad thing but merely an observation on my part since I know people like to try and label everyone so that they can mentally process them, as humans are prone to do. So it was to my surprise that both coworkers said they've never thought of me as anything other than white or it's possible that they just haven't thought about me in any ethnic context at all. How interesting! Much of my consciousness involves ethnic identity and whether that's something that has been projected on me or just how i've evolved...I have no idea. Was it the chicken or the egg? As I'm writing this I think that perhaps it's because this is the first time I don't have any Asian coworkers in my immediate vicinity so I'm not compelled to make the Asian jokes or discuss my ethnic background? I don't know and ultimately it doesn't matter except to point out to me that i've never been aware of the possibility of being thought of as 'colorless.' Colorless. I'm just the Barb. Not the Chinese Barb or the Swedish, i mean, Swiss Barb. It's my lesson learned. Happy New Year all!

Bad Education

Maybe it's because I watched an okay B-level movie last night before broaching Bad Education but I don't think so. In my experience, all Almodovar movies are spectacular and the main word that comes to mind after I watch them is 'visceral.' According to Webster it means, 'dealing with crude or elemental emotion,' and I think that's why it's the perfect word to describe his films.

I can't recall the last film I saw with an all-male cast that I loved, perhaps this is the first. His movies are so well crafted and push the envelope just enough to make you think about whether, if you were the protagonist, you would do the same as what's scripted. Would I kill my sibling if they were a long term drug addict and only causing utter strife to myself and the rest of my family? I'm gonna go with a no, but I'd probably think about it briefly as an easy way out. Does that make me murderous? No. In my mind, the difference between murderers/criminals and the rest of us is that they don't separate thought and imagination from reality (whether by choice or not). You can't say you've never thought about how easy life could be if you figured out a way to rob a bank and run off to some exotic island for your happily ever after. Or, how much more enjoyable life could be if (insert name of emotionally exhausting/general black hole of a person here) no longer existed. Such is the process of human thought. One is presented with a problem, one looks for the simplest solution. Of course, simplest isn't always the most moral. You see how this movie has made me think? And this is only one part of the parcel.

Can one fall in love at age 10? Are we even emotionally mature enough? Or perhaps it's because our emotional selves are still in development that we can let someone in more easily? It's like kids who learn a language at a young age pick it up faster than adults. I also happened to watch Jumper yesterday (not bad), but the lead says to his leading lady, 'since I was 5, it's only been you.' Or something to that effect. 5? I thought 10 was pushing it. But who am I to say yay or nay. Perhaps 'they just know.' That line had to come from somewhere.

Where are the lines between love, lust, and obsession? How are they different? Does love incorporate the other two and visa versa?

Why does pedophilia exist? Is it because it's forbidden? Why is 18 the age of consent? Seems arbitrary. Apparently, 'Although some young people may feel that they are mature enough to engage in a sexual relationship, others may lack the emotional development to deal with this or to feel confident enough to say 'no'. Age of consent laws are there to protect young people from being sexually exploited by adults.' Here we go again about emotional development. If age 5, is old enough to know you're in love (according to some people) then why 18? I recognize that some things just exist for our own protection and perhaps shouldn't be questioned. But I like to question. Like, why can we vote at 18 but not drink til we're 21? We're emotionally mature enough to take part in choosing who leads one of the most powerful countries on earth but not emotionally mature enough to legally have a glass of wine? On the same token, we're emotionally mature enough to drive at age 16. Meanwhile, 'On an average day in the USA, 10 teenagers are killed in teen-driven vehicles.' What? Je ne comprende pas. Maybe they don't want us voting when we're all under the influence or they figured if we've survived 2 years of teen driving we deserve to vote? Ha.

Everything seems to come down to emotional maturity, no?

Perhaps this is too much for a Sunday morning.

new year = more me

it's a new year. people always say, 'a new year, a new beginning, a new you,' but what if a 'new' anything isn't what you want? what if the 'old' was just fine? what if you had a pretty good oh8?

madonna is known for reinvention and obviously that's what keeps people interested in the entertainment industry but what i really love about her is that the reinvention is just the exterior. it seems to me that she's always balls out about who she is. she's a strong woman and has never hidden who she is and what she's capable of, bitchy. or. not. so, you ask, what does Barb want this year for herself?

honestly, i don't think i'd be too upset for things to keep trucking along as they are. i've got amazing people around me and (gasp) a job i like (i know that's rare these days). the only thing i do want is to make more time for myself...treat myself better both physically and emotionally. not be so hard on myself ya know? we are our harshest critics. otherwise, oh8 was great and oh9...well...i'm not gonna hope for worse am i?

and if i could wish something for the world i'd ask for more optimism and good will, sappy i know, but those two qualities work wonders.