So, if I ever have kids with an American man, I am going to give our kids Chinese names. Why? Because well, its only fair if they have names that neither of their grandparents can say. If they have Indian names, his parents can't say them, and if they have American names, my parents won't be able to say them.
For now, the top two choices are: Xiaoqi and Xingyang. Or Yangxing. Other suggestions are welcome. Japanese names will also be accepted.
Oh, P.S., I found a dollar in my pocket today.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Katahdin
I cannot believe I climbed a mountain this September. Maine is probably one of the best places to grow old in, except when you have arthritis, in which case you'd probably want to grow old someplace cooler.
I was lucky enough to camp on the North Twin Lakes, courtesy some good friends and a very caring significant other. Watching the sunset over those waters, jumping in and wading in, knowing that the water was cold, knowing I cannot swim. And the stars! I have never before seen the Milky Way with my eyes, and when I did, it just blew me away. We are such a small entity, buried within so many universes, and yet we are so great in our heads. If I were to step outside my head and look at myself: an insignificant human being on the face of a unique planet. That's what I mean to the rest of the cosmos. I came, I created, and then I left. Maybe I left behind what I created, or who I created, and maybe I didn't.
But I wonder if an outsider can just look at the Earth anymore, from the cosmos. I doubt they can peer past the cover of satellites all around us, even if they manage to part the curtain of millions of light years. We are surrounded by debris. In our bodies, in our homes, our neighborhoods, on our planet, and now, outside it. Being in Maine almost made me sad for the Earth. What have we done? And there is no going back either. Perhaps I should just invest in one of those post-apocalyptic realty they are building in undisclosed places in the US, to prepare for doomsday. (I kid you not, pick up the Oct. 2010 issue of Popular Science, "The Future of the Home.") For $50,000, I get life "assurance," they say. Rest assured, you will be able to wake up and wail upon the state of things and despair, when it all finally ends.
But then at the same time, being in Maine made me feel so glad to be alive. Every moment that I was counting stars, watching the docks rise and fall with the wake of boats, riding the waves and the wind on jet skies, and climbing mountains, I was thankful. I was thankful for a functional body and a functional brain. Thankful for these somehow partly untouched pieces of the World where I can have a completely personal, wonderful experience. Learning things about myself. Did I ever think I could climb a 5,700 ft mountain? No. But I was arrogant going up, and humble coming down.
"Dreams of mountains, as in their sleep they brood on things eternal."
I was lucky enough to camp on the North Twin Lakes, courtesy some good friends and a very caring significant other. Watching the sunset over those waters, jumping in and wading in, knowing that the water was cold, knowing I cannot swim. And the stars! I have never before seen the Milky Way with my eyes, and when I did, it just blew me away. We are such a small entity, buried within so many universes, and yet we are so great in our heads. If I were to step outside my head and look at myself: an insignificant human being on the face of a unique planet. That's what I mean to the rest of the cosmos. I came, I created, and then I left. Maybe I left behind what I created, or who I created, and maybe I didn't.
But I wonder if an outsider can just look at the Earth anymore, from the cosmos. I doubt they can peer past the cover of satellites all around us, even if they manage to part the curtain of millions of light years. We are surrounded by debris. In our bodies, in our homes, our neighborhoods, on our planet, and now, outside it. Being in Maine almost made me sad for the Earth. What have we done? And there is no going back either. Perhaps I should just invest in one of those post-apocalyptic realty they are building in undisclosed places in the US, to prepare for doomsday. (I kid you not, pick up the Oct. 2010 issue of Popular Science, "The Future of the Home.") For $50,000, I get life "assurance," they say. Rest assured, you will be able to wake up and wail upon the state of things and despair, when it all finally ends.
But then at the same time, being in Maine made me feel so glad to be alive. Every moment that I was counting stars, watching the docks rise and fall with the wake of boats, riding the waves and the wind on jet skies, and climbing mountains, I was thankful. I was thankful for a functional body and a functional brain. Thankful for these somehow partly untouched pieces of the World where I can have a completely personal, wonderful experience. Learning things about myself. Did I ever think I could climb a 5,700 ft mountain? No. But I was arrogant going up, and humble coming down.
"Dreams of mountains, as in their sleep they brood on things eternal."
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Bookworm
Just a cheap little post, to let you all know I am still here. Been reading a lot of books lately. I can't believe how much I used to love and how much I miss reading.
A complete list of what I have read (including my reviews of most books), what I am reading and what I will read can be found here: Goodreads, if you're interested.
A complete list of what I have read (including my reviews of most books), what I am reading and what I will read can be found here: Goodreads, if you're interested.
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