Callistonian.net

People like to compare me to the US Sec. of State, Condoleezza Rice. She’s insanely intelligent and she’s accomplished an impressive array of things. Like me, she’s a minority who is interested in foreign affairs and foreign languages (she speaks 5 of them!). Even though I know that I’m being complimented when people say that I’m like her, I fight the desire to cringe every time I hear it. I realize that I should be flattered because being compared to a genius is amazing. It’s a thousand times better than being compared to Britney Spears or Paris Hilton. But, Condoleezza Rice is an all-star member of the Grand Old Party and while I would have embraced them in 1854, I’m just not down with them today. A ton of people still love the GOP; I’m just not one of them.

So— if you ever feel the need to tell me that I’m like “Condi,” please don’t become offended if I fail to utterly gush over the compliment. I’m sorry but– how would you expect a Jennifer Aniston fan to respond to someone saying that she’s pretty like Angelina Jolie?

Modern metropolises have a special place in my heart: I adore them. Only a handful of things are more  enjoyable than adventuring about in an asphalt jungle with dear friends. There’s always so much to see, so much to do, so much to photograph, and so much laugh at.

Yesterday, around four o’clock in the evening, I received a call from a dear friend.

condensed version:
Her: Are you near a computer?
Me: Why?
Her: I’m in Greenwich Village. We want to go to X. Are we near it? How do we get there?

She was in New York City. I was hundreds of miles away, in southern suburbia, throwing a mental fit— wishing that I was in the metropolis with my friends. If I were there, I doubt that they would have been in the village, lost. Regardless, with knowledge of X’s location & a little help from Google Maps, I directed them to their desired destination. Yay!

Suburbia definitely has its charms but, lately, I’ve been noticing its vices. Vice I: the inability to walk to a decent store. If I want to expand my book collection, I must get in the car & drive to a bookstore. If I want clothes, I must get in the car & drive. If I want to visit a super market for food, I must get in the car & drive…  It’s terrible. I like walking! I like listening to my iPod. Also, this place is teeming with overweight people. In NYC, there aren’t nearly as many. If only they could walk somewhere…then, I bet that they would drop a few pounds.

Vice II: what I want isn’t available. I have some bizarre interests. Right now, I like the gayageum. I want to play; I’m looking for a teacher. All of my attempts at finding one in this place have failed. I’m getting desperate and thinking of calling Korean churches in the area to ask if they know anyone… If I were in NYC, I wouldn’t be having this problem.

I’m not your Korean Princess, really. I promise.

Seriously…

I’m very seriously serious.

I went out to buy a quill. After something of a conversation, do you know what the shop owner said. The same thing that everyone else assumes or states. I’ve reproduced a general conversation of the sort for you. First -

You’re part Korean (or Asia).

No. I’m not. I’m lacking one hundred percent in Asian-ness.

Your ancestors were Korean.

That’s doubtful.

You were Korean in a past life.

By this point, the conversation is on a tangental crash-course for fantasy-land. How can I negate such a statement? So, yes, yes I was. Even though, the idea goes against some of my fundamental beliefs (and I don’t mean religious). I’ll accept it. Yes, I was Korean. I was a princess of Silla, an heiress of that ancient kingdom. Look, that’s my crown, in the photo. heh.

I realize that the gentleman was complementing me. But, I’ve had that conversation more than twenty-two times. It’s troubling. I know something of Korean politics and I can rattle off a few poorly crafted sentences and thus, I absolutely must! have a Korean ancestor? That’s terrible. Terrible. G-R-O-S-S.

For diplomatic reasons, it’s important to learn about others’ cultures and if the only ones who can possibly bridge cultural gaps are those who were ____ in their past lives… Well, then…

i’m an intellectual in training. everything inspires me. everything arouses my curiosity. reading, writing, designing, photography, living, etc. are my hobbies.

i was never the kid in class who said, “why do i need to learn this? i’m never going to use it.” that isn’t my way of thinking. i like to know as much as i possibly can about (almost) everything just because…

i mean, why not?

it’s difficult, though. because when you like tons of things - fatigue becomes this obnoxious monster. there’s just not enough time and with sleep and rest being a necessity - there’s really not enough time. so, ideally a girl must prioritize but… i, generally, try to do as little of that as possibly. i don’t like cutting back.

my goal is to figure out how to make each day as productive as possible without painfully outlining every activity and killing spontaneity. if you have any tips send them my way.

(insert transition)

when you write 5, how do you do it? one stroke or two? i was penalized by a game for crafting a quick clean 5 - from the top right to the bottom left. the game thought 9.

game: 9×5
me:45!
game: 49 is wrong.
game: 9-4
me: 5!
game: 9 is wrong.

my friends told me that i was writing incorrectly. “your stroke order is wrong.” my response, “no it’s not! this is how americans write 5!!! the game is against me!” i thought that it would be easy - that i could do the math section on the nintendo ds without any problems whatsoever and that i could do it hella fast but… my handwriting screwed me over.