Ha Jin and His Novels

Months ago while I was searching through the National Book Award list, Ha JIn, a Chinese name struck my eyes. The novel Waiting won him the award. I searched the book over Amazon, where you can get a copy at around $1, which is obviously depressing.

Yesterday I came across all his four major books in the public library. I borrowed two of them, Waiting and Under the Red Flag.

I read a few pages of Waiting. The story is about a doctor who for 17 years, tries to divorce his wife, a humble and touchingly loyal woman, after he fell in love with a nurse who is educated, clever and modern. Originally flavored Chinese names and Chinese settings are familiar, and I tended to picture his descriptions in my mind all through these pages. I was doing things like mind-directing a movie about China's countryside people and life.

It is a kind of interesting reading because the reading indeed puts me right back into China. Even his English reads like typical English written by a Chinese good at English.

I wonder what an American picture when he is reading.

By the way, this guy came to the U.S. in 1985, and teaches English in Emory University.

About Growing Up

I didn’t post anything yesterday. I should have done in the evening.

Within four hour of last evening, I was blamed by uncle, for both good and bad reasons, in his unique explosive way. Depressed enough, I called Mom and Daddy. As usual, I told them that everything was fine, laughing a lot to ensure them that I was as happy as always. At one moment, I suddenly had this weird feeling of being grown-up—I am no longer a little girl who tells Daddy whatever happens in my life. Actually, I stopped doing that long time ago.

Later, JJ and I had a long talk until 2:30 in the morning. This was the first one we had since I came here. We talked about people around us, about the uncertainties of life and why life was always shy of perfection. We talked like philosophers, both being able to develop a complete theory to explain people around us, ourselves and our life. Or like doctors, who can always come up with a seemingly perfect diagnosis of our life in such a talk. Life makes sense, a lot.

I woke up early in the morning, and could not go back to sleep. The process of growing up sometimes is painful, I thought. You are maturing when you no longer expect people to be in the same mentality as yours, times after you find them turn out to be totally different from your expectation. You grow up when you no longer to take people’s words at the face value, because they don’t mean what they say. You grow up and become old when your sense of self-worth ebbs, and realize that you may be not the center of your life and you cannot control everything.

A Different Day

I have to do some extra work today to catch up with my blog. I think I should post at least one piece each day. Yesterday I did nothing more than doing some homework. So I ended up with an empty head by the end of the day, which actually ended at 12:30 this morning.

When I am trying to type something down, I find out the first good thing about blogging—I know I will find more in the future, which is: blogging forces me to think about each day I spent. A day can pass by, and pass by just like everyday. But If I try to write something about the day, it reminds me that each day is a day that is not just like everyday.

Today is a different Thursday. But I know when WW went to work this morning, she was thinking, oh, God, another Thursday! I know I was among the people who get up in the morning thinking that I am repeating a day of a 7-day cycle.

It is fabulous that you are AWARE that you are having a different day.

Writing

I am writing the reply letter to my cousin. At first I decided to write rather than type the letter—I wanted the letter to look intimate. After a few lines’ scribbling on the paper, I gave up. I went back to my computer. For one thing, my Chinese writing embarrasses me. It still looks exactly like what I did in high school, or even worse than that. Not to say that when I was in high school, my neighbor said my writing looked like an elementary student’s. I definitely don’t want my cousin to see my ugly hand writing. For another thing, it seems that my flow of thoughts have been coming more handy at typing.

The other day I was thinking about inputting my recent writings in some notebooks into computer, since most of my recent journals are on my C-disk. Later I changed my idea. I know if I do, I will sooner or later throw off those scripts. Things typed down can never be the same as those on paper. Those writings are always done at some special places. Some were when I was in the library studying and some thoughts just came up to me that I had to write down before I went back to study. A few pages were written at airport when I was waiting for my flight. Some of the writings are neat, which usually were written when I was at good mood. Some are messy and mixed up with Chinese and English, which always written when my mind was as messy. I can always read back to the moment of writing simply by look at the writings. And this is probably the most fabulous part of writing diaries.

You Are The Message

JJ brought back a book from the Pennsylvania Bar Institute. The title is You Are The Message: Getting What You Want by Being Who You Are. It is basically a how-to-do book. I never spent over one hour on such type of book. For a similar reason, I never have a recipe book in my kitchen.

These are some points that I still remember after less an hour’s reading.

1)Television has changed all the rules of communications and it affects you more than you think.
2)One good way to improve communication and public speaking skills is to observe the actors and actresses in TV to learn how to communicate effectively.
3)People establish an impression of you in the first seven seconds of meeting.
4)You are the message. Your body language and facial expression are more important than your verbal information when you try to get your message though.
5)During a one-to-one conversation, your listening and talking ratio should be 60% vs. 40%. Many people don’t know that they always talk more than they should.
6)You can get what you want simply by being who you are. It is a misconception that one should change herself in order to adjust to various occasions. For instance, a person can be a very good communicator with his close friends. But this individual could suddenly become a dumb speaker before a big audience, simply because he is no longer himself.

今天过得还不错

清早起来打开电脑，就收到朋友通过messenger发来的问候，心里暖暖的。
上午上JJ办公室帮她做了点文件，做完的东西传过去给她老板看，评价是，比他以前雇得小律师做的还好点，呵呵
晚上上PS的课， 今天大部分时间讲GAMES， 不得不说，这个老师讲得就是好，隐隐约约让我产生某种幻想-- 我的GAMES大大提高指日可待。
回家吃JJ给我带回来的Sushi，uhm...好好吃啊
爽，一扫昨天的郁闷

关于郁闷

寄住在亲戚家总的来说比较郁闷，今天郁闷了一天，不知道写些什么。 而且郁闷的人不是唯独我一个，友情链接的littlenorth也是在写关于郁闷。

The most depressing thing I heard today was，“You simply know nothing.”

And what is even more depressing is that after I heard that, I had to swallow it.

不写吧，郁闷，写了也还是郁闷，今天就这样吧。

Beggar vs Fool

I was playing with my cell phone while waiting for my train. A black guy came up, sitting down before me. With a sincere expression and in a polite voice, he asked, “Can you do me a favor?”
“Yes?”
“I am going to take the R3 at 9 to Trenton, then I am going to New York. But I fall short of 2 dollars”.

My gut feeling told me that this guy was a professional beggar, since I came across a whole bunch of such beggars in Chinatown where train and bus stations are. They all came up with such reason like “I am going to New York, but I am 1 dollar short.”

I gave this guy a second look. He didn’t look like a bad guy though. I mean, I usually will not relate such a man to a criminal or something like that. He looked young, dressed neat and carried a backpack.

Meanwhile, another idea worked in my mind. IceCube and I used to walk around the city where our college was on weekend. We came across many beggars. IceCube always took out some small bills and told me to give them—it was sort of funny that he always made me hand the money to them. He never told me why he didn’t do it himself. In one occasion, his explanation was that he hoped to put some good-deeds-deposit for my after-life, in case there was an after-life.

At first, I refused to do so. I insisted that they were simply unwilling to work and they were cheating people and they didn’t deserve our sympathy.

IceCube finally managed to change my mind. “What if some of them really need help? One or two Yuans mean nothing to you, but you might have helped some of them.’

His reasoning was persuasive to me. Since then, I have been acting under this principle.

So this time, after one or two seconds’ hesitation, I gave this guy two dollars.

He said thanks and went away. Two minutes later, I was convinced that he WAS a professional beggar. He told me his train was at 9, but I didn’t see him catching the train.

Then I started to feel like a fool. On the train back home, I was thinking if I should continue to stick to IceCube’s doesn’t-hurt-giving-principle to which I have been keeping for years. It may be socially irresponsible to do this in many an occasions—it is like I am encouraging cheaters to cheat more.

Later I told IceCube the story. He said that his principle probably only worked in China. “In China, people may have to make a living by begging, but in the United States, if you are not lazy, you don’t have to beg.”

Ok, another IceCube principle. Equally sound. I feel more like a dumb fool now.

Besides, it seems that borrowed principles don't work well with me. I probably have a flexibility issue here.

Th---an---k

I got the cell phone IceCube ordered for me. I was disappointed after I opened the box. The phone is huge. IceCube ordered this one because it has a built-in video camera. I think it is just too big for me. Then I called him. He was not home, so I left him a message telling him I don’t like the phone.

Later in the evening I called him again. A few words later, he sounded very unhappy. I said I wanted to return the phone, and reorder one. He said I was just picky. I said it was just normal to be unsatisfied with something ordered online.

Another few words later, I realized that he was unhappy simply because I basically poured out complaints against the phone without showing any gratitude to him for spending two hours online choosing the phone for me.

In order to pacify him, I agreed to keep the phone, and said a bunch of make-up-thanks before I hung up.

I didn’t realize that saying thanks to your family was not unimportant and unnecessary, though I know I am always not good at saying thank-you to people close to me.

The Letter from Cousin

I received the reply letter from my cousin today. I am so excited to read her letter. This cousin is my mother’s sister’s daughter, and is studying in the high school which I attended. Last time when I saw her, she was still a little girl. Last month, I decided to write to her and see if I can do something for her. I know how hard her life is.

The mail came along with her picture. She has grown up into a big girl I would have been unable to recognize.

She wrote me a 7-page letter. Reading her letter I see myself of years ago. She talks about tests, how a bad test result made her feel bad, and how a good test result made her regain confidence. She is outgoing and has a lot of friends. She likes reading, wants to major in liberal arts though people around her thought she should choose science or engineering. She is hopeful for an exciting future while cannot stop worrying. She is afraid of failing her parents’ expectation and hopes to be able to improve their situation some day. She tells me she keeps journal because she finds it hard to communicate with her family and friends sometimes. She sounds just like the younger me and is faced with exactly the same things I have gone through.

I hope to be a good mentor for her. I didn’t tell her I am actually volunteering to be her mentor, but I am going to do just what I think a good mentor will do.

Morning Run

I was woken up at 6 when uncle and auntie hurried up and down stairs getting ready for work. I stayed in bed, eyes closed, thinking what a wonderful day I had yesterday, and planning things to do today.

When I finally opened my eyes, it was already 7. Yesterday I made a weekly schedule, deciding to run in the morning instead of afternoon to avoid some ultraviolet—last summer JJ refused to recognize me as her sister in public because I looked like just getting out of Africa.

Putting up my newly bought a running suit and getting into the morning air, I felt glad I had come out. The flowering tree in front of the house looked pinkly fresh and sweet. It was unusually hot yesterday. We got a drizzle here last night, and this morning was mildly sunny and fresh. My shoulders could feel the breeze. I thought I should look good in the new Nike, which made me feel even better.

I ran along the walkway in the neighborhood. It was quiet. I saw a lady standing at the cross, probably a volunteer for community children watch in the morning. She waved at me across the road and waved again when I turned back minutes later.

I am sure I won’t have the luxury of enjoying such sluggish mornings soon. I once thought I had been wasting the most precious part of my life without being able to study or work. It took a while for me to finally compromise with the reality. I developed the philosophy to comfort my nervousness—life is a process, and as long as you are enjoying it, you are not wasting it.

This Is Why I Am Slim

This is how I keep slim: I have inherited a gene from my parents that keeps a very close eye on my diet, and it takes action whenever I step out of the line. This is how it works: whenever I have a super-/medium-big dinner, I get diarrhea the day followed.

For this, I am so grateful to my parents. But I also feel like having wasted tons of emotions. Last evening in order to enjoy a big dinner, I searched through my phonebook, hoping to find a friend to have dinner with for the sake of having dinner with. It didn’t work out. As a matte of fact, a married woman like me usually doesn’t have a long list of people to call. (I am not complaining, since I am well aware the advantage of being a married woman: you always get someone to call, whenever and wherever, if only you get a phone) Then I started brain-storming and finally decided to call a friend. I obviously had made a wise decision to have this friend dinner with me, since I felt such an ease keeping talking and eating with this guy sitting at the other side of the table—I have been seriously calling him “little uncle” for two years.

Whatever, i guess i'll just keep doing this. I eat in order to live, and live in order to eat.

I went to town with JJ and stayed in her office helping her around. At lunch time, I went to the small restaurant which makes very good hand-stretched noodle. They remember me because last year when I was in Philly, I had lunch there very often. People go there for their hand-made noodle, while I always ordered ready-to-cook rice noodle—the rice noodle they make tastes just like what I used to eat in my hometown.

As I went into the restaurant, the owner greeted me saying “long time no see”. While I was looking at the menu, she already knew what I wanted. “Rice noodle with beef, right?”

The way they made the noodle has changed a little bit. They didn’t put pickles in there before. But it tasted as great.

More often than not, people like one thing not because it is new, but because it is old and familiar.

This is the way that an old place makes you feel good when you go back there.

I spent two and half hour on translating a three-page contract for a high school friend. He is now working for a private company in Guangdong. In return, he agreed to send me pictures of him with his wife.

I asked for their picture long ago, but he always sent me his own only. The reason is kind of subtle. He once told me that he was not sure if he was going to marry this girl because he was 180cm tall and she was barely above 150cm. He said he was embarrassed when people stared at them while they walked or stood together. On the other hand, he was sure he would not find another girl who loved him more than she did. She helped him a lot when he first looked for a job in Guangdong and could hardly afford a place to live.

They finally got married earlier this year. I guess he has got over the height issue at last.

I remember Wang Guozhen, the poet, once said that if two persons who had great gap in physical beauty got married, their marriage was usually stronger than a relationship between two of equivalency, because the latter was simply so supposed to be fit that marriage often came out as a course of action since all others thought they were fit.

I hope he is right, at least in my friend’s case.

Phew..I laugh a lot

http://cms.psychologytoday.com/articles/pto-20030306-000002.html

I never realize that I have been "attempting to shape others' response."

The Concert

A friend’s friend’s brother gave a concert last night. This friend’s friend was from Shanghai, studied music in China and found he was not talented enough to be a good musician, so turned to do something he can do better—making violins in the United States.

His brother is now an achieved violinist in a sense. As a first-generation immigrant, he is obviously successful. (For me, an immigrant musician is successful if he or she starts to see his or her music more than the means of living. This guy is obviously more than that successful.) From the leaflet I learn that he is teaching at Temple University and Biblical College, and performs with the renowned Philadelphia Orchestra sometimes. The concert was given at the hall attached to a residence, a big old-fashioned house in a decent neighborhood. It accommodates around 100 people. When we got there, the room was already well filled up. Among the audience were Chinese parents with their children, some of whom are the musician’s students.

I liked the performance though I didn’t really understand the Tchaikovsky he played. I am an illiterate in music. I had to follow other people to avoid clapping at the improper moment. I guess he did a great performance since an old white lady sitting beside me stood up applauding as the concert ended, and a young man beside her kept taking notes during the performance.

After the show, many Chinese went up to talk to him, and took pictures with him. I guessed he must feel very happy with the sincere admiration from people from his home country. It was like you succeed and got recognition from your family with their warm congratulations. It was nice to see such a scene in the United States.

The owner of the house interested me. What he does is what I want to do some day—do something for people or things that you really care. He is an old man in his late 70s. My friend told me that he was a constructor and never married. He loves music and built this hall for talented young musicians to perform and free for any audience to attend. I saw this old man at the beginning of the concert while he introduced the musician to the audience. He is a soft-speaking amiable man. Later when the concert ended, he went to the back to serve drinks to the audience. I got a drink for myself, thinking about if I should offer to help. But I didn’t do so. I wish I had.

A follow-up to the Time 100

I left out a big Chinese name among the Time 100, who is

"Dalai Lama---- he belongs to the world. ...The Dalai Lama, 69, does not belong solely to the Tibetans anymore—he belongs to us all. With a vast and profound knowledge of Buddhism, an open heart and the exceedingly rare ability to touch deeply people of all religions, races and backgrounds, he has emerged over the past half-century as one of the very few universally respected beings on our planet. His appeal: his utter simplicity and honesty, the uncluttered clarity of his mind, his infectious laughter and his uncanny ability to explain the most complex Buddhist concepts to anyone. His is the face of love and forgiveness in a distressed world, yet he also has the iron will to engage the ills of the world and heal them. For 46 years, he has shown unfailing patience and compassion toward the Chinese—who still occupy Tibet—and has steadfastly opposed the use of violence to settle the issue of Tibet...."

The above was written by a guy named Richard Gere, who has been an advocate for Tibet for more than 25 years.

I don't know if the Tibet issue is an issue this year. But there must be something on those people's mind that the Dalai should be included.

Common Sense

This morning auntie and I moved some flowers from the backyard to the front yard because auntie wanted them to have some sunlight. One hour later, when auntie went back to them, none of them were still standing-- all wilted. Auntie then called her friend for help and she was told that you should move plant only in the early morning or in the evening, definitely not in the late morning.

Our lack of common sense may kill those little flowers.

the Time 100

This week's Time magazine is a special issue-- the lives and ideas of the world's 100 most influential people. I am not surprised to find there Condoleezza Rice, who is probably the most powerful black female in the world, Jon Stewart, the naughty Jewish (fake-)newsman and Oprah Winfrey, probably the most popular black female talk show host in the country. And of course, G.W. Bush, Abu Mousab al-Zarqawi, Jamie Fox, Rick Warren...

These are the Chinese names among the 100 (Which is what i am really interested to find out):
Chen Shui-bian and Hu Jintao among the 22 Leaders&Revolutionaries;
Ren Zhengfei, the CEO of the Huawei company, among the 21 Builders&Titans;
None among the 17 Heores&Icons;
Lee Kuan Yew, the Prime Minister of Singapore in the Scients&Thinkers category (16 in total). He is called the "the Philosopher King";
Finally, Ziyi Zhang among the 24 Artists&Entertainers.

Here are some interesting notes.

"Chen Shui-Bian, taking it to the Brink---- he symbolizes Taiwan's transition from Chiang Kai-shek's dictatorship to democracy and from a stituation in which politial power was dominated by refugees from the mainland to one in which ntive Taiwanese like himself lead the nation.......let's hope it's becauseChen Shui-bian proves to be a force for reconciliation across the Taiwan Strait, not for war over it."

The undertone is: Chen is a good guy. But we don't want to see him getting into war with the mainland.

"Hu Jintao, China's Puzzle of a President---- ...Two years after taking power, President Hu, 62, remains an enigma to the outside world and to the Chinese he rules. Here's what we know: Hu has evinced concern for the plight of ordinary peasants; there are rumors he likes ballroom dancing; some say he is a liberal at heart. Hu rose through the ranks of the Communist Party by not being outspoken and not offending important personages.
But if the record reveals little about Hu, it says plenty about China. Today's leaders are reserved and ascetic, willing to forgo grandstanding, bold position taking and self-promotion. As the economy motors ahead, what's needed is not a grandiose leader but the equivalent of a skilled hotel manager who, by coordinating complex forces, factions and egos and without becoming too partisan or revealing too much, can keep things functioning. Hu's reluctance to write himself more boldly may also show he hasn't fully prevailed over the Shanghai faction associated with his predecessor, Jiang Zemin. If he can accomplish that, we'll see if he lives up to the hopes that he has a plan for political reform."

The talking point is: Never say you know the Chinese.

"Ren Zhengfei, Modeled after Mao----The CEO of a Chinese firm that gives fits to its competitors and the U.S. government is a former soldier who fashions himself after Chairman Mao. Like China's former leader, Ren Zhengfei is known for spouting folk witticisms, purging associates and challenging U.S. power.......Ren founded Huawei in 1988, and it became a top builder of the Chinese army's communication networks.......Because its ledgers are secret, analysts can only wonder if Huawei is headed for a financial crisis. "

Such a combination: a military background, Mao's follower and the military provider. Besides, Ren looks depressed in the picture along with the passage.

Finally,

"Ziyi Zhang, China's gift to Hollywood----The first impression is of a china doll, porcelain pretty, fragile to the touch. It takes a moment to see the resolve in Ziyi Zhang's perfect posture, the ardor in a gaze with laser intensity. The little princess she played in Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, the movie that introduced her to world audiences, had a sense of drama: a girlish petulance that ripened into mature strength, a will growing steelier before our eyes. ......Can Zhang achieve Western stardom? She would be the first Chinese-born actress to do so. But we wouldn't bet against the slim charmer whose dreams are as big as her awe-inspiring talent. "

From Zhang Ziyi to Ziyi Zhang... She looks beautiful in the black-and-white picture in the magazine. Whatever people say about her in China, she has earned a place in Hollywood.

A blog reader sent me a message saying that "you are so girlie in your blog" and asked me if i was in college. then he corrected that he was saying that I was "girly".

I was pissed off. I am years older than him, after all.

Do I sound naive? Well, i'd rather believe that he is simply too boyish.

I am not blaming him. I can tell he is a nice person. I hope he will not get mad with my accusing him of being boyish.

乐滋滋地倒霉

IceCube 在电话那头乐滋滋地告诉我他倒了霉了。

周六一大清早起床，呼拉了几个中国学生一起去30麦以外的河边去钓鱼。IceCube吭哧吭哧地以50麦的速度朝鱼坑驶去，突然，汽车马达发出巨大的奇怪的绝望的声音，IceCube惊慌失措，一看，路右边就一个出口，急忙一个右转，出了主路，停了火，再打，马达咯吱一下就再没有任何反应了。 几个人正急得像热锅上的蚂蚁，左右张望. 哎呀，眼前不就是个修车铺吗？车就坏在修车铺背后了！

花了250美刀修完车，IceCube乐滋滋的，这要是坏在钓鱼的山沟里了，这拖车费都不知道多少呢。

修完车，钓鱼活动照常进行。这帮人渔技平平，但精神可嘉，一直是风雨无阻的。

来到河边开钓，两个钟头之后大家都仍旧不见鱼影。IceCube失去了耐心，收竿在一旁观望，只见Fisherman二号一个优美有力的cast，鱼线从IceCube头顶飞过，IceCube一回头，就见身边的鱼竿已经飞驰出去，一头扎进了湍急的河水里。
Fisherman二号说，多少钱，我赔你吧。

当晚，IceCube就直奔体育用品商店，重新置了一套家当。心里美得不行，早就想升级啦。

我一直相信，IceCube是傻人有傻福。

My PS Prep Class Composition

Total: 16
Asian: 4 (Me included. All the other three sound like ABCs.)
Black: 1
Caucasian: 10
Indian: 1
Male: 6
Female: 10

There is a Goodwill store nearby. I took a look at it at lunch time. The poster by the store door says “The bargain hunter’s paradise”. I have been curious at this Goodwill because last year when I was cleaning up my closet, auntie took all the clothes I didn’t want to the store.

This is Wednesday noon, and there are two or three shoppers, all white, and two or three salespersons, all black. 90% of the commodities are clothes and the rest are small furniture and decorations, such as vases and fake flowers. Almost all the items are below 10 dollars, and most of the clothes are around 3 or 4 bucks. Almost all the clothes look like old stuff, still wearable though.

There seem to be various thrifty stores like Goodwill all over the U.S. So does yard sale. I like yard sale as Americans do—I heard that people got an $8000 antique clock for 8 bucks at a yard sale. But I was surprised to see that Americans also got out their old shoes and clothes, and people did buy them.

So here is the part about Americans that I don’t understand. On the one hand, they manufacture almost everything that you can use once and dispose at will, while on the other hand, they don’t mind buying old clothes and shoes once worn by complete strangers.

It is a milk-chocolate rabbit professor, a fun gift from uncle and auntie. I feel terrible that i'll start eating it this morning. It is bitterly sweet, you know.
Well, I know there is some kind of flying insect that eats her husband right after their first night. Please don't make the connection by all means. I am a nice and sweet girl.
A chocolate rabbi(t) professor

Last night when I went upstairs, I found someone was already waiting for me in the bed. ..
My "one-night stand partner"

My First Prep Class

今天上了Powerscore的第一节课。我提前一个小时到了上课地点，在Upenn一个叫做International House的楼里。果然是国际之家，出出进进的人都是国际皮肤和形象。楼门口是一个海报栏，有关于中国电影的活动即将在这里举行，看起来不错，说不定没事，我就晃荡过来了。

找到上课地点之后我又在学校晃荡了一圈，找了家比萨店解决掉了晚餐。回到国际的家的时候课程刚刚开始，老师是一个心宽体胖乐呵呵的家伙，正在给大家解释为什么第一次上课要用考试难为大家。

8点多就考试完毕了，题目有一部分是我以前做过的，所以考试的时候比较郁闷，因为不知道自己这么久没有看LSAT，现在是几斤几两。也不知道做题是不是像开车一样，学会了的不会忘。

等姐姐来接我，所以就又晃荡到了书店，直奔二楼，到心理学部分，抄起Blink, 找了一个舒服的椅子坐下来读，书的确不错，至少读过的几十页让我决定下次来读免费的新书时，我得继续它。

The Ultimate...

This morning as I worked out, I passed by the community library. So I ran in there and quickly went through some magazines. The first I picked up was always Vogue, which I defined as the very book that put me in touch with my desire that I don’t have the luxury to think out.

Then I noticed there was the Martha Stewart Living magazine. This woman millionaire, who is said to have revolutionized Americans’ kitchen and way of life, has her first appearance in her magazine since she got out of jail. Isn’t that amazing that a person can change a country’s way of life in the kitchen?

The cover of the book prints “Welcome home, Martha”. In the column reserved for her, Martha is standing before a house, holding a chicken and a basket of eggs. The captioned quotation is “…egg is the ultimate comfort food…”

She is no doubt the “ultimate lady of the kitchen”.

Weekend

Last night JJ brought me to her friend's birthday party. A few friends I got to know last time when I was in Philly were also there. I havn't seen them for almost 10 months, and everyone looked unchanged. People can remain unchanged for years in America. I know it is definitely not like this in China.

The girl was very happy and said that she hoped she could have two birthdays in one year. Then one guy said, “I have two. My mother had difficulty in giving birth to me and it took two days.” Everyone burst into laughing. Such humor was always welcomed at a dinner talbe where people don't know each other very well but want to have intersting conversations.

After dinner we went to a Hung’s home. This guy is in his late 4os, came from Shanghai, and is doing sort of microscope business here. His home is actually a three-story storage building in a ghetto neighborhood. He sets up a Ping Pong table, a small badminton court, and a pool table on the third floor. JJ and her friends often come here to play and gamble until midnight. I came here once last summer, delighted to find such a private mini-gym in a dilapidated building.

I unexpectedly met Jun there. She dressed as elegantly as she always does, but she looked even sadder and smaller than I saw her last year. Her face looked so yellow. She was once living in the safe nest built up by her loving husband, and after her husband died four years ago in an car accident after a business bankruptcy, her whole world just collapsed all the sudden. She has been under depression medication since then. I guess she is lonely as well. It is hard for her to find another life partner.

We played Black Jack later. Huang and his two other friends looked like ambitious gamblers and always set big stake. JJ seemed quite into it because she had a great luck. I was probably the only one not quite into it. We didn’t wrap up until 2:30am.

Coke, ping pong, poker and Chinese jokes. An American Friday night.

Penn Law Class Visit-- Day 4

So this was my final day visiting Penn.

The previously scheduled Intellectual Property class was cancelled. A lady from the admission office then took me to the Privacy class. It was a 1L selective, so with fewer students and smaller classroom.

The class was about DA investigation techniques in a particular case vs. privacy and FOIA vs. privacy. It was confusing, but sounded interesting. The teacher was a double-minority—a female African-American. Interestingly, she wore a black cheongsam and a white blouse in traditional Chinese style. A white woman came to the class along with her, sat in the front of the classroom and cut in sometimes while the class was going. The teacher’s words indicated that some lecturers were invited to the class once a while. It looked like a great idea to me.

Later I realize that my confusion did not wholly result in my lack of background knowledge. It is also partly due to my listening. The students who raised and answered questions all spoke in their normal speed and voice. The teacher had no problem getting them, while I could hardly make out the specific words they said. This reality got my nerves.

I was sitting beside a girl. I asked if she enjoyed law school. She said, “Sometimes.”

I told her I was making my final decision on whether going to law school, she said, “It is a tough decision. You have a lot of work to do. It is no fun.” Saying that, she showed me how fat her institutional law case book was.

Then I said it seemed that every law student had a big and heavy bag. She said, well, not in the second and third year. I guessed every 1L was looking forward to becoming a 2L.

**
Picked up three books in a used book store on the way back home. One is Mrs. Dalloway written by Virginia Woolf. I once read an excerpt of it in an English literature class. On the flight to the States two years ago, bored to death, I watched the Hours times more than I watched my favorite the Brave Heart. This afternoon, I will relax and read the book inspiring the movie.

Penn Law Class Visit-- Day 3

Today was like a nice early summer day. After I ran to train station and got on the train, I was already like just getting out of the gym.


When I checked in with the lady at the law school entrance, she was on the phone. After I filled out the guest registration book and was prepared to move on, she turned away from the phone and said, “Miss, Even if I remember you, you still need to show me a photo ID.”

Well, it was like I just learned a small lesson.

I got a Constitutional Law class today. I went to the classroom by myself. To make sure I get the right room, I asked a boy if it was a Con Law class. He said yes, and added that it was a great class.

The professor was a guy with a typical happy-face (according to my personal observations), which is round and a little bit chubby. Happy-face was humorous, making the class laugh a lot. I got most of his jokes, but little of the cases. All I learned was that he was talking about a constitutional amendment concerning discrimination. He asked a lot of questions, but he didn’t push students around. If one looked like struggling, he would give additional hints. The students seemed relaxed and happy. If most law classes are like that, I think I can handle.

Penn Law Class Visit-- Day Two

It was 8:00am when I got to Penn. Read a couple of pages of last week’s Time in WW’s office and then decided to take some pictures of the campus. I walked around like a tourist, with the camera in my hand, thinking that taking pictures was probably not a good sign—it was like I were a tourist and wouldn’t come back.

I still had one and half hour before the class began. So I thought that the library should be the best place to kill time. I asked for the direction to the library and found myself standing right before it. The library is one of the few large buildings which are of modern style. The lady at the entrance checked in my ID under a camera.

You can tell the library is huge simply by its big check-in/out service center. I took a computer and began to read New York Time on the website. One of the interesting articles is about how Chinese Catholics are mourning on Pope’s death (most of them are sincere) and the Patriotic church’s hypocrisy. Another one says China led the world in death penalty execution, counting almost two-thirds of the death roll in 2004. It scared me because I never thought incorrigibly bad guys should not be executed while I was in China. It happened that later in today’s criminal class I found that my definition of “bad” probably should be modified as well.

When it was time for me to get out, I went through the door with electronic monitors. But I was called back by a lady, who told me to show her my bag. Everyone out of here has to do that. It is definitely not like the small southern school library where I went in and out freely.

**
This morning was criminal law again. I was asked to sit in the front row before the class started. My first sight of the professor explained why his class was singled out for observation. He wore a well ironed shirt with a dark-red tie, lean and tall. His grey hair didn’t diminish his sharpness in his eyes behind the glasses.

He did not use a speaker as the teacher did yesterday. He moved around the // while lecturing, seldom referring to his notebook. I was too close to him, so I had to sit back and raise my head to look at his face, otherwise, my eyes would have to follow his moving feet to concentrate. In the first half hour, I was as confused as yesterday. Then I gradually caught up with his topic. It was about legal insanity in criminal defense. He made up one after another hypothetical cases to explain the practicability of various types of defense.

How do you tell whether a person is capable of making rational judgment? It is a philosophical issue, and most philosophers disagree with most legal theorists.

Can menstruation syndrome become a legal insanity defense? Well, it is a psychological issue, and it is still under study.

Is temporary insanity defense practical? Yes and No.

Is Rotten Social Background a credited defense? My personal view is no.

Whenever he slowed down, the typing noise rose across the room.

The whole one and half hour was lecture only. At the end, he explained to us four visitors that he didn’t raise questions because it was near the end of the semester and he was catching up with the syllabus.

The girl sitting a few seats away from me kept looking at me during the lesson. I had no idea about the reason since there were a whole lot of Asian students in the classroom.

I got out of the law school immediately after the class to catch my train. After I sat down on the front seat of the car, I noticed there was a poster of the Villanova University School of Law on the wall, saying “We love Taxes”. This looked like another bad sign.

**
Do you think I believe in good/bad signs. Hell no!

Penn Law Class Visit--Day One

I have scheduled the class visit with the admission office before I came to Philly. So this morning I just got up early, making sure I would be there early enough to take a tour around the university and locate the law school.

Auntie and uncle were working at a nearby hospital, so I took a ride with them and got there at 7:30. The campus was still quiet when I arrived. So I let Auntie show me around her hospital, which had become busy in the early moring. At 8:00, I got out of the hospital building, which was on the Chestnut Street. Across the street were some major buildings of the university, including the library. I was on the campus before, going dancing in a Chinese students' party, but I never took a close look at it. Today, as I looked harder at those buildings, each of them was a magnificent piece of art, displaying the school’s history and prestige. Looking at them, I felt sorry for my UG school. I was told that many of the old structures built early last century had been pulled down. The campus was crowded with students, and need for higher buildings and limited new space killed those old buildings.

The Penn campus was nice as a whole. There were restaurants, bars, clothes stores and coffee shops on each of the 3 or 4 streets the school covered. I once spent half day in its major bookstore, which was a great book-shopping place. I also had a dinner with friends in a Sushi bar on the campus, which was nice but expensive.

One block away from the Chestnut Street is the Samson Street, where the entrance to the law school was on. I got there at around 8:30. I saw few people in or out. So I took a walk along the street. Right opposite to the law school entrance, there were some small stores and coffee houses, with a few tables placed by the street. Two men were sitting there having coffee.

Finally I decided to get into the law school and wanted to take a look at the Biddle Law Library. A black lady sat behind the counter at the entrance. Penn law students showed her their ID when they entered. As I stood before the counter, she was talking over the phone. She gave me a “you can go in there” gesture. But I thought I’d better wait for her to finish the call and register my name. She soon hung up her phone. I told her I was not a Penn law student and I showed her my ID. As she saw my SSS driver license. She asked me where I was in SSS. I told her it was HunCity. “Oh, I went to college there at SSS A&M (which was in HunCity).” She said.
“It is a nice place.” I said.
“Well, I don’t know. I was there back in the 60s.”
Then I realized that Huncity could not be as nice as it is. It is in the Southernest-sourthern-state first of all.
Such a coincidence made me feel sort of easier before I went inside of the building.

The lady told me that visitors could not go in the library until 9:00, so I decided to do it later and look around the law school instead.
The law school complex was a quad with a medium-sized yard in the middle, as many law schools are like. Corridor on each floor wass facing the yard. On the first floor, there were bulletin boards and posters on the both sides of the corridor. One of the bulletins was devoted to public interest stuff. On the table before the admission office lied dozens of law firm pamphlets, soliciting summer interns. In an conspicuous position hang a board with the names of alumni and the amount of money they donated.

I sat down in the lounge near the admission office, watching people going in and out of the buildings, and took a note of my impressions:
1. There were around 8 computers in the lounge. However, I couldn’t read Chinese. No Chinese decoding program available;
2. I saw a few black students and Asians. The latter seemed to be more than the former;
3. People were not moving hysterically fast, not slow either of course. Most of them were carrying big backpacks;
4. The bulletin board: there were pro bono stuff; pro-life stuff and discussion on law and religion; two China-related posters: a Wharton business school forum on China and its economy. Another one was a forum called “the Closet for Strangers”, to discuss the Philippine immigrant labors in Hong Kong, sponsored by the Asian-Pacific Law Association;
5. I saw two offices for law journals. One was for Penn Law Review. Another one was for International Economic Law Journal;
6. I spotted two smokers, one or two nerd-like guys, and one or two good-looking persons;
7. In another lounge stood a donation box with “towels…it is safe” on it.
8. The facility in the building was old. It said there was going to be a renovation this summer.

15 minutes before the class, I went to the admission office. A lady greeted me from across the big office as I knocked at the door. I told her my name and she let me wait for her to take me to the classroom. A newly admitted student was waiting for class observation as well. Later, a girl joined us.

After we got to the classroom, we found the class cancelled. Then the lady led us to another classroom. The class had started minutes ago. So we slipped in and sat in the last row of the room. It was a criminal law class. The teacher was sitting on the table with his course book on one side and students’ name list on the other. It appeared to me that the name list actually had each student’s picture. But I was not sure since I sat far back. For the total 1 and half hour, I was in a total loss. I could hardly hear both the teacher and the students.
The classroom atmosphere was relaxed. The teacher did not do much Socratic questioning. Though he did call up a lot of students to answer his questions, each of them seemed to be relaxed. The teacher marked the names he called. And quite a lot of students raised their hands to ask questions. The professor called the name of one student without looking at his chart.

I guessed it was a 1L class. But people did not look nervous. One girl sitting in front of me was playing cards with her computer. One boy was with a messenger on while he was taking note. A girl near me came back from the restroom with her sweater half down her left shoulder, attracting a few people’s eyes.
After the class was called, a couple of students went to talk to the professor. I didn’t find a person around me to talk to, so I left the classroom. Outside the classroom, I saw a few Asians talking to white students in front of the lockers.

After getting out of the school, I was relieved. The Ivy League law school has certainly become less mysterious and forbidding to me before I went in. I hope this would reduce my anxiety in the application process as well.

Is it really that bad?

Just called a person who I thought to be an enrolled LL.M. in Penn. It turned out that he deferred his study to this fall. We talked about the job prospect for law with us foreigners. He sort of believed that there was no place for LL.Ms, and JDs were better but not better off.
Is it really that bad? I choose not to believe so.

Why you need a man in the house

It has been raining hard all day. At 5:00pm, uncle had not come back. Usually he is back home at 4:30. Auntie moved around the house like a nervous rabbit.
“He might have an accident. The radio says there are a lot of accidents this afternoon.”
“No. If he had one, he would have called you. Or the police would have called.” I tried to make her less worried.
“He might be unable to get out of the parking lot. The puddle at the entrance of lot might be filled with water and his car could not pass.”
“Oh, I should let him take the cell phone with him. “
“He should have come back half an hour ago.”
"Damn, why are the radios all about the Pope? They should do some reports on the traffic situation."
…
Poor creature. I didn’t think I could say anything really comforting to her.

Ten minutes later, uncle’s car pulled over the drive way.
“Dear, you scared me. Where have you been?” Auntie ran to the door and opened it for him.
“I stopped by the Pathmark and got some Yogurt for you. Didn’t you say you want it this morning?” uncle handed over the food bag, with happy smile on his face.
“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t scare me like this again.” 50-years-old auntie suddenly talked like a little girl.

Then she said to me, “Do you understand why a house needs a man? Without a man in the house, what would I do if the electricity suddenly breaks down? What if the rain water floods the yard? See? This is why you need the man of the house.”

the April Fool's Day, no Fooling Around

36 hours ago. After a good-bye hug with Icecube, I went to the departure gate and waited for check-in. I saw an Asian monk sitting a few seat away. In such a small city like HunCity, you won’t have much chance to see a man in the hood. He looked like an interesting person. I thought if I could sit near him, we might be able to do some interesting talking during the trip.

After I got on the plance, I surprisingly found that the monk sat right beside me. I said hello to him. Soon after I sat down, he struck up the conversation.

He turned out to be a very outgoing person. He spoke far more than I did throughout the two-hour trip. He told me that he came from Vietnam and he once stayed in Taiwan for two years. Then he said, “My Chinese is actually better than my English”. Then we switched to Chinese. And he surprised me again since he spoke quite good Chinese. I noticed earlier that he brought with him a book with some kind of alphabetic language in its cover. He told me that it was Indian and he learned it while he was traveling around in India. He had been in the States for one year, and did volunteer work for some monasteries in Connecticut and the south. He was applying for the green card, “The U.S. is a country that opens people’s mind.”

We also talked about each other’s country. He said it was sad that his country followed after China in everything. “When Chinese army changed their attire, the Vietnam followed suit.” He said. We laughed off the fact that China’s best products came to the U.S., the worse remained in China and the worst went to Vietnam and some other Asian countries. Then we agreed that everything was changing for better.

Then he said I should go to visit him when I come back to HunCity. He wrote down his name and address in my phonebook. He wrote his name in Chinese characters, which surprised me again. It was more than beautiful. He said he started reading Chinese since he went to monastery as a small child. He liked calligraphy as well. I thought only people with peaceful mind could keep interest in practicing calligraphy. I once had practiced for 3 or 4 years in elementary school and then gave up once and for all. I asked him if he had an e-mail. Then he immediately wrote it down for me. I felt that I insulted him by asking if he used e-mail.

I got a little bit sick as the flight was landing, while the monk still kept talking to me.

After we got off the airplane, we went together to transit. I noticed that people passing by staring at him. Or us?

***
24 hours ago, JJ picked me up from the airport. I haven’t seen her for almost 8 months. She underwent a lot recently, but still looked as great as she was. She was the happy-go-lucky type of person.

Uncle and auntie were cooking a big dinner as we got to their house. They seemed to be happy, probably because they hadn’t have dinner with other people for a while. Later I found out that auntie was in particularly high spirited because this day last year, their son got a call from Yale that he was accepted.

Uncle started to give me lectures soon after I sat down. “You and wbb both should make some money. I never see any Chinese students who don’t work at their free time. Go fishing every Saturday? Who do you think you are? You should be washing plates in a restaurant…” As usual, I listened to him with smile, holding myself from expressing any disagreement.

Cynical auntie was cynical as always. “Could you just stop lecturing? She just came”. She raised her voice to uncle across the kitchen.

But once we started eating, her turn came. “Want to go to law school? Do you know how Yale students study? My son works until 1 or 2 in the morning almost every night…Yale students do the LSAT like eating a piece of cake. Where can you get?...”

They are both nice people who are eager to sell the lessons they learned in the past 30 years.
**