Payasadas

Coincidence?

During my last week of vacation, I made it a point to check out some of LA’s museums. On Thursday, I went to the Murakami exhibit at the Geffen Contemporary at MOCA. Entrance to MOCA is free on Thursdays after 5 pm. As a result, there were a lot of people in the museum. I know little about Japanese anime, contemporary art, or Murakami so I tagged along with one of the cute guides (by the way, he was Latino, but he didn’t have a goatee).

The next day, I attend First Fridays at the Natural History Museum. Sea Wolf was headlining the event. My friend and I arrived a little too late for the lecture on mammals and brains (or something like that). We opted to wander around the museum, check out the exhibits and learn something. We figured we could do the nerdy thing on campus by just sitting in on a biology lecture or something.

I must have had Murakami on my mind, because an ancient Peruvian figurine reminded me of Kaikai and Kiki, two Murakami characters.

When I showed the photo at work, one my co-workers said the Peruvian figurine was more Stitch than Murakami. What do you think?

Mememe

On types

A few months ago a friend pointed out something that I had yet to notice.

I have a type.

Yes, type as in a set of characteristics I’m commonly attracted to in men.

He started listing the characteristics. Physically, they were all a little below average height (but still taller than me), had darker skin and had goatees. He didn’t even bring up the non-physical attributes, but if he had, they would’ve provided additional evidence for his thesis.

I tried to argue.

I don’t think I have a type. I just like Chicanos, and lots of them are not that tall, morenos and have goatees.

Oh well.

Preguntas

Question of the week: So this is the new year…

I don’t set resolutions. I don’t even set definite goals (at least not that I share here). So this isn’t going to be about resolutions.

This questions comes thanks to a friend from Austin. I felt like he was interviewing my over dim sum, which was kinda cool. When he asked me the question, it was easy to answer the first part of the question since I did a lot of new things in 2007. The experience that stuck out most was scuba diving Cozumel. It was more difficult than I expected. I freaked out at the weirdness of being able to breathe underwater, and I love being underwater. Luckily, I had a really great (and patient!) instructor who made the whole process smoother. Still, I regret being too nervous about breathing normally, checking my pressure gauge and making sure to periodically pop my ears and get water out of my mask to really enjoy the experience. I definitely want to go diving again, especially after checking out Jeff’s photos from diving in Jamaica.

When my friend asked the question, it was difficult to come up with something new other than saying I planned to visit Austin in 2008. I’ve got a better vision of 2008 now that the new year has started. I’ve been inspired by my friends (hi, Awkward Turtle) and I’m going to propose. Yup, I’m going to write my dissertation proposal and get one step closer to being Dr. Cindylu. I guess you can call that a goal.

La Pregunta: What’s something you did in 2007 that you had never done before? What’s something new you want to do in 2008?

Photo above: Adrian, Cain (neighbor back in HH, brother’s best friend), Danny, and Luis (our instructor)

Fotos

Mil palabras: Rosas y muertos

I haven’t spent New Year’s Eve in Southern California in about five years. As a result, I haven’t watched a telecast of the Rose Parade on New Year’s Day in a long time. But 2008 started off different. For one, I didn’t go anywhere. I usually try to get outside of Southern California. Since I stayed in Hacienda Heights, I was able to watch live telecasts of the Rose Parade the next morning. I squeezed into bed with my parents and the dog and watched marching bands, equestrian groups and elaborately decorated floats. I felt like a kid again and was reminded of the time I marched in the parade in 1999.

After a late lunch/early dinner, my mom, dad and I drove out to Pasadena to view the floats. It was crazy. I generally hate big crowds, but it was hard to get annoyed when I kept seeing so many cool floats (and they smelled good too).

My favorite was the City of Santa Fe Springs’ float celebrating Día de los Muertos. I haven’t uploaded all the pictures yet, but you can check out the set here

Uncategorized

Adventure on the River Kern, part I

“Cindy!” my mom exclaimed as she looked up from cleaning the campsite. She was obviously happy and a bit surprised to see me.

“Your dad has been asking for you. He says he ‘wants his Cindy’.”

Dad gave me a look. He looked tired and a little darker after swimming in the river for most of the day.

“You guys shouldn’t have gone down the river… You don’t know how worried we’ve been.”

As he continued, Danny walked up, still wearing his life jacket and holding a bright yellow inner tube.

He went on with his fatherly duty and did his best to knock some sense into his two eldest children.

“I’ve been here all day and every time I saw someone rafting or kayaking down the river, they were all wearing helmets and life jackets. Those guys are experienced, they know what they’re doing! You guys went down without life jackets, helmets, or even a clue about what you were doing. You’re very lucky you were all able to walk back in one piece.

“You don’t know how helpless I’ve felt sitting here. I had no idea whether you guys, your cousins or Heather and Lindsay were safe.”

My mom continued cleaning up. Danny and I stood silently listening to our father, something quite rare. Dad was right and we were reckless. We’d just added a half dozen more canas to his salt and pepper hair.

Dad spoke from more than just the worried father’s point of view. He also spoke from experience. When I was 8 years old, we made one of many Labor Day weekend trips out to Kern River. I remember rafting down with him, my mom, and two cousins. We all had life jackets, except for my dad who had a false sense of courage partly due to several beers.

We pulled our yellow and blue raft up the river toward a fork. The western fork was much more rough, but we tackled it anyway. We had some trouble. We got lodged between two rocks, my dad got out and tried to dislodge us, but at that moment was pushed by the current and slammed against a boulder. The alcohol numbed the pain that day, but he was out of commission for a week thereafter and could not move. His ribs were been bruised.

“It could have been worse,” dad finished after recounting the story.

I knew he was right. There was a reason the river was called Killer Kern, but I didn’t regret the decision I made earlier that afternoon when Rene asked, “we’re going to raft down the river in a little bit, do you want to come?”

Note: originally posted at my blog…