flag day, post office, and drizzle

It was the longest five-mile round-trip drive I have ever done. One-and-a-half hours. Clearly unexpected, but interesting nonetheless.

The day started just like any quiet, lazy, Saturday morning: I woke up late, let the dog out, made coffee, two fried eggs, toast, zapped a strip of bacon in the microwave, and sliced up an orange. It was cool and cloudy, with a bit of moisture hanging in the air as if water couldn't make up its mind whether to stay afloat or fall to the ground.

There was only one time-sensitive thing I needed to do: mail something that needed to be postmarked by May 30. Easy enough.

After breakfast I drove to our small downtown to the main post office. The red and blue flashing lights at the first intersection was the first sign I got that I wasn't getting to the post office as planned. So I turned and took a secondary road. Downtown was blocked all the way down.

I finally got to the block where the post office is located, but somehow I missed the turn. I wasn't used to coming to it from this direction. I forgot it was on Allison Street. By this time I had seen enough along the way to know that something big -- in a small-town kind of way -- was going on: people in grass skirts dancing to drumbeat, pretty young ladies in pretty gowns sitting on floats and waving at the crowd while their hair was starting to get limp in the wet air, proud drivers in antique cars blowing their old-fashioned wrrooot-wrooot! horns.

Flag Day parade, I found out later.

So I got to the Post Office. It was closed. I had no stamps on me. So, through a couple of detour signs and construction cones, and through throngs of people dressed in all kinds of festive outfits crossing the streets in the drizzle, I went to a supermarket with an ATM that sold Forever Stamps.

Back through the cones and construction zones, and all kinds of happy parents with children in strollers, and white kids in island costumes, and Hispanic kids in Scottish outfits with horns and bagpipes, I finally made it to the Outgoing Mail slot inside the closed Post Office. The lights were on so I concluded they should still be processing the mail and were just not offering counter service today. I should say I hoped they were still processing mail. I needed that May 30 postmark.

Having accomplished my only critical task today, I drove back home and saw some disgruntled old ladies whose Saturday walk to the antique shops were disrupted by the parade-watchers, an agitated truck driver who needed to deliver his fresh produce to a market that was in the middle of the blocked area, and a lot of young parents carrying kids, fold-up chairs, ice boxes, and umbrellas that they probably ended up needing today more for the drizzle than for the sun.

At one point on Lemon Avenue, I had a straight-shot view of our hill partly hidden by the mist and low clouds, framed by pine and palm trees on either side of the road which was empty except for parked cars and a chubby kid skateboarding on the sidewalk.

It was a beautiful scene. I could almost believe I live in a small town.

It took me ninety minutes to get to this point, three or so miles from my house. But just for that brief moment looking at our hill, it was all worth it.

defenders of traditional marriage

proposition 8 is upheld

And so it came to pass. One of the most awaited California Supreme Court decisions was finally announced at 10:00 o'clock this morning: Proposition 8 was upheld 6:1 while keeping the 18,000 same-sex marriages legal. (Press release here. Complete decision text here.)

As I understand it, the basis for the decision is that same-sex couples enjoy all the rights and equal protection of the law with regard to privacy rights and due process, except for using the term marriage to describe their relationship.

As I understand it, they are telling us that marriage is just a word, so we should get over it and leave the proposition alone -- that it is so minor that it shouldn't be seen as revision of the constitution. I do not see any explanation from the court of how nomenclature or terminology is a minor issue, despite the fact that this seems to be the basis of their decision.

Kudos to Justice Carlos Moreno for his dissent, for stating that equal protection means just that: protection in all aspects of the law. " [...] Proposition 8 represents an unprecedented instance of a majority of voters altering the meaning of the equal protection clause by modifying the California Constitution to require deprivation of a fundamental right on the basis of a suspect classification. The majority’s holding is not just a defeat for same-sex couples, but for any minority group that seeks the protection of the equal protection clause of the California Constitution."

As I understand it, equal protection clause in the constitution is meant to protect the minority from the whims of the majority. As Justice Moreno put it, the equal protection clause is, "by its nature, inherently countermajoritarian. As a logical matter, it cannot depend on the will of the majority for its enforcement, for it is the will of the majority against which the equal protection clause is designed to protect."

It makes complete logical sense to me.

Now, should I be concerned that one day the majority will vote that I, as a naturalized American citizen, can call myself a "citizen'" but not an "American"? Based on today's decision, maybe I should be.

American is just a word, isn't it?

the ones before us

Every time Memorial Day comes I think of my days in the military: all the men and women with whom I worked, some of whom became good friends, many of whom I will probably never see again. As far as I know, I had been fortunate enough to have not lost anyone I knew in battle.

I believe everyone should get a chance to live out their lives until their joints give out, a chance to tell the next generation how difficult life was “back in the day”, a chance to gripe about the young ones' music or clothing.

Of course, all this is wishful thinking. We all die at one point or another, some earlier than others, whether or not they are in the military.

But it seems to me there is something obscene about the fact that we are sending out our young to fight and die for the rest of us. I realize that it is not just our country, and it is not just now. Civilizations have always sent their youths out to fight their wars. Is it because youth is worth less? Is it because older people know better than to go and fight for values and ideas, possibly dying for them? Is it because the young have less to leave behind?

I realize there is no answer to this question. It is what it is, and it's been this way for millennia. All we can do is remember and honor those who have gone before us, those we have sent to fight and die for the rest of us.

star trek

I finally saw Star Trek last night. I saw why Trekkies loved it. I saw why non-Trekkies liked it.

The movie updated the backstory of the series without changing the essence of it. It adequately explained these changes, too, within the structure of the storyline.

Am I a Trekkie? I don't know. I don't dress up in Starfleet uniform. Yet.

haiku for katsura

When Katsura, a good friend of mine from design school, left for Japan, I wrote a haiku on a piece of paper which I subsequently misplaced and forgot.

I found it again the other day as I was cleaning out some folders in the office.

A walk in the woods
A sudden fork on the trail
We say our farewell

kris allen and adam lambert

My friends Henry and Randy invited me over for dinner last night but I declined since I still get tired too easily in the evenings after being down with the flu for a week.

Henry said, "I know you want to watch American Idol, that's why you want to be home tonight."

Well, not really, although I had set the DVR to record the two-hour show just so I can quickly skim through the highlights later. I wasn't planning to watch it "live," which it wasnt, really.

I saw the Tuesday night show, and for some reason wasn't thoroughly impressed by the two finalists. I think it was more because I hadn't been as invested in the show as before, than a reflection of their talent.

About a week ago, I read a "prediction" in the paper -- it might have been the LA Times -- which guessed that Kris Allen will win, and Adam Lambert will have commercial success. I thought that made so much sense and would be the most fair scenario.

The New York Times this morning posed the question of whether or not Kris' victory was a reflection of how the American society is today: it would choose a down-home nice-boy Christian singer over a glam in-your-face androgynous individualist. I think this is over-analysis. Both guys are charming and extremely talented. More voters simply preferred Kris' style.

I saw Adam Lambert as Fiero in Wicked in Los Angeles, and when I saw him in Idol auditions I knew he was going to go far. I just wasn't sure how far the Idol fans were willing to go with him, especially after his boy-boy kissing pictures were leaked on the internet.

And he stayed on until the end, rhinestones, eyeliner, and all. America didn't care.

Now that is good.

lost in translation

Have you ever tried making sense of an owner's manual for anything that was made in a foreign country like China? You ask, who do they hire to do these translations?!

I think the answer is: nobody. It seems as if many companies choose the easy (and cheap) way out using online language translation applications. Babelfish, for example. Proof is below: I tried translating a simple Mother Goose to traditional Chinese, then translating the translation back to English a couple of times. What I came up with sounds very similar to the user's manual I got with my last rice cooker.

Original text:

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many children, she did not know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread, then whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.

有在鞋子居住的一個老妇人。 她有許多孩子，她不知道怎样做。 她給了他們合理地被鞭打一些的湯，不用任何麵包，然后他們全部和送他們到床。

First-generation translation:

Has in a shoe housing old woman. She has many children, she did not know how to do. She gave them to whip reasonably some soup, did not use any bread, then they completely and delivered them to the bed.

有在安置老妇人的鞋子。 她有許多孩子，她不會做。 她給他們鞭打合理地一些湯，沒完全地使用了任何麵包，然后他們和交付他們到床。

Second-generation translation:

Has is placing old woman's shoe. She has many children, she will not do. She whips reasonably some soup to them, has not used any bread completely, then they and pay them to the bed.

Take-home lesson: It's all cool and nifty, boys and girls, but the technology isn't really there yet. If you want to impress somebody from another country, do it in proper English and let them worry about the translation.

feeling betterer

The doorbell woke me up this morning. It was my neighbor Norm, who was just coming back in from a run and saw that one of my sprinkler heads is broken and spewing water down the driveway like a park fountain.

I walked out in my pajamas and bathrobe, turned off the watering system, and walked over to look at the damage. Nothing major, just a broken tip.

After a brief chat with Norm, I walked back to the house and saw what a beautiful Friday morning it was. I decided I should take a shower and start getting over this cold that has bogged me down for the last week.

I plan to sit outside today and just enjoy this chance to rest. My dog Eli seems to agree. He was on the patio sofa waiting for me even before I opened the door.

Original post at www.ramenhouse.net

sick time

I have been sick for five days now and I reek of Nyquil and chicken soup. What started on Wednesday night as a small itch in my throat which I blamed on high pollen count had developed into a full-blown chills by Friday night: fever and serious body ache.

My temperature stayed high and I started coughing over the next two nights, so I decided to go to the doctor on Sunday morning to make sure that I only have a cold and not, as my friend Kazunobu referred to it, "the famous flu".

When the nurse checked my temperature at the urgent care check-in, it was normal. Of course. It always happens: when you finally get yourself to the clinic (or the car repair shop), the problem disappears. But I guess they believed me since I was still coughing, didn't have any voice at all, and looked like hell.

Since then I have been drifting in and out of sleep into Comedy Central, TBS, and NBC. I have never seen so many Friends, Sex and the City, Tooltime, and Seinfeld episodes in one, um, sitting. I finally found a purpose for TV in my life.

I shouldn't say that I am enjoying my sick time, but in a strange way, I am. There is something to be said about waking up and not thinking about what needs to be done for the impending day.

five years

Ramenhouse is five years old, seen good times and bad, and will keep on going forward.

beautiful

Marilyn is flying back east tomorrow so we went across the bay for a nice dinner -- an advance celebration of Mother's Day and her birthday.


As the sun dipped below the horizon, I looked out the window and saw the San Diego skyline reflecting the salmon pink light onto the cloudless purple sky. Simply beautiful.

Now why would anyone want to live anywhere else?