lines of flight

Mano & Jeela ~ Dec. 27, 2009 ~ Makawao, Maui

Dreams do come true. Facing 2010 full of hope for the future.

Happy once in a blue moon New Year’s Eve!

Hmm… so I see another month is about to slip by without me clocking in on this blog. Can’t have that. Without any ado, here are a few things I been up to:

• Handed in my MA project to the committee that will decide if I am good to grad—or not! *cross fingers*
• Accepted my first freelance assignment in a year-and-a-half. Now that the bulk of the MA work is done, I can do this again!
• Published a story on Second Life, with web extra.
• Got a killer URL and am building a site which I hope to monetize. Will it (soft) launch next week? No promises…
• BONUS: July 2009 Atelier Hawai’i web extra production about a summer painting course. Helped conceptualize the video, conduct and edit the interviews (content) and write the script. This came together well.

In Alaska I’ve met women like Sarah Palin.

Okay maybe not as high-powered, but women who shoot, who hunt, who drive four-wheelers, snowmachines (aka snowmobiles) and trucks–who drive very well, period–chop wood if they need to, grow things, raise animals and run a household. These are women you want on your side in a pinch, who hold their own among men and can look cute while they’re doing it! I like and respect these women. I know I’ll always be a helplessly liberal urbanite in comparison, but we can actually get along. Especially if there is alcohol involved. heh.

So I wasn’t mad at Sarah Palin. I don’t want her to run things, not one bit (((understatement))). But I felt like we were cool with each other somehow. That is, until she crossed the line and said this to Katie Couric:

I’m not one of those who maybe came from a background of, you know, kids who perhaps graduate college and their parents give them a passport and give them a backpack and say go off and travel the world. No, I’ve worked all my life. In fact, I usually had two jobs all my life until I had kids. I was not a part of, I guess, that culture.

Hey Sarah Palin, guess what? I’ve almost always had a job, or two, or three, since I was 15 years old! We have something in common? Except my parents encourage my study abroad and I scrimp and save so I can travel more in the future. To be able to travel is a blessing, yes, but it’s also a choice almost every healthy, unincarcerated American can make.

Just like how Palin chose to spend her first semester of college at University of Hawaiʻi at Hilo, supposedly cliqued up with some other girls who’d transferred with her. After their first semester, they all transferred to Hawaiʻi Pacific University in Honolulu, before she bounced to Idaho or wherever.

I dont know why she didnt like it here. Maybe she missed winter, or didnt like being a racial minority, or living in a very urban environment (or a small town local one like in Hilo). But just coming here to me showed an inquisitive, if not adventurous, streak. Again, respect. So why you gotta be so scornful, Sarah Palin!??

Amazingly she goes on to say,

It seemed like a practical move when I quit drinking coffee; it wasn’t for health reasons that I did it. I had no idea I was so strung out. If I had known from the beginning how caffeine withdrawal feels, I probably wouldn’t have made the switch. Come to find out Caffeine Withdrawal Is Real.

My cracked French press carafe had finally broken, buying coffee every day was costing over $40/month and I had like 3 lbs of this yerba mate stuff that someone had given me, just sitting in the cupboard. I figured it’d be like drinking coffee, which it wasnt.

First I subbed yerba mate in for coffee on the weekends, when walking to the corner cafe for a drink to enjoy at home began to seem ridiculous. After a couple weeks I took some into work and started drinking it there during the week, fully switched off coffee.

The tiredness I felt at first was expected, but I didn’t get any headaches or think that I would. Around day 3 I started developing flu-like symptoms. It could have been a very mild flu, but the sore throat and mucus never got overwhelming and I was working, working out, eating healthy, all better than normal.

At the start of week two, I experienced body aches so severe that they woke me out of my sleep. Pain bowled up and down my body between my knee and my waist, mostly on the left side and in my hips. I’d experienced something similar while fasting, which not incidentally, was the last time I’d ever abstained from coffee for more than a day or two. That passed in about 3 days.

Now I’m on week three with no coffee and am feeling much better, more alert, no aches & pains, other symptoms fully gone. I still take caffeine; some of the yerba mate I have is a blend that includes green tea, and I’ve had other teas and soda. It’s not like I’ll never have a good cup of coffee again, but now that I know how fully addicted I was, I’ll try to take it easy.

And even tho I make yerba mate wrong (through a tea strainer into a coffee cup), I look forward to learning more about it and tea in general. (I’ll just go ahead and ignore this story from Finland about coffee lowering the risk of liver cancer.)

The Honolulu Academy of Arts was buzzing on Sunday afternoon, when I finally made it to see The Dragon’s Gift: The Sacred Arts of Bhutan, which had been there since February but held over til this weekend.

I was lucky enough to catch part of a guided tour of the exhibit, which allowed me more insight than I would have on my own. A lot of the pieces were intricately embroidered and appliqued thangka with symbol-ladden scenes from the life of important Buddhist teachers and deities.

There were also centuries old metal-cast sculptures and some ancient Buddhist ritual items including a phurba and a vajra, pictured, which I recognized because M left them here, his spiritual practice no longer a priority. This NY Times article explains how this one-of-a-kind collection was put together, the slideshow is good, too.

The exhibition was presided over by a small group of Bhutanese monks, who also lead prayers in another area of the museum called the Altar Room. The smell of incense and drone of chanting was enveloping even outside the doors, where shoes were piled. Beatific people were seated on cushions around the room in various meditation positions, throwing rice and plumeria blossoms up and into the center of the room either at certain times in the chant, or maybe just following along when the monks did it, which is what I was doing. Aping such earnest ritual made me uncomfortable.

Hawaii photographer Rowen Tabusa took these photographs on a recent trip to Japan. I know very little about photography, but I like the textures here a lot, and also the colors, or lack thereof.

According to this urban legend/recipe, if you can boil water, you can make an omelet. All you need is a couple eggs, the chopped-up ingredients you want in your omelet, and a quart size Ziploc baggie (same size they want to see your toiletries in when you fly).

The recipe has apparently been circulating on the interweb for some time:

Crack 2 eggs (large or extra-large) into the quart size Ziploc bag (not more than 2) and shake to combine them. Put in a variety of ingredients such as: cheeses, ham, onion, green pepper, tomato, hash browns, salsa, etc.

Make sure to get the air out of the bag and zip it up. Place the bag(s) into rolling, boiling water for exactly 13 minutes. You can usually cook 6-8 omelets in a large pot.

Open the bags and the omelet will roll out easily.

Because I’ve never successfully made an omelet–it turns into scrambled eggs every.single.time–I knew I had to try this. “But is it safe?” was my nagging, second thought. After googling around, I’m pretty sure the short answer is no, not really. That’s why you don’t do it every day. Just like you don’t microwave your leftovers in Tupperware and don’t drink from plastic water bottles every day…. right?

So anyway, I didn’t take pictures of the process, but I tried this with olives, tomatoes and mushrooms inside and came out with the fluffiest, most cohesive omelet I have ever made! tah-dah!

Only one minor mishap: the bottom of the baggie split open at the end of the cooking time, and the eggs got a little soggy. Maybe cuz I used generic Ziplocs? Some sites recommend the freezer baggies, but I don’t buy those in that size so, whatever. My toxic omelet had a deformed lump on the side because I cooked it with part of the baggie under the lid of the pot in an effort to keep it from touching the bottom. Next time I guess I’ll just put a metal strainer down.

Oh and that purple poo on the side? Potatoes. When I bought em I thought they just had purple skin but they were purple all the way through. Not sweet tho. Fried em up with some onions and rosemary, yes yes.

Added to list of things to do in Japan: visit a cat cafe… c’mon! this is adorable! It’d be like if they served coffee at the cat house at the Humane Society, only more comfortable.

Love the intro to the story in the Christian Science Monitor*:

Just around the corner from the pulsing blare and brightness of the Akihabara electronics and anime district, cafe Neko JaLaLa is an oasis of calm. Past the brass, paw-handled door to the inner sanctum, denizens loll on the thick carpet, drape over couches, and almost purr with pleasure in the quiet atmosphere.

And that’s just the humans.

The article goes on to explain that playing with cats, or even just watching them, is a great stress reliever. Apparently the cafes are kept quite clean, too, so it sounds great.

Here’s a little clip from one of the cat cafes

* Don’t hold their name against them like I did for a long time, this is an excellent publication.

A special issue The Nation is dedicated to the illegal overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy and ongoing resistance to U.S. control. Elinor Langer’s article “Famous Are the Flowers: Hawaiian Resistance Then–And Now” is, according to the editors “a probing exploration of the annexation of Hawai’i by the United States and of the issues of sovereignty and indigenous rights that persist in the wake of that seizure–accomplished not by treaty but by threat of force and unilateral act of Congress.”

Every article is not accessible without a subscription, but the main story is, as are some editorials and historic pieces of note linked from the Hawaiian Independence Blog. I thought the main feature was an informative read, tho I kind of kept expecting to hear about the armed resistance that took place at the time of the overthrow, because I wanted to know more. I remember something about rebels hiding out in Palolo Valley?! The armed resistance was apparently short-lived, but obviously worthy of consideration alongside the weighty petitions of protest.

Doug at Shaka Zine thought there might be some larger problems with the reporting, errors larger than the couple typos I noticed. Will be interesting to see the scholars and activists respond to this. Also the comments look like they might get good…

BTW Shaka Zine is by old school zine-ster, performance artist, poet and _________ Doug Upp–the man has many talents. (I’m so glad you’re blogging!! everybody needs more Doug Upp in their lives. Big fan. *smooches*)

There are about 282,000 ways to make fried rice and there doesn’t seem to be much consensus on the steps or the ingredients. The more I look around, the more I am convinced that an “anything goes” approach to the dish is just fine.

So last night, pressed for time again and my stomach rumbling, I threw together some shrimp fried rice using what I had on hand. It came out okay, but it was bland. I solved that problem with some hot sauce, but I would rather have the shrimp be more savory.

Next time I’ll do a quick marinade of the shrimp in some kind of garlic/ginger/shoyu sauce and include red pepper or hot sauce while cooking. I’d love to hear how other people make it… holla at me in the comments if you have suggestions?

I did use Jasmine brown rice instead of traditional white rice (no, please, keep reading!). And I really messed up because I added the egg to the same pan as the rice (doh!), which coated the rice and looked bleh. Next time I’ll scramble it on its own, set aside, and mix it in at the end. Finally, I didn’t have any green onion, and it was seriously missed.

A few weeks ago Sebastian Horsley was headed to the U.S. to begin a media tour for his recently published memoir Dandy in the Underworld, in which he “chronicles his life as an artist, a junkie and a self-professed dandy. . . . painting himself as a misogynist, a sexual deviant and a narcissist.” [Publisher's Weekly] He was questioned by U.S. officials for eight hours at Liberty International Airport in Newark, New Jersey before being sent back to England.

Lucille Cirillo, a spokeswoman for the New York office of United States Customs and Border Protection. . . in an e-mail message, said that under a waiver program that allows British citizens to enter the United States without a visa, “travelers who have been convicted of a crime involving moral turpitude (which includes controlled-substance violations) or admit to previously having a drug addiction are not admissible.” [NY Times]

The “utterly appalling” nature of this denial is noted by the writer at the powerofnarrative.blogspot.com:

And now you are “not admissible” if you have been convicted of a “crime involving moral turpitude” — even if you have already suffered whatever penalty might have been imposed and are now free, although you are not free to enter the United States — or if you “admit to previously having a drug addiction.” Obviously, you should lie about it.

But obviously, if you’ve written a book about said turpitude, it becomes more difficult to lie, even, apparently, for a man who has gone on record saying, “It’s better to be quotable than honest.”

Peace parades in Waikiki vary greatly in goals, turnout, funding

It caught my eye right away on Friday night as we’re driving into Waikiki to catch Johnny Fiasco at Lotus. There is a giant, blinking, orange sign right where Kuhio and Kalakaua split, a changing display that looked like: PEACE MARCH SUNDAY 6 PM ROAD CLOSED PEACE MARCH SUNDAY 6PM. Peace March? WTH? It struck me so odd that I twittered it.

Immediately conjured in my mind are earnest hippies in tank tops (armpit hair) and face paint playing drums and leading a small group in a tinny anti-war chant while sailors on leave curse and give them the finger. Some punk activists would probably be in the mix, cute revolutionaries with shaved heads and low-slung fatigues. But I’m thinking, isn’t the anniversary of the Iraq war past already? I put it out of mind, went to the club and danced the night away.

So Sunday around 6:20 PM, I bike into Waikiki expecting to see some hippies and home-made signs. I notice a fairly heavy police presence, with lots of the main roadways blocked. This must be some big-ass peace protest. It’s overcast and my hair is already wet from the swim I took earlier; I figure if I look a little bedraggled, I’ll blend. I picture myself riding alongside the protesters, easily mistaken for one of them, yet not slow to laugh if the street theatre gets too ridiculous.

As I head towards Kalakaua Ave, a red-bearded bum smiles and says “nice dreads.” Great, I guess I do blend. Just then surreality slaps me upside the head. A day-glo troupe comes dancing down the street, rows and rows of them, singing and smiling, looking like Falun Gong meets Up With People.

I’m a little frightened as I capture these short video clips. Focus!