oh mylanta

John Cusack was just five feet away . . .

2009-07-09T21:43:00.000-07:00

I saw John Cusack. Eating sushi at The Eatery on Broadway. No, I wasn’t dreaming. But I thought I was.

Ever since seeing Say Anything five years ago, I've loved John Cusack - like a mad New Kids fan. I’ve movie-stalked him through 80s teen romances like The Sure Thing, Better off Dead, and Sixteen Candles. I've even followed him in his grown-up roles as angst-ridden killer-for-hire in both Grosse Point Blank and War, Inc., and as neurotic record-store owner, Rob, in High Fidelity.

But why like John Cusack? It's not like his roles have been groundbreaking or Oscar-worthy. I just like his brand of quirky humour mixed with his infectious earnestness. And fellow fans will agree: Anyone who genuinely loves John Cusack appreciates honesty, anti-consumerist ideals, romance – and Joan Cusack. Plenty of lovely, crazy Joan.

Take Say Anything for example. Here’s a great kid, fresh out of high school and pursuing the hottest, yet smartest girl in school. It’s obvious Lloyd likes her – a lot. And though he knows her dad’s a bit of a snot, he's dead honest about what he wants to do with his life. The best part: He means every word.

“I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.”

And after his girl Diane dumps him to please her father, he shows up with his stereo, playing "In your eyes" at her window. That's got to be one of the most iconic 80s scenes in the history of the universe (well, other than MJ's busting out the moonwalk to the world):

You'll understand why I love this movie so much when I say that only American Pie and its dirty spinoffs were the teen comedies that defined my youth. Say Anything was an refreshing teen romance – about perseverance and commitment.

So, when I saw him sitting outside, munching on sushi in my old neighbourhood, I was stunned, dazzled and drooling. I didn't have the guts to talk to him, especially not while he was in the middle of dinner and in talking to someone. I mean, what would I say? "Wow, it's you! Can I marry you? Oh wait, I'm already married . . . "

Ah well. I'm just glad I actually got to see him in person . . . even though he probably noticed us giggling like idiots in his perirphery . . . and hoisting pretend stereos above our heads, singing "In your eyes, the light, the heat . . ."

Five years in Vancouver - today!

2009-06-18T19:33:00.000-07:00

Yippee for me, today is my fifth-year anniversary in Vancouver!

Driving into work today, I thought about what had happened since this day in 2004. June 18, I'm waving goodbye to my parents at the Ottawa airport. Less than six hours later, I touched down on this foreign, mountainous place where people hang out half-naked on the beach in the middle of a workday.

Before leaving Ontario, friends who knew I was a backpacking fanatic said I would love BC so much, I'd marry a mountain man and never come back. Love BC? Check. Marry mountain man? Check. Never coming back? Like on a runaway train on a one-way track!

So what has happened? Other than being offered crack on the bus and finding out my superpower is not teaching spoiled UBC students Shakespeare, here are some highlights:

Finally got my useless, but impressive-sounding Masters degree
Got my first paying job as an editor (nice to see my name in print!)
Met my uncle, aunt and cousins for the first time
Found the mountain man and got married
In doing so, learned to swing dance, west coast style. Still working on lindy.
Became a first-time aunt
Saw my bro get married and disappear into the 'burbs of good 'ol Mississauga
Found a great church; saw about 20 babies born within this time
"Studied" at the beach a lot, often while sleeping in the sun
Learned the Thriller dance with my favourite housemates
Kayaked among a pod of porpoises in the wild
Learned to drive stick - and love it
Moved six times and have lived in Richmond, Kits (3 houses), Burnaby, New West, then East Van.
Mourned the death of my 15-year-old Shih Tzu. Sniff. My dear little pooch!
Hiked and camped in the Coast Mountain, Cascade, Rocky Mountain and Sangre de Christos ranges
Shot a .22 in New Mexico
Learned how to play the congas and the djembe
Found that Once I Was the King of Spain. Moxy Fruvous' Bargainville never gets old even after 15 years of listening to it

Of course there's more, but my life really isn't that interesting. So I'll end by saying that I'm thankful for everything that's happened here - even the bad things.

I really wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

let the wild rumpus begin!

2009-04-27T13:53:00.000-07:00

If you don’t remember Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are, you have to hop into your DeLorean faster than the Doc can say “flux capacitor” and visit your five-year-old self - now!

Not that most of us really want to be five again, but I saw the movie trailer for the book and I couldn’t help feeling all nostalgic and fuzzy inside. It reminded me of being introduced to the school library in grade one, just learning how to use the card-and-pocket borrowing system. I wasn’t quite sure if I got the instructions, but none of this mattered when our teacher pulled out this book full of colour and drawings of romping beasts in the woods. I dropped the copy of Red is Best in my hands. I was in love.

I think the common appeal of this book is that we can all identify with getting into plenty enough mischief and fun as kids. Though I didn’t have a wolf outfit, I did dress up like Dr. Doom (I have no idea why), ran around the house singing the Spiderman song, made forts out of the sofa and antagonized the dog. And unlike most girls who had Barbies, I only had She-Ra, who I introduced to my glue gun in a torso- and face-melting experiment.

So I sound like the creepy kid from Toy Story. My older brother wasn’t any better. At restaurants, he’d spit food he didn’t like under his chair, whip frogs at second-story windows, and terrorize squirrels with his slingshot. And most of his Transformers somehow ended up in He-Man’s Evil Horde Slime Pit.

And just because we were Chinese kids who played violin, cello and piano, it didn’t mean we were angelic virtuosos, either. I hardly practiced, and having little to no attention span, I hated sitting day after day at the piano bench. Most of the hour I was supposed use practicing was spent staring at the squiggly shapes that apparently float around in our eyeballs.

I guess looking back at myself as a kid, things haven’t changed all that much. As an adult, I’ve found myself getting into tinfoil-ball throwing fights in the office and have joyfully pranked coworkers when they’re away. I guess that explains why I still want to see this movie based on a picture book for little kids.

It’s coming October 2009 and is a live-action movie by Spike Jonze. Maybe the trailer’s just slick, but the style of the movie paired with Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up” just about makes me want to cry . . . in a nostalgic kind of way. If you haven’t seen the trailer yet, check it out. It’ll make you miss being a kid again. [see below]

a vision so old it seems new

2009-04-08T22:37:00.000-07:00

"It's hard for anybody in America to look at the first Christians and feel very proud about where we are now."

So Joash is making me read a churchy book before I can touch Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Hm, book with invaluable wisdom versus Elizabeth Bennet and zombies? You know I want the one about the living dead wearing corsets! (And PP&Z also features Mr. Darcy with a band of ninjas weilding katanas!) Sigh.

The new what?
The book I'm supposed to finish is called the New Monasticism, and no, this isn't another horror book, this time about cults. It's also not a book written by old men who wear robes and chant. In fact, it's by a fellow Gen-Yer, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, who began looking at the way we live today, asking if there's an alternative lifestyle that gives more room for the gospel to work through and in us, and truly exemplify Christ’s “city on a hill” to those around us.

His question has led him to explore a type of community living that challenges our self-centred and relationally-guarded way of life. While sharing a home with married couples (some with and without kids), singles and others from a variety of life stages, these new monastics are part of intentional communities in society’s margins, offering hospitality to those who don’t normally receive hospitality, building genuine relationships, and showing Jesus’ love.

But my stuff, my glorious stuff!
Now, before I was married, I had already experienced life in a community house. But when Joash first introduced this book to me, my first thought was, You want me to share my newly acquired wedding gifts with roommates who will surely ruin my best teflon? Yes, I thought this. It's shallow, but true. And that, I suppose, illustrates what Wilson-Hartgrove is saying about our society and how isolated we have become. Even my silly response shows my individualistic nature and desire to hoard resources for myself, despite knowing that many in my neighbourhood face abject poverty.

Looking back to when I lived in community (a house of two girls and three guys), I didn't care as much about my possessions because I didn't own a whole lot. We shared pots, pans, utensils and other house things. The living room couch, which we probably found on Craigslist or someone’s lawn, was our couch. And though I was a student who had no money, living in community kept me from focusing on myself. My vision was so much bigger then, and my heart more capable of giving because of our common delight in sharing our lives together.

Though I’m married now and only have my husband for a roommate, things are different. We earn two incomes and we buy more in attempt to “establish” ourselves as a family like our parents before us. Our daily lives revolve around each other, making food, earning money, hanging with our circle of friends – but very little of it is “missional” or open to hearing God speak about feeding the poor or caring for the downtrodden.

Yet, even when I lived in community, we weren't very missional. Sure, we ate together and prayed a little on Sundays, but it seems Wilson-Hartgrove's new monastics are more intimately involved in spiritual formation, while also sharing their lives and resources with the poor in their neighbourhood.

I like this idea, but it also frightens me. All I've ever known was this paradigm where you get married, have kids, work, throw some money at charities for your tax receipt, then someday die. To think there could be more to life than what we already have!

I'm not saying, though, that we’re jumping into this monastic lifestyle, but we're checking out what it means to live the gospel to its fullest, whether that means exploring what this looks like in our current lifestyle or rearranging the way we live completely.

Reader beware
Well, I haven’t finished this book, so no Jane Austen zombies for me just yet. I will say, though, that if you’re a Christian who’s asking, Is this as good as it gets? give this book a try. It will definitely challenge your world view and ideas on the way things should or shouldn’t be. That being said, read with caution: If you don't want to risk being nudged by the big HS himself, then stick with PP&Z.

Zombies, apathy - same thing.

what did I say about being a pastor's wife?

2009-03-26T15:50:00.000-07:00

They pulled the ol' "pastors' wives go to heaven if they make stuff for us for free!" trick.

Just kidding. I did the Easter invites for Grace last year so they asked me to do them again. I have to say last year's was pitiful compared to what I came up with this time - after spending a year under the influence of the talented designers at work.

I'm rather proud of it. Though I'm sure any of our designers could have done this (and better) in a matter of minutes, it took me hours of tweaking, swapping colors and fonts for me to be okay with it. I don't know how they do it. Anyhow, Publisher only allows me to do so much, but this I calls purdy*.

If anyone reads this and is a real designer, I welcome your critique and suggestions . . . but please be nice! (*cower*)

*sorry, the pic I posted is pretty low res so it'll be grainy if you enlarge it

that's his job, not mine

2009-03-26T12:33:00.000-07:00

With Joash making his way toward an assistant pastorship at Grace, people keep asking me what my role will be as a pastor’s wife. Those who know me know that I dread this question, because I really don’t know what to say. Smile, and say I aspire to have big hair and save the homeless?

Instead, I take these opportunities to politely state my intentions to lead Sunday worship while playing the drums and smoking a cigar.

The idea of the pastor’s wife holding ladies’ tea socials and being the unpaid assistant to her husband makes me want to hurl. Granted, there are women who want to do these things as part of their life’s purpose, but many pastors’ wives these days have their own jobs, their own interests and passions.

I am one of them. I’m an editor, web-addict, djembe drummer, swing dancer, and lover of Bollywood’s Thriller and DC comics. What’s worse, I suck at leading Bible studies and am terrible at making people feel comfortable during small talk. I swear when I’m mad and find theology boring. Nobody ever said a pastor’s wife couldn’t have such qualities or deficiencies. But some little voice tells me that being like this is inappropriate and unacceptable, that I should be proper, wise, the perfect wife and, someday, mother. Looks like I’m on my way to a big pastor’s wife FAIL.

Some folks definitely have an idea that the pastor’s wife is an unofficial position in the church. Expectations of her role can range from teaching Sunday School, leading Bible studies, hosting countless people for supper, singing in the choir to attending every Sunday service and taking in every word of her “brilliant” husband’s sermon. Some even expect the pastor’s wife to yield perfect children or be ready – whenever – to pick up the slack in the church with a smile. In such churches, it seems the pastor’s wife is under uncompromising scrutiny and duty.

Thankfully, my church has no set expectations on pastors’ wives and neither does my husband. And though I react strongly against the pastor’s wife stereotype, I understand that our marriage will affect my husband’s work, and his work will affect our marriage. That being said, I can’t completely separate myself from his work, especially being so personally invested in our church community.

What I'm saying is that I don’t believe pastors’ wives must fit into a specific mould or be given higher expectations than anyone else in the church. But I'm glad to help the hubster within reason (and our discussed boundaries) and offer help to the community I love. Yes, there is some duty involved, because that’s part of marriage and friendships, but most church stuff I do is a voluntary desire to contribute in ways that I can.

So if you take anything away from this long-winded rant, just remember to give your pastor’s wife a break. If the rest of the congregation can have unruly, smelly kids and have the freedom to take off on certain weekends, so can she.

being amazed at basic stuff I should've learned in church but was too busy animating ninjas in hymn books

2009-03-17T11:55:00.000-07:00

I guess it’s timely that we focused on the glory of God last Sunday night, providing that I haven’t seen anything “glorious” about God in a long time. Not that I don’t think he’s glorious; I just don’t feel entirely excited by it.

Perhaps it’s because I haven’t done enough hand-waving on Sundays, or because I haven’t visualized an image of God that feels like the “right” kind of glory. Maybe I just feel there’s no point and there’s no way out of this cynicism. The world is far too complex for anyone – even God – to fix.

Well, these were some of the lame excuses I’ve been prone to making these days. Really, I’ve been having trouble believing in the glory of God and I know exactly why. I’ve stopped reading the Bible and praying.

A part of me still wants to roll my eyes despite knowing better. It’s just the kind of answer I don’t like to hear or provide. It sounds so 1-2-3 Christian-y: “Come git yer pat answers to life, the universe and everything!”

Despite my aversion to things coloured with mysterious Christian code-talk and hunky-dory WWJD solutions, I have to admit the truth in this. Currently, I’m reading through the Bible with Joash and found it at first really, really hard to do. I hardly wanted to read about mass circumcisions in the wilderness and talking donkeys. We might as well have read The Wizard of Oz on crack.

And I hardly wanted to tackle things about the OT which made me uncomfortable – all those questions about holy wars, God’s frightening character and those culturally alien Levitical laws. (So what does it say about tampons?) It was easier to not read it at all.

I’ve only gotten to the book of Joshua so far, but already my perspective is changing. With a little help from my theologian-wannabe husband, I’m understanding more about God’s character in these stories, undoing my pathetic, picture-bible assumptions of who he is and how I expect him to be.

It amazes me that no matter how many times his people doubt him and complain, he remains with them. And it also shocks me when I read how easily he can destroy those who disobey him. As a product of a permissive society, I can’t help wondering if God could’ve been a bit more merciful, a bit more forgiving. But, as Joash pointed out, God is God. He is holy – and that means, as a part of who he is, he cannot tolerate sin. And my reaction to this shows me how I want God to be: God the Friendly Ghost, God the wish-granter, God the grandfatherly figure who spoils his little ones rotten.

God, as it turns out, is glorious in ways that make people tremble at the faintest afterglow of Moses’ encounter with him. He parts seas and rivers, and causes city walls to crumble. This is no couch-potato god who watches all of our joys, grief, misdeeds and longings with ambivalence.

Of course, I still have many questions and there’s still a lot about the Bible I don’t understand, but the consistent theme of God’s desire to reveal himself to us and his supreme holiness help me understand the gospel better and how I fit into the story.

Sunday evening prayer has been helpful too. When this all began, I didn’t want to give up my belly-filling roommate nights for an evening of prayer. My immediate thought was how boring. I imagined sitting in silence for an hour with my mind wandering off, and least undesirably, to my hidden collection of things about myself that I despise.

Now after a few sessions, I am fully convinced of the importance of these prayer times. Between silent prayer spent listening to God and active, corporate prayer, I’m beginning to grasp something that I’ve been afraid to hold on to: hope. Despite going to church every Sunday, going to small group and taking part of the church community, I had begun to find the gospel bland, hackneyed and mundane. The truth is, I forgot that the gospel is alive, relevant and working each moment of every day. Just this simple fact had been difficult to believe in the humdrumness of my routine, self-serving life.

With a little more hope in my pocket and a little less cynicism, I’ve found myself more attracted to God’s glory, when everything used to look so grey and irritatingly “Christian.” I’m sick of praying just for myself and talking at God with a grocery list in hand. I’m sick of ascribing to a type of Christianity that exudes smugness and offers only simple answers to difficult questions.

But when I reflect on this God who has chosen to intertwine himself with messy humanity despite his holiness, I see once again that the Christian life is mysterious, multi-faceted and filled with the indelible grace of a creator so unfathomably good and terrifying, I’m compelled to step away from my self-righteousness as the only thing I can do. I’m humbled.

So, though I’m still not yet into praying unceasingly whether on the can or on the road, I’m happy at least to be enjoying my Bible readings and the hard questions they bring about. And though I still need to be motivated to pray independently, I know that all in all, I’m off to a pretty good start.

this is the drive

2009-03-12T23:09:00.000-07:00

the skytrain stinks. literally.

especially commercial drive. it carries delicate notes of weed, mixed with the woodsy scent of mary jane, savoury BO and who-knows-what-but-it's-nasty. My favourite, I think, is the sharp scent of human piss that greets me when i ride down the escalators. yes, it's human because it carries spicy notes of whiskey, sweet earthy herbage and burnt undertones of nicotine. it's one hell of a smell, hardly a mark of territory but a scent that welcomes me home: hurrah for vancouver's lack of public toilets! olfactory graffiti of the best kind.

the best is when it rains. humidity leaches this intoxicating mix from the concrete and reinvigorates its strength ten-fold. sometimes if i'm lucky, yesterday's vomit becomes today's scent of the day. oh and on other days, the station aroma is enhanced with a dreamy blue cloud, laced with a hint of evaporating alcohol. like being hotboxed in the world's most amazing sauna.

i have dreams of this place, dreams of pigeon poop, trash, and piss giving me a loving hug on a wet day.

i've often heard others complain about the smell, calling it disgusting, revolting and other such nonsense. a violation to the nose. an atrocity, etc, etc. they say it should be cleaned up and sprayed out like it were some kind of infestation. bah! only kitsilano yuppies and yaletown schmucks would suggest that we ask the toilet-less population to kindly stop peeing. translink would never do it. they'd never have their station bouncers grab a firehose and start spraying.

outrageous. the smell that hovers around commercial station is an integral part of the drive itself. it marks by way of the nose, an identifying character of the neighbourhood. getting rid of it would wipe out the scented histories of the drive's unique life, from the goings-ons of coke-shooters, the homeless and skytrain passenger alike -
who in their right minds would want to do that?

watchmen: rated BBD

2009-03-09T12:10:00.000-07:00

Whoever gave Watchmen its current “R” rating really should have rated it a new category called BBD, short for “Big Blue Dong.”

Yes, there was a BBD, and even multiple ones in different dimensions. Wacky.

Seriously, people who thought Doc Manhanttan’s little (or should I say, big) “buddy” was a necessary part of Alan Moore’s epic vision should take another look at Dave Gibbons’ drawings. Do I see panels of BBD? Nope. Not one page. Did director Zack Snyder think Mr. D would be distracting to the viewers? I have no idea what he was thinking. A penis is one thing; but a big, blue CG man bearing his BBD like a liberated animal is another.

Maybe I complain because I saw this on IMAX and could NOT help looking at it. So what? you ask. A dong is a dong. Yes, but when it’s blue and ten feet long and in almost every shot, even the most prudent of deniers would’ve sneaked a peek, cuz it literally looked you in the eye every time. There was no escaping it.

OK, that’s enough dong-talk for now because there’s much more to the Watchmen movie than the infamous blue willy. Being a fan of the comic, I thought Snyder did a great job translating it to film. I was wary at first, envisioning something like the Fantastic Four gone emo, just emoting with the same horrid acting and script-writing. Watchmen, however, was generally well-acted, with extra kudos to Patrick Wilson as a perfectly pudgy Dan Dreiberg and Jackie Earle Haley delivering a spot-on, psycho-licious portrayal of the fan favourite, Rorschach. It seems they got most of the casting right, though, I felt that Adrian Veidt, also known as "Ozymandias," was strangely miscast. They got some fella named Matthew Goode (not the band), gave him a Ken-doll helmet of blond hair and stuck plastic nipples on his suit à la Batman Forever. Voila, the "smartest man in the world"! As for Dr. Manhattan, well, you know my opinion of that streaker.

Sadly, the only female character, Laurie Jupiter (Malin Akerman), was a bit of a disappointment (though I’m sure all the nerdy single 30-somethings thought otherwise) because her acting, as a friend pointed out, was a lot like Drew Barrymore in her less finer moments. Don’t get me wrong. I like Drew Barrymore. I thought she was awfully cute in the Wedding Singer. But a babe in yellow spandex who sounds surprised every time she talks gets annoying real fast. Sorry.

Okay, so I make it sound like I didn't like this movie, which isn't true. The fight scenes, the characters' messed up human-ness and grittiness made for an impressive anti-heroic comic book movie. But because I’m squeamish and don’t like looking at male anatomy for 2 hours and 43 minutes, I was disturbed by the gratuitous gore, violence and sex made explicit in the movie. There were points where I felt we could get the gist of the violence going on, and didn’t need to see every stinkin' detail. Thank you, Zack, we got lots of that in 300.

So yes, die-hard fans of the comic book should see it; those who have no interest in comic books should probably stay home, or watch Akerman flounce around in 27 Dresses. The performance is about the same, just with lots of spandex and nekked peeps getting it on in a mechanical owl.

why I love where I work

2009-02-03T20:31:00.000-08:00

I love working where I work. Though I don't love everything about this ultra-conservative Christian organization, I do love the designers and writers I work with. They're funny, irreverent and wholeheartedly random. (Is that because we're creative or because we're deranged?).

At any rate, my favourite part of my work week comes from our daily (and sometimes completely crazy) email threads that include Youtube videos like "Jesus is a Friend of Mine" and musical genius and outer-space hottie, Mark Gormley.

So despite having a brain-numbing commute, at least I'll have the usual randomness to look forward to. Here, for example, is a thread that began as a vote for where to get lunch . . .

SB: Hi all, do we feel like ordering in for our lunch thing on Wednesday? Any suggestions on places to get some grub?

KO: sushi

SS: No offense, anyone, but I really don’t like sushi (or anything that involves fish, seafood or mushrooms) – I can’t think of a strong preference at the moment, but I’m open to most other suggestions, though.

KO: I like steak if Dave pays, otherwise pita pit is nice.

DP: Steak is out I guess. Pita Pit is good . . . To be perfectly honest (I’ve been lying all the rest of the time) I eat anything in front of me, unless it is borscht.

MS: I love borscht!

SS: Beet soup? Or for that matter, beet anything? I dunno.
On the other hand, it’s started me thinking – there’s gotta be a Ukrainian Orthodox church around, with some little old ladies making yummy homemade perogies and cabbage rolls, from scratch. Man, I’d go for that.

DP: Man, if there’s one of those near here we should totally look into that. Boy do I love good perogies and cabbage rolls. I’m so skeeeeny. I need to fatten up.

KO: Dave you should eat lard, that will fatten you up.

DP: I DO! Nothing works!

MS: Do you happen to have a worm?

AL: Yes, he does, he told me about it

Me: Have you tried using an IV with your liquid lard? Ew. And yes, his tapeworm is named Bertha.

SS: Maybe we could lure it out with some homemade cabbage rolls, then put it in a bottle of tequila.

DP: First, you guys all need serious therapy. Second, naming a tapeworm Bertha is perfectly normal. Third, I believe luring it out with cabbage rolls is a spectacular idea. Fourth, why am I numbering these sentences? Fifth, Michelle’s wallpaper is pretty cool. It looks like a cool chart over a photo from this angle.

Yup, this is what we do almost every day. Do we get anything done? Ehhh, maybe. Well, at least the editors and I can say we've been building our vocab this way. Not long ago, we were looking up the many wonderful and colourful ways to say "barf."

Next: The technicolour yawn and the giant peach

i will be the biggest loser!

2008-12-10T12:05:00.000-08:00

well, not of the steve urkel variety, but we're talking about pounds here, people. my ex-roomies, the hubster and myself are embarking on our very-own biggest loser challenge: championship round. who will be the biggest loser?

ME, baby- yeah! booyah!

so, i'm not "fat" but you know you've hit your late twenties when people start asking if that's a baby bump and you're not pregnant, or you notice your left side formed a roll in the shape of the donut you just ate. but hey, i'm asian and that usually means a pretty high metabolism.

there are seven challengers and only one biggest loser this time around . . . and the competition will be fierce! several obstacles stand in our way: genetics, lifestyle, rainy weather - and Christmas! Christmas will be the ultimate leveller in this challenge - all the treats and potlucks and pound-piling sweets . . .

but perhaps the most insidious of saboteurs we will face could very well be each other. i will be wary! distrust will be my only ally as the others, on roommate night, ask sweetly, "another helping of cream-cheese and butter mashed potatoes?" if i'm not careful, they may trap me in a room and force and IV of sweet, sweet caramel into my veins.

trust no one.

the challenge . . . is ON!

j & m's southwest adventure, part 2

2008-10-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

and because i don't feel like boring you to death by listing every inane detail of our trip, i'll be nice and give you more handy bullets:

abq:

the horlbecks and our day at the zoo. wreaking havoc on the kiddie train making faces and scaring children
frontier restaurant. yum, fresh tortillas and raspberry rush
wex's. i've gained 10 pounds just thinking about their burritos
balloon fiesta. apparently people died the day before in a balloon fire so we didn't get to see anything - and missed SPECIAL SHAPES DAY!
city on a hill church and post-service beer-drinking. met some fine folk and joash's old friend, amber
nob hill. i really like this place. it reminds me of a busier, hipper 4th avenue vancouver. lotsa cool shops. if we ever move to abq, i would want to live around here!
joash got to vote. so he really is american after all!

taos:

our neice, abi luz. so cute, and such a flirt!
family. lots of family. and lots of food.
shooting a .22. i shot some garbage and was pretty durn good.
hike along the rio grande gorge. made friends with a tarantula and some prickly pear
guadalajara grill. oh, horchata and burritos
elk. lots of them on the side of the road on the way back from Dulce

To cortez, co and back:

durango, co. historic downtown is so quaint. i kinda want to live there but joash says its expensive and landlocked. oh well.
mesa verde national park. joash used to work here as a ranger. well, more like a summer intern who pulled weeds and chased bears out of canyons banging garbage-can lids with a stick. this was probably my favourite part of the trip. We took a tour of a cave dwelling ruin (balcony house), climbing up ladders on the side of a canyon where ancient pueblo peoples built their homes in caves
cortez, co. joash's hometown. he showed me where he grew up and where they had the llama. we also met up with his highschool buddy, corey, and had too much to drink at the local brewery. another fun tidbit: the tomohawk motel in cortez used to say "we won't scalp you here" under its sign. i wonder why they took it off.
four corners monument. yes, i took the standard photo of self lying down in all 4 states, NM, CO, UT and AZ. yes, this place is lame and there's nothing there but lots of desert.

it was such a fun trip, i only wish i had brought some ex-lax. (the southwest cooks with way too much cheese!). i also really liked city on a hill church and think it makes sense joash ended up coming to grace van, they're so similar. but i'm glad to be home. sleeping in hotels and inflatable mattresses can't compare to my comfy queen at home.

j & m's southwest adventure, part 1

2008-10-23T21:03:00.000-07:00

so for ten days, joash and i traipsed around new mexico and southern colorado to visit family, friends and the places where joash grew up. reuniting with his family is always a good reminder of why joash is the way he is - and, going to his hometown in cortez, co, and meeting friends from his old church, city on a hill, gave me even more insight to his quirkiness. *rubbing hands together in mischief* i sure got some good stories!

from his highschool friends: i learned that the schumpelts had a reputation for being quirky. like the time my father-in-law decided to get rid of their lawnmower and opt for the best type money could buy: a llama. yes, he bought a llama thinking it would just chew away the grass. sure, it ate the grass, but only in patches. i'm sure the lawn ended up looking like a diseased animal with its hair falling out in clumps.

from city on a hill: joash had a reputation during his first year at UNM for being the big guy lumbering around in big woolly sweaters and a big 'fro. she called him "the goat-cheese boy" because he looked like a goatherder that lived on a farm.

from the schumpelts: apparently, when joash gets sick, he turns into a big baby. i know this from experience. ha ha. also, being the first of the litter, joash wasn't allowed to watch he-man or much of what we consider 80s cartoon classics. poor boy, he missed out on the masters of the universe!

from joash: this isn't something i learned on this trip but thought it would be fun to mention anyway. when joash was widdle, he went to the zoo hoping to feed some giraffes. by the time all the other kiddies in line had their turn, mr. giraffe was vewy, vewy full. little jobie, with hand outstretched to make connection with the great african wild . . . only finds himself greeted with a projectile of giraffe vomit. poor little boy indeed!

some of you may wonder how i, the newest addition to the schumpelt clan feel about being part of such an eccentric and quirky family. well, do you remember my name is Matthea?! i fit in beautifully.

summer trip homage remembered in fall...

2008-10-03T20:33:00.000-07:00

to my friends on the last sunshine coast kayaking trip, i wrote this rambling memory in august but forgot all about it. this one's for you!

early morning ferry line-up we wait at the horseshoe
beneath “changes ahead!”
a sign more foreboding than convincing,
but we get on and decide to re-pack:
no plastic bags in the dry bag! that won't fit!
I’m sorry we had to be so militant

and somehow, we lose people on the ferry
caroline - so little and scurrying -
we think the white spot has abducted her.
olivia, we think, is in the bathroom
and trevor maybe in the gift shop
we sure hope they found steve
and is that accordion I hear on the deck?

from the ferry, tim hortons to pedals and paddles
we pack our gear and go
off to the deep blue -
wait! where are douglas' keys?

aha! thar she blows, our campsite at nine-mile
we set up camp, take some naps
invent rock games and take care
to edify our minds with mr. lewis and his friends

the day dims, stomachs growl
we try and try to light a fire
that is, until the men display their manly magic
and build, to our amazement – and wonder –
the fire of a century. we cook.

a good 'ol throw 'n dig. this corn is fabulous!
nikki, what a carnivore’s chilli!
when we’re finally happy, full and silly
caroline suggests some funny yet strange recreation
that we should participate in some – yes –
games of humiliation
what?! We all ask with great consternation;
this bodes not well for us, we say – and disappear
the woods, providing much shelter
the beach a safe haven where we can watch
simpsons on charles’ magik light-box, the PSP

And did I mention that nikki has rabies at night?
racing around the tent, foaming at the mouth
"dumped" into the tent, landing on my head with her bum
"oh, where am I?! she exclaims, thinking she was in a box.
then we were, 2am listening to snoring into the wild

a new day – and little sleep - sharpens my skill
as steve rejects his rot-brewed coffee
the planets align and plinko comes alive
to score, unfortunately, the throw of a lifetime
and wet pants for nikki

this day we embark for kunechin point
a day trip guaranteed sights of marine life.
wouldn’t you know it? a sealage invasion!
thrity, forty – no fifty! – seals in water
following and watching and bobbing their heads
dark little beach balls with glimmering eyes
sea dogs - so cute and so round.

here we have lunch after bushwhacking a mile
following our fearless leader, douglas sir winter
through brush and cobwebs and impending doom
but find, eventually, the path we should’ve found
a mile before just by the beach. oh well.

the point, we lunch. We have our time of sunday devo
A theological debate under the gaze of a great bird,
the bald eagle
who watches and wonders why humans sit in sun
to redden, argue and bake so

back at camp, we alight so tired and hungry
time for pizza! hawaiian, all-dressed, pepperoni with cheese –
we fashion an oven of tin-foil perfection.

and later that night, exhaustion brings delirium:
charles is just a head; we rest bellow tv jingles
a free jukebox service, including the odd eruption
of musical flatulence. doug, how shocking!

and again, the smallest tent in the world
with nikki, I manage to sleep soundly
past her midnight murmurings
and witching hour wakefulness
but morning comes and we wake to the sound
the familiar roar of male nasal buzzsaws
and the chirping of birds and the love songs
of porpoises.

what kind of deodorant do you use? I ask
and nikki says, “Dove.”
and from deep slumber he says,
“Yes, dear?”
armpit love. The discovery of it is hilarious.

lastly I close because this is getting too long:
we threw the peel out the window
charles & co stopped to get it; we’re sorry.
and on the ferry again we lost some people
it’s ok; we all came home safe
loaded with memories and food,
meatsweats and clubbed seals,
we ate and we played
happily under the long summer sun.

i should be offended . . .

2008-08-27T19:12:00.000-07:00

perhaps i should be ashamed to admit this, but i saw tropic thunder last week - by choice. yes, i know you think zoolander was stupid but i can't get enough of ben stiller in tights and a punk mullet. ok - so he's sporting military for this one, but i couldn't pass up a movie with robert downey jr. playing an australian actor who's played an Irish priest who plays a black man . . . you know - the dude who gets smacked by the real black dude who can't stand the fact that he's a white dude pretending that he really is a black dude.

confused? you should be. especially if you want to use that as your excuse for not noticing the racial and mentally challenged stereotypes they make fun of in this movie. To "go full retard" or not, that is the question we're challenged with in this movie. It's just like zoolander's challenge to be just really, really good-looking, or a mite better than below-average dumb. stiller's brilliance takes my breath away.

no, seriously. if there's one guy who's crazy humour tickles me mulletty, it's stiller's. and there you have it; my guilty, low-brow pleasure. i think i got it from high-level exposure to my brother's favourite moron, ottawa-bred tom green. not like his humour compares, but there's something in their crude, dumb-teenage-boy humour that keeps them similar in my frame of reference. oh well. i've been corrupted!

our one-year anniversary in seattle

2008-08-15T21:11:00.001-07:00

so we made it! one whole year and we're still together. there were some ups and downs, giggles and suckerpunches, but here we are, married and padded with happy fat.

the first thing we did in seattle was visit the famous Pike Place market to watch fish being thrown around like torpedo-sized footballs. better yet was all the people-watching opportunities. bet all the asians taking videos (including me) were probably from vancouver.

being lovers of fat, frolicky otters, we ventured over to the seattle aquarium and pinched sea cucumber tushies, poked poor starfish in the eyes and waved to a slumbering octopus.

then over to ye old curiosity shoppe, where this video was taken. it sells all sorts of fun knick-knacks but my favs were the antique entertainment machines - a fortune telling gypsy and a creepy laughing jack sailor. also, the store/museum is full of "natural" oddities, like stuffed two-headed calfs, a fijian mermaid, two real mummies (our friends slyvester and sophia), a whale penis, a flattened walrus face and a collection of shrunken heads from ecuador. way too much fun.

the best tour we took was the seattle underground tour. apparently, seattle burned down at one point and they rebuilt the city with a dumbass plan that resulted in the roads being 10 to 30 feet higher than the buildings and sidewalks. seems like the citizens were ok with this, since before the fire, seattle was riddled with plumbing problems being built on mudflats. If you had to take a sit on the toilet, you'd better check the tide table in the paper or you'd have a stream of sewage shooting you up ten feet into the air. (for real!). anyhow, the tour guide was the best part of the show since the rest looks like a mouldy basement. use your imagination!

eventually, we made our way to the seattle zoo, the science center, sci-fi museum and experience music project. those were fun, but by then, we were pooped.

a great, but exhausting whirlwind of an anniversary weekend!

me, a wii widow?

2008-07-31T14:11:00.000-07:00

following Joash's most amazing, waterballoon-filled surprise birthday party, he was presented with a shiny new Wii by my old housemates in hopes he would share his new toy with them in future. i have to say i was hesitant when they asked if they should get it for him. (i could just see him getting obssessed, with a rising pile of Fs trailing from regent college to our house.) But my jobie is a cute boy and i could just see his face pleading, yes! yes! yes! and the thought of him happier than ernie in a bathtub was enough for me to say, ooookay.

luckily, we haven't played it that often . . . yet. we did spend one night playing Wii golf and boxing, the latter of which i must say gets me more riled up than being trapped in an elevator with kenny g. who knew virtual boxing could be such a workout?

so, ok - i like the thing. it has a pretty white sheen and greets us with happy la-la music when we check the weather on it.

i also like the fact that the Wii is a game system that finally redeems those poor little girls who grew up with bigger brothers calling them dumb for moving the controllers to go, jump or hit faster or harder. now being stupid is cool.

booyah!

keys to your soul . . .

2008-07-30T21:29:00.000-07:00

how ironic that web traffic has been directed to my little blog with the help of facebook.

guess it's the best place to advertise. . .

what did i say, eh? keys, people. keys.

facebook bores me. i'm back

2008-07-29T15:46:00.000-07:00

well, at least i think i am. now that I have two hundred or more friends on facebook, many i never see and never wanted to reconnect with again, i feel that returning to the peaceful monologuing blogosphere might be a good thing. i like the look of my own words. plus, it's extra quiet here, now that all's left is a graveyard of abandoned blogs.

really, when someone i only remember as "that girl who snogged the boy i liked at camp" facebooks me and says she'll be in vancouver, why don't we meet up, i click "ignore" and grumble about why i bother with facebook . . . every time. Or when someone puts me on their superwall mass spam thingy, i get these videos of a mangy cat barfing. why?! WHY?! oh, yes. because i signed up for it and gave it the keys to my soul.

yes, keys which i will now take back with force. for you see, we've become those kinds of online addicts that give people a hard time if they don't complete their turn on Scrabulous within twenty minutes of the last game played. i, too, am guilty, so i'm getting off this boat.

now, at least, i can come to blogger and wait for comments to appear on my posts to wonder impatiently, "why don't my #$%ing friends respond to my wittiness?" And of course we already know what's blatantly obvious - they're all on facebook!

sigh

where have all the bloggers gone?

2007-06-12T14:23:00.001-07:00

So sheepishly I return to my long-neglected blog...
it hisses at me, the recently converted Facebook convert

Blasphemy! it cries,
I had uttered its name -
the usurper,
the profane
the addicting force
that makes ex-bloggers feel...
what ex-bloggers longed for...
attention...
sweet, digital
attention that only Facebook could provide...
so many...
so called...
friends!

holy matrimony, batman!

2007-01-09T18:16:00.000-08:00

So all of you should know by now. If you don't, that's ok, cuz here it is in blog-form. The story is, I went to New Mexico after Christmas and came back engaged! The uncut version is here for your enjoyment:

I arrived from Ottawa to Albuquerque on Dec 26th kind of anticipating that Joash would propose sometime in those ten days in New Mexico. The first thing he did when I arrived was to take me up the Sandia mountains ('watermelon' in Spanish), where we hiked along the ridge to see an amazing view of the city and mountain range around us. Apparently we were at 10,000+ feet or something ridiculous. I was huffing and puffing around the mountain like my lungs had fallen out (plop!) until we got to a stone shelter on the edge of a cliff...a perfect spot for a special question...but alas, that was not to be. We then went back into town and spent the evening with Mark and Renee (many thanks to their wonderful hospitality!) and their adorable little Sammy.

On our way out to Taos a few days later, we explored a beautiful mountainous area called Jemez (pronounced: Hey-mez) to play around in some hot springs. It was snowing like crazy up in these mountains so hiking to the natural hotsprings seemed treacherous and not-very-fun. Instead, we went to a very 'zen' oriented bath house and soaked in two individual tubs built for giants (good thing for Joash), separated by curtains that we had to whisper over to talk. There were people apparently trying to meditate there...what a funny thing in such an isolated town in the woods! The water was SO hot that I thought something was wrong with my water (I envisioned my flesh slowly being burnt from the outside in like a boiled chicken), but Joash whisper-assured me that I'd be okay. Well, there was no proposal here either, and by evening, we were headed back to Taos in some freak winter snowstorm that actually got us using 4WD on the highway.

So we got into Taos, and found myself again in the wonderful company of the Schumpelts, including the Floreses (Joash's sister's in-laws). There was also the newest edition of the family awaiting me, the fluffy and dim-witted pup Sebastian, greeting me with lots of slobber and cuteness, and of course, Dougall their soft-eyed sheepdog who I thought someone said was allergic to dogs (they were referring to me, haha). On New Year's eve, Joash took me out to dinner, but I knew it couldn't be "the night" because he was like, "Uh, where do you want to eat, Matthea?" I suppose I still had some vague hope he would ask, as you know alcohol can sometimes act like veritaserum from Harry Potter. See following equation:

High altitude + alcohol + matthea = very, very silly me.

With my brain swimming after supper, I stumbled around the plaza leaning onto Joash's arm and mumbling, "Hurreee up...Ah don't neeeeed a rinnnnng, jus' gimmeeee a band-aid or somethin!!!!

Well, of course, now you know it didn't happen on new year's eve.

On new year's day, Joash took me snowshoeing up to William's Lake, a hike we had done last summer, but this time it was covered in 6+ feet of snow. We trudged through it for a while, and again, the altitude left me huffing. Joash kept encouraging me to go farther, but I was getting very tired. Cold, and ready to go back, we reached a point where we couldn't continue because the snow was too deep. Joash made a little packed snow-platform where we could sit and have lunch. I sat down ready to pour the hot chocolate when Joash plopped down on his knees infront and said something about "don't pour the hot chocolate yet" and the next thing I knew he had some craaazy ring out, sparkling like a huge iceberg against the snow (it was a lot bigger than I'd expected). That's when he asked me to marry him, and I had to look at him for a minute in semi-disbelief since I didn't expect it that day.

Well, this was a very long story but here's your reward for being a good blog reader -- a photo of me and Joash! awww.

will have, maybe, but not yet

2006-11-08T15:28:00.000-08:00

so it is settled. i am going home to ottawa dec 16 to eat and sleep and sleep some more. i will have finished my grad degree once and for all and have probably made some obnoxiously loud celebratory noises in the English office...and, i'll probably burn all my books and papers, essays and computer while dancing madly 'round the fire in a crazed fit of joy.

and i hope it's snowing in ottawa. if it's cold enough, I will try to skate from one end of the canal to the other. or, i'll get my tiny white pup and wrestle her into the snow.

and then it's off to new mexico...again to visit Joash and his family. yay, it is warmer there, and sunnier too. how exciting. how strange it will be to be back so soon. i'm landing in albuquerque and joash wants me to meet ALL his friends this time. eek.

procrastination is my middle name

2006-11-01T10:18:00.000-08:00

so this is my new blog format. i got bored with the white background and curly yellow font. that was monday. yesterday, i read two chapters of some crazy book on pragmatics and ended up watching harry potter & the prisoner of azkaban. good movie. well, to argue that i have been semi-productive this week, i made some semi-worthless observations about how similar bram stoker's dracula is to voldemort. mina harker could be the new female hp. she gets bitten by the count, and is now telepathically joined to him just like . . . get this! . . . harry is telepathically joined to voldemort after surviving the avra kadavra spell. ooooooh.

wow. that would make some really good essay.

so this among other things is what i have been up to. and i sat in class yesterday counting down the days and weeks when this will all be over: 4 WEEKS LEFT!!!!

joy joy joy joy joy.

descent into the maelstrom

2006-10-30T15:52:00.000-08:00

superstore n \süpәr-stō(ә)r\ 1: a typical North American one-stop-shopping venue that usually involves lots of people with overloaded shopping carts 2: EXCESS 3: suicide on a sunday afternoon SYN 'T&T or Costco on a weekend in Toronto'

Every Sunday, my housemates and I (including, Joash, the extended house member) do something fun together. Last week, they held me a super duper surprise party after stuffing me with pizza and gelato. There was wine, cheese and sweets because apparently, I am all those things according to Joash. grrr. This Sunday, we again decided to gorge ourselves on food, only in the sense that we went to buy a massive amount of it. This is where S u p e r s t o r e came in. Thanks to Arizona Tim's big yellow American truck, we went to this massive warehouse-like building to stock up on stuff that Safeway prices like gas. Well, I have to say, the deals at The Real Canadian Superstore aren't that 'super' but there are deals within if you have the patience to navigate your way through this populous mini-metropolis that magically exists only between 9am-10pm, every day of the week.

People, if you can, stay home. Superstore is no place to be on a weekend. You might as well do yourself in at Metrotown. If you do go, be sure to practice your shopping cart maneuvering, put on your crash helmet, and 'git on yer road rage.

or go on a weekday right before closing.

I am a thawed, mouldy chicken - happy birthday

2006-10-17T08:22:00.000-07:00

Another year, another fat roll. Yup, there it is. Rounder and more pronounced than last year. I write this hunched over my laptop at 8am in the morning because I've procrastinated on some work and usually wake up at 6 the day it's due. But, I rolled out of my warm bed into the drafty darkness of pre-dawn, sat down on this computer, wrote some hopefully encouraging things on the C+ paper I just graded (essentially, "you made some good points, but this essay sucked"), and noticed the increase of belly over my pants. Ah, I have just stepped a little ways past the mid-twenties. Hm. To be twenty-six.

So, many of you I'm sure are asking, "What does it feel like?"
Well, something between mould and a spring chicken: a thawed, mouldy chicken.
"Wha?"
In other words, I feel really tired and worn out from the increasing concerns of adult life, but young in that I still have lots to learn in this life and can be very silly despite feeling, often, older than I am.
"Then why are you thawed?"
A floppy chicken = flabby me.
"Oh."

So, I can now look at my 26 years, and feel happy at least that no only do I have lots to look forward to (flab and all), but that I am Chinese, and will look 24 for another twenty years. Booyah!
;P....

Happy Birthday to me!

ottawa to toronto and back: a vacation saga

2006-09-28T13:06:00.000-07:00

Cindy and Yang show off some PDA

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Cheerleaders are like dancers gone retarded!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At the end of August, I went home to Ontario to visit family and friends. I stopped off in Toronto first to visit Cindy, and had lots of food *marhm*, watched "Bring it On" outside on the big screen in the Muchmusic parking lot and got a free copy of the DVD plus its stellar sequel, "Bring it On Again"... Like, cheer-tastic!

Ok, so I admit I like stupid chickflicks, especially when they're as dumb as "Bring it On." But I had an awesome time with Cindy nonetheless, and met Sheena Jones, mah old Crusade friend, who happens to know Joash's roommate Oi Yan. I then had an eerie revelation that I had indeed met Oi Yan six years ago at LCAC, and was astounded to find out that both Sheens and Cindy knew her from Western. Small world. Never underestimate the line, "There's one person I know at Regent - do you know . . . ?"

--------------------------------------------------------
"I had a dream that Joash was Mexican."
--------------------------------------------------------
My friend Rob, when I saw him in Toronto, said he had a dream that Joash was "short, dark and fat." Hm. I said, "Joash is a tall white guy who's more ruddy in complexion and has a bit 'o sweet chub." haha. J/k. I didn't actually say that.

----------------------------------------------
Ottawa: "Is Joash Mexican?"
----------------------------------------------
"No, mom."
"No, grandma"
"No, grandpa"
J/k again. I think my folks figured out by then that Joash was white. Actually, they've been telling all their friends that he's German. E-gads. *smack on forehead, eyes rolling*. Even a lady at the airport saluted him with a "Danke." Well, yes, Joash has German in him, but he's as American as they come. He was born at a Wal-Mart, see? -->

-------------------------------------------------
"We Like Him. Marry Him Now."
-------------------------------------------------
So, my parents luuuuuuuv Joash. They think he's the best thing since flush toilets. In fact, they think he's the poo. ;). The winks and nudges are there; my folks want grandbabies! yaaagggghhhh!
(tee hee)

I showed Joash around Ottawa, and he was amazed by the poutine (fries, gravy and cheese curds) and the piglets at the pioneer village I went to as a kid. We also went to Montreal, where we walked the romantic streets of Le Vieux Port, an 18th century remnant of the city . . . I think Joash didn't know what to think about all the French around us: "por bresito, que lastima!" Another day, we went hiking in the Gatineau hills which is one of my favourite spots at home, ate Chinese food with my whole family and managed well with chopsticks . . . his Chinese on another note . . .

All in all, it was a good trip, despite Joash not having a room in the house for three days . . . my brother and his girlfriend came home one weekend, so without any space for this big tall white guy, he had to sleep outside in the tent trailer where it poured sad rain on him! Oh, my ghetto family. sniff. But hey! He's still with me, so I guess that's a good sign!!!

From there, we were off to Toronto (for me, again) for Joe and Karyn's wedding. Joash was about to meet my entire group of friends from Asian Christian Fellowship . . . AHHHH!!!

Check out the photos and mayhem at http://www.matthea.myphotoalbum.com

"Guys, I got bitten on my butt!": Garibaldi Backpacking Trip

2006-08-08T14:25:00.000-07:00

Ah, a few days after coming back from New Mexico, Joash and I packed up our things again for a much anticipated backpacking trip up to Garibaldi Lake. I think the best part was Bowen, who had to clean himself in the creek immediately when we reached camp at Taylor meadows. "Guys, I need to wash up." "Guys, my bag is really heavy." haha. "Guys, a mosquito just bit me on the butt again."

The hike up was a strenuous 3 hour switchback and even more ennerving as the sun began to set. Joash and I had hiked the same path a few weeks before, so we knew the trail was going to be wide and easy to follow in the dark with headlamps on. No worries. We got to Taylor Meadows campground, and could still see Black Tusk in the dusky light. And of course, mosquitoes were everywhere.

The next day, we packed our daypacks and headed up to Panorama Ridge instead of Black Tusk because it was a super hot day and Black Tusk is much more of an exposed rocky mountain to scale than the backside of the ridge. We hiked through tons of wildflowers and through an open valley of glacier fed lakes and small waterfalls. Up the to the ridge, we began to tread on snow (yup, even in July) that was good and sticky. On the way up, my blisters began to get worse, so we decided to stop and have lunch. On the way back down, there were some people sliding down the huge snowfield to our left on their bums...so we began to slide down some snow patches ... it was cold but fun! hehe. wet bum.

Let's just say that we ate really well, we laughed hard and hiked a lot. My favourite kind of trip. Sher-Ping brought some pre-made Indian food so we had curry and rice for supper while Bowen gave us a play-by-play of every mosquito bite he got. "Guys, another one got me on my upper right lobe of the second fold of my ear!" hhaa.
Oh Bowen. HMBC!

So, I am sad I'm back in the city, but hey, I just bought a new North Face bag because I will have to go backpacking again soon.

enchanted nuevo mehico

2006-07-21T00:48:00.000-07:00

-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Joash, does that mean you're Mexican?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------
So, the week has come and gone; Joash and I flew down to New Mexico to visit his family and friends. I can't believe it was only a week; it seemed like a long time, but strangely not long enough.

The first night, we were in Albuquerque and stayed with Joash's lovely friends Mark, Renee and little Samuel. Joash has spoken so much about them, that it was weird to think that here I was finally getting to meet them. Ah, online faces became real. Ack! Really, it was wonderful - now I know Joash isn't a psychopath after all. haha.

The next day, we headed out to Taos, New Mexico to where his parents live. Okay, so I was too excited about the ugly highway because it looked so "American": big road signs sticking out of desert scenery and adobe houses. The highway soon turned into what looked like big mounds of rock and dirt called "mesas," and soon we were travelling along the much famed Rio Grande - a very tiny river if you ask me. ;p.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You may be smart, but I know some things too"
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Joash's family was a lot of fun to hang out with. I love that their family motto is "I know," because Joash IS such a know-it-all. There is a lot that I loved about this trip - from alpine hiking trips and getting altitude sickness, watching Superman Returns with the family and watching Selah & Chuck perform at their church to visiting Santa Fe, going up toColorado, and off-roading to the top of a mesa on the way back.

I love that Joash's dad will stop at the creek by their house every time he drives by it.

I love that Joash's mom collects bear and caribou items.

I love that Joash and his siblings will wrestle with me in the water.

I gave Joash an ugly red scratch on his back. C'mon. I had to get him back for dunking me.

I love that Joash's brother sings a lovely baritone

I love that Joash's dog is such a sweetie

I love that they have a real teepee set up in their yard

We got a wicked deal on a rental convertible, so we drove around Taos with the top down to chase desert sunsets and to watch the stars.

We also met Joash's friends TJ and Cammy from Albuquerque who were in Taos for the weekend.

We made Chinese dumplings and congee for the Schumpelts our last night. I'm not sure what they thought of the congee though.

Horchada (sp?). Mexican iced rice milk drink with cinnamon. I am addicted.

In this picture, (right) Joash is looking at his full rack of ribs at Santa Fe's Outback restaurant. (left) I am eating something...? and a margarita type drink.

And of course, I begged his momma to show me pictures of this cute little fella... guess who!!!! ;)

Ack. I miss New Mexico already! ;(.

Thank you all who housed and fed us; I had a blast!

more hiking, and off to new mexico

2006-07-09T19:39:00.000-07:00

"I'm tired" - Matthea's motto for the week.
I started my job as a care assistant and as general help in a florist's shop. It was a tiring week, for someone who only worked half the average hours a normal person works per week...

"I smell feet."
But Friday was a welcome reward; Joash and I headed up to the mountains again, this time trying out Garibaldi Lake. This was a great trip that started with moderate, but consistent switchbacks for about 2 hours. The next half hour brought us up to Taylor Meadows that opened the view up to 360 degrees of mountains, including the strange and imposing Black Tusk. Too bad, the millions of little pink flowers in the meadows hadn't all come out yet, but in two weeks, we plan to hike up there for an overnight trip so the place should be exploding with colour!!!! I am SO excited!!! After wandering through the meadows, we hiked for a good ways through snow (yup, more snow in July!) and zigzagging our way down to Garibaldi Lake. The scene opened up to what I call "popsicle blue" which replaced my term "Listerine blue" since it reminded me of pain and an awful mint taste. The lake looked like it tasted of blue raspberry kool-aid. There were trout along the shore, and surrounding this huge lake were several mountains and a glacier. Here, we had lunch (finally! I was SO hungry), where some fat birds and a chipmunk came soliciting us for food. They were brave enough to land on Joash's hand to get his gorp...

This was a beautiful hike, and Joash was excessively handsome as my manly outdoorsy mountain man. Ha ha, how cheesy. I am melting. Ho ho.

"Joash, does that make your Mexican?" - Canadians are just as ignorant.
So, this week, I work a few hours Monday, then sleep a bit in the evening, then we take off for Seattle to catch our flight to New Mexico the next morning at ohhhh, the insanity of 7am. Don't ask, I didn't book the flight. It should be lots of fun; I've never been that direction in the states before. Farthest south ever been was... Louisiana?

lookit the handsome fella

2006-07-01T17:12:00.000-07:00

So summer school's over, and all of a sudden May and June are gone and passed...! Today is Canada Day (Happy 141th birthday, Canada!) and the bbqs are all out smoking burgers and dogs from every backyard, ah and the sound of 2-4s clinking in every province.
Oh Canada. I love this country.
Joash and I spent yesterday exploring the sea-to-sky highway (99) that leads North to Whistler and winds around extensive mountain ranges and blue-green ocean. We headed up to Elfin Lakes, or at least attempted to . . . we spent the first three hours of the day hiking up an unmarked path that lead us through gentle switchbacks full of buttercups and fallen rocks. The above pictures were taken at the trail's end (after that it got a bit hairy) atop some large boulders overlooking an amazing view of snow-covered moutains.
On the way back, we spotted the turnoff we missed to get to Elfin Lakes - at the Diamond Head entrance. This hike offered the most amazing views of the Tantalus mountain range, some majorly massive and beautiful peaks across Howe Sound. The hike up to Red Heather campground was a bit of a workout with moderate switchbacks for about an hour. Amazingly, there was still snow on the path that we had to walk over, and the campground didn't have any red Heather blooming yet, so the meadow was a bit of a disappointment. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful day spent with wonderful company... and it was great to see that Joash and I are about the same level when it comes to the outdoors. ***aww, Matthea's found her mountain man at last!***.

The last two months have been all about children's lit and the weirdness that goes on in the world of Freud...but that ended with a great weekend church retreat where I got to spend some quality time with God in the outdoors and with other people.

And, starting Monday (July 3), I'm working as a care assistant (what I used to do with the March of Dimes). One day a week, I'll also be working at a flower shop, making bouquets. Yeah, what does a grad student with a degree in English lit do? *sigh*. Still asking God what my vocational calling is... pray for me! And yes, I graduate in December '06, which means I will be out of school for the first time in my life. Ack!

Ah, and some of you might already know...I am going to visit New Mexico in July---to see Joash's family and friends. No, that doesn't mean that certain bells will be ringing anytime soon; I see it as a chance to see the important people in his life who have helped shaped who he is, to see the people he keeps talking about, and to have fun! So stop it with your silly questions.

And that doesn't mean what you think when Joash comes to visit my family in Ottawa in August...and my friends in Toronto... We will be there fore Karyn and Joe's wedding! Fun!!!

Anyhow, I am reading "Boundaries on Dating" by the Boundaries authors, Drs. So-and-So. Drat. Joash has given me his inability to remember names of people ;). It's probably the first dating book I've ever read...because I am such a snob about knowledge that I prefer to think I have better sense than what other people can offer...but hey, I know I'm a snob, and realize that Drs So-and So are pretty darn smart. But hey, me being a knowledge snob doesn't explain why John Eldredge's Wild at Heart makes me laugh. Joash thinks it's a cultural thing that I find it funny. However, Karyn has just told me that Joe LOVES that book too and he's Chinese. So maybe you don't have to be from Colorado to like it. Rargh. I am Brad Pitt who wrangles horses. Rargh. I am a man. J/k. I shouldn't knock it because I haven't read ... the whole thing. And also, I am only poking fun of it because it'll annoy Joash. ;p. Lend it to me sometime, k?

ack is my favorite word

2006-05-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

Oh, what a month this has been. I finished writing those blasted term papers (which was like passing a boulder-sized gallstone out of my ear...or maybe a bellybutton) and started another dang course on children's lit. Yup. another one. Who would'a thunk little red riding hood was about sex. Sleeping Beauty too. Oh, yeah, and pretty much, all of them? Well, I guess everything can be about sex according to Freud. ACK. stories for children, people! yecchhh.

Elim, one of my roommates moved out last week and I went on a cleaning frenzy after she left. Ack, I've been possessed by the psycho cleaning spirit of my other roommate Jon! I threw out a bunch of junk out of the basement, set up some anal system of organization to the mess of broken lamps and shredded extension cords that someone seems to like keeping. Things are eerily quiet around here, with Elim gone and Jon in Europe...we have someone new coming in June, and who knows what things will be like when Jon gets back and the new guy moves in.

Oh, and can you believe that we had a swing dancing event at church? I couldn't believe we had over a hundred people show up for swing dancing...many of which were people I didn't know and others I've only seen with their bums glued to chairs for two years at Grace...and all of a sudden were shakin them booties like a bunch of repressed nuns. Ok, I'm exaggerating. We're a pretty fun bunch, but still pretty reserved. (Ooh dancing is from the devil!!! haha. just kidding...) Actually, watching so many people I've come to love over the last two years dancing and enjoying each other was a beautiful thing...a very Godly, very beautiful thing.

The next morning, I got up early and went to the East side church to sing with the choir. Wow, it was great being back there...it reminded me how much I loved it when I went there for about 7 months last year. Being with the choir and the East siders was BEAUTIFUL and I was feeling so blessed with being part of this church.

Speaking of which, I've decided to become a member at Grace Van. Finally! Two years later, and two years of lots of nasty times and lots of great times, I've decided it's time to commit once and for all to this church.
I LOVE GRACE VAN!!!!
*sigh* After the East side service, I joined a bunch of Westsiders hanging out at Granville Island. When I got there, I saw about 15 of them sitting at the dock, with Eastcoast fiddle music in the background, all enjoying each other. This was a beautiful picture, a snapshot of God's blessings to me: I love seeing people I love hanging out and loving each other! AHHHCK, it makes me want to squeeze them all!!!
Did I say how much I love Grace Van? It's like finding something I didn't know was missing...almost like a body part (more specifically, my heart) that had grown back. (sorry, weird imargery there!). Big Al from ACF was right when she said, "Get involved in a church. A campus fellowship isn't a church." I remember being somewhat offended when she said that at the graduating banquet to everyone, thinking she was preaching on some high horse. (Doesn't that tell you that I wanted to be on that horse myself?!) But, of course, with the truth spoken, we are often rubbed the wrong way. It's a good thing I didn't tackle her... Ontario folks, I've retired from football. More accurately, God put me on the sidelines like a good coach should, pointing out to me that I can't keep running on a bum knee or tackling people for the sake of pure aggression.

I was an ass at Western. You all knew that, but loved me anyway. Thank you.

More on that story later, I think.

So, to sum it up, I am still jobless and a student, scrounging for money doing research surveys for free cash, trying to get on to St.Paul's payroll, figuring out the ins and outs of the relationship business, and being excited about community, people, and God more and more. Life is weird, but life is good! Praise God!!!

posture::poetry

2006-05-12T14:06:00.000-07:00

Is it so hard to kneel?
To assume a humble position
To relieve oneself from standing
Where feet can no longer support
Where shoulders can no longer carry-
oh-the awful burdens of life?
I crumble
To relieve oneself from Apathy and Denial,
positions where the spine sags,
butt is happy and flabby
With knees up in defense, and
feet pointing outward, ready to run

To kneel is to wake
To step into response
where saggy flabby angry cowardly you
unloads your heavy body
as cartiledge and bone crunch
the hardwood floor
Escape-artist feet tucked beneath
seat liberated posterior
with body bent forwards
head bent downwards
giving room
-ah-
for the soul to move.

Sanctuary

2006-05-09T14:18:00.000-07:00

As the tempest beats upon the walls,
and dark skies spit venomous hail
These walls of stone though ancient and worn
Stand firm and steadfast and ready.
Bearing scars of long battle
the grounds 'round it hide
midst thick brush grown over time
a landscape of bodies, the gory dead.
Now only the wind howls upon the gate,
the battle being long over
And no one answers within.
Death and her army lie broken like twigs
Liar and his deception rot with Adultery
Pride and Murder by the East gate,
dead with their knives upon each other.
Forever they lay and have laid dead
in pools of their own blood,
by the hands and swords of their own kin
Sin breeding sin, breeding death
And now silence.
Yet within the walls the fortress sings
Its songs seep from the stones like honey
The sound is like the voice of a child, simple and pure.
The sound is not one voice, but many;
They lament not, but rejoice in victory.
These are eternal songs from past, present and evermore
I am hidden behind this wall,
this Mighty Fortress that is my God
I partake in the feast and the everlasting praise
To celebrate the battle He has already won.

pray for me!

2006-05-02T14:43:00.000-07:00

oh mylanta indeed. it's beautiful in vancouver, there is a great guy who likes me here (and who looks a bit evil in this picture), annnnnd sadly, i have two more term papers to write. victorian lit, boo! i have spent the last week and a half literally imprisoned indoors while all of the above is happening. if you should wish to empathize with me, send your pity to:

matthea's empathy fund*
c/o her dead brain
001 burntout synapse st.
medulla oblongata, BC
V6K 1B4

*cheques and visa number gladly accepted

otherwise, here are some free brain samples that might help you empathize with me:

*brain explosion
*freedom poison
*eyeball implosion
*imminent nervous degeneration
*psychological disruption
*gall bladder eruption
SPONTANEOUS HUMAN COMBUSTION

Matthea manically pulls out hair: "AGHRR!"

anger management 101

2006-04-29T16:37:00.000-07:00

when I am finished with you
you will be all black and blue
cuz i leant you my book
you nasty little crook
it's wet in some places
you've dog-eared the pages
it smells of blue cheese
rancid butter and rotting peas
of armpit and elephants
of fishmarket inhabitants
you've cut out the best pictures
of dan's dirty dentures
the magical flesh-eating lotion
miss glump and her de-glump potion
of the oyster that chuckles
as it nips at your knuckles.
so before i smash you into tiny bits
let me give you this final tip:
neglect a book and you'll kill it;
neglect one of my books and you'll be
in some
deep
* * * * !

i guess i'm a monkey

2006-04-26T10:13:00.000-07:00

so i am not asian according to the quiz.

i would rather be more like curious george.

here he is doing what he does best: miching mallecho, making mischief.

i am also a mischief maker. see. new blog format, miching mallecho with html.

george is an optimistic fellow. if he can hold a pen in his toes and hope the ink will get through, then i can finish my term papers.

(too bad ink spills on floor; my brain likewise)

quiz: what kind of asian girl are you?

2006-04-25T23:20:00.000-07:00

matthea says: i took this test recently and failed. what does that make me?

Where do you go out with your friends?
Your favorite bbt shop while you take pictures with your friends and make the peace sign!
The cafe where the guys with spiked bangs are outside smoking and admiring their lowered hondas.
At a mall in the suburbs where you take sticker pictures (peace sign out!) with your friends (all 11 crammed into one) and stick them to everything you own.
At someone's house where the guys play video games and the girls listen to Leon Lai or Usher

What are you wearing right now?

Everything 2 sizes too small and whatever's trendy at the mall
A baby tee with a cute cartoon character and fuzzy balls glued on it to match your fuzzy cute purse.
Flapper-style dress with leggings, pink leg warmers and pig tails

What kind of music is playing in your car?

The latest hip hop and rap.. cuz hey.. it's your birthday, it's your birthday!
The latest and hottest korean or chinese pop group cd .. cuz you like how the singers were doing peace signs on the cover!
The latest hip hop and pop mix...it's all about mainstream

What do you do in class...really?

Sit with all your girlfriends and gossip really loud the entire time.
Sit with your friends and speak your Asian language together and giggle at the cute Chinese boy with bleached popstar hair and try to do the peace sign so he can see!
Sit with your friends and talk about how nasty those asian girls over there look and how they need to stop drawing their eyebrows in and stop looking surprised.

What kind of car is closest to the type of car you drive?

A Jetta with lots of stuffed animals and your gym outfit in the trunk and fancy asian air freshener
A Honda with lots of stuffed animals and fancy asian air freshener!
A BMW or Benz with lots of stuffed animals and fancy asian air freshener!
Your Mom's Lexus with lots of stuffed animals and fancy asian air freshener!

so blessed; so tired

2006-04-17T14:14:00.000-07:00

Easter Sunday: Grace Van choir singing 'That Name'
at the Roundhouse Community Centre

What a crazy weekend this has been. Good Friday began with an early morning oatmeal get-together with Sher-Ping, then followed with Grace's day of prayer which followed the Beatitudes from morning to late afternoon. Of course, I always find myself reluctant to go to one of these all-day praying events because I, well, just don't want to go. This is when I make myself remember how I feel at the end of these things (which is WONDERFUL), and go, praying that God would change my heart. And wouldn't you know it, He did just as I was walking to church after having some good 'ol girl fellowship with Sherps.

The day of prayer began at the West side church and finished at the East side, where we had our Good Friday service. It was one of the best worship services I've been to in a long time, because the church was filled with good friends from both West and East side churches. We had spent all day together praying for each other, the church and the city, and just like at our recent worship retreat, I knew the Holy Spirit was there so tangibly among us. After the service, a big group of us headed over to The Cedar Cottage Pub and ate way too much---again. Too full to stay awake, and too buzzed from all the corporate/community prayer, Joash and I tried to study, and failed miserably . . . ahhh, what can you do.

Saturday, there was an extra choir practice because of the Easter Sunday service the next day, so there went my morning. I then met up with a friend from church for lunch (oh, another Ontarian), marked my English 110 papers furiously, then went swing dancing with Joash and friends. Oh, it never stops.

So Sunday began at 6am for me, having to get to the Roundhouse Community Centre for the 8am worship and choir practice . . . it was a really great service, and a really great time of worship, though by the end of it, my back was killing me after having been up and about for a good few hours. After eating buns dipped in salad dressing (due to the lack of sandwich meat) and talking to countless people, many of which kept winking, nudging, or asking me about Joash, I was ready to hit the sack, but there was still Camper's ordination to attend at 1:45. That was a really great service where we got to pray for and support Camper becoming a pastor...oh, and no ordination service, especially an event going on these three days would be without food... ;).
Speaking of food, after the service, Joash and I went back to his place to get ready for the Easter potluck that evening. He had put in a HUGE 18 pound turkey ('said the lady at the store told him he needed 18pounds for 10 people!) early that morning, and good thing too, because I was wiped when we got to his house. It was a really awesome evening, spent with a random group of people: There was Sher-Ping and Geraldine from church, Elim my housemate and her friend Shu; Joash's friends Peter and Jen from Regent, as well as his housemate Wendy (or 'Windy' as he calls her) and her mom visiting from Guelph...aaaaand, Gargantuan, the 18 pound turkey, who turned out to be a tasty hunk of meat. Oh and the fun didn't stop there. After great conversations and mounds of food and green pistachio marshmallow dessert, Joash and I watched a bit of Legends of the Fall, which he can't seem to get enough of. I've never seen it, but have heard bits of it through reading snippets of Wild at Heart, a book Joash loves, but one that makes me laugh. I need to re-evaluate what that book's about.

Well, writing this makes me remember just how crazy this weekend was. It was busy, tiring, but such a gift, since I now come out of it realizing all the more how blessed I am, and how much I love and am loved here.

Pray that I get my term papers done and that this sore throat of mine is going to hold off till I'm done!!!

changed the picture on ya

2006-04-17T14:13:00.000-07:00

bad poem, great guy: matthea is cheese.

2006-04-11T23:30:00.000-07:00

Q. !!!?
A. Intro to Grace Vancouver Course.

So, people, this is Joash.
He really likes Johnny Cash.
An American! Who would've thunk
Well, good thing he's no Asian punk
He loves God and is studying Greek
To maybe someday be both a pastor and a geek.
But boy can this guy sure swing dance,
And ack, I just about peed my pants!
Honest, upright and faithful,
Can you call a guy 'beautiful'?
Too bad, I just did.
So people, this is Joash.
And he really likes Johnny Cash.

i am in a dungeon

2006-04-10T15:47:00.000-07:00

Surprise, surprise, it is no longer Weldon's Periodicals B, but some dungeon in the deep, dark belly of Koerner library. Good thing it isn't sunny, or else I'd be having some real problems. I've been terribly finicky about study space since mid February: my favourite workplace cafe shut down earlier this year, and I was left with few options. My room drives me crazy, and housemates often distract me out of my work; Calhoun's is noisy and dark; I know too many people at the Wired Monk, and school libraries are just, well, nasty. I have, though, resorted to the dungeonous library option because I figure its the best way to get my "blinders" on. Timmy's works ok, but only if I'm there by myself or with Elim my housemate and not with wonderfully distracting Joash. So, I am in a dungeon. I have locked myself in and thrown away the key. Oh, the sweet smell of recycled air.
Back to work...

Poof. ii.

2006-04-06T11:04:00.000-07:00

Poof.

2006-04-06T11:02:00.000-07:00

I didn't take this picture; I found it off the 'net: This, folks, is Vancouver in March!

spring flowers, wedding showers: julia gulia

2006-04-04T15:44:00.000-07:00

Spring is here, and flowers are out. The weather is still gloomy, but sunny at times. Oh Vancouver, Oh Mylanta. March is always the hardest to get term papers out. I went for a beautifully long walk with Renae last week along the beach, and so many flowers are out!

It's sunny today, and actually warm too for the first time, so I took a walk down to North Wreck beach between classes, and read the Bible for a while, alternately talking to God in between. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to enjoy it fully; I had a fitful night's sleep, and am positively exhausted. I'm gonna crash soon...but first:

Spring is here, and so come the onslaught of soon-to-be marriages. Congratulations to Julia, another Essex girl getting hitched. I'm suprised the whole rez hasn't followed suit. First Karyn, then Cyn, then Ho, now Julia!

I was thinking about ACF again today, as I was hunting down the Crusade office at the SUB. It made me think --- we never got an office at the UCC?! But while peering through the various offices, I found some Asian kids hanging out in one of them. The sight brought me back to my early undergrad days where we would just meet up at the UCC food court, hang out, laugh, play...ah, sweet, simple times! yay for goofy undergrad days, and yay for right now, even if life at present seems more complicated than before.

weekend fun, sun and weird laughing.

2006-03-22T07:54:00.000-08:00

What a beautiful weekend! Ah, it's raining now, and I'm wondering if I have to put my boots back on and abandon my sandals. My theory is, insist on wearing your Birks even when it's still sorta cold outside and the weather will naturally adjust itself towards summer. Of course, this never works, but I try anyhow. Good news, though: Monday was the first day of spring! yay!

So, I left behind my books this weekend for a worship retreat with my church, at a lovely mountainous place called Coultus Lake near Chilliwack. I think most grad students at this time of year would say that was a crazy decision, but I don't doubt the value of going at all. What, miss out on all-out free-for-all jam sessions with good friends and praising God all at the same time? Hm, a sad thing that would be. Most of all, the best thing out of the retreat was reconnecting with old friends and strenghthing friendships with newer ones. How great it was to see the East-siders again, and all their craziness. There is so much beauty in the diversity of our community...

I came back to Vancouver feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of work I knew I had to do in the next little while, and the familiar dread started to creep up on me again. Oh, but I think I know what to do with these fears, now that it's been a year or so that I've had to deal with them -- give 'em a good stomp, and say, "Poo on you!!!" Yeah! That's right. Grad school WILL get done darn it. Mylanta, it will!

Sunday was a gorgeous day, filled with sunshine, food and friends, and yes, even some schoolwork. It was nice to see Rebecca again, who I haven't seen in weeks - and also to catch up with Bettina, who was away in Ontario for a while.

When I got home, I found my roommates Kat and Jon, along with friends Jay and Ryan, making horrendous noises that sounded like laughing, but their faces were twisted in forced grimaces and frowns. Kat turned to me and said, "Can you laugh without smiling?" hehe. Try it with your friends. It's the most hilarious thing watching people's faces as they spit out some pretty awful, gutteral sounding ho-ho's and heh-heh's trying to laugh without smiling. Their eyes pop out, faces turn red. It's pretty hard to do, especially when you know how stupid you look while doing it... and by then, it's become a lost cause!

Quote(s) of the Day

2006-03-16T15:38:00.000-08:00

1. "Stupid Fat ugly man (Satan), POO ON YOU!!!!" - Karyn Pong
Thanks to Cora, I was reminded of one of Karyn's hilarious "-isms".

2. "This is the toilet speaking! What do you want?! RaggghhHHWRRR" - Kate Naus
Kate sitting in a public toilet stall, thinking her friend's knocking on the door. She scares off an elderly woman instead.

3. "This song [Can you feel the love tonight" by Elton John] reminds me of a girl I saw getting a huge tattoo of Simba and Naala frolicking on her back" - Elim by housemate.
Ah the joys of QMFM easy listening at Tim Hortons. I bet that girl has a huge debt to pay off the laser surgery.

School Mayhem

2006-03-15T12:27:00.000-08:00

Too many classes yesterday; brain cells degenerating. Uterus acting up, making me crazy. The seminar room I have class in are in the middle of this concrete tower, windowless, airless, and yes, lifeless. I miss UWO's gothic University Tower, even those butt-cramping 19th century wooden chairs we sat on. At least we had windows! UBC's Buchanan Tower is just like the dreaded concrete social science building at Western, and is something of a design nightmare from the 60s that thought a campus that looked like a computer chip from aerial view would be cool. ack.

Tim Hortons is also lacking on campus. Yes, Vancouver loves its Starbucks. To my lovely surprise, when I got back from my leave, I found that a Timmys had opened at 99 Chairs! Oh, how I took for granted Western and the Timmys in every building on campus! I was so happy I could say, "a large coffee, double-double" and have a donut for two dollars.

So what's with the SUB being a food court, social gathering place, movie theatre, and garbage dump all at once? It never ceases to amaze me that students treat their campuses like dirt. It was nearly impossible to find a seat that wasn't going to bury me in garbage. People eat, leave their trash, and go. This repeats, the garbage accumulates, and you get SUB-the-trashcan as a building. Maybe the architects of the 60s had a good reason for designing ugly buildings: why bother making them nice if they're going to get trashed anyhow?

Ai.

Joe and Karyn, Karyn and Joe

2006-03-01T19:52:00.000-08:00

Karyn is always in town visiting Joe. I don't know how she does it, but she somehow manages to fly out here to visit him from Toronto --- which is great, since I get to see her too. Ah, old friends are a good thing to have in these parts. I don't know what it is, but every time we all get together, we end up pigging out like you wouldn't believe. They blame me for this, but I don't know why they think "Matthea" and think "food", or how I gained the reputation as a big eater in undergrad. Can I help it if food is so good? No! Ain't my fault. Just like it wasn't that lady's fault - the one who sued Mickey's for getting her morbidly obese. . . Anyhow, last night, we went out to this dodgy dumpling place that was soooo tasty. We had gyozas galore, and deep-fried pork-chops with taiwanese noodles with spicy sauce . . . and yes, it was my idea to get BBT afterwards, the lovely Asian drinky-thing that someone from my church calls "alien embryo" ("Yargh! out of yer chest it comes!) Hahah! Then, we ended up visiting Tim and Leia at the Wired Monk (I should have guessed Joe would've known Leia from Ottawa!) and having . . . more food.

I am satisfactorally carbohydrated!!!

why shopping may be hazardous to your health

2006-02-13T11:28:00.000-08:00

Oh, it was sunny today, and my reading week just began. I'm supposed to be working on my Conceptual Integration project, but I'm sitting in Calhoun's having a coffee and reading a non-related book very, very slowly. After, I ended up walking around Broadway, and oh mylanta, there are some clothing sales. Oh, and the sun is out, which somehow means summer is just around the corner. Oh, and I haven't bought anything since Christmas. And oh, I'm so sick of my clothes. Being a is girl so hard. Well, I didn't do too badly; I bought a few shirts on sale, but I could have done much worse---oh, much worse, if I didn't remind myself that I only have one body to clothe, and not 12. Oh, and what shoes have we here?

Ah yes. I have one pair of feet too.

Immigrant Parents

2006-01-25T22:38:00.000-08:00

My parents are great. They don't speak English very well, but they're great. They've even given my brother and I such "unique" names that no one, not even themselves, can pronounce. All the aunties and uncles at our church (a Chinese church, mind you) would say our names exactly the same way - "Maf-fee!" - so we never knew who they were calling. The funniest thing out of all this is that my parents can't even pronounce our names right. Dad calls me, "Ma-d-tea"; and my brother "Matt-y-us." Thank heavens, though, they didn't name me something like "Kitty", "Venus", or "Cloud." And since Chinese people have a lot of trouble with th's, r's and l's, I have to be thankful they didn't name me something like Ralethea. Imagine what that would sounds like!!! "Llalleefeeah!"

At least "Matthea" sorta of has some relation to "Matthew", a real name that's, well, unfortunately meant for boys. . . I never could figure out who had it worse, me or my brother. His name's "Matheus," and it gets mangled into things like "Malthus", "Morpheus", "Mattioos." I've always thought it was worse for me, though, since I'm a girl - try being called "Matthew" on your first day of highschool. That was me in grade nine, baby. Lucky me! On top of that, I've also gotten "Maffea", "MATtheea", "Ma-TEEa", "Ma-Tay-a". I think the best was blurted out by my outdoor ed teacher's wife, who was trying to get my attention on one of our trips: "Matthoo!"

So, if there are any other Mattheas out there, and can sympathize with my case, drop me a line and let me know what hilarious name-slaughtering experiences you've had!

Tyrant in the House?

2006-01-16T23:35:00.000-08:00

"Thorazine can control the agitated belligerent senile
...and help the patient to live a composed and useful life."

It does a senile good.

My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die

2005-04-13T00:33:00.000-07:00

I just spent the night I was supposed to finish my 545 paper watching The Princess Bride, the DVD version. Oh, that was fun. Hey, whaddya mean, this cinematic cynic actually likes a movie? Well, note that all the flicks I insult are recent, and that PB is from good 'ol '85. Yes, there are some (some) movies made in this 2000s that are good--excellent even--but there so few. PB is pure movie-making genius; maybe no one’s been able to get this kind of goofiness --somewhat reminiscent of Monty Python and This is Spinal Tap (maybe it has something to do with Christopher Guest)--that people haven't been able to get quite right. Maybe this kooky genre is a dated, a remnant of the eighties when fantasy movies from Star Wars to The Dark Crystal were popular. The funny thing is, though, that unlike PB, these other movies weren't supposed to be comedies. Watching them again in 2000, and a good ten years later, I get nostalgic for the Jim Henson puppets and low-tech special effects. Oh, the lost days when scary, red-painted and dual-horned Tim Curry captured Tom Cruise's love in Legend, or when David Bowie, the then-thirty something transvestite pop-singer tried to seduce an excessively young Jennifer Connolly in Labyrinth . . . "Dance, magic dance . . ." (Those goblins looked like little turds, but they'd still scare the shitezas outta me if I had to see one up close).

Fantasy movies have been replaced by technotronic martial arts films with black vinyl and Keanu Reeves; my beloved muppet monters and aliens are all now computer generated cartoons that look too drawn out to be real; and Star Wars the prequels--they are just plain terrible. Star Wars used to be dramatic, innovative, and funny; the new ones take themselves so seriously that it's hard to take them, well, seriously.

Well, I'm beginning to sound a lot like a big nerd here. Oops, I have a blog, and that's already a given. So, I await a day when fantasy movies will return with muppets, David Bowie, and most of all, humour--and that may be never.

Something Smells Fishy

2004-11-19T22:14:00.000-08:00

My dad sent me an email about the box of smoked salmon I sent my mom through the post. I can just hear his canto-english staccato in his words: "Sheeza feesh nut," He adds, "She hasn't open-ed yet, she like to lok at it."

Oh mom. I can see her nipping at the bubblewrap enevelope with fingers until, at long last, she pulls out the boxed salmon and holds it out gleefully before her, arms outstretched and lips curled from ear to ear. She'll give a gutteral growl, "MMM!" while smacking her lips loudly. You see, my mom is most definitely a "fish nut." She'll salivate when she sees them floating around on tv shows like "The Nature of Things" and talk about all the ways she would cook 'em while David Suzuki is telling us about the ecological problems of over-fishing. She'd even salivate if she saw dead fish floating around a dock, stewing in the summer heat. I'm serious. I think if I took her to Vancouver's aquarium she's try to take one of those Amazonian monster-fish home with her, they're so big . . .

Watching her eat fish is fun. There's something so wonderfully disgusting but fascinating at the same time about watching her savour its white soggy meat and suck on its bones like Tolkien's Gollum. The worst part, or best part according to her, is when she munches on the fish head she saves for last. "It's your loss," she'll say while sucking on the white visionless ocular mass. When she bites the eyeball, it makes such a horrendous crunching-squishing sound, no human ear was ever meant to hear it.

Why she loves fish is curious. Why anyone would like it as much as she does is beyond me. Fish are foul. Their putrescent smell that is the same as rotting garbage summons memories of decaying worms and fish glued to the burning hot fishing dock, diseased-looking fish in cloudy-grey tanks in Chinatown, summers in the East coast and reeking tubfuls of shells and crab carcasses we would gather from the shoreline. It's a smell I hate; a smell she adores. I believe it's a trend of hers, this affinty for putrid smells, because she also loves durian, a large spiky fruit the stench of which she once lovingly described to me as "cat poo." Yum, mom.

I don't hate fish, but I do hate seafood (sushi is an exception). People often look shocked when I tell them this, especially when I'm now living on the West Coast. Unknowingly, friends have set me off to B.C. saying, "Take advantage of the seafood while you're out there." I have to smile weakly and nod like I'm happy about it every time. I often wonder how people can eat things that look so much like insects. Could it be the taste that overrides the look, texture, and smell of them? After years of being the reason why my family can't order seafood at restaurants, I have tried SO hard to enjoy it. Once, my aunt in Vancouver served me a huge plate of giant crabs at her house. I was so set to brave it out, to face my fears . . . Surely there's something amazing about these things, what with their harmless spiny pincers, bug-like exoskeleton, and appendages of a giant tarantula... Good god! How can anyone stomach this? My aunt began ripping off a crab's arm and plopped it on my plate. Smiling in an attempt to keep myself from retching, I placed a piece in my mouth. It was warm. soft. sickeningly sweet. . . and definitely disgusting.
Thus ended my failed conversion. Seafood simply isn't for me!

What? Fresh Fruit BBT?!

2004-07-23T19:08:00.000-07:00

So I've been a Vancouverite for a month now. You figure after coming to a new city that I would have tons to blog about. To tell you the truth, so much has happened that I hardly know where to start, but I guess the best way is to begin with the now and present. Well, I've found a house and I live near the beach (ocean, really) that faces north to the mountains. I've discovered the joys of real fruit bubble tea, Malaysian curry dishes and little India's fabric stores. I've bought a bike and named it George, which goes for all other beloved inanimate objects that I own, such as George the guitar, George the backpack, and George the swiss-army knife. Putter-John, my family's Toyota Tercel, is the only exception. IKEA has become good friend of mine, supplying me with a much-needed bookshelf and Value Village always comes to the rescue when looking for cheap used furniture like study desks and chairs. I've also experienced the joys and confusion of The Daiso store that sells two floors of two dollar Japanese and Chinese homeware, office supplies, gardening tools, craft materials, and hydrogenated Asian junk-food such as prawn flavoured chips and wasabi crackers. A good place to visit once if you're trying to buy stuff for a new house; otherwise, it's two floors of two dollar uselessnsess.

Have I hiked any mountains yet? Unfortunately, no. I can see them everyday, but I haven't attempted the Grouse Grind just yet. I have heard, however, that you can actually use the public bus system to bus to the mountains. That's very weird, but very cool. A car was very useful for our trip to Tofino on Vancouver Island, but the ferry is extortion! $40 for one car, and about $10 per passenger. It cost us about $80 just to get our car on one stinking boat! The drive to Tofino is absolutely amazing though. We drove straight across the island through real mountain ranges and winding past sparkling lakes and massive trees. Tofino, on the otherhand, is like being on the edge of the world-well- it marks the end of this country anyhow. The Trans Canada highway pacific terminus is there, and it's an interesting testimony to how big this country really is. Anyhow, Tofino is a stunning place where the waves are large enough for surfing and the shore allows for glimpses of gray whales and nesting bald eagles. Rainforests surround the area and make a convincing double for a Jurassic Park backdrop. Fall into a fern and you might never find your way out. Strangely enough, you'll only find racoons and black bears here, but I swear rare and unknown species of Canadian monkeys live here, or my name isn't Nickelback.

It hasn't started raining yet, and the residents here tell me that this weather is rather freakish. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for the sun to ward away the perpetual downpours I am told frequents this location. I've blabbed enough--for now, I'm gonna try to befriend my new roommate's bratty cat, George - er- Pandora.

Oh, I'm a terrorist? Really?

2004-06-18T00:18:00.000-07:00

So this was my first trip on a plane... alone. Not that that's was an issue. Airports are just mind boggling places that make me wonder if I'm actually a terrorist and I didn't know it. Maybe I packed a M-16 into my knapsack in my sleep? Will they confiscate my nail-clipper and post my picture on CNN as the new Asian threat? Well, this isn't the States, and that's not where I'm going. The guy at security tells me to take out any electronics in my carry-on. I smile innocently as I pull out all the things that blink and go beep. As security begins dusting my things, I think to myself "Oh, I have a bomb in my cell phone. Fancy that." But, no alarms go off, no red alert. The sweat starts to recede as I turn and give a thumbs up to my parents waiting behind the security area. I give a little wave and it's done. So it's goodbye Ottawa, and hello Vancouver. Ah, the second chapter of my life, I suppose. More school . . . the comfortable, all-encompassing security of school -- the best way I figure to stall the decision to choose a career. Chris said it best yesterday during our conversation at Zaphod's: "The working life seems like eternity," she said. "You feel like you're trapped in a damned routine that's -- endless." So, do I really want to be in her position? Work 9-5, Monday to Friday, lather, rinse, repeat? How would that be, I wonder. A life with no studying or homework, papers or lectures, and all the things I'm so sick of right now? Maybe I could join the army like that guy sitting by the window over there? He seems to have it all figured out with his snappy little buzz cut, and his polished shoes, though besides getting a free education, I couldn't let the army have me for five years that easily. I might as well get a lobotomy, which, in comparison, doesn't seem so bad. No, the future is undecided, and much like chocolates in a box a la Forrest Gump, you never know what you're gonna get.

Asians, Allergies and Alcohol

2004-06-17T23:11:00.000-07:00

Yes, I turn red after downing a beer. Yes, I get dizzy after the neck. That was me seven years ago. A million and a half years later, this is me now.

Chris spent the night laughing at me at Zaphod's tonight, as I tried to walk from one side of the club to the other. And I only had one drink, after a huge plate of pasta. She said this is good: I've saved lots of money, and my liver.

So why is it that many Asian people can't take alcohol, like they can't handle lactose products? Dairy's never been a problem to me (maybe that's why grandpa always says "you're such a big girl" when I go home, even though I'd like to think I'm a good "Canadian" size...), but oh, I can't handle alcohol. There was a time where three drinks (wow!) wouldn't be a problem. For some reason, however, I've returned to my cheap drunk status and I don't know how it happened! Two weeks ago, I had two drinks after a hearty meal. I stood up and nearly toppled over. Now really, that was quite sad! So why, you ask, do I continue to drink? Well, why do other people drink? Cuz it's yummy and it buzzes yummy (Mm, a nice cold beer with wings or better yet, pizza!!!). Hey! It's not like China has a shortage of alcohol like dairy. Japan has Sake. And everyone else, I'm sure, has some form of moonshine carefully refined in a bathtub somewhere. It's a conundrum I hope someone out there can explain to me. Is there Lactaid-like drug that I can take so I won't become a beet after having three quarters of a Smirnoff? Can I ever savour a Stella Artois as much as the Belgian on TV who says, "Mais papa! Il m'a sauve ma vie!" ? Well, it IS a good thing to be a cheap drunk...otherwise I might end up like Nickelback or Vin Diesel in the next Garfield flick and then who knows where I might be? Smoking pot in a yurt on the coast of BC? Why, the fun starts tomorrow! By the way, the flight's at 8AM . . .

Summer movies and smoggy brains

2004-06-06T22:03:00.000-07:00

You can tell my summer is getting off to a good start, becoming a movie-bum going to the theatre for the pupose of feeding off the hyper air-con. I guess that's my excuse for going to see movies like Troy and The Chronicles of Riddick: My brain is suffering from the humidity, or there's something else really wrong with me.

When we got the the theatre, Chris and I were dumbstruck at the giant poster advertising a movie version for Garfield. My question is WHY!? Who asked for this? I can't remember Garfield being popular when it was popular, so I've got to wonder why this movie ever made it out. The same question goes to The Chronicles of Riddick, the sequel to the mindless sci-fi flick, Pitch Black. Did someone take a public interest survey and discover the demand for the revival of a cantankerous cat and a musclebound killing machine? I've never written any survey of this kind; I certainly have never heard of one either. So, WHY? This question ranks with the likes of, What is the meaning of life? Is there a God? Do we live in a matrix? Why is the sky blue? And, Do I really need these shoes? Yes, central to my existence is the need for the answer to movie-making travesty. Can I save the rest of humankind from being forced to watch The Chronicles of Riddick just because they had to choose between Mean Girls and Another Olsen Twin Movie? Seeing as I keep paying these moneygrubbing moviemakers to crank out more brainless films, I doubt it.

By the way, Garfield II will come out next year, featuring Vin Diesel as the fat cat himself.

"Hey all you Pointers, ready for your ten-year highschool reunion?"

2004-05-25T19:41:00.000-07:00

So it hasn't been ten years yet since I left highschool, but the ever-so pleasant alumni association has graciously sent invitations to every Lisgar graduate in its 160 billion-year old existence for a massive week-long reunion, one which I would only attend if I were a professional killer.

But why not!?!

Why not revisit those memories of long ago, when you were young and full of hope, and love, and passion, and envy. . . and beer?(that wasn't me, honest) Or play catch-up with all those hugely successful graduates who are now living the yuppie life to the fullest? Why not rub shoulders with former classmates you once thought were so superior to you and show them once and for all what a "winner" you are?

Oh, adolescent awkwardness.
The past always haunts us, doesn't it?! You walk down the old familiar hall to your homeroom, and spot a photo layout labelled 1994. Further down, there's a crowd of people, their faces contorted in what seems to be anguish. As you get closer, you see that they are laughing, hideously, with their hands clutching their bellies, eyes squinting tears, arms squeezing sides. You tap a woman from behind. What are you laughing at, you ask. When she turns, you know the face, but cannot place her because it's as though she has swelled. She takes one look at you and bursts into guffaws. She then points to a picture, a picture of a hideous, loathsome creature with big glasses, an oversized t-shirt, and an expression of a dying groundhog lying helpless by the side of the road, asking you to kill it quickly. That picture...IS YOU!

Alright, so I might be exaggerating. The thing is, going to a highschool reunion for many is like trying to travel back in time to erase the past by replacing it with the present. It's like saying, "Hey everyone, I'm not a loser. I am now ridiculously good-looking. And members of the opposite sex like me a lot." Little do people know, that by parading oneself with the sole intention of showing their new and improved selves to the cool kids, they prove to the world that they are just as loserish as they were ten years ago. And you see, this is what would happen if I go. Yes, I would want them all to know, that I am no longer that dying piece of roadkill with the glasses. I now have social skills, and the ability to converse in full sentences. I speak of cool things, like music and travelling and literature, and I like my martinis shaken, not stirred.

And they will all run away, screaming for dear life.

Waiting for Troy to Fall

2004-05-20T20:57:00.000-07:00

"Do you know what's waiting beyond that beach? Immortality! Take it! It's yours!" (Brad Pitt as Achilles).

I love self-important, ridiculous movies. I enjoy them because they take themselves so seriously. I guess once you sign up for a movie named TROY, you're asking for cheese piled in heaps, rotting under the mediterranean sun. Perhaps I'm being a little unfair; I did, after all, agree to see Troy because I liked the idea of watching muscle-flexing and sword-wielding for two hours, but the movie would not have been so funny had it not taken itself for more than a male meat-fest.

Oh, and yes throw in some Jack Horner (composer for the dreaded Titanic), and the annoying insistence on the power of love and you’ve got the total vomit-fest called TROY. Let's see. There's Paris (Orlando Bloom), whose girly locks grace a chin that can't decide whether or not he can grow facial hair. Oh, and there's Hector (Eric Bana), fresh from Shrek - oh, I mean The Hulk - whose facial expressions range between the "I'm serious" pop-eyed look and the constipated frowns he makes as evidence of his “good” acting.

And Brad. Go back to Fight Club. Please. True, his biceps have grown to a ludicrously juicy size, but that doesn't mean his acting abilities follow. Oh Brad, poor Brad. Maybe it was the script writers' faults for giving you lines like "Immortality! Take it! It's yours!" It's just as cruel as giving ice-cream the dumbest names (like Rockin'razzmatazzfricken raspberry) and making you say them when you order. But then again, it's not like Brad's standing in front of a Baskin Robbins counter...he's being paid to say these lines. And I paid...to see him being paid to say them. man alive...