Book of Quotes

I've been keeping a book of quotes lately. Quotes copied down when a line in a book inspires, surprises, lingers, disturbs.

Lately the books I read have been on the darker side, but also more pensive.

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.

From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig had a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Te Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attilla and a pack of other lovers with queer names and off beat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more I couldn't quite make out.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet." -- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

The quote is an eloquent imagination of the less eloquent phrase, FOMO (fear of missing out), but with an additional warning. By trying to keep all these doors open, we are only lessening the time we have to go through any one of them.

I see myself, in this quote, as the girl at the foot of the tree wondering: how long do I have before the fruits fall? And how do I know that by climbing to some of the branches, I won't fall off instead? 

LSAT Masterpieces Vol.1

Ever since starting LSAT classes I have rediscovered my love for doodling. It's not because the LSATs are easy or (terribly) boring. But sometimes going over the reasoning for every wrong answer in a problem and going at a 4 problem-per-hour rate can be dull.

First of many.

It's a polar bear. My forays into portraying wildlife = unsuccessful

The shirt says: (YO) BATTLE. Yes, he is Taiwanese

Drawings are starting to interact...

It says: WOWEE! HAHAHA! FUN! I'M A STAR OH BOY. THPETHIAL CUP!
LET'S GO!

The cartoon figures are unimpressed

MY MASTERPIECE

And that brings us to the end of volume 1. Since there are 5 books in my prep course there will be 5 posts of this nature. Stay tuned!

When did Olympic athletes become hot?

In previous Olympics, I never found the athletes attractive (except Ian Thorpe and Apollo Anton Ono... Oyes). But today, as I was watching the closing ceremonies of the London Olympics it dawned on me why I found so many of them attractive this Olympics.

But the truth was, it wasn't because they actually became more physically attractive.

It's because I never before thought that white guys were hot. Not until WorldMUN 2010 when I was introduced to German boys (holla! And French... and Venezuelan... and...). I remember when I returned to Harvard after that week at WorldMUN and the hotness quota of Harvard went up almost exponentially. 

Like a Dream: Hot Air Ballooning in Cappadocia

I had a dream where before the break of dawn I was whisked away deep into a valley in Cappadocia. When we slowed down, all around were canvases rising like so many lumps of dough. My heart beat faster. The car stopped. We scrambled out and I entered the basket. It was chilly outside, the sun had not yet risen. But there was fire above me, a fire that would soon lift the ground out from under my feet. The fire filled the canvassed balloon with hot air and soon I was airborne!

The landscape of Cappadocia is magical at eye level, or from mountain tops, but it is most haunting from a bird's eye view. We weren't alone that morning. As the sun rose over the chiseled hilltops, balloons populated the sky.

Seconds later, which I am assured was a full hour (but really, who can assure anything in dream-time?), we landed and the dream came to an end.

"Real and unreal, beautiful and strange, like a dream. It got me high as a kite, but it didn’t last long enough. It ended too soon and left nothing behind...That’s how it is with dreams...They’re the perfect crime.” - Tom Robbins

Berlin: My New Home

I've decided that I am moving to Berlin.

Berlin is acceptance, in the way that it has moved on from its past and wholly transformed its social fabric. It is Asian food at every street corner. It is art working its way into every crevice. And finally, Berlin is extremely libatious... just the way I like it.

I spent one day visiting every tourist trap available in Berlin and then four days soaking it all in and wishing that I would never have to leave. 

Essence of Essaouira

Salt-swept sun-soaked facades line the dirt paths of Essaouira. The wind at times whispers and at times whips through the streets. Against the white stripped walls are stark shades of blue, young and old, painted on every surface: doors, window panes, awnings, table cloths, chairs, gates, clothes.

Even before the eye falters from the blinding light, the nose takes over. Smells waft from alleyways. On Ave de l'Istiqlal, salty grilled seafood; Rue de la Skala, curries; Place Moulay Hassan, baked sweets. The scents linger like hawkers from the Souks pushing their wares, "Scarves? You like? Nice price. Come, look, see."

The wind dominates conversation, muting sounds other than its own. When the wind stops, the hush of heat reigns.

Essaouira is a beautiful, magical place. A city of cheap seafood, slowed pace of living, wind, and sea. Full of food for the senses. I am in love with the essence of Essaouira.

Ohayogozaimasu Marrakech

Pop quiz: where in the world can you hear more Japanese than in Japan?

Answer: as an Asian in Marrakesh

The last few days in Marrakesh have been a melding pot of dusty roads, various Asian languages (all the street vendors seem to know some Japanese, Chinese, Korean, you name it, that they willingly test out on a passing Asian tourist), trinket lined walls, and deliciously fragrant foods. A very hot melding pot. The temperature the day we arrived was 46 degrees Celsius, or 116 degrees Fahrenheit.

R and I spent yesterday wandering the streets and popping into a few touristy locations - palaces, tombs, plazas. We also wandered into the souk, and wandered and wandered. The souk is a labyrinth of shops and vendors that has to be experienced to be believed. In the evening we had a (unintentionally) romantic dinner at Pepe Nero, a swanky Moroccon-Italian restaurant.

Today we took a different approach, a full day dedicated to cooking! I'll let the images explain how that went.

We started off by blind-identifying all of the spices by smell
I would say R and I failed that

I've got Ray Ban Vision... I-I-I can't see, I-I-I-I can't see
Sharpied out raybans for blind smell tests

The cooking station with a traditional tagine pot and spices

R can't handle the amount of fun he's having

Our veal with artichoke, lemon, and peas tagine
(Mine on the left, R's on the right)

The whole shebang - we made the bread and tagine
Both were yums

Two interesting tidbits. One, another student (out of five) was also a recent Harvard graduate now working at BCG Boston. Two, nutmeg is 20x as effective as cocaine. 20x the high, 20x the crash.