The Last Storm?

We all knew there was going to be one more big nasty snow, and yesterday it arrived. The fact that it happened on a weekend when I had to be working anyway somehow made it better. I mean, if it were beautiful sunny weather and I had to be inside working, that would be actually more depressing.



Of course I trudged into my office. All my books are there.

I wore the "thinking cap." It's an old tradition. It's actually an enormous, Pocket of Bolts sized hat that someone made for him a long time ago. I wore it while I was studying for my generals, and periodically since then. It's just kind of comforting.



Driving snow and icy trees outside one of the classroom buildings. I was on my way to the library, tracking down references for those last pesky footnotes.



Pocket of Bolts and I have decided that since this is my spring break, it's important to both work hard and try to do something a little bit fun each day. So, after I put in more or less a full day's work, we went out to see a movie. We went to Brew and View, the crazy Chicago theater where they sell beer as well as popcorn. It's in a really old building, and actual theater I think. I took some pictures with my iPhone, and although they came out dark, they're kind of interesting.



We saw Sherlock Holmes. The sound in Brew and View was impressively bad, so some of the dialogue--especially given the medley of partially artificial British-type accents--was lost on us. But, clearly the main point of the movie was the action, which came through just fine.

Dragon Kite

Pocket of Bolts got a dragon kite for his birthday, so on Friday evening we decided to go out and fly it. We'd had several days of spring weather, temperatures in the 60s and sunshine. But there was a cold front coming in, meaning a good strong wind. We rode an articulated bus down to Northerly Island. Articulated buses are so interesting.



Here is Pocket of Bolts assembling the kite, although it kind of looks like he's trying to slay the dragon.



Here is the dragon in flight. There are also two little birds up in the corner. All these pictures are taken with my iPhone, which means the resolution isn't all that great. On the other hand, with all the running around and grabbing strings and such, it was much more convenient than having to lug the big camera around.



The dragon kite swoops down over the city of Chicago. Pocket of Bolts flying it is the small black shape in the middle.



Close up of me and the dragon kite. It was getting dark, which is why it looks grainy.



The road home. By the time night fell, it was getting really cold. Since we were dressed more for spring than for winter, we got quite chilled! But we made it okay in the end.

Happy B-Day, Pocket of Bolts!

Today was Pocket of Bolts' birthday. He is 31!

We went ice-skating. Here he is waiting for the zamboni to get done. The little girl got into the picture randomly, but made it much awesomer, I'd say.



We had dinner at The Publican. We had never been there before. It was great!



We both felt uncharacteristically interested in having oysters. We don't usually like oysters, but these were absolutely delicious!



Instead of birthday cake, Pocket of Bolts wanted a lemon meringue pie. It came out pretty well, I thought. And certainly it looked the part. :)



Also part of the birthday present... ...



(I finally got around to buying some boots...)

In the Living Room

Roller-blading in the living room to demonstrate a point of ice-skating theory to Pocket of Bolts. Hey, got to de-stress somehow.

Survived the first week of the term... barely. My new opinion about writing lectures is: they are not as *hard* to write as I feared, but they take much much much longer than I'd hoped.

On Friday my estimate was, if I worked every day of the three day weekend, I *might* be able to get my head above water. Somewhat. Two days in, I'm thinking that was a little optimistic. I mean, I have worked pretty diligently both yesterday and today (minus short breaks for ice-skating and such), but my head is not quite above the water. Sigh.

Condiment Plate

One of Pocket of Bolts' favorite dinners is Asian Beef Wraps. It is steak grilled and then cut into strips and briefly marinated in a spicy Southeast Asian style sauce (fish sauce, lime juice, siracha, etc.). These are wrapped in lettuce leaves together with various vegetatious condiments (pictured here). We usually have it with rice as well. It's a Southeast Asian variant of a common Korean meal we had often when I was little... I think of it as a summer thing, but for PoB it's comfort food any time of year. He usually is in charge of making it, but I often sous-chef, and the carrot curls in this picture are all me. :-)

Last day of "freedom" before the term starts back up in earnest. I spent the day in my office trying to get stuff ready. The way my procrastination works, it's always easiest to make myself work on the lowest priority things, the stuff farthest out. So, for once, that was my dissertation. Got a little course planning in too, though, since I *had* to.

Heat Lamps on the El

Yesterday I had to do an errand somewhere in the city I don't usually go. I took the brown line to get there, and then I got lost because I had never been there on the brown line before. It was snowing really hard. I called Pocket of Bolts but he didn't pick up. I thought about calling someone else, but then I wandered around and found my own way.

This is the platform of the brown line on the way back, after sunset. I really like how the heat lamps had melted the snow.

Yesterday we also went to see Where the Wild Things Are at the Siskel Center. A lot of it was very good but it was ... somehow more sad than I wanted it to be. The sense of wonder potentially inherent in the story and concept was definitely there ... but, did it also have to get so badly smashed so often. I felt it was definitely more an allegory for adults than a fun film for kids. But I don't have a problem with that.

School starts on Monday. I feel worried and not ready, even though I have worked really hard this week. Too slow.

Black-Hearted Red Carnations

Painted free-hand. I have almost never tried that. Pocket of Bolts got me the flowers yesterday to try cheer me up. I sat at the kitchen island and made a picture of them while he made dinner.

ZP: "The ones in the picture look anemic."
PoB: "They don't look anemic. They just seem that way to you because you are sad in your heart."

We both like the vase best. PoB said it looked like a comic-book picture. I kinda like that.

Clammy

These long clams, I thought were pretty amazing looking. This is only a cell phone picture, but even so. We saw them in Chinatown, when we went down there for dim sum on Saturday. The dim sum was decent, though not spectacular. We chose a place pretty much at random, because ... well, Chinatown is just around the corner. Why should we make a rare and special occasion of it? Why shouldn't we be going down there all the time, any time, exploring and getting to know all the various restaurants?

After dim sum, we went to the grocery store where we saw these clams. We were getting stuff for hot-pot, which we made in honor of Pocket of Bolts' friend coming over for dinner. We also got stuff to make kimchee, but I haven't gotten around to making it yet. It's reasonably easy, but seems like such a ... process. Haven't quite had the energy.

Went back to work today. I was just about the only one. None of my colleagues were back yet... classes not starting for a week. But I have plenty more than a week's worth of work to get through. I made a somewhat decent start on it today. Hopefully at least did enough that I won't be staying up until 2 AM (for the 6th night in a row) worrying about it.

Ice Skating

Pocket of Bolts goes ice-skating for the very first time. We went yesterday and bought ice-skates. It was this kind of calculation: skate rental is $10 a pair and the wait in line was running about an hour. Pocket of Bolts values an hour of his time at about $50; I tend toward a more modest $15-20, but still... given that skates cost about $45 with tax... we'd only have to go twice at most to make it worthwhile. Not to mention avoiding having to stand in line (outside) in 20 degree weather. Pocket of Bolts was very nervous about skating for the first time. We went yesterday and he most clung to the rail and made his slow way around. When other slower beginners were monopolizing the rail, I took his hand and helped him go around. He is big and I am small, but I was amazed how effectively I managed to support his tottering self. Haven't ice-skated in a long time, but still... felt rock-steady. We only stayed about half an hour, until the resurfacing machine started up. That was enough. As with the Art Institute: when it's free, you can go for a short time and not feel under pressure to get your money's worth.

We went again today. It was amazing how much progress Pocket of Bolts had made. He could mostly go around just holding my hand, only grabbing for the rail now and then. He seems to be starting to intuit the means of propulsion. Watching him make progress makes it even more fun to go skating because it's something he never thought he would be able to do and now he is starting to be able to do it. Millennium Park is also a very neat place to skate, with the Bean (Cloud Gate) looming over and endless potential people-watching. So hey, despite the frigid weather, Chicago winter's not all bad.

New Years Day Walk

A very cold day yesterday, but we felt like going for a walk. This is a bridge in Grant Park.


It had a great tree by it, and the tiny person near the tree is me.


Pocket of Bolts in a field of snow and trees.


Us reflected in the new modern wing of the Art Institute.


Pocket of Bolts contemplates how those people's camera-flash has just ripped a hole in the fabric of space-time.



We saw lots of people with ice-skates. Coming down to the free outdoor skating rink that it turns out they have in Millennium Park, we saw a bunch of people there, waiting out the resurfacing.



I said: "*I* want to go ice-skating!"

Direction of Travel

Yesterday we went up to the roof. In this patch of frozen snow, right near the door, there were the strange patterned tracks of all these birds. No human footprints mixed in: it was extremely cold and icy, really too cold to be up there. Still, looking out over the city in all four directions gives me such a feeling of expansiveness. On the cusp of old year and new year, wondering about the direction that life will take next. Just now it's hard to feel eager or excited about it. But maybe... soon...

Giant Rat!

It was odd walking out of my building yesterday and suddenly seeing a giant rat. I mean, a GIANT rat, taller than us. It turns out that the giant rat is a Chicago union tradition, signaling a strike, and perhaps in particular a strike where there are or may be scabs involved.

As an object and a symbol, it is really effectively threatening looking, I think. It was a pretty quiet day yesterday. Had breakfast in the Caribou coffeeshop downstairs because we were too low on supplies and too tired to get to the grocery store. Then went to the grocery store. Later we ventured to Target to spend our holiday gift cards on various small stuff. In the evening I worked on dissertation revisions and such. For some reason I couldn't get to sleep until very late. Jet-lag plus traditional winter break worrying.

Castle Gate

Seattle (Sea-Tac) Airport. We arrive at our gate for the flight to Chicago. And the gate is a castle. I have no idea why. There was a long explanation in small print, but it was located right at the jet-way door, a place where they don't tend to let you loiter. So... whatever the point of the display was, it was lost on me. But I will say, it sure was different. The airline people working the flight kept having to duck behind the banner/curtain thing on the right to get... "back-stage". What was back-stage? I have no idea.

Unlike flight out, where we got got stuck in Salt Lake City for 10 hours, the way back went very smoothly. On the Seattle-Chicago flight, we were seated in the "nursery" section of the plane. Quite literally, there was a child under three in every row, diagonals included. Clearly my bio-clock is going, because I thought that they were all really cute, even when they were fussing about the pressure, boredom, etc. When I was coming back from the bathroom and about to climb back into my row, the little boy (about a year old I think?) in the row across from us grabbed my elbow. I looked down at him and he gave me a thousand watt grin. Awwww.....

Fear of the Ocean

Pocket of Bolts and I are in Miami for the weekend: a college friend of his is getting married. The wedding wasn't until three, and being on our customary schedule, we had time to kill. Although I have a bad cold just now, around noon or so I finally decided that, what with the place we're staying being steps away from Miami Beach, it would be silly not to go swimming. I mean, how often do you get to swim outside in November!? Well, maybe very often if you actually *live* in Miami, or Hawaii... but for me it's a rare experience.

Interesting to say, I find swimming in the ocean very terrifying. When I was a little kid, we went to Huntington Beach in California, and somehow I didn't get properly instructed as to how to deal with breakers. Somehow or other, I got tossed around by a rough wave, and have been a bit phobic about them ever since. This, although I know *now* how to duck under waves if they are too big. And besides, this was an Atlantic Beach and the waves were fairly modest. No ocean features named after Satan, as Pocket of Bolts would say (unlike in Oregon).

Pocket of Bolts plunges into the ocean. He loves swimming in it. He is so strong, and it is so strong against him; it's like clashing of titans. I went in more cautiously, catching my breath whenever a big wave seemed to be forming. But--it is so no difficult to grab a breath and slip under. The roar of the water is instantly muted into a sandy trickling noise, and the threatening white thundercloud of wave disappears into mild bubbly swaying feeling that just passes over your body and then leaves you behind.

Not mind you that I am the picture of elegance diving under wave or anything. I tend to plug my nose and leave my ankles up in the air. Pocket of Bolts said, If you don't plug your nose, it's like saline nasal rinse. Good point!

Hero

Grading is pretty unpleasant, but now and then there's something really sweet. I was reading essays written by my first year Chinese students on the theme of "my hero". Their vocabulary is still very basic--they really can't say very much at all. But here's one that was... just... awww...

"My hero is my mom. She is fifty years old. She is a college student."
我的英雄是我妈妈。她五十岁。她是大学生。

Sister of My Heart

Last week I had a sudden and unexpected visit, almost completely without warning, from this dear girl whom I had thought lost to me. Thinking her lost, I wrote her a letter... sort of to say goodbye. She was my brother's girlfriend for many years, and she and I were particularly close, at least for some of that time--when geography permitted. The three of us were roommates off and on one year, and there were visits and travels... But then they broke up and she was gone.

There was no answer to my letter, but I didn't really expect one. It was like a message in a bottle--why does anyone put a message in a bottle? It is written for the writer, not for some unimaginable reader.

Then suddenly, at 1 AM one day, she sends me an e-mail: she will be in Chicago for 24 hours. I wrote back to her at 5 AM. Amazingly, at 3 in the afternoon, my phone rang and it was she (calling from a payphone--she has no cell). I rode the bus to Union Station where she was waiting. She was standing on a shoulder high wall holding an accordion in her arms. The wind was gusting so hard and her red hair was long again--I'd last seen it cropped short. Despite the stormy wind, as she threw herself into my arms, the sun came out, I kid you not. I got us a taxi and took her home.

I had been worried it would be too urban or too alienating or something for her... but a person changes so much between her early 20s and her late 20s, no? Besides, who knows how much all of those old misunderstandings were ... just misunderstandings. Related to other things than what they seemed to be about.

She had been going to sleep in the airport--she was so afraid of being trouble to us--but it was so easy to treat her like family. She felt it. She wasn't a guest, but the sister of my heart.

We took her up on the roof and showed her the vast blue of the lake, the complex lines and curves and colors of the skyline. We brought her down and abandoned her because we had an unbreakable dinner engagement. Well, at least it was a perfect reassurance that she was not putting us out at all! When we got back, she was repacking her backpack (she's en route to a year of roughing it in Europe, something I was already too old for at her age!), making it lighter, still lighter. She gave us a funny assortment of things to find a home for--my favorite was a pair of pale blue wool socks, which I just had to wear, the very next day.

She slept in the guest bed, that isn't much to look at but no guest ever complains... it is outrageously comfortable for a grad school futon. In the morning, I woke her up at her request for my usual early breakfast-time and she wrapped her arms around my neck like a child. Such sweetness. We fed her mooncakes, and she walked me partway to work, promising ... nothing, but ... open heart to open heart--I feel that I will see her again, somehow or other.

She will spend the winter in Spain picking olives. She will spend half of each day drawing. She will observe the cultural differences in the treatment of young misfits in school. She will practice her accordion in wild windy places. I like to think of her, without any desire to hold on, even in my thoughts. I feel happy to know her, to have found her again.

Ph's Mini-Me

Pocket of Bolts' dept. chair, Ph, is an interesting person. We used to live very near him and his partner (also in the dept.) and so we kind of developed a nice social relationship despite obvious barriers of age and status. I always get the feeling they think we are lively and fun... which is really about all we have going for us, socially awkward and anxious as we both are... but it seems like maybe enough.

The amusing thing is that now my new job gives me a lot more in common with Ph. It's like he's president of the US and I'm president of... Luxembourg, or Andorra, or something. Presidents still have certain things in common, though. Dinner party on Saturday--I had had a bit of champagne--I characterized myself as his "mini-me", which he said was cool.

He said something about my situation which was very comforting, though you might not think so on the surface. He said, "Really it's a job more properly done by someone with more experience. But on the other hand, they are extremely lucky to have you." (Ph thinks--also hopes, because of PoB too--that the institution will make an effort to keep me as well, to make my job more permanent after the three years are up.) The reason, anyway, that Ph's proclamation was comforting was that it effectively explains my feeling of being overwhelmed and ignorant about everything. Well of course!--it's a job for an old hand, not someone brand new. And yet on the other hand, enthusiasm and dedication can make up for much of that lack of experience, especially when everyone's pretty much on my side. I have encountered no opposition to anything I have wanted to do, quite the contrary. My only enemies so far are inertia and my own fears.

Another funny thing that Ph said, that there are three rules for guys:
1) Never play cards with a man called 'Doc'.
2) Never eat at a place called 'Mum's'.
3) And never sleep with a girl whose problems are worse than yours.

I just had to pass that on because it seems like such fantastic advice.

On Sitting at the Bar

Last Sunday Pocket of Bolts and I had dinner with my Korean cousin Ae. This was actually a very new experience for me. She was in Chicago with some girlfriends of hers from high school, visiting another of their friends who has settled here. She made a very particular effort to schedule a visit with me as well. I was puzzled but intrigued. I remember her fondly even from childhood--incoherent impressions, but just a feeling that she was very older sisterly, kindly, safe. I was never especially close to any of my cousins though. I think the major impression she must have had of me was that I was "very shy."

We met her at her hotel and walked down to Quartino, a really nice Italian restaurant. It was raining hard. I had never been to Quartino before, but Pocket of Bolts, who did all the research for this particular outing, had very nice things to say about it. It was all family-style, meant for sharing, but not the kind of portions you associate with that. It was more like an Italian version of tapas. We got an a la carte antipasto plate (PoB chose the stuff--it was SO GOOD), fried polenta sticks, arugula pizza, grilled octopus, and shrimp risotto. A nice bottle of not expensive wine to top it off. I was nervous. We kept Ae talking about her career--being a CPA for a major firm, switching to startups in SF for a while, not hitting the business cycle right, getting married and having kids, going back to a steadier job again with another major company. It was interesting. I hadn't really been aware of any of it. Not indifference, just general obliviousness. It reminds me that I have through most of my life been weirdly oblivious of many other people's lives, even other people that it would make sense to care about. It's like the bandwidth for my gossiping ability is really really narrow...

We chatted about other stuff--advice from her about starting a family, stuff about her kids, about other cousins. She told us that if we were going to have kids, we needed my parents to live closer by. Also, she told Pocket of Bolts he would absolutely have to help out around the house and do his share of the cooking. Pocket of Bolts, who does 90% of the cooking and about 75% of the other housework (especially lately) bit his tongue and nodded politely. It was very funny. I don't think Ae (a rather traditional sort of gal, I think) can even conceive of what a degenerate wife I am. Oh well, PoB seems to like me okay this way. I have the best will in the world to do things... I just get oblivious....

Ae really wanted to have coffee or something afterwards. I was teaching in the morning, so a drink wasn't really in the cards. I was also nervous at having probably exhausted everything I could think of to say to her. But a Korean gal tends to get her way, when she gets her mind set on something. It was still raining. We wandered around looking for someplace that was open and looked interesting--ended up sitting at the bar at Ruth's Chris because why not. Ae and I split a bread pudding and had decaf cappuccinos. PoB had a martini. I am not accustomed to sitting at a bar--it seems so ... exposed ... but Ae promptly made friends with the bartender, who turned out to be (as I suppose bartenders often are) a very gregarious, interesting, friendly sort. He seemed quite happy to talk and chat with us.

Ae gave us a long and kind of adorable disquisition on how one should always sit at the bar because it's more fun and you can still get most or all of the menu but with less formality. She clearly has such different associations with it than I do (well, I have next to none), memories of courting her now-husband, good times in the pre-child-rearing days. That, plus another nice experience I had recently, and after all I may come 'round to it after all. I mean, the bartender was so nice he didn't even mind that Ae and I weren't drinking.

We parted with the assurance that we would try to hang out again at Christmas. Ae and her husband, like PoB and I, alternate Christmases with the different families, but it seems like we're on a convergent cycle. Perhaps, if I'm not too much in a state of post-dissertational collapse, I'll actually try to make it happen. Certainly Facebook makes things much easier to organize...

Comparing People

There is some very interesting way of comparing people. There's a Facebook application called "Comparing People", but it isn't very interesting. Who's hotter, A or B. Whom would you rather marry, A or B. Who's funnier, A or B. That's not comparing, that's simply rating. In the Six Dynasties period (in China), there was a really sophisticated discourse of character analysis and comparison, preserved to some extent in the anecdote collection _A New Account of Tales of the World_. The thing about that text is that it's not, for the most part, Who's smarter, A or B. Who's more virtuous, A or B. Comparing people is pointless unless it gives you some kind of insight, and the insights there are delivered through narrative.

Comparing people seems like a very touchy subject in our society today. The more serious the comparison, the less comfortable people are with it. In my world, Who's hotter is just--whatever. Whose book or idea is better? Who is the better scholar or thinker? We hardly dare to say. I was thinking about this during and after a long talk I had yesterday with my friend and colleague S-dot.

It is a difficulty with blogging these days that I really want to write very specific things about very specific people, and don't want to bother with pseudonyms and anonymizing... but I have to.

S-dot said, about himself, that he had high self-esteem but high levels of insecurity, but that a nightmare ex of his had low self-esteem but low levels of insecurity. It seems strange that these things could even come apart. I hadn't even considered that, but having done so, I think it's true. Furthermore I can theorize about why they do: you get self-esteem through your parents' love and approval, but you get insecurity or lack thereof from early interactions with peers. If your parents love you too much and your peers too little, you end up like S-dot--or me, as well. If your peers love you too much and your parents too little, you end up like "nightmare ex"--which I suppose is much worse.

I do think I much more like S-dot in this way, though I alienate people slightly less. Without a point of comparison (nightmare ex), it never would have occurred to me, though. In fact, I am like S-dot in many ways, but none of them superficial. S-dot is like a brother to me: underlying commonalities and wildly divergent surface traits. I am never nervous to arrange a meeting with S-dot, or even to talk to him on the phone (although I am generally very nervous to talk to anyone on the phone). I care about him quite a lot, but on the other hand, he also irritates me deeply about 20-30% of the time. That's 70-80% less than he irritates any of our other colleagues, who have urged me to "teach him some manners."

But I really shouldn't say more about that.

Last observation about comparing people--all the most interesting things one could say, the narratives one could relate, are unanonymizable specifics! I give up.

Treeless Mountain

A week ago, Pocket of Bolts and I went to see a movie called Treeless Mountain at the Siskel Center. It's a Korean movie about two little girls. The girls' father is absent, and their mother is unable to take care of them. They are shuffled off, first to their father's sister, and then to their grandparents. Left very much to themselves, they look for ways to try to fill the empty place in their lives where others have family.


The striking thing about the movie to me was how with only very minimal dialogue, it succeeded nonetheless in being intensely psychological. The camera was almost invariably very close in to the girls' faces, and was an incredibly realistic portrait of childhood unhappiness and discomfort. The little girls, especially the older one, Jin, are not always sympathetic in their unhappiness. They whine and fight and cheat and do bad things. But it is all against such a stark background of dislocation and neglect that the viewer is drawn into the dramatic condition of childhood, where seemingly small things assume tremendous psychological significance. The little plastic piggy bank (pictured above), a central object in the story, teaches the girls that there is no magic in the world. And while the kindly halmuni (grandmother) in the end is, I think, supposed to be a ray of hope, Pocket of Bolts walked out of the movie saying it was about the most depressing thing he'd ever seen.

I walked out babbling my long-forgotten childhood Korean.

The dialogue of almost the entire movie was just at the level of the Korean I must once have known: language used by, with, and for little kids. They're words I couldn't spell to write them out in this blog, but they sprang fully formed into my comprehension and even production. Hey you, get over here. I'm hungry. Yum. It's okay. Thank you. Grandmother, grandfather. One two three four five. It's already been a week and I am forgetting again, but man, it was amazing. All that stuff's still in there somewhere, primary linguistic data. The film was sad, of course it was. But I felt weirdly exhilarated.

Also, the blue princess dress that the younger girl clings to throughout--I had a dress very much like that, at very much the same age. And I wore it about like the girl did. "What can't you PLAY like a princess too?" her aunt scolds her, while scrubbing at the dirt stains. But what good is it being a princess if you can't climb to the top of the dirt-pile, or scramble around in the field trapping grasshoppers to roast and eat? No doubt being an actual princess is no fun at all, but the idea of being a princess is to feel glamorous and special at every single moment, no matter what you are doing.