You're on the Air VIII

M

an, I think my brain is starting to get frazzled from all the hard questions. Why on earth would you want to know these tigns about me? You're on the air with the O-man.

True Love

whonose: Does your wife read this site?

O-man: Are you kidding me? If she did, she'd kill me. Although I do tell her some of the things I write (editted, of course), she has little interest in the Internet, TV or anything else. She'd rather exercise. By the way, how do you cut in line--sorry, "queue" to you--so often?

whonose: Oh and another - why do your eprops never show up?

O-man: There is a script that disables e-props. I have disabled them because I don't think they are necessary. Comments are more important than e-props, and I don't need people "grading" my entries with 1 or 2 e-props. As if blogs could be graded. Hahahahah. That's so rich... But, didn't I talk about this already? *click* Hi. You're on the air. What's your question.

sekura81: Oh, this is gonna be fun. Hmm, thinking thinking thinking, What's your favorite memory and why? :)

O-man: Ah, a good question. But I have to preface this first with mythoughts on memory. My philosophy--as stated on my main page and on the marquee of the JAJournal--is that everything is subjective. I could tell you a lot of "favorite" memories, but none of them are as they happened. How can they be? It's virtually impossible to recount any complex situation--emotional, combination of weather-location-time of day-age, lasting more than one second, involving more that one person--with absolute accuracy. Indeed, everything I recount here is imbued with my own emotions and sensibilities, so they should not be taken as "facts" or some kind of "truth". Ultimately, everything we remember is a kind of story that we manipulate to our liking. Who's to say what is fact and what is a figment of my imagination. But still, this doesn't mean that I view all my memories as some kind of fiction. I just remember my version of it. I know Bane will know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, I have many memories and I have written many of them right here for everyone to freely peruse--geez, my life has become an open book. But to single out one memory is difficult indeed. Actually, this reminds me of the Japanese movie After Life, in which the recently departed must choose their favorite memory so they can relive it for eternity in some version of paradise. Now if I had to relive one memory for the rest of eternity, it would be the night when I knew M was my soulmate. It was after I had worked out at the sports club where M was an aerobics instructor. A bunch of us, including M, went out drinking afterwards--beer tastes really good after a long work out. We had gone out as a group before, but this time, M made it a point to sit next to me at the table. I mean, I really wasn't sure if she was meant to sit next to me, but that's the impression I got and it made me feel special. After drinking, we were heading home and as we were walking toward the train station, she slipped her hand into mine, and something in my heart went bang. I can't really explain it, but I knew at that very moment that I had to marry this woman. I probably sounds really corny to cynics, adn believe me, I used to be one of those cynics--my first marriage had convinced me that there is nosuch thing as true love. But this one simple act of holding my hand convinced me that I was wrong. the feeling was warm and exciting and reassuring. Yes, there is such a thing as true love, and I will never forget the sensation when I first felt it.

Of course, this could all be in my head, as I am remembering it as I want to remember it... But, hey, what's wrong with that?

You're on the Air VII

D

id anyone notice that I'm using roman numerals for these consecutive posts? Kinda gives it a Super Bowl effect, don't you think? Hahahahahha. Anyway, I guess some readers don't visit everyday, but the questions that I'm fielding are from the original entry from last Friday. I'm trying to answer the questions in order of receipt. If your question was answered out of order, then consider your self special. Hehehehhehee. Just kidding. You're all special. Seriously. You're on the air with the O-man.

What Goes Around Comes Around

Detachable: We've all made mistakes in the past or choices we wished we made but didn't 'cause we were not as impulsive or we were just being responsible or we were just chicken.

O-man: Hey girl, we've all decided--for whatever reason--not to pursue certain avenues... This sounds like another hard question... *gulp*

Detachable: If you were given the opportunity to go back and change 3 things or make 3 choices in the past, either to change something or to experience something which you wish you had done, what would it be and why.

O-man: *sigh* Okay, this is really hard. There are a lot of things that I did that were not the smartest thing, to be sure. But if I changed them, I wouldn't be the person I am today, and that would be a tragedy, because I would never have gotten to meet you, Detachable! But let me try anyway... Three things? Hmm... Let's see.

Up until I met M, I had always wished I hadn't broken up with one of my early girlfriends, BA. She was cute, smart and had a great singing voice. In fact, she was the singer of the band I was in. I was stupid, arrogant and stubborn. When we got into an arguement, I would never give in, even when I was wrong. I remember once after a particualrly big fight, she walked into the bank where I worked part-time and she brought my favorite home made cookies--peanut butter--with a note of apology. I felt like such a heel, but did I ever admit it to her? No. Ultimately, I broke up with her because I thought that she didn't exude one quality that I thought was important in any girl I was going to be with: Japanese-ness, whatever that means. She was JA like me, but she didn't practice many of the things that I associated with being Japanese, such as speaking the language or... um, there isn't much else I can remember, which is probably an indication of how trivial and petty my standards were. After a year and three girlfriends later, I began to realize what a catch I had, but by then it was too late. She had figured out that there were plenty of guys far better than me out there. For years, I regretted having left her. Even with my first marriage, I would occasionally wonder what could have been--yes, I am a cad. But finally I met M, and I am positive that she is my soulmate. We have our arguements, but I know that we were meant for each other. All of this means that had I not broken up with BA, I would never have met her, so I don't wish I could redo this part of my history.

One thing that I often fantasize about it being a cook. I don't regret being a teacher, but I wonder what life would be like had I chosen to be a cook. I enjoy cooking and I really enjoy cooking for others. I am no Wolfgang Puck (who'd want to be) or an Emeril (ditto), but I can cook certain foods rather decently. My Chinese-styled stir fry dishes usually pretty good: broccoli beef, mabodofu, Chinese chicken bowls, etc. Unagi-kun (my stepson) will eat every last drop, a pretty good sign that its edible. I cook basic American foods as well, including meat loaf, pot roasts and macaroni and cheese. I usually make tomato sauce from scratch for my pastas: lots of garlic, canned tomatoes, red wine, onions, mushroom, olives, and various seasonings. But there are some foods I don't do. I never cook Japanese because it is just too much trouble. They come up with the most elaborate and bothersome recipes. You have to be attentive to your food every step of the way. I also don't do deep fry. If I invested in a thermometer, I'd be able to cook well enough I suppose, but as many of you know, it is a pain to clean up. Oil splatters all over. Ugh! No thanks.

If I were to have a restaurant, I would try some of the fusion stuff I've learned over the years. I make croquette casserole because it uses virtually no oil so it is pretty healthy, and easy to clean up. And everyone loves my tofu pomadoro--my own name which I think means tomato tofu. Mmmmm. Cut tofu into rectangles (about half the size of a deck of cards) and cook them in a frying pan at medium heat until brown on both sides. While cooking tofu, 1) cut 4 roma tomatoes into chunks, 2) slice three button mushrooms, 3) mince 2-4 cloves of garlic, 4) sliver lengthwise (with the grain) one-half of a medium onion, 5) sliver 5-6 fresh basil leaves. In two tablespoons of olive oil in hot pan, throw in garlic and onions. When onions look "wet" (that means the onions have heated enough to begin to emit its moisture, about a minute or two), add the mushrooms, stir twice then add the tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cook until the tomatoes are heated through and slightly melted (about 6-8 minutes). Pour over tofu and sprinkle basil on top. Option 2 which is not bad either: If you use dry basil instead of fresh, add the basil when cooking onions, then at the end garnish with green onions. If anyone tries this, let me know what you think... even if you don't like it. :(

Oh wait, there is one thing that I might have done differently: treat one of my friends with more respect. Of course, this has to do with another girl and a former friend. I bet you can sorta guess what happened. When I was 17, I had a friend to hang with, jam a bit, and talk about music and sports. One day he told me he had the hots for this girl named D. She was one of the most popular girls in her high school, and all he could do was talk about her everytime we met. D this and D that. One day, he introduced me to her. She was okay, I suppose, relatively tall--5' 4"--and smart, but obviously stuck up. Well, about a few days after meeting her, she started calling me and hinting that we should go see a movie or something. Well, as I said, she was okay, but I think the thought of going out with a "popular" girl blinded me from what really mattered: friendship, loyalty, honesty. I started going out with her, and when my friend eventually found out, he was really pissed. Controlled, fortunately, but pissed nonetheless. And D and me? We barely lasted two months. What a stupid thing to do. Needless to say, my friend distanced himself from me and we have said maybe three words to each other since. This is truly one incident that I wish I had the chance to do over.

As epilogue, I should tell you that the callousness and insensitivity I showed to BA and my friend has subsequently been shown to me. What goes around comes around, as they say. At UCLA I have been told that I do not meet certain standards that by some girls I dated, and one girl I really liked started dating one of my best friends. The pain and embarrassment I felt made me realize all the more how poorly I had treated me friend back then. So all of you inhabitants of the planet Xanga, please remember that I have been--and probably still can be--a jerk. I am most definitely no better that anyone.

Damn, why am I talking about this shit? You guys will end up knowing me better than my wife...

You're on the Air VI

B

eing a teacher has been very rewarding and I am happy I chose this field. Anyway, I still wanna get back to SweetLilV's question, but I can't seem to narrow down what might be the craziest thing I've ever done.... Maybe I'll take another call.

Go For Broke

O-man: Hi, you're on the air.

scslider: how do you have these questions?? are they asked with the comments, and you answer them??

O-man: Hey dude. What's up. I've been known to take questions from comments--like yours--and randomly put them "on the air." I don't usually add to them--except for an occasional word or to for flow, but I will break them up to make it look like a real conversation. Anyway, last Friday, I mentioned that it was soon going to be my one-year anniversary, and in a "special" deal, I told everyone who read that entry that I'd answer any personal questions--within limits of course. I think you were having to much in LA? Hehehehe. *click* You're on the air.

Ekin: So Oni-sensei, what made you want to be a professor... a Japanese professor at that?

O-man: What do you mean by "Japanese professor AT THAT"?

Ekin: Well, you'd think that Asians who grew up during your time would try their best to "fit in" and assimilate.

O-man: Don't you guys have easier questions? Like what kind of car I drive, or when I got my last hair cut... *click* Hi, you're on the air.

SleepingCutie: I don't know if you ever wrote about this but...

O-man: SleepingCutie! What's up girly girl. Gald you could drop by! So what's you're question?

SleepingCutie: What made you major in Japanese? =)

O-man: *sigh* Not you, too... I mean, I thought I could count on you... Why would you want to ask such a question?

SleepingCutie: I've always wanted to learn more Japanese and Korean, but *sigh* Oh wells!

O-man: Okay, how can I say "No" to OG? Um, that's the O-girl, for those of you who don't know... Not Onigiri Girl, but Ordinary Girl. Anyway, okay, let me kinda continue the previous post about the professor who changed my life.

After I got accepted to UCLA, I was still kinda nervous. How could such an academic loser succeed at UCLA? But I thought I'd better at least try, go head on, go for broke--as the old JA 442 cry went. I even thought to follow the footsteps of the man who inspired me, by majoring in biology and entertaining thoughts of going to *gulp* medical school. But transfering to UCLA wasn't all that easy. I had to declare a major, and I learned that to major in bio, I had to have already taken a prescribed number of courses, including a whole bunch of science class that I would never have taken at ELAC. So I had to look for another major. I looked through the catelogue they had sent me and my eyes caught "Japanese." Hmmm. If I can't major in the field that I want, maybe I'll major in a field I was already good at, I thought. And so I majored in Japanese. Sounds dumb, doesn't it. But sometimes our choices come by accident. Disappointed?

Be that as it may, I took some courses and soon found that my Japanese wasn't as good as I thought it was. Worse, I found that courses at this level were really hard. In my last two semesters at ELAC, I got straigh As. All I had to do was apply myself. But this was not the case at UCLA. The level was totally different. I would study my brains out but I couldn't get an A, even if I bought one. So I set out to "re"-master my Japanese. I started out at intermediate J, then moved up to advnaced. I took classical, and a number of lit classes. I soon found myself really enjoying myself. My grades steadily improved and I was getting a handle on Japanese. I soon thought about actually doing something with Japanese. But the career options most people suggested were rather pathetic: travel agent, Japanese bank, ugh. If I wanted to do something worthwhile with Japanese, I would probably have to go to grad school. And after two years, I got into the MA program at UCLA.

As a grad student, we took seminars mostly on J-lit, and it was then that I got turned onto classical poetry. Man was it good. The Japanese loved to contextualize their poetry, going as far as intertextualizing them. It is very particapatory. The "meaning" of any poem is based on what you, the reader, want ot make it. These guys were post-modern in premodern Japan. I was hooked. But what profession would allow me to incorporate both my Japanese and my interest in classical poetry? Well that's when I decided that I should... huh? Oh yeah...

HEY, EKIN! You still there on the line?

That's when I decided that I'd like to become a professor, and a Japanese professor at that! Yeah, I thought this was perfect. I thought that I could somehow pass on the kindness and generosity of Prof. V. Perez to future generations of students by becoming a college professor, one who would be supportive, positive and encouraging. Unfortunately, an MA is not enough to teach at a college. I needed a Ph.D. I talked to the professor who turned me on to classical poetry, and he told me very bluntly:

Leave UCLA. Don't apply here. We will not admit you.

Gulp! Was it something I said? My grades in the program were decent (3.5 gpa). Why not? I asked. Well, it was pretty straight forward. According to Prof. BL, I had already gotten my BA and MA here. It was time to learn new things from new people. That is the only way to grow. Not knowing where to go, I asked where i should apply, but all he would tell me is that it was my choice. There are very few schools with Ph.D. programs in Japanese to begin with so I should do my own research. So I did.

Now, there were more than a few schools that I think I could have gotten into relatively easily, but I had become a bit fatalistic (for reasons I may write about someday). I figured that if my career choice was meant to be, then it wouldn't matter where I applied, I would get in. So I decided to stay in-state and chose two schools that had incredibly high standards: UC Berkeley and Stanford. My friends thought that I was nuts, that this was... *pause for effect* Hmmm?!? Oh yeah....

Hey, SweetLilV, you still listening? Here's your answer

...This is the craziest thing I could do. If you really want to get a Ph.D. shouldn't you have another school, a safe school, just in case? Not me. If I get in, I get in. Put it on the line. Go for broke. If you want something, aim high. Don't settle for second best. I spent hours going over my application, statement of purpose, sample writings. I visited the two schools to demonstrate my interest. The professor I met at Berkeley was very enthusiastic. He did everything except told me that they'd accept me. I was amazed. I felt really good. The prof I met at Stanford was very cautious. Well, the competition is very stiff. You did apply to other schools, didn't you? Wow, I was disappointed by the reception, but I thought, No sweat, UCBerkely, here I come... Until I got the thin envelope from the admissions office at Berkeley.

We had a number of excellent applicants this year including you, but we regret to inform you...

I was crestfallen. If Berkeley was a no-go, what was I going to do. So I decided to think of other options. What am I going to do with an MA. I did all my thinking with a bottle of scotch, Cutty for me. I finally talked to Prof. BL again, and told him of my failure. He asked me if Stanford had sent a letter yet. No, not yet, but the reception I got... But he waved me off before I could finish. He assured me that a non-response could be a good sign, that I could be on their short list.

Of course, being the stupid idiot that I am, I had never considered this possibility. But still, I could not forget my earlier meeting... Well, as most of you know, I did get into Stanford where I studied my brains out, wrote my dissertation on a medieval Buddhist monk and priest (300 pages) and got a job teaching on my first try on the job market.

I have been pretty blessed. But this might not have happened if I didn't go for broke...

O-man: So aim high. Strive all the time, and chances are you will be rewarded. I have been, at least. Of course, this doesn't mean to aim high and hope for the best. It DOES require total dedication and hard work. FYI, for those of you in college, I always put in a minimum of 2 hours per credit/unit hour of class per week. that means if I was in a 3 credit/unit course, I studied a minimum of six hours outside of class. 12 credit units equal 24 hours, so that's 36 hours of guaranteed studying. I guess that's why they call it being a full-time student. This is what I expect of my students as well, which is why some scream bloody murder at the amount of work I throw at them. "You have no idea how much I study for your class" is a typical lament in my class. But I usually just smile and tell them to keep it up, because I know it's supposed to be hard. Isn't that what Karl Malone has been saying as he's trying to get a championship ring with the Lakers. Anything worth having takes grit and effort and hard work? At the very least it elevates the satisfaction level, and diminishes any possibility of regret by knowing you tried your best. Anyway, that is what I expect of my students--hard work--but I support and encourage them wherever I can. Although I don't know if I'm always successful in conveying the generosity that Prof. Pereze extended to me, I try. So did you all get your answers?

SleepingCutie: Another question: When do classes start again? *hint hint, nudge nudge*

O-man: Shush! Not here!

More to come as I count down to June 15...

You're on the Air V

T

oday is a busy day. M left the car headlights on over the weekend, but it wasn't until yesterday that we learned that the battery was DEAD, so I finally got it fixed. But it took time going to the shop and waiting and all this while I'm grading midterms. This, of course, means little to no Internet, and I haven't had the opportunity to visit a lot of your sites, so I apologize. But I will get there eventually as I hope most of you know. Anway, SweetLilV's question is gonna have to wait a bit as well... sorry... But let me take a few short calls. Your on the air.

Hi Y'all

Whonose: Why is it the emotionless Vulcans that end up being the sexiest. By all accounts they simply drip orgasm and yet they are not allowed to express it. Cruel I tell you!

O-man: Indeed, T'pol (Enterprise, Jolene Blalock) has those pouting lips that kinda drive me crazy. But I'm not really sure if all Vulcans are sexy. There is no way that Mr. Spock would get me excited. So you gotta question?

whonose: When you meet a white person do you assume they know hardly anything about Asian culture?

O-man: No. And the reason is simple. There are many Asians born in America--and in other countries, of course--that know nothing of Asian culture, as well. So you don't have to be white to not know Asian cultures. Conversely, I have met many non-Asians born in Japan or China who know as much if not more than me. In other words, ethnicity has nothing to do with it. It is all about exposure--whether real time or through books--don't you think? Anyway, good luck on that Mr. Xanga thing... Hi, your on the air...

Cboy918: One year anniversary? Congratulations!

O-man: Thanks, man.

Cboy918: Your entry reminds me of how time flies. I need to learn to be more productive with my time and not waste my youthful days.

O-man: Naw, if your blog is anyindicaiton, I think you're doing fine. Geez, I often think that maybe I should have been more aware of my physical health and participated in sports like swimming, like you're doing. So, yeah, I think you're doing fine, dude.

Cboy918: Once again, congrats!

O-man: Alrighty. Hi, you're on the air.

takunishi79: I like the old-days onigiriman look! a sort of retro, impressionist... wtf am I saying?!

Oman: htf would I know? Hahahha, just kidding. Yeah, the old Onigiriman is kinda retro, isn't he. Maybe I'll use him as my profile pic.

takunishi79: So does it seem odd to you, that i actually use my own name for this? *hehe*

Oman: No, not really. People use Xanga for different reasons. I suppose you use yours just to speak out and perhaps meet people. But I guess, you could have used a pseudonym to protect yourself if you wanted...

takunishi79: I'm just not creative like that... never thought twice about creating another "me". requires too much creativity power.

Oman: Well, I know you design websites and that takes a lot of creativity, if you ask me. So I think you are being a bit too modest. Give yourself some credit. If you really wanted to, I 'm sure you would have come up with a good name.

takunishi79: Let my thoughts and creativities run wild and I'll come up with a jacked up name that I'll like at the moment and wonder why I created it the next day. ^_^

Oman: Hahahaha. Well, that's true of a lot of things for all of us. Don't be so hard on yourself...

Peace dudes and dudettes.

You're on the Air IV

E

nough of this Mr./Ms. Xanga stuff--Damn, ddsb, he sees right through me! Okay, okay, I'm a narcissist. Besides, its 12 noon and the voting is closed. Hahahah. Well, I think its time to get back to what really matters... me. I've talked about my daughter and about sex, even though there isn't really all that much to tell since I'm on the wrong side of middle-age: The big 5-0 in less than two years. Anyway, I wanna get back to SweetLilV's question, but after I take a call or two. Hi, you're on the air.

The Man Who Changed Me

tif383335: Eeh? Wrong side of middle age? I think most of us Xangans and bloggers out here can vouch that you defy that stereotype rather well... until you said so on an entry one time, I had just assumed you were a really young JA teacher.

O-man: Flattery will get you everywhere, California college boy. So what's your question?

tif383335: What made you decide to be a teacher?

O-man: Hmmm. That's a broad question. Um... Let me think, hmmm... uh... What if I tell you about the trigger that got me to get my shit together and change my freaking life around.

I have mentioned previously in NLUTE--my abbreviated life story--that I was pretty much a smart-ass punk and refused to study through the latter years of highschool. Consequently, I could not get into a four year university. So what, I thought. Who needs school? Well, it turns out that I did. I first went to Japan for a few months, came back to work part-time and then went to the local community college in an attempt to at least look like I was being the GLOB (good little oriental boy). Of course, my mind was not really into academic. I was still in my high school, I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anything frame of mind, finally quitting after two years to work full-time at the confectionary factory I had been working at part-time for a number of years. In fact, I had become plant manager and was suddenly burdened with the one thing I was trying to avoid: responsibility. How much sugar to order, how much rice to prep for the following days production, determine daily production figures based on standing orders and retail outlet sales/trends. A year and a half of this at a wage that barely paid my bar tab and I was suddenly open to the idea of studying. I quit full-time work and decided to go back to the community college.

Before my full-time stint, I had gone to school for two years, long enough to earn about a year's worth of credits. I was not very studious and class after class I withdrew from as many classes as I had finished. Returning to school, my expectations were not so different. But I was determined to at least graduate and move on to a modest four-year college, such as Cal State LA which would take virtually any warm body willing to pay tuition. So I quietly returned to ELAC (East LA College), figuring the fewer who knew, the fewer to be disappointed. But this time around, things were different.

It was the Spring semester of 1980 and I took courses Health and American History. I attended class regularly, did my reading and was producing adequately. But what made the difference was my Human Anatomy class and the professor who changed my life. In our very first lab, we had to dissect a rat. Woah! The most I had ever done was a dead frog in HS. The professor with salt-and-pepper hair told us with a wink that he was going to put the rats to sleep, and of course, I presumed that he meant he was going to kill them. Wow, I thought, fresh kill. He then brought them into the lab and distributed them to each group of four students. "Professor," some screamed, "It's still breathing!" When our group got our specimen, we could see its little chest still heaving as it breathed. It was alive! Well, this beginning got me rather interested in my course. But more importantly, it got me to observe this professor more closely. He was funny, sarcastic, playful and encouraging. During the course of the semester--I was at the top of the class with a 99% average--he approached me asd asked me what I intended to do after ELAC. I told him my modest plans of going to Cal State and majoring in business.

"Why business?" he asked.

I just shrugged my shoulders and told him, "That's what everyone else is doing."

"I suppose business is a fine field," this now ad hoc advisor said. "But why don't you go to UCLA and pursue it?"

Well, I had been a UCLA football fan since I was a wee little lad, but I was also aware of its academic reputation. "Me? To UCLA? Professor, don't kid me!"

"I'll tell you what. You apply, and I'll write you a wonderful recommendation. If you don't get in, I'll pay you back for the application fee."

I was stunned. I had never met a teacher who exhibited so much confidence in me. I had no intention of letting this man pay me back, but I figured if he would go to such lengths, then maybe, just maybe, I could get in. And so I applied to UCLA for the Spring quarter of 1981... and got in.

No one had ever shown such support for me, and I felt incredibly good. Man, what would it be like to be able to make others feel like this? To show total support and to help them succeed? And so tif383335, this is when I decided to become a teacher, when I realized that teaching could be a rather rewarding profession and career.

I wonder what Professor Vince Perez is doing these days?