paulownia’s blog

I am still not quite sure why I bought two pounds of these cherries, other than they are a connection to a trip from a few years ago when I wasn't quite so tired and cynical and I began to understand that beauty was everywhere to be discovered. Oregon and Washington qualify as some of the best undiscovered places in North America - where lighthouses perch on top of cliffs, where enormous boulders are hollowed out by waters, forming arches, and caves, and places for people to climb or animals to take shelter within.

And then there is something so refreshing about a cherry being yellow - of defying the understanding of everything I had known growing up. Something can be so different from what you understand and be in essence the same, but even more remarkable because it is new and challenges every perception you had of what something was.

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On a whim today, I picked up a LIFE magazine publication on the 100 most beautiful places in North America. I am disappointed that the Northwest wasn't represented nearly enough. And that the pictures of Alaska didn't do it quite the justice that it deserved. But I am so glad to see that I've been to many of these beautiful places and gladder yet that there are still more I hadn't known of.

Seeing these beautiful places made me restless but I have to try to accept that in a way, restlessness can be good. It is better to be restless in anticipation of what there is still out there to see and do, than be convinced that you have done it all.
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Is it a fairy tale that one can have their life lived their way, without conforming to any mold, and be accepted? Will people really tolerate someone who chooses to live neither in their world or another? I know I'm overthinking a CG film, but I really do want to know what the writers behind Ratatouille think and what lives they live. In reality, I think society likes to think that we are that tolerant and accepting, but then we ruin that by issuing advice and counsel that trumpets "sensible and the norm" over the riskier paths. We follow the principle of "what works for most" applies to the individual.

I envy the world of fiction in which one can be themselves truely and everyone applauds them. I do not think that is reality.

Reality is that we are faced with decisions everyday that are not easy. And reality is that they never go away. It never becomes easier to make them as you get older. Rather, you realize the weight of them more as you become more understanding of the world. School. Job. Relationships. Art. Love. These are the themes of many discussions with those who are in the same phase of life as I am and have discovered the same truth.

And there are no easy answers. What is best? Does one know? How does one get to an answer? One never feels confident that they do know the way. Or if they do, perhaps I am just not that kind of person.

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I am perplexed by this thing called life and how unnecessarily complicated I make it. It's good to be alive, but it's sometimes really frustrating.

These are pictures from previous post. At some point I'd like to restructure the previous post to be a photo essay of sorts, but I am too tired from the traveling back here to fiddle with anything.

The past few days have been vexing in some parts, and good in others. I wrote on the dead and those heroes who have come and gone before us, but I work with good hearted people who are passionate about the things they do, so I have discovered. These heroes are the sorts of people that make working in this system a little more bearable. They make going to work easier.

I do not understand traveling for work as enjoyable. I am glad to be done with airplanes for a while. I can not bear the thought of having another month like the last one for a while. It is time to find more restful things and places.

Washington Monument Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	The Capitol Building from the Smithsonian Metro stop, National Mall Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
The Capitol Building from the Smithsonian Metro stop, National Mall Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	Americans came to liberate World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Not to Conquer World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	To Restore Freedom World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
And to End Tyranny World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	Gazing at Lincoln from the wWII Memorial World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Relief World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	Grates with Armed Forces Insignia World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
The Atlantic World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	The Reflecting Pool World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Again, Lincoln from across the pool World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	The Pacific World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
The Pacific, with the list of battles flanking the structure at the bottom World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	Detail of interior of Atlantic sculpture World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Detail of interior of Atlantic sculpture World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	Detail of interior of Atlantic sculpture World War II Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Lincoln Memorial from the Reflecting Pool Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	A look back at Washington from inside the Lincoln Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
A look at the inscription above LIncoln Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	Lincoln looks towards the East, watching over Washington Inside were two of his famous speeches/words. Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Korean War Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	A look at the reflecting wall, Korean War Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Korean War Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007	Dead Next to it is a much larger number of those "missing." Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007
Freedom is not Free - Korean War Memorial Washington DC s-girl 8.1.2007

There's so much about Washington that is alien to me -- the black suits, the frenzied networking, and the incredible bustle of activity that pedestrians generate nearly everywhere I go.

I did not have a plan as I left the hotel this evening other than to go to the Mall and the reflecting pool. I got lost at George Washington university along the way thus proving that it was a good idea not to take the Metro the other night as I would have been hopelessly and terribly lost with bags dragging behind me.

But I love taking the train --
packed to the brim with passengers --
almost missing my stop at the Smithsonian,
and taking that escalator upstairs and emerging in a field of grass where people hawk bottles of water and softball practice takes up every spare green space from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial.

Washington moves you, the American, with its sense of history, and the sense that history revolves around this world. But it moves you with its devotion to the past, to the institution of order and still the idealistic hope that "We the people will truly be exemplified someday" as MLK once said. And it moves you because it remembers those who have passed and whose dreams have not YET come to fruition.

And when I came up on that lawn,
the sun was setting and it was warm.
I turned around and the Capitol stood
Stark white against the sky
Above that green grass where everyone plays.

And when you turn towards the setting sun, you look at the tall pinnacle-
the strange obelisk of Washington monument, that can never be captured in one camera viewfinder from its feet, where dozens of flags swirl lazily about in the wind.

What I love is the people everyone on the grass as I pass the Monument, and just as you pass it, you can suddenly see in the light of the setting sun, the Lincoln Memorial beyond.

What I did not get to do the last few times I was in DC I did this time - stopping at the new WWII memorial, looking at the quotes from Gen. McArthur, looking at names of battles in the Atlantic and the Pacific and 63 (63?) places for states and territories and protectorates. there are names of countries in which the US fought, and the names of states that sent soldiers. It is a memorial that provides breadth and scope, and that reminds us why we had to go to war.

Walking past it, you can finally see the Reflecting pool unobstructed, and the Lincoln Memorial completely unblocked.

The way is littered with duck feces. It has probably been a good year for ducks, but a bad one for tourists.

Every so often I'd turn back and take a picture of the Monument, wondering which spot would yield the best most A-HA view.

At the steps of Lincoln's memorials, we all pause. Not just me, but the others who have all found their way there somehow.

We are tired from the long walk. The way to Lincoln looks close and inviting, but is not easy. One looks up at him, sitting, and turns around to see what he is looking at, and one enjoys the thought of President Lincoln gazing at Washington, himself deeply mired in the decision of whether to go to war or not, and contemplating the concept of equality, and the real almost strange dilemma it was to think that a nation, north and south, both invoked the name of God , both worshipped the same God, but were at odds, killing one another.

Beyond the monument is the Capitol, still in view. And one wonders if the Capitol in kind looks back at Washington, and then Lincoln in the distance, and the many memorials and the lives lost they represent. Do they look at those when they contemplate their decisions which will affect us for generations to come? If not, make it a place of meditation - for these places are truly holy in their own way.

And at the feet of Lincoln - were two memorials - the Vietnam Memorial and the Korean War Veterans Memorial. I watched people from afar as they walked passed that wall and touched the names. It was painful watching them mourn and commemorate those they had loved and lost.

It was painful likewise walking the Korean memorial, as I think about the hundreds of thousands who died so thousands of children like my dad could live. An entire country owes its life to the UN and American forces. It does not become Koreans to burn American flags, just as it does not become Americans to do the same. We should respect the lives that were sacrificed for our liberty to express ourselves and live without fear of tyranny. We should remember that there are still oppressed peoples, and that Korea is still at war as well.

And in kind, we should remember that a generation from now, we will also look back at the current war and mourn those who die. Freedom is not Free, and War is not without a Price.

And in turn, I contemplate some of the conversations I had the past few days, and the thoughts of a fellow traveler, who wondered what it would take for Americans to wake up and realize the very peril our society is in and care? Do children understand what they see as they walk the paths with me in DC? Some only understand that Grandpa served in some of these wars, but unless these stories are told and told again, we risk becoming indifferent to the effects the policies our government makes - past, present and future.

We should all go to these places and remember the past. We should all go to these places and think like these men who came before, and think gravely upon the future.

It is not the job of people like Lincoln and Washington to do alone. Think of the lives that were lost in all these wars. These were men and women who thought of these things daily, hourly -- we did not come this far so we could languish in materialistic indifference.

The world is still not very much different from the world in which these wars were fought.

Are there really only two types of friendship in the world? That borne and sustained out of doing things together versus those based on conversations and the sharing of ideas and thoughts and fears and wishes?

It seems that as I get older, many of those in the first category disappear. These friends fade away when circles break and when people tire of the usual ways of passing time. But there are the rare few that can break that layer of superficiality. When one finds those people who one can be open to and share things with, to reflect on decisions that need to be made with their help, those in which we can be content with sitting and talking -- and be able to trust that person, those are the ones worth keeping.

	A vintage-feeling light on a wall where words are written, but have no narrative.
	A pot of tea. One for me. One for you.
	English Breakfast and Earl Grey, Tea Forte.
	An afterthought of a clock, marks the time.
	Above our heads, a window cut into a wall. Names are written, but what do they mean?

In the expanse painted in my mind's eye, the sky is a deep and bottomless black, where colored gases of nascent galaxies bloom like flowers in spring. I see the hazy clouds and points of light within them, and I think about life and death on the macro scale, and then turn my attention to my hand in which I hold a pinecone, heavy with seeds that will someday become green trees that try hard to touch that very same sky.

I cast it aside, in order to try to reach up and embrace that piece of the sky, to grasp at something that is beyond my reach. In my heart, I know that I want to be there exploring those stars.

My feet, however, are planted on ground.

I am frustrated, that I can not be a bird cutting quietly through the dead weight of space or even a poor brainless fish in the water that navigates its shadow reflection (as water reflects the sky above)...

I am not sure why I have never liked living life in the moment all that much. I think I have always wanted to know what is out there.

In a ways, I wondered if I were part of the fabric of eternity, my body no longer part of this existence, if I would be able to float about - a soul released to look at everything in a different way. Thoughts like that make this life here seem so tedious. Where is the great adventure that I have been always wanting as I read stories and tales and books and paint and write and draw?

It's a strange disease, to always be wanting to be somewhere else.

At night I am restless.
By the sea, I am restless.
In my heart, I'm a nomad, always a nomad.
Only in my dreams do I feel that sense that I am free,
untethered to the mundane aspects of life.

It's odd to not feel very much of anything returning here. Perhaps it's because for most of this month I have been spending more time away from "home" than at home.

Washington was good and okay and, in parts, irritating. I am not one who enjoys traveling for work, but in particular because I rarely get to do anything interesting apart from work. However - this time there were good eats to be had, including a few places near our hotel (Ten Penh and Zantinya's for future reference) and good company and the increasing awareness that the "home" I live in is a small minded place with little opportunity.

DC has an energy that differs from NYC. I like NYC for its culture, but hate its dirtiness. Washington impresses me with its urban nature, its free museums, the studious somber and yet socially active nightlife, and its cleanliness. (I still can not shake the image of trash piled on the sidewalks in NYC back in February.)

The only one thing which I find somewhat perturbing, if not amusing, is that a lot of the young career types trying to make their way around DC look suspiciously like Young Republicans with their black suits, fairly tame ties, conservative glasses, and white shirts. In that sense I like NYC and LA a bit better for not being so uptight, but on the other hand, I enjoy being the non-conservative in the conservative crowd. In that sense, the South has definitely rubbed off of me in terms of the way I like to dress contrary to the serious serge suits and ties.

I am still irritated over a few things, including this blister on my foot, the entire experience with AIRTRAN including going in earlier to try to meet up with someone who flaked out, the really horrible landing approaches there and back, and the entire group of folks from Texas who were so loud the entire time (post mission trip) that I couldn't sleep on the plane after having slept less than four hours last night.

Shame on me for trying to wear anything but the most comfortable shoes this entire time. Shame on me also being too nice to tell people that they're being jerks. I need some NYC immersion to teach me to be blunt and not care about it instead of being so perversely and politely Asian and non-confrontational.

To all of the shmucks from this trip, blah to you.
To all of my various coworkers, you rock. May your meal karma continue to be blessed, and your waistlines not expand!

A street corner near the hotel, DC.	Obnoxious pretzel snack bag, courtesy of AIRTRAN.
Cactus Rio Grande Cactus? Restaurant was somewhere near the Ballston stop, VA off the Orange Line.	Marguerita something My teammate's swizzle stick design.
Future train The metro. I upped the greens in this picture as I wanted to signify the cool futuristic creepiness of the Washington Metro.	The elephant in the room An elephant near Zatinya's. A few minutes later we were climbing all over it.
Not yet lost Somewhere around the area of the hotel. We were lost although we didn't know it yet. And the building looked cool.	Lost 2 Somewhere around the area of the hotel. We were lost. And the building looked cool.
The hotel.	Godiva Pearls Hotel had tons of Godivas in stock and these intrigued us. Coincidentally the color scheme matched a checkerboard in the Starbucks in the hotel and I started snapping pictures of the different flavors three of us bought :0)
Muushu springrolls From Ten Penh, at the corner of Ten and ???. Asian Fusion Restaurant. Excellent, but pricey.	Menus from the Capitol Grille Capitol Grille is one of the oldest pubs/restaurants in the district. GOOD FOOD MON. CRABCAKES were 0q3485709qw8eru awesome.
Don't stare Decor, Capitol Grille	Ye olde bar Decor, Capitol Grille