Rant about the shooting f*er

Ok - so it is hard not to be fascinated by this psychopath VT student because he was like me - a Korean American who grew up in the South. Over the Slingbox I am watching local Baltimore news trying to deconstruct the killer - what was going through his mind, etc. A dialogue that was happening between two rather white bread (bred) newscasters. I think that there is something that is unique about being an immigrant that you just cannot explain to someone who hasn't LIVED it - it is a visceral experience that I know Matt will never fully comprehend. I am not saying that Cho wasn't unstable - as he certainly unquestionably was - but let us be real - he exhibited warning signs long before he started stalking girls on the VT campus. Some people suggest abuse in his childhood. But I think people don't realize that the abuse was probably far more psychological than physical. Why didn't his parents do anything when he was growing up? I can tell you that my parents never cared whether I had friends or assimilated - that wasn't their priority. I am sure his were the same. His parents were (the prototypical) dry cleaners. I am sure that there was some guilt with the sacrifices they made for him to succeed in America (generally an Asian immigrant mentality). His sister had recently graduated from Princeton - I cannot imagine that there wasn't some 'why didn't you get into Yale' crap that was happening behind closed doors.

Of course, all of this is projected conjecture, but I do think that the Korean culture could do a better job acknowledging mental illness so that it can be diagnosed and treated. I get so over the 'showing a good face' all the time crap that I have a well-calibrated bullshit meter. I cannot stand people who only live inauthentically just to look good.

Hypochondriac Part 2

In Malaysia Matt and I were eaten alive by sandflies (these gory photos show the evidence). Up until yesterday I was itching like mad, even drawing blood through my khakis on Saturday (eww). These exotic Southeast Asian bugs tend to leave me bruised for some reason. I feel fine even though I look like I was knocked out by a shadowboxer. At dinner on last Thursday, the discussion migrated to flesh eating diseases, which I was certain I was then plagued with (I have since crawled down from that fatalistic ledge).

Sandflies are evil because you can't see them biting you at 2 inch intervals. I even feel like I am Pig Pen - mosquitoes tend to swarm me because I have other bug bites, I think. Or I am just paranoid (and mosquitos liking me would certainly not be news).

Hypochondriac Part 1

I have been doing a lot of websurfing recently - these days it is about various things that ail me. I am not 100% obsessive compulsive but I think being sick brings out this side of me more. I had a kidney infection 3 years ago that required a weeklong visit to the hospital and now I think everything is afflicting me. I dropped an ice skate on my toe almost six weeks ago (causing what is appropriately named toe trauma) and I am debating going to the doctor so they can drain blood from under my nail (it is still green and the greenness does not seem to be growing out). I cleverly disguise my ailment with bright red polish that never leaves my nails except for my bi-weekly pedicures. Some nutty websites actually suggest a DIY solution of taking a drill bit and a steady hand and DRILLING A HOLE IN YOUR TOENAIL to drain the blood yourself. Oddly, Matt suggested the identical solution independent of my exhausting internet research. Are these people mad? I cannot be trusted with putting a car in reverse, so how could I be trusted with putting a drill in my nailbed?

My pedicurist also lamented that my toenail will likely fall off. This is distressing to me, as I learned from my x-rays when I first experienced the trauma just how crooked my feet are. Their saving grace is well groomed nails (cut square at my insistence [I swear the default toe nail style here is rounded and long and red, sort of dragonlady toes based on what I see on the street]). If I am without a toenail, I would (a) be grossed out and (b) be without the my neutralizing trait that counteracts the effects of my bunion driven crookedness.

Looking on the bright side (which I seldom do in medical matters) it is at least not broken.

Now I need to find some wood to knock on and not knock into.

Engagement

Well, I have been on Matt about us getting engaged for a while now. Nothing like the steady, deliberate pressure from the likes of me. We went to Malaysia this past weekend - to Kota Kinabalu. I actually had a bit of a commitment in Taiwan the day before so I was a bit out of sorts and focus on my usual pressuring ways (indeed one of my less endearing qualities). We had been at the Shangri-La for 22 hours, the sun was setting and we took cute couple pictures in the golden glow of the twilight. Typical Matt arm length face shots where my moon-face is wholly magnified. After some of this Matt suggests we walk to the water to watch the cloudless sunset, which was stunning in a Key West caliber way, surprisingly. I had a quest to sort out my Sony camera's settings and right the sun in its memory. Matt wanted me to sit on a bench but I was committed to the camera. Matt then suggested we head back to the terrace of our room (we were on the first level so we could walk to the water). He asked me to sit down but I was restless and hungry, so I got a snack to eat on the terrace (a Golden Grahams cereal bar imported from Portugal). He told me he loved me and he wanted to be with me and got down on one knee (not a trivial feat as he is down one foot at the moment) and asked me to marry him! I hesitated for a second because I didn't see it coming (and I always thought I would see it coming) and asked if he was kidding. I then said yes and we hugged and kissed and I put my ring on my finger and were excited in the now darkness.

We then dined on a seafood grilled dinner along the water. I let Matt eat most of the steak and I wrestled away the larger prawn. I insisted that we have 2 glasses of champagne at dinner and was quickly tipsy thereafter. We then walked over to the surprisingly cool bar of the hotel, where I had a riveting cranberry juice and a fun Canadian cover band sang our favorite Black Eyed Peas tunes.

This was April 5. I called my sister and parents upon my return to Macau. Minjenah was appropriately excited and Mom was too in her typical conversationally-absent demeanor. My mom suggested that she just let Dad know because he was on the can. She certainly knew how to let the wind out of my sails! But I wouldn't let her completely deflate me. Not during MY engagement.