obsession

Argentine Tango is more than a dance, it is an obsession. Inspired by the passion of the music, two bodies embrace, expressing the desire to move as one.
Dancing tango is the private exchange of trust and surrender between the man (leader) and the woman (follower). It is the interpretation of the music and the moment, expressed together through the poetry of dance.

The quote is copied and pasted from http://www.celebratetango.com/about_tango.html

I was clearing up my bookmarks and came to the "dance" folder. A website named "Celebrate Tango" did not immediately trigger my memory. I clicked on it, and before the webpage was presented, I remembered why I bookmarked it.

It was last July when I danced on South Street Seaport in New York.

The tango community in New York City holds milongas in public every weekend. It is a brilliant way to promote awareness of this beautiful dance.

Around sunset, one advanced dancer in the community will offer a beginner lesson on the side.

That day, July 23th, 2006, a woman, whose name does not come to me now, offered the most challenging beginner lesson ever. There were at least 50 people who just came to the seaport for no specific reason but enjoying the afternoon. The crowd was mixed with people with different ages (7 to 70), different culture background (more than 5 languages were heard around me), and various interests in the concept of dancing.

The woman handled it so well that in 30 minutes everyone could do parallel and cross systems naturally. Hey, I know many many many people don't know what the difference between the two systems. But the beauty is that you don't have to know the technical terms before you know how to do them. And I know many people don't know how to do them for the first month of their dancing life.

She was so experienced at controlling the situation and made people in the outdoor space listen to her.

At the end of the lession, she anounced that she teaches in a studio of which the schedule can be found in the celebratetango website.

I came back home and bookmarked it.

I finally studied the website until 30 minutes ago. Shame on me.

Soon, I found myself obsessed with words on tango. It is just like my other experiences with a tango website. Being obsessed.

Tango definitely is more than a dance.

Oh, I also found that they offer tango AND yoga trips to Buenos Aires and New Zealand. Wow, if I earn good money after my doctoral denfense tomorrow, I will go on the tours, maybe not this year but next year is very possible.

Yeah.. I have to put myself together for tomorrow. I wish I had obsession with that year-long study too.

不能說的事

在紐約時報的網站上讀到一篇文章，關於美國最新兒童文學獎「the higher power of lucky」。
文章內容不是在恭喜作者，而是在描述美國社會對這本書的反感，因為在這本書的第一頁寫著一隻響尾蛇攻擊了一隻狗的陰囊，然後有這麼一段：
“Scrotum sounded to Lucky like something green that comes up when you have the flu and cough too much... It sounded medical and secret, but also important.”

於是乎，雖然這本書得了獎，許多小學的圖書館不願意買進這本書。

我不得不皺眉頭，美國對於「性」這件事情非常的不合邏輯的保守，小朋友不可以接觸到這方面的話題，大人們在一般場合也最好不要談論，性器官或是性徵器官可以開放的包裝，但是不能說不能批評不能直視不能摸。
為什麼呢？
我不是想要倡導，來吧，我們應該要好好談談性生活和性器官。我是不懂美國文化的矛盾。
色情行業是合法的，但是，不能明說，沒人敢討論。
陰囊，每個正常健康的男生都有，但是，不能明說，沒人敢承認。

不只是性，排泄這件事情也是不能說的事。
記得有一次 Zabeth 問我，為什麼美國人叫廁所 restroom，沒有人會到那裡去休息，那是大小便的地方。
我怎麼會知道呢，我又不是美國人。從此之後，Zabeth 喜歡開玩笑說她現在要去 restroom，但是不要告訴別人她其實是要去小便，尤其不要告訴美國人，他們承受不起事實的打擊。

有一本書叫做「the only bush I trust is my own」，作者是非常敢講的女人，她用第一人稱，甚至是真姓名的諷刺美國人的偽善，從宗教、兩性到大小便。我一邊看一邊狂笑，然後書借給朋友們，他們也是一邊看一邊狂笑。
這是一個表面上反對歧視的國家，但是標籤到處貼，有了標籤就有典型，有了典型就有好惡，有了好惡就有歧視。
信神、不信神。異性戀、同性戀、雙性戀。男人、女人、雙性人。乳頭、陰唇、龜頭、陰囊。
這些如果都是純粹的形容一件事情一個現象一個身體部位，世界或許就太平了，小學生也可以讀一本好書，大人可以多勞心在別的地方。

在那篇紐約時報文章的最後，一位保守的圖書館員說：But you won't find men's genitalia in quality literature, at least not for children.
我真想搖醒她，她大概書讀得不夠多吧，有沒有寫到性器官根本不是評價一書好壞的重點。
反而，好書，尤其好的故事書或是小說是以人為本體，人性為主體，人會吃喝拉撒睡，當然也會性交，這是為什麼描寫人可以造就這麼多好的故事，也因為我們對自己身為人有許多矛盾，所以人才會這麼有趣，性器官是人的一部份，許多時候是一個故事有趣的源頭。
最近的普力茲文學獎頒給「middlesex」，這是描寫一個人因為基因的缺陷，出生時被以為是女孩，但是他其實是擁有 XY染色體。故事重點是這個主人翁如何尋找追溯自我認同感。這是我讀過最動人的小說，不只是男人的性器官，女人的也寫在書裡。但是，這主人翁的性別不是重點，作者用歷史（希臘移民帶到底特律暴動），用個人歷史（家族關係到人際關係）說這個故事，讀者學到很多，感動到很多，一頁接著一頁的讀，有的時候情緒被文字牽得太遠，不得不闔眼鎮靜。絕對沒有辦法用一個句話概括故事。

小朋友如果可以從小就慢慢知道「性」不可怕，「性」是存在的，性器官是可以談論的，性是美好的，那麼，他們會早些體會到世界的美好或是邪惡都跟「性」本身沒有直接關係，而是人言可畏的是非，還有偽善的自以為是的道德標準在過份美化或是醜化該有的純粹。

Scrotum, how innocent the word is.

happy new year

It's over.
It's almost over.
My 5-yr-old laptop almost died. The screen died after I backed up the latest version of the dissertation. Feels like a dear friend turning his back on me and saying "Goodbye my lover. Goodbye my friend," like James Blunts' voice, touchingly broken, keeping singing "You have been the one. You have been the one for me."
Oh, my dear laptop.
I held my breath and tears and heart beat. Feel so hollow as if I am playing a role in the music video.

Working day and night, trying to finish the draft before going to Newark for a job interview, personal relationships have sucked, but I had no energy to deal with it. I just kept going and pushing my limit to do the work and not to appear weak.
A huge snow storm hit the town and the whole north east side of America on the pink lover's day and the day before. Everything had to be canceled. Sorry that people who have lovers were not allowed to celebrate out side of their beds. So I would not feel even sadder.
Thanks to my dear friend, Alex, who helped me dig my car out of the snow at the night of Valentine's Day. It was a hard labor work. The snow was deep and hard. The temperature was merciless. I figured that sweat would be better than tears. Let's do it. Alex once again made homesick-inducing meal to warm me up.

After parking the car safely in a garage downtown, I walked back to the dark empty room. Breathe in. Breathe out. I will survive. I said.
It was before dawn. I started off at 6am to Newark. Things were fine and sunny until 7:30am.
The road was not plowed completely. The trucks were arrogantly flying. The wind was crazily blowing snow down from anything to my wind shield.
Many times, my small car with small tires moved in all directions but mine. I was scared to death.
9:30am, Millie (Dr. Anna's secretary) called, "Where are you, hon?"
10:30am, Millie called again.
11:00am, Millie called yet again.
I had not moved forward more than 30 miles for the past 3 hours. Sometimes, no moving was safer than moving.
I thought I was going to be hit by trucks or stuck in snow hills, and no one would come to rescue me, and I would get no jobs.
Feeling miserable, somehow my hands were still on the wheel. Passing a hilltop, suddenly I could finally drive at a normal highway speed.
I arrived at 1pm.

My morning schedule had been postponed to the next morning. The rest remained going and I met people and gave a talk. My talk was presented on an IBM laptop that decided not to cooperated with my powerpoint. Please, the spirit of my laptop please go away from me. I smiled at my audience and thought in silence.
It was tiresome but pleasant.
By the time of dinner, I could hardly open my eyes after every blink.

KMRREC is a research center, affiliated with UMDNJ and KMRR hospital. But at the same time, KMRREC is independent. It is a private company with employees including medical doctors, ph.Ds., research scientists, and postdocs. People dress well and talk formal. Perhaps I will be an OL but doing research. What an ideal!
But they also gave the most challenging interviews. Questions after questions, from my short-term vision to my long-term goal, from my background to my future projects, from my first line on the CV to the last line of my conversation. (Oh yeah... each of them had a copy of my CV in hand)
I was relieved that they could laugh at my unintentional jokes here and there.

Friday morning I met four more researchers. At 1pm, I decided to leave without entering Manhattan for a class of yoga, because the traffic tragedies people kept telling me.
On I-80, everything was fine and sunny until 2:30pm. I arrived the intersection of I-80 and I-380, and the radio said that the section from I-81 to I-380 on I-80 were to be closed until tomorrow morning.
Damn it.
Following the traffic to I-380 and then PA-940, the whole line stopped somewhere in the woods for 2 hours. During which, lucky me, mama called. I had chats with her and Brother for more than an hour while I sat in the same spot.

Checking the map, a decision was made. I would go 940 and turn to 93 and reach I-80 again. I told some folks about my plan in a gas station. They gave me a good-luck smile and decided to return to where they had come from. No, there was no way that I was going back to NJ at that point.
I wanted to keep moving, even though super slowly. That was 6pm.

According to my plan, the detour was about 30 miles. If I was lucky to go at 20 mph, I should have meet I-80 by 8pm.
At 8pm, I was in the middle of no where, stuck in the car, stuck in an endless line.
At 9:30pm, I reached I-80 where was beyond the intersection of I-81. I thought I could get on I-80. But the entrance was blocked. Damn radio lied to me.

Checking the map again, I was angry and awake and highly alert and muscle-pain in my body.
OK, I would keep going on 93 and connect to 11 and I should meet I-80 again. If I couldn't get on I-80, I would keep on 11 and turn to 322 back to State College by sunrise!
I was determined, so determined to reach my goal.
The traffic actually was not bad from that point.
I saw the sign of I-80 junction, and prayed to whatever god who rules the highway. Yes! It was open!
Again the car ran at 80mph. I lied myself down on bed at 11:30pm.

It was Chinese New Year's Eve. I turned on my laptop trying to skype my family, which reminded me of its screen leave.
James Blunt sang in my head when I stared at the black monitor.
I was too tired to yell my emotion out.

The blue beetle is covered by dirty snow stains and icy water, as if it has gone through a war field. I am proud of it. It was the smallest car in the whole post-storm stupidity -- the government cut down the budget of road cleaning and made a clean-up demand too late to recover people's normal life.

Is being tough smart?

marc massaged away my toughness, and sleep overcame me.

flash back

I am not on Facebook. But Kevin and Nat talk about it because they are making "friends" there.
What do you mean by friends in that world? The whole concept for me is very weird.
Since Kevin and Nat are currently my good friends, I decide to check it out.

While having breakfast, I google Facebook and go there and find that I can enter my gmail account to find "friends" without registering as a Facebook user.
So that is what I do. I enter my gmail and password. There are 184 "friends" showing up.
It is easy to figure out. The database of my gmail is just retrieved and ALL of my "having emailed" people whose email accounts match email accounts in Facebook show up. There are 184 of them. I cannot see their profiles but I can see their names and pictures.

I stroll it down.
It is like a flash back of my American life.
Some people I have never met. Who should be my experiment participants or prospective students just exchanging email with me long time ago or recently.
Some people I have not seen for 1 to 4 years. Their names and pictures just strike me... oh where are they now? what are they doing now? do I really care?
Some people I see everyday and I never expect they are on Facebook (or never being informed that they are there).
I am like.... TOBY! He is on Facebook with his race car as the picture. oh, toby.
and marc. which is not unexpected but the fact that I never knew kinda gives me a sense of being betrayed. Of course, not that serious. But still.... I feel so behind.
So behind.
The two men I see most often everyday. The two men affect my life most. The two men make me laugh and cry most profoundly. They are so advanced, far more advanced than me in catching up the e-trend, the Web 2.0, the "making-friends-online" thing.

In 3 minutes, I saw a previous RA's wedding picture. Oh, she got married!
Another RA's kissing picture. Oh, I thought that geek would never have that kind of human contact.
Another RA's growing body mass. Oh, life can be too comfortable, uh?
Many first- and second-year grads are there too.
I feel ... behind and old altogether.

But I have no desire to get on Facebook or MySpace where I found many friends too.
Most "friends" are people I know of, not I know. It is like a huge party: you meet everyone and no one.
I am not in a party mood.

I am in a I-have-to-finish-writing mood plus a shocked mood when seeing the two men's names.

Ah... what a great 5-degree sunday morning without a party mood, uh?

smiley head

What a gorgeous snowy but not so cold day. 30F is fine for me. I am okay with the freezing point. 3F is bad, that is freezing my blood. (32F = 0C)

I happily had a long deep sleep. I missed long deep sleep. Last time I had slept well was a month ago.
I happily got up and played Jazz Samba by Stan Getz. Oh, man, why didn't I notice this great guy earlier? I noticed him a week ago when listening to Napster. I love Napster because its great Jazz radio. I was doing some no-brainer work. And this melody sparkled my mind. So I clicked open Napster and spotted the picture of the song and album. This is another thing I love Napster that you can visualize what you are listening to. Immediately I went to Amazon.com and ordered two CDs (in order to save the shipping fee). One of them was originally issued in 1961, and the other was in 1963. This is my first time exposed to an American Bossa Nova artist. I usually listened to Lisa Ono, an Japanese Brazilian Bossa Nova Goddess.

Oh, where am I?
Yes, I happily had one of the best breakfast -- plain yogurt mixed well with maple syrup. And write!
Finally I have ideas writing my last chapter of my dissertation.
A week ago, I was paranoid because Toby told me there may have been something wrong in my EEG analysis. I should have not low-pass filtered the raw data before averaging. Damn it! I hate that Net Station Tutorial. It told me to low-pass filter as the very first step. Never ever trust a tutorial not written by a cognitive psychologist! Therefore, I panicked. I had only three weeks to hand in my manuscript and I did not start writing the last chapter because my data was wrong. In order to push myself out of panicking, I re-analyzed the EEG data. Yes, I did. Eight hours again were investigated into this process. Why do I have such many experimental conditions in one single experiment? Who approved my dissertation proposal?
Anyway, the data look very similar to the previous analysis. The results actually do not change. That means I get to keep my plan of writing.

Last night, when talking to my mom, who has been always my Luck Goddess, I got email from Dr. Anna (whose last name will not be revealed) telling me that I am getting a job interview in two weeks and that I should call her to set things straight.
So I happily called her this morning.
Her secretary took a message from me. In two hours, Dr. Anna called. We had a good 30 minutes of conversation. Things were discussed. I am going to give a presentation and to meet a bunch of people and to explore the possibility of getting employed. It seemed that she liked me already!
It is always a nice feeling when you feel a positive energy on the phone from someone you have never met.

I happily left the apartment to my lab. I promised to come in to wire Toby up.
He and other students wired me up yesterday. It was for the award-winning program "Specialization in Cognitive and Affective Neuroscience" (a.k.a SCAN). Since I am so far the only student finished the program and I am paid as the teaching assistant of the program and I really want to see my own brainwaves (I never did even though I have wired up at least 50 people in the past 4 years), I volunteered to let students practice applying an electrode cap on me.
Well, there was not only a cap of EEG electrodes. There were also EOG and EMG electrodes on my face and arms, respectively. There were also two reference electrodes on my ear lobes. I knew all those stuff and knew how unpleasant it would be. It is okay because I want to see my brainwaves.
Last year, I volunteered for a class which was also associated to SCAN. But for some reason I don't remember, I did not do the task and did not see my waves.
This time, I was pretty confident that I would see my waves and ERP components indexing some cognitive processing. I stood the toothpicking and the novelists' inconfidence. Zabeth was happily taking my picture. Eventually after an hour or more, I was fully wired and prepared to be hooked onto the machine and do the task.
But the amplifier played dead on me. (Electrical signals picked up from the scalp are too weak to be seen. The purpose of the amplifier, called amp, is to magnify the signals at least 20 thousand times.)
Toby changed amp and even the head box (where the electrode cable goes), but nothing worked. Of course I was not the source of the problem. I was and am alive; thus I should have brain waves which should have been shown on the screen.
It turned out that the reference electrodes on my ear lobes were made of a different metal from electrodes on my scalp. That made me a battery. Different metals have different intrinsic potentials. Electrical charges run between two potentials, creating a current. Amp does not like currency.
I still did not see my own brain waves. It is torturing.

Where am I again? Yes, I happily came to the lab for wiring Toby up.
He stayed in the lab until 3 am last night to make sure everything is peachy and with the same type of metal.
Rose and I wired him up and watched him do the task. Things went well, I guess.

Around 5pm, I checked my mail box and found a brown envelope from a journal. My heart beat went up and my eyes brightened.
I tore it open. A congrats letter and some paperwork. I am accepted!
Correction. My paper is accepted!
This thing took me 2 years and 30 experiments and 400 posters to get the data out. Well, actually it was 2 and half years, 27 experiments, and 3 posters. Plus one manuscript rejection from a journal. It was a lot of work. I had been afraid that the data would never be published. Then I was not care about it would ever be published. Finally it is going to be published, and I was soooooo excited! So excited that I had to call someone to express my excitement. Someone who can understand the tiresome of this process. Someone who is also a frustrated graduate student. Someone who is online with Skype. I am happy it is Marc.

I happily talked to Marc. He is in France. He went to a milonga in Paris. He officially is not with me for the past two weeks. Emotionally we went up and down and down and down to a point that a break (whatever that means) was planned and executed.
For two weeks, I avoided talking to him, voice or text chat. I think we can play it peacefully now. I was happy when expressing my joy to him. After all, he is in the same position as me as a soon-to-be doctor looking for a career. He understands.

Oh, it is getting dark outside. I should get going to meet my gay friend.
Have I ever said that I love gay people openly on my blog?
I love gay people. (Talking about that, he just called me.)
They always make me laugh. Or gay friends I have always make me laugh.
The only criterion I have for my prospective boy friend or life partner is someone who can make me laugh. Not a joking or silly way of making laugh. It is something in personality, something in the sense of humor, something clicking me.


Let's walk in the snow and smile.