Happy Holidays

A few more holiday pics from friends..

Ringing in the new year in Pacific Heights
My Berkeley walkaround
My tree-hugging Christmas card from last year

Green

Green is the color of my parents' comforter cover that I hid under last night.. an inviolable place.. a place that I've retreated to since childhood.

Green is the color of the ring I wore last night as my mom held my hand.

Olive green is the color of Max's doghouse that my father brought over from Korea. It doesn't match our house, so I'm not sure why my father chose that one.

Green is the color of the jar of eye cream sitting on my desk.

Green is the accent color I chose for a pair of earrings I made for my cousin's girlfriend for Christmas. Btw, my holiday photos are up here.

Pale green is the color of this Vespa that I saw off 23rd Street in Portland. Kermit the Frog green is the color of the jacket I was wearing when I saw this Vespa.

Light green is the color of the bedsheets I'll be sleeping in tonight. My own.

Traffic light green is the color of my life as I enter 2010. (Let's go.)

Pics from NYE (SF) / NY 2010 (Portland, OR):

Click here for larger pics + captions

Green also happens to be my favorite color.

P.S. Click here for a recipe of AC's "Best Chili Ever" from NYE. Most excellent.

Waiting Room Magazines

You know you're in the Bay Area when you drive in a pack of four Priuses, attempt to avoid seagull roadkill on 101, and have to literally dream of a white Christmas because you don't know what Bing's talking about. You also know you're in the Bay when the old Asian man sitting next to you in the waiting room tries to strike up a conversation and his English pronunciation is absolutely flawless.

The last time I sat in a waiting room was at my dentist's office a few months back, and at that time, I picked up the Nat Geo magazine and read about Croatia. (Btw, people in Croatia are called Croats and not Croations, as I assumed.) There was no difference in preference this time around, and I picked Nat Geo Traveler over Vogue. The Traveler edition had "Great Long Weekends" plastered on the front with a special section on French flea markets. I really couldn't have asked for a more perfect combination for how I want to spend some of my vacation days in 2010, so I quickly grabbed the magazine before the old Asian man did. You know, in "case" of any competition!

I thought of a lot of you as I flipped through and jotted down notes on some potential destinations. I saw ads for Peru, Costa Rica (see right picture), and Maine. Earlier in the week, I was speaking to my best friend about her trip to Costa Rica over Thanksgiving. I was reminded of a bird moth incident my travel buddies and I had in Costa Rica -- shrieking definitely ensued upon encounter -- when she mentioned she saw "tranchlas." She meant tarantulas (jk if you're reading this! :P).

I have this penchant for markets (might even check this one out on Sunday) and am always on the lookout to grow my humble teacup collection, which originated with a Minton's purchase at Portobollo Road Market in 2008. As the Asian man leaned his head back to rest, I jumped to the section on French flea markets. If I head to France next year with a few friends to visit our college buddy working in Paris, then I definitely want to visit the Marché aux Puces St-Ouen to see what plundering damage can be done. I'm going to ask my friend to translate this website because I don't speak any French... just like old times when I asked him to read over my Korean essays in the dorms.

And with all this travel talk, I'll end with a photo from my sojourn to Japan a few years back. Seems fitting for this week. I'm pretty sure the tagline reads High Performance Delivered. Pardon me while I have a Tiger moment.

(Left: Photo from 2008 Google Holiday Party).

(Below: 5x7 puny advertisement on the Japanese subway)

Photo Crawl - Mission

This past weekend, I attended my first digital photography class! For some reason, the class reminded me of my hs days. Maybe it was the sitting in the back of the classroom or staying after class to ask for help that incited these adolescent memories.. but at least this time, I wasn't alone. I had a fellow dork with me: my college friend.

Here are a few pictures from class:


The Mrs.




NO PARKING!




A hipster moment...


STOP! I like this picture a lot for some reason.


This about sums up things.. Eats and..
(Photo taken at 3049 20th Street)

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While I'm posting pics from the Mission, I thought I'd share this one that I came across several weeks ago on Guerrero/19th as I was on my way to Tartine Bakery to meet up with my friend, Eliza, who was visiting from out of town. It's SF's version of Seurat's famous paintings, and it got me in a pleasantly nostalgic mood. It reminded me of my semester abroad in London when I would take notes at the National Gallery for a paper I was writing, and of my Bueller-istic days in Chicago when I used to wander around the Art Institute.

I haven't forgotten you Kensington and Lincoln Park. I miss you, Eliza!

(Btw, I really want this chair.)

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I think my neighborhood in SF has promising potential for a photo crawl. Even though I am still a novice, I feel like I at least have the basics to get started. So excited for the Mrs. to get her new lens :)

Hopefully my fishing trip this weekend will produce a couple of good shots!

Avant Chanel

Un:
I come home after church and a trip to the candy store, pick up my roomie, and head to cupcake camp at Pier 38. I am quite satisfied by the sad-faced red velvet cupcake, but not so much by the blue Hawaiian cupcake, which I actually end up throwing away after a bite. The cupcake that looks like a ghost is cuter than it tastes. But free cupcakes, I can't complain.

<-- Us today.

I come home and attempt to re-arrange my room. I am not super successful, but my mom's "Good job!" email from earlier in the morning makes me feel better about my attempt anyway. Yesterday, I was useless at home while watching the USC vs. Cal game on tv (Cal, so disappointing) so I re-folded everything that was in my mom's dresser. So how does this have anything to do with Chanel? I actually found a cool vintage scarf circa 1970's in my mom's dresser.

As a true descendent of Korean heritage, I asked my mom, "Is this real?" She said, "It was from grandpa. He gave it to me when he found out I was dating Dad."

Okay, so this is the real deal. I packed the scarf in my bag. No shame.

Deux:
I decide to change into something warmer and more fashionable to honor Coco. I even wear baby pink, but not the Chanel pink because I can't afford that. I head over to the movie theater to watch Coco Avant Chanel. Not alone this time, since I have my mom's scarf and my earrings with me to keep me company. I get to the theater a little early, so I buy my ticket and then head into Bloomingdales to see if there's a dedicated Chanel section, but all I see is the makeup counter and decide to window shop until the mall closes.

Trois:
I love the movie. Audrey Tautou does a great job portraying Coco Chanel as a simple, charming, sophisticate, nonchalant, warmly cold, and elegantly rebellious hipster. I really respect her after watching the movie, and I really do think she makes smoking look classy. I kind of regret not making an effort to see the Chanel mobile art exhibit when I was in NYC last October.

Thank you for your story, Gabrielle "Coco" Chanel. Thank you, Audrey, for telling it. It's always nice to know how people were before they were anybody.

In honor of avant-garde society and my other favorite Audrey Tautou movie, Amelie. Renegades and photobooths!

Fuzzy Feeling

I was reminded of what it felt like last week when I boarded the fishing boat and we rocked back-and-forth, side-to-side, and up-and-down simultaneously. The feeling was like this, and it came from having watched District 9 because of the handheld camera footage. I wasn't really scared to watch the movie, even though I got a couple of heads up warnings that it was gory and bloody. If anything, I was maybe more self conscious that the handful of people in the theater might be wondering why the girl sitting alone is staring at the wall and at the ceiling instead of at the screen.

It might have looked odd to the other movie viewers, but I was trying to focus on something still so as to not actually barf. The staring trick seemed to work better on main land than on the ocean last week, that's for sure. And, in case you're wondering what I mean by Barf, here's a good reference. (Btw, such a classic movie.)



I like sci-fi and action movies but am not as big of a fan of thrillers or scary movies (by neither nature nor title). The trailer for District 9 was for the movie, The Fourth Kind, and having just returned from Alaska less than a week ago, I got pretty freaked out by the trailer, especially by this picture of a white owl that I took in Fairbanks because it reminded me of the Harry Potter owl.

Anyways, as I walked to my car after the movie, I did a head turn to see if anyone was following me. The rattling of a windblown soda can on the sidewalk kind of spooked me. Plus, it can get kind of shady walking down Harrison Street at midnight when the only thing on the street is fresh piss and drunk biker-type dudes from the corner bar.

Although the sci-fi, action movie was somewhat of a catharctic experience, all that blood and f bombs from District 9 now makes me want to cuddle with something fuzzy. But before I do, I am going to share a few photos of my travel buddies and me. The District 9 movie poster reminded me of our suburban field trip a couple of weeks ago.

I wish our B9 lane sign had said D9 -- would have been fitting for the movie and for a Deagle.


(Lame captains. I mean, lane captains. Happy belated birthday, JJ & Dummy! Woop Peeeeeeee!)


(The brave first ones. Little babushka giggling.)


(Fire down the range!)


(Hi, mom and dad. Look what I can do!)

For the record, I hit three in the chest/stomach area, one in the head, and one in the private part using a 9 mm :)

Okay, now it's time to hug Patrick and hit the crib like a baby since Max isn't around to squish tonight.

Fuzzy time for fuzzy feelings!

Eating Chinese is Laborious

You know, it's one of those nights. No one is at home. In fact, both roomies are out of town, one out of country. I'm to follow suit tomorrow.

Tonight's the type where you've maybe had a longer day than desired, decide to stay inside, eat left over Chinese (unheated), do the dishes, clean out the fridge by throwing out what looks like expired food, and watch re-runs of Project Runway. The fighting between Fatma and Vanessa is pretty entertaining, and it is making my Chinese food taste that much better. I'll put 20 on Fatma.

When I recall last Labor Day weekend, I remember having a mellow night. Good food, good company, and doing hobbies. A few friends and I went out to San Tung's in Inner Sunset for Chinese-style Korean food (see bloody aftermath picture above). After dinner, the boys went home; my girl friend and I capped our night at my place with crafts, making earrings for the first time. We ended just a little after 2 am after realizing how silly it was to be sitting in my kitchen at such an hour with bloodshot eyes and waning determination to perfect the designs.

A redefined Labor Day indeed. Am I noticing the start of a yearly tradition of indoor fun with Chinese food?

In any case, here's to my first generation set.. cheers to 2 am bedtimes.