Ask Me Something.

As a twentysomething, there are two questions I cannot avoid: (1) What's on your face? (2) Do you have a boyfriend?





Children will ask anything. Anything. They will say anything, do anything- anything. They're children, the only limits they recognize are cookies on the very top shelf and, trust me, children are intuitive and innovative- they will find a way up to that top shelf. You read Calvin and Hobbes!

So, I got a new teaching job (I use the term 'teaching' loosely) where all the students are allowed to call their teachers by their first names. This, of course, relaxes the teacher-student relationship. In some ways this is no different than students calling their teachers by their last name, especially if they are not used to the former version (the students I instruct are in Kindergarten, and 1st grade)- when you are used to one way of life, any other way is odd, yes? Yes. So, I don't hear, "Miss. Triunfo, why-?" I hear >>

"Justine? What's on your face?" (It's like I'm talking to a peer.)

"Acne. Sometimes when you grow up you get...you know, I don't actually really know what acne is."

"It looks like chicken pox."

"It's not red enough for chicken pox."

"...BURGUNDY!"

"Are you getting married?"

"No. I don't have a fiance. In fact, I'd have to have a boyfriend in order to even have a fiance."

"If you had a fiance would you marry him?"

"That's the idea of a fiance."





Now, when children become adults their questions about my complexion and romantic life are subtle, if not passive aggressive. I may not be socially graceful, but I'm pretty aware of when someone wants to offer beauty advice- it's in their eyes (is it not always?)- because it's an imitation of my dermatologist's look and tone: matteroffact and concerned. "Aren't you self-conscious?" / "More than you know."





I understand the importance of aesthetics and rules and blah blah blah. I do. I get it. Yay. My understanding, however, does not tend to override my emotional stability, if anything, it's the other way around. (Don't ask me if I'm self-conscious. Who, on this Godforsaken planet, isn't self-conscious?!)

When I am asked questions about my complexion and romantic life I only allow myself to answer as directly as I possibly can. Frankly, why can't you ask me, "Oh, have you read anything interesting lately?" / "Do you enjoy cooking?" / "Can you help me with my math homework?" / "What's the meaning of life?" / "Do you want to build a snowman?" / "HOW DID SHERLOCK SURVIVE?"

I am not incredibly smart, and I don't do many interesting things but honestly, so I can't imagine why you want to talk to me in the first place, so it boggles my mind even more than when you do talk to me you assume, "So? Anyone special?" is an okay question.

This is not entirely your fault. I guess that question bothers me in the same way it bothers tributes that everyone focuses on Katniss' love interest. You're kidding me, right? Can we think of nothing else? Are we really that hormonal?

Sorry, now I'm ranting.

Long story short: never grow up.

Under Consideration

I don't know what it is about New York City but I always learn something new about myself and the world at large while I'm there.

When I found out Banksy was taking up a month's residence in the five boroughs I thought it would be a great opportunity to see his work in person since I have no hope of visiting his usual hits in London any time soon. I asked a friend to come with me to find his works, but we didn't do a very good job--we were distracted by other things, like food and used books. (For the rest of this blog post you'll have to know these two things: my friend and I are both girls; she's black, I'm Asian- a Filipino, to be exact.)

At one point during the day we caught ourselves in the MET. At the top of the grand staircase she introduced me to Stuff White People Like (SWPL). I knew it was a book, I didn't know it began as a blog. Apparently, white people like some of the following:

1. Banksy
2. TED Conferences
3. the Idea of Soccer
4. Manhattan
5. snowboarding
6. Non-Profit Organizations
7. Scarves

As we skimmed some of the listed blog posts we laughed very, very hard, never mind that we preferred the small screen of her smart phone to some of the MET's most treasured works. Anyway, we came across one that intrigued me: Asian Girls, but the page refused to load, so we resigned to view an external page: something of a reaction to SWPL's blog post about 'Asian Girls'.

I do not think I need to tell you what we discovered. The actual SWPL blog post wasn't horrible. In fact, when I read it later I found it moderately amusing. The reactions to it were, well, to say the least, surprising. Many of the reactions made me cry, which I suppose doesn't say much because it's not that difficult to make me cry, but, do you know, I can't remember the last time I felt diminished because of my ethnicity. I admit, I am plagued with self-inflicted derogatory statements, but I can easily deflect my own jabs. I am unpracticed when it comes to a stranger's jabs.

At the time of my initial reaction, I did not know if I was grateful or ungrateful that I was so ignorant of such ignorant, racist, prejudiced thoughts and beliefs. I was torn--make this #753 existential crisis of the year 2013.

Do I really look like an expensive hussy when I walk side by side one of my male white friends? What do you mean when you say that Sandra Oh is 'the Elephant Man of Asian women'? Have you ever seen an elephant man because right now I'm sure he's more attractive than you are.

Am I not supposed to age physically though many birthdays pass? Am I always to look like I'm a twenty-something with perfect skin and weight because I'm naturally genetically engineered that way- never mind I have ancestors who were also Spanish therefore making some people think I'm actually Puerto Rican, or Hawaiian, or, once, I got Somalian (I was really tan one summer).

But then I stopped crying. We were then distracted by other things, and who wants to talk about racism when you can talk about religious ignorance? (Feel free to interpret 'religious ignorance' as you wish.) Our day in the city was not to be ruined!

So, eventually we ended up in a used book store where I found a few books written by Thomas More; etc. I considered buying it, but then I put it down because (1) I already bought a new journal and (2) as much as I admire Thomas More, he's a European White male which usually would not deter me, but where are the Asian theologians? Did More have any Asian contemporaries? But ethnicity doesn't matter right?





When I was a college student (two years removed now) I was one of, like, I think, six Asians on campus- I attended a predominantly white school- and the other five Asians were international students from Myanmar, so they were much more Asian than I was. Anyway, I was reading a book in the hall way when one of my favorite professors, Godblesshim, approached me:

Professor: Justine! There you are. I'm glad I spotted you. I have a question: you're Filipino, right?

Me: Yes? Haha, why?

Professor: Well, you know that class I'm teaching [something about diversity in classroom, I don't remember what it's called], well, in our textbook we have a chapter on Filipino students so I was wondering if you'd like to come in and- I mean, I know you're not speaking for the entire Philippine nation, but just for us to hear your perspective.

Me: Sure, that sounds fun! Actually, it's funny you ask because I've been talking with another professor about ethnicity and identity- I would love to come into your classroom.

So, I bought my own copy of the text book. I get to the chapter, which is entitled "Families with Pilipino Roots". I'm excited: I'm about to have a text book definition of my culture that will act as a foundation I can build upon when I read this (both quotations are from Developing Cross-Cultural Competence):

Understanding the Pilipino American character is complex. The differences among Pilipinos in terms of history, language, familial and other forms of affiliation, religion, education, and individual experiences can be great. Although this chapter provides some general insights into families with Pilipino roots, great caution and consideration must be taken to prevent perpetuating stereotypes. Although many Pilipino Americans have a shared history and common cultural experiences, other factors not related to being Pilipino may have a more decided influence on their self-identities. 

Damnit! My culture doesn't even have a text book definition! Generally, all the other ethnicities listed in the text book have definitions, why doesn't mine? Because

' "Neither history nor geography permitted the Filipinos time to consolidate their parochial and isolated strands into a culture integrated enough to repel outside pressures and influence." Throughout centuries of colonialism, Pilipinos have nevertheless avoided becoming 'carbon copies' of their colonizers. They have pursued a dual historical path of understanding, accommodating to, placating, or opposing the overwhelming power foreigners have exercised in their lives while simultaneously preserving what is essentially Pilipino in themselves. '

Oh, dear God, who am I?

When I attended the class as a guest-speaker I spoke solely on my behalf, and can recall saying (this isn't word for word): "Students are students, no matter the ethnicity. Don't just assume that this text book will offer you everything you need to know about how to deal with students who are Native American, or European, or Latino, or Hispanic. Your future, potential students are still individuals."




So, if students are students; if students are still individuals, why do I care so much for Thomas More's Asian contemporaries?

Why does it bother me that I don't know any of Lewis' Asian contemporaries?

Don't even get me started that religion is predominantly male-oriented (although some of them still act like immature, spoiled thirteen year old girls). Where are my female role models?

St. Patrick's Day, yes- if Patrick were a Patricia, would we have St. Patricia's Day?

I hope that I am not diminishing the importance of God's work in these men's lives. I am not.

I'm not saying that Native Americans and Europeans and Latinos and Hispanics are easier to define that Filipinos.

Because we are all individuals influenced by internal and external situations.

I get that, I do.




A little later in the evening my friend and I were eating at Whole Foods (ironically, another thing that white people like), when a few seats away were these really loud black guys. Just- they were loud; and I was already tired, and subconsciously cranky from my own dealings with racism, and I made some comment to my friend about how I could never date a black guy- Godblessher, she didn't slap me right then and there.

The day after we talked about my revelation: I am racist.

Friend: Justine, you're not racist. You're prejudiced. If you were racist- racism means you hate people of that race. You don't hate black people.

Me: Ha, if I did, I wouldn't be your friend. Thank you, you're so wonderful to me. If I ever become racist, shoot me.

Friend: Hey, I got your back.

And yet I am still haunted with questions of race/ethnicity and gender.





Upworthy recently sent me an e-mail with this video:


He expresses everything I have ever thought, much more cleverly and precisely than I ever could, or would dream, and it's ironic because he's still a white male, although he himself recognizes that women of every color have expressed these very thoughts. Then I realize: the messenger is not as important as the message. 

"I always get asked, 'Where do you get your confidence?' I think people are well meaning, but it's pretty insulting. Because what it means to me is, 'You, Mindy Kaling, have all the trappings of a very marginalized person. You're not skinny, you're not white, you're a woman. Why on earth would you feel like you're worth anything?'" -September 2013 issue of Parade Magazine

at my lunch table

i just started a twitter account a couple weeks ago, and so far, it's serving the purpose for which i meant it: keeping up with world news headlines. at first, it was overwhelming, the amount of things that go on; the constant update and/or correction of facts and figures. and how exactly does one go about getting- what is it?- retweeted?

aha, i see.

still, the news corporations, businesses, entrepreneurs, actors, authors, musicians; etc. that i have decided to follow on twitter have all delighted me in this one way: they all seem to follow each other.

and you're like, "Duh, Justine. Celebrities follow celebrities. Normal people wish celebrities followed them."

be that as it may, it's not just celebrities following celebrities- they are, after all, still normal people just following other normal people (for the record, they only seem so fabulously abnormal because we know them, but we don't know them- at least the strangers we encounter on a daily basis are actually strangers. anyway...); and because they're still just people they follow the people they admire, or are their friends. so when i find that MIKA follows Neil Gaiman and Jamie Cullum, and that Alton Brown follows Jamie Hyneman my first thought is: "Oh, my gosh! We could all sit at the same lunch table, and all get along!"




you ever have that writing prompt presented to you? "If you could have lunch/dinner/tea with any five people, dead or alive (perhaps not yet born) who would they be and why?" well, according to the amount i follow on twitter, i'd have a hard time picking just five, and they're all alive so i don't even have to wait for them to be born or resurrect any of them from the dead.

EXCELLENT!

now i just have to make sure i find the perfect day for all their schedules to coincide... oh, and i can't forget: i also need to find the perfect stationery for the invitations, and the appropriate location-!

IS THAT DOMINIC COOPER TOM HIDDLESTON IS FOLLOWING? oh, wait, duh- they're both involved with 'The Avengers'. right. okay. i forgot. that's about as normal as me following my friends.

okay.

man, i hope one day i get to meet some of these people, even for just a handshake.









edit: 12 November 2013--i just realized all the people i mentioned i followed are all older white males. hmm, well, whatever- we're all human, right? but i suppose that also says i really need some female role models, huh?

Sorry about yesterday,

You'll have to forgive me for my blog post yesterday--I wasn't in my right mind. I'd wanted my tone to be a little more solemn, not whacked-out-crazy, but apparently, that was not to be. I hadn't even remembered the most important lesson of my reaction to my sickness yesterday: I never again want to be in control of my breathing. Of all the things I am glad, and the things for which I am grateful, automatic breathing has become my favorite. It feels very good to be able to think about other things and breathing just sort of happens in the background; it is when I have to remember to breathe while I'm thinking that's tricky.

You see, what I'd wanted to post yesterday I shall have to post today: an encouraging note I found in the deep corners of my journal. This is what it reads:

Dear Magistra [Teacher] Triumpho (sic),

Thank you for always being there as a teacher and friend. You’ve helped me everytime (sic) I was down by either making me laugh, smile or look at the bright side. You make me understand who I am. Thanks, Love Naty.

When I first read her note to me I could not cry because I was too shocked and honored at receiving it; that and I thought it was adorable how she misspelled my last name- how phonetic. I did not know my actions meant more than I intended, so much so, that I helped a young lady understand her very identity. Indeed, I only thought I was helping her to conjugate Latin verbs.

I do wonder, though if the outcome would have been different if I did intend to help her understand her identity, and not how to conjugate Latin verbs. Eh, who's to say what could've happened--that, at this point (two years later), is irrelevant.

But her gratitude does then make me consider: if my positive actions can incur such humbling gratitude, what sort of impact do my negative actions in incur? Of course, that begs the question: is it a positive action to intend only to help in academia, and therefore a negative action if I intend to influence and develop her life outside of academia? Vice versa? But, frankly, no matter what my actions are it is only she that can determine her reaction. People can become good people in spite of poor parents and teachers. People can become bad people in spite of good parents and teachers.

Whatever.

I don't know, and couldn't give a damn.

Those are such petty questions when I should really keep in mind: I hope Natalie is doing all right. I do hope she has other teachers who help her build up her individual identity. I hope she is taking full advantage of whatever opportunities are coming her way. Make mistakes, Natalie.

Cloud Study

for this blog post you should understand a few things about me. (1) i enjoy reading. (2) when i read i also get distracted because i'm so inspired by what i've read i have to get up and do something about it. (3) i appreciate art and in no way intend to be its greatest critic.




yesterday a friend and i had the pleasure of attending the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, NY. i hadn't visited the MET since last March, so you can imagine my art gauge was running on low...practically deteriorating.

YAY FOR LIVING NEAR ONE OF THE MAJOR CITIES OF THE WORLD!

anyway, upon entering the MET, i avoided the Egyptian exhibit because i've seen it ever since i was three: i've lived these twenty two, almost twenty three years in or near NYC and i've only seen about an eighth of the MET? so, onto newer parts! (newer for me, at least.)

we walked up their grand staircase and into the European Paintings (1250-1800), but my friend's greater interest in the more recently painted paintings led us to quickly move onto 19th-and-Early 20th-Century European Paintings and Sculpture, but a quick walk down the hallway.

Here I began my search of Johan Christian Dahl's "The Eruption of Mount Vesuvius" my favorite painting. (i would say 'my favorite piece of art in general', but i might speak too soon.) i despaired when it appeared in none of the rooms i was already in, when i turned and, "AH! I'll be right back. I've been looking for this!"

i found it:

and i'd wanted to just stare at it all day, but another girl in a blue dress was already standing there. it was apparent she wasn't going to leave. i made myself to stand beside her, in spite of my great desire to have a center view.

having filled my Vesuvius fix i walked on and discovered one of his cloud studies. oh! i didn't know this existed.

 

as soon as i saw that, i found another cloud study, and another, and another. i was thrilled!

in fact, when you have the time, you should visit the MET's website and type in the search bar 'cloud study'.

you may ask, "what's to study? they're just clouds."

"no," i'd respond. "it's more than just clouds. it's color, light and dark, shape (sometimes sharp, sometimes fluffed), and depth. perhaps more!- i'm not the artist! perhaps they study more than i can say; than i can tell you."

although, i will admit, i am slightly biased for the sky has always fascinated me: how solid it looks, but i know that the moment i choose to press my weight onto it, i'll only fall through, and down onto the hard earth. even with the scientific understanding we have of the sky and what's beyond me (i, personally, lack this scientific understanding) still leaves one awestruck.

i can only imagine... these are just the studies of clouds, what must have the artist really seen when he saw those clouds. perhaps even artists would admit that no picture (painted, taken, sculpted, etc.) could really ever capture nature.

nature is best experienced, not imitated...but that should never stop you from doing your best to imitate it.

unfortunately, i don't believe i'll ever get my art gauge filled to its brim; and it may never stay filled, but what's the fun in that? if its filled, i'd never have a chance to appreciate the tons and tons of art still left to be appreciated, and made.

so, i'll begin my own cloud study.

no, i won't paint them. i may not attempt to photograph them. but i will press them onto my mind, so much so, that if and when i may require a lobotomy they'll see the clouds etched in there.

that, and now i need to buy this book:

 

pictures courtesy of MetMuseum.org and ChronicleBooks.com