Eatery – Lower East Side – Balthazar

I ate here once after a co-worker’s recommended it as a good French eatery, without knowing this place is a hot spot in the City. It’s been around for ages, it is huge (cocky enough to assume packed diners at all time), and apparently – the food is legend.

I went to the restaurant without any preconceived notions but still thoroughly enjoyed my order – my appetizer, also my first time trying snails (although I am allergic to shell fish, snails gave me no reactions), was a juicy flavor soaked in garlic and olive oil. It was a bit difficult to take the meat out of the shell, but the effort enhanced our temptation and prolonged our satisfaction afterward. My medium-rare bar steak was equally fantastic, not as pristine as a $60 order from Smith & Wollensky, but the best steak I’ve had under $25.

Then I read that Balthazar is one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s 24 favorite restuarants in New York City, and because I value Gwyn’s sense of style, Balthazar came under my radar.

And today I read from my all-time favorite food blogger SmittenKitchen that a dish from Balthazar was so good it made her no longer vegetarian, and this is when I realized: I need to go back, despite this recession.

Classic is perhaps an appropriate descriptioin at last

Balthazar

80 Spring Street, New York, NY 10012

212-965-1414 (reservations)

What is a 1.5 Generation?

In college, I was not obsessed with getting drunk, dating guys, having sex, crashing parties, smoking weed, or getting perfect grades. In fact – I failed a math class, got rejected from undergraduate Business School, did not date a single guy and never entered a bar until I turned 21.

Instead, I was obsessed with social justice. I poured effort and time into ethnic organizations, intercultural seminars, minority mentorings, injustice exhibitions, and just about anything that deals with oppression. Obsession is perhaps too mellow of a word to describe the way social justice overtook my life in college.

This was not a deliberate choice to abandon everything else I could have experienced in college. It was an insatiable need on my part to justify and to clarify my past and to define my present. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was part of a movement that could provide me with answers.

I am still obsessed with identity, not in the anger-driven way back in college; but identity still presents to me a certain fascination and fear. In a time when the world is encouraged to be multicultural, I am addicted to the search for a home, a definition I lost a long time ago when I immigrated to the United States. I am addicted to a feeling of owning one’s passport, articulating one’s origin, displaying an unambiguous accent, and living a lifestyle that seemed to have always existed.

I am addicted to a feeling of permanence and invariable possession of the past and present, a definitive sense of belonging, a feeling I am probably never going to possess again.

And thus, social justice became a consolation I use to try to figure out how I should come to terms with this loss, and maybe how I should even celebrate the loss in some twisted but freeing manner.

Today, people get amazed at my ability to leap across cultures with incredible ease. But it is a ease I own with both solace and awkward acceptance: like Eva Hoffman when she writes, “I am a hybrid, and also a complete oxymoron.”

The anxious expression of newly arrived immigrants still pains me. Their confused yet hopeful eyes seem to harbor the darkest secret of this Paradise, and so I avoid their eyes like those that came before me have avoided mine. One day, I hope, they shall be empowered too. But today, I am clueless as to how to help them to make this transition any easier than it might have been for immigrants ten years ago, fifty years ago, and a hundred years ago.

Displacement; dislocation; disorientation. These are feelings too strong for any one language to describe.

So this is who I am, a 1.5 generation immigrant American inherent with conflicts.

But I am not unique. I am quite typical. Our coming of age has been complicated by our need to master a new language and new ways of seeing and behaving.  We went into adulthood without the guidance of our parents nor the comfort levels to embrace American culture.

Give our lack of belonging and conflicting experiences, it is no wonder that 1.5 generation harbor the highest rate of delinquencies among the immigrant population. Sadly, some of us ended up committing  tragic acts.  But this unique position also provides us with a very creative opportunity – a position that allows for selective combination and understanding of irony.

I have come to conclude, so far, that this “in between-ness” is a blessing and a curse. It takes courage to use it for the better of us.

We may not know which road to go down, but we are certainly aware of our choices. And in the end, just knowing the choices where others see prescriptions can be a very empowering thing.

Working from Home

My new job has given me solitude to sulk and freedom to ponder, because I work from home. I don’t know if I like it, but I suppose I don’t hate it. It just takes sometime to get adjusted to this lack of structure (and people).

On Solitude:

I have not gone outside of the house in 4 days, barely noticed it’s been snowing lately, and took the liberty to not shower, a lot. I stare at a computer from 8am to 11pm with barely any movement. I have become that useless information whore who voraciously reads blogs and CNN’s and compulsively checks emails just to avoid work. If it were not for my self-mandated exercise every night, I would have gone insane by now.

I also eat constantly, for a lack of better things to distract myself. I baked a huge plate of Spinach Lasagna and  Japanese Potato Salad – they were suppose to last me a week but I am almost done with them and it’s not even Thursday lunch. Chips and chocolates did not help either.

But in honesty: I miss people, I need people interactions. Sooner or later I need to find out a way to work around people, in a coffee shop or somewhere else, because solitude makes me a bit deranged; I go overboard in thoughts. And as I’ve said again and again, I need to do things, not think about them in 2009.

On Freedom:

I do whatever I want these days, which means I have spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out what I want. (1) I want to create a website that deals with immigrant psychological health and provide resources all around the country that deals with cultural adjustments. (2) I want to make music that expresses all that I am and the world, kind of like this one. (3) I want to pay off my $35,000 loan by the end of this year, which means I need to find secondary sources of income.

And did I mention I am addicted to looking at shared apartments on Craigslist in Brooklyn? I won’t be moving until July, but I am already looking forward to paying little rent.

Let’s set up Goals that make sure we fail

To continue my stance that sometimes when life gives you lemon, it’s not necessarily a bad thing… 

There is a great article written by Seth Godin on setting up goals that really speak to our fears – the “I don’t want to screw up” and “I don’t want to make a fool of myself” fears. Seth continued on to say that these fears oftentimes sabotage rather than enhance our ability to achieve what we call “real” goals. And so, it is not stupid at all to state a goal that says “I want to be criticized 3 times by my boss,” or “I want to encounter three failed relationships.” Because really – these are kind of my goals right now.

Because setting up goals that allows us to fail will:

(1) Free ourselves from the tyranny of fear, and thus allow us to take risks, without which we will never be remarkable.

(2) Allow us to experience defeat without the disappointment and blame, in a manner that will teach us to become better at what we do and who we are in life.

(3) Lift that pressure off of our mind, that somehow we must advance forward in life in some measurable way according to certain society standards. 

(4) Make us more creative – because we are going to realize that hey – those mistakes might have opened doors we otherwise would have never seen, and those failures might have reshuffled our priorities on success, beauty, and happiness.

(5) Advance our agenda in life, because without it we sometimes will never move forward.

What I Learned about Life through Disasters

2009 has been bad to the point where my immune system triggered a defense mechanism telling me all the horrible things is making me strong. So now I think disasters are good because they change me and reveal things. Call me foolish or insightful, I welcome more surprises, the good and the bad. 

Here’re my disasters so far:

1. I blacked out on new year’s day spending too much on wine. 3 hours later I found myself in a skirt in the coldest winter night, alone, not knowing how I got there. I literally almost froze to death.

Lesson Learned: Alcohol-enhanced fantasies and happiness are not worth it; its temporary ecstatic joy will only exacerbate the depression afterwards. Quite drinking, especially to the point of getting drunk.

2. I was shut out of possibly the most memorable day of my life, from witnessing the Inauguration of Barack Obama due to mayhem caused by God Knows What after waiting in a tunnel for over six hours. Anger and pain do not begin to describe my disappointment.

Lesson Learned: Injustice happens for no reasons to anyone, all the time. I now understand in the tiniest fraction how Hurricane Katrina people must have felt waiting for help in their abandoned houses, expecting the government to do their job that never arrived because government did not do his job! I do not trust the government anymore.

3. I had a big blunder on my first project of my new job. Basically, I didn’t know what was going on so I didn’t talk. Basically, I acted like I don’t know a lot, which well, you are not suppose to show on the job. And secretly, I think I might get fired. And worst of all, I don’t think I even look forward to conquering the challenges ahead of me. I am dejected and tired, and it’s been only a week! 

Lesson Learned: I keep asking myself, what’s the worst that could happen? Getting fired? Well that would be scary considering I have loans, an expensive apartment and limited skills in officially the worst recession since World War II. But really, I’m not scared, I think I might even be a tiny bit relieved. So my lesson learned is this: I should start trying to find my passion in life.

Through disasters I find life bittersweet and sort of interesting, well, I got nothing else left to entertain myself.

To continue disaster relief, here’re my plans:

1. Start running again, because it takes away the pain in my heart, literarily.

2. Attend interesting events instead of dumping cash in bars, because going to bars with hot girls for the sole purpose of finding guys makes me very depressed, in a non-disaster way.

3. Just live. Live all out, give it my all.

The Worst Inauguration of My Life

I HATE this Inauguration!

It was extremely disorganized with no accountability and communication between the DC Police and the Secret Service. I have tickets into the Inauguration Ceremony and have been waiting in line since 5am in the morning. Now I am back home after being turned away at noon, after 7 hours of waiting in line.

In fact, the best moments of this experience occurred between 6am-9am, when I stood in line among people of all creed and backgrounds, patiently with no complaints. Then 9am came and 10am went by, and our gigantic line was still not moving, that’s when we realized something might be up.

It turns out -nobody knew what went wrong. No one apologized, no one gave us any reasons, in fact, the DC Chief of Police lied on TV around 11:45am that everyone with a ticket got in. This is such BS – politics as usual.

We’ve asked about 5 Police that went by us, nobody knows what is going on. Not only that, their attitude is arrogant and defensive, claiming that they are only here to give directions, not to help.

At least 30,000 people in the purple section were turned away – there was no organization, no procedure.

I don’t understand. They knew how many tickets were passed out, this suppose to be the easiest planning part.

I waited in a huge tunnel with tens of thousands of people. At one point between 9am – 11 am, there was not a single police officer in sight. I mean, talking about tight security measures, you’ve got a huge tunnel packed with people and absolutely no one there watching… how is that safe? I am amazed that the crowd controlled ourselves and walked away after 6 hours of waiting, with no clear anger.

Really – I am angry because this huge disappointment will be my memory. This anger that I followed the rules but was rejected with absolutely no apologies or reasonings. This feeling of injustice, I feel kind of like I am still in the Bush Time, and wasn’t this suppose to be Obama Time, Change?

Think I’m the only pissed-off one, you are wrong:

Purple Tunnel of Doom

Washington Post Article on People Being Turned Away

Every single one of us here has a purple ticket, over 30,000 of us, we were all barred from the Purple Gate that never opened. There was not a single Police in sight, I am so surprised the crowd staid under control given our deep disappointment

The endless tunnel where people of all creed lined up since 3am in the morning. Then line NEVER moved. DC Police never gave any explanation, but in fact became very defensive and somewhat arrogant, stating numerous times that they have no idea what is going on - nobody knew why this failure happened.

Inauguration of a Lifetime, Part II

The traffic going into Washington DC isn’t nearly as bad as I expected it to be. It was a mere 4-hour ride from New York and I slept most of the way. All in all, it was one of the smoothest bus ride I’ve taken. I highly recommend this bus company.

Getting a cab at Dupont Circle took a while, but once I successfully hailed one, it was a smooth ride to my friend’s house in Glover Park. I rode down the amazing Embassy Row with magnificent foreign compounds on my right and the Vice President’s absolutely huge property on my left: No. 1 Observatory Circle. I mean, who knew the VP’s house is this grand and exclusive, surrounded by iron gates and trees?

Hope is in the air. I can feel the positive vibe in this city bursting with the anticipation of our first African American President. Even this morning as I watch NBC’s Meet the Press, I cannot help but getting a bit emotional, thinking about what this historic moment meant for this country I have lived in for so long and perhaps more importantly how I should live up to these promises as well.

This is what getting our first Black President means to me:

It means that I need to make not easy choices, but right choices.

It means I need to confront my discomforts and go through obstacles doing the best I can.

It means I need to be courageous enough to recognize truth when it comes to me.

It means I need to believe my heart and make tough choices when they are due.

It means I need to be honest with myself, of my limitations and possibilities.

It means I need to strike the balance because idealism based on pragmatism.

I say these because I am sitting at a Starbucks right now attempting to do some corporate work instead of heading down to Lincoln Memorial to watch the Inaugural Concert with my friends. I do this with a mixture of despaired responsibility and unrecognizable fear. This is my first assignment in a foreign place. I am vaguely familiar with what is going on, so perhaps the best possible solution here is to work and learn as much as I can, and then be honest about what I don’t know.

To be honest about what I don’t know, in corporate America, is perhaps the hardest act of them all. How do I achieve that without looking like a totally lost idiot?

Inauguration of a Lifetime, Part 1

This is the beginning of a 3-part series to document my journey to DC – witnessing history!

I have been a huge supporter of Barack Obama since his Junior Senate days at Illinois.  On the day he announced his candidacy for the President of the United States, I plastered ads on my facebook and signed up as a volunteer on his now famously open website.

I am proud to say that I was one of his earliest supporters, donating to his campaign and heavily campaigning for him to practically anyone I ever knew in life, from Michigan to Texas to New York, at a time when Hillary seemed unbeatable.

In some ways I am still in shock at how far we have come, but in other ways I am not at all surprised; I always knew this man understood deeply the basic principles I care about and is not afraid to change the status quot; now I know the world also sees that.  He is the right person at the right time; I guess that is how history gets made.

Thus, with great pride and unbelievable luck, I received 2 tickets to Obama’s Inauguration from my House of Representative, a rare Republican who beat a Democractic  in the past Nov election. Note One: Although I currently reside in New York… for all intents and purposes, my permanent home is the 22nd District of Texas where my parents still reside. Note Two: My district in Texas had been occupied for many years by then House Majority Leader and now Infamous Crook Tom Delay. To receive inauguration tickets from one of the most conservative regions in the United States is rather bittersweet.

Unfortunately, I am leaving DC for work right after Inauguration, so no balls and parties for me!

I will be busing my way to DC on Saturday. Like everyone else, I wonder about the nightmare traffic. I’m picking up my inauguration tickets on Monday at the Cannon House Office Building, thanking my House of Rep for his generous gift. I wonder if I should buy him some flowers as a thank you gesture. I will also be celebrating MLK day, now that I finally work for a company that recognizes the significance of Civil Rights by giving us a day off.

I am excited, more to come!

Failure to Run

I wrote before about how I suddenly realized one day that I am turning a quarter of a century old, so I decided to run the marathon because I felt I had accomplished nothing else in life.

So I proceeded to attempt to accomplish, instead, something I absolutely disliked but would otherwise be absolutely good to do: running the longest race ever. 

Fear now looked like great motivations, a radical move to strike a crisis-like panic of me dying alone, in misery.

For a month I ran 3-4 times a week, from barely making 1 mile to running 2.5 miles under 30 minutes. 

Then out of no where, I hit a brick wall and stopped getting better. I couldn’t go on around Christmas. I would start feeling exhausted around the 1.5 mile mark and literarily had to drag myself across the 2.5 mile finish line. And it seemed as though things are not getting any better the more I run.

Some days the 2.5 miles felt manageable, other days I couldn’t finish without feeling lightheaded, so I didn’t. 

And I stopped. It’s been 2 weeks, possibly 3, I haven’t run a single mile. 

Runner’s fatigue is kicking my ass. Brick walls are suppose to keep others out, but not me. I might be suffering from iron deficiency, hence some anemic episodes on the treadmill. 

Some days I wonder why I even try. But try again I will.

John Denver said it best, Some Days are Diamonds, Some Days are Stones.

So tomorrow, let me start running again. 

On a related note, here’re a list of celebrities who have run the marathon and their finishing times. Jesus on a popsicle stick: George W. Bush ran under 4 hours. I guess that’s a motivation – I need to beat Bush. 

Us accomplished young people: we should really just f*ck life

Invest in real estate. Have children. Contribute to your 401K. 

 

Shop at Bloomingdale’s. Cab it home.

 

Get a boyfriend. Get a hairstylist. Get dinner in Gramercy. Get a hip apartment. Get cool friends.

 

Attend Ivy League parties. Wear lip gloss over lipstick. Purchase expensive shoes. Perform eye lash extension. Maintain perfect skin.

 

Be cute. Be sweet. Be nice. Be positive. Be optimistic. Be innocent. Be every girl’s best friend. 

 

Run once every two days. Starve every other day.

 

Avoid red meat. Avoid trans fat. Avoid white bread. Avoid people with no ambitions. Avoid the sun. Avoid beer with calories. Avoid any bad hair day. Avoid taxes and politics. Avoid getting drunk, avoid looking sober. Avoid eye contact with ugly men. 

 

Choose to live appropriately without a fight, until the day you die.

 

Choose Life

 

You are right, I am wrong. I am right, you are left