Sunday, November 9, 2014

Thoughts on Uncharted, Day 2

Here are my notes for the second day of the Uncharted Festival, Berkeley. For Part 1, click here.  

Why make music?
Matias Tarnopolsky and Lance Knobel
Originally, John Adams was supposed to give this talk, but he declined due to the controversy over his recently staged opera, "The Death of Klinghoffer." The two speakers mainly talked about the controversy and about the power of music that imitates real life. 

Inside the Islamic State
Steve Coll & Lance Knobel 
Coll talked about creating a safe frontier for journalists who are reporting in the Middle East. As an aspiring journalist, it's scary to see stories about other journalists who travel to the war zone and never come back home. I wanted to ask about what he thought about an idea I saw somewhere on the Internet: that women are the main victims in wars started by men.

The lexicon of sustainability
Douglas Gayeton, Laura Howard-Gayeton & Tracey Taylor
This one was surprisingly interesting to me, especially since I don't usually think about the way the food system works. One of their mantras is "words are powerful," which I totally agree with. Their main goal is to break down the barrier in the food business and help people understand where their food comes from and how it's produced (aka "seeding knowledge"). They travel to different farms and invite people tell their own stories. 
Nowadays, a farmer who wants to sell tomatoes to a local Safeway store must send the tomatoes off to central food distributor before it can be trucked back to the very same Safeway. This broken food distribution system really changed the way I think about food. Sadly, I'm still too lazy to take up their challenge of buying an item of food only after I've seen the face of its producer. :(

Is disruption overrated?
Dev Patnaik & Lance Knobel
Most inspiring of the day! My favorite quote from Patnaik is that to get people to change, you have to "make the current state of crapitude tangible." In order to make progress, you have to grow personally and learn from every situation. We as a society should also reward successful failures and punish inaction instead of discouraging failure and risk-taking. Failure is very much defined by society, especially through standardized testing.

When kids plan cities
Deborah McKoy & Daniel Schifrin
You would never think that kids can get together to plan out urban spaces, but they can! McKoy's "Y-Plan" program attempts to break down the four walls of the school and expand learning spaces. Interestingly enough, kids from Japan found Telegraph Ave dirty, while children from Mali commented on how clean Telegraph is. 

Can appropriate technology be inappropriate?
Shashi Buluswar & Joshua Bloom
This was a slightly more complex conversation to follow. Basically, Buluswar is working on making specialized fridges to improve the transportation of vaccines, and I got the sense of urgency from him when he mentions how many people are dying daily from a lack of vaccinations. It's also interesting to think that professors get tenure by publishing papers/books instead of producing actual work (more relevant to scientific fields).

Farmacology: health from the ground up
Daphne Miller & Marissa La Brecque
Miller, a physician, introduced to us the field of "medicinal ecology," which she coined herself to describe the way she examines how natural spaces can promote healing. (This is preventative, not clinical medicine.) She also commented that the community produces changes in individual habits, yet we blame individuals for being unable to change themselves. 

My 3-D future
Carl Bass & Quentin Hardy
So apparently Autodesk is now investing in 3-D printing! You can now buy DNA! I was slightly unnerved by the idea that people were programming life forms- something could go terribly wrong now that we're messing with the blueprint of nature. But I do hope that chemotherapy one day becomes a "barbaric" way of "curing" cancer.

Being ourselves in a post-social world.
Scott Rosenberg & Kate Losse
Losse actually worked with Mark Zuckerburg in the past, so she knew the inner workings of Facebook well. It was interesting how Facebook started out as such a private place open to only those at Harvard or Johns Hopkins (Losse's school) and became what it is now. It makes sense that Myspace was so readily supplanted by all these Facebook and Twitter platforms, because the latter platforms allow you to create identities for yourself instead of dealing with trolls and custom layouts a la middle school. Losse also points out that every status you post is for a general audience on Facebook, and you wouldn't necessarily act the same way with everyone in real life.

Can art bridge cultural and political divides?
Mina Girgis & Daniel Schifrin
Girgis's Nile Project is such an interesting concept for me, as a musician. I love the idea that musicians can be at the forefront of cultural communication, that people have different, opposing cultures can come together just to play music. I've definitely experienced cross-cultural bonding before, having played percussion with university students in China. On a side note, it's interesting to hear that Egyptians and Ethiopians don't necessarily see themselves as Africans, even though we often lump them together as such.

The 2% problem: why isn't Silicon Valley diverse?
Kalimah Priforce & Lance Knobel
Priforce started his talk with a video of a hackathon for lower income kids, which focused on African-American girls. He said that the low percentage of black people in the tech community (2%!) indicates a lack of a pipeline from the Oakland "hood" and other low-income communities to the high-tech companies. He was so inspirational, and I found myself thinking, "Yes, everyone should be able to learn how to code." 

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Thoughts on Uncharted Festival, Day 1

One of the main perks of working for the Daily Cal is attending mind-blowing events, such as the ~$300-per-ticket Uncharted Festival of Ideas, for free. A quick description of Uncharted, courtesy of their website

OCTOBER 24-25 2014: "Uncharted brings you together with some of the world’s great thinkers for two thrilling days of discussion, debate, and workshops designed to engage and inspire. Hosted in downtown Berkeley’s thriving Arts District and highlighted by a hilltop bash in UC’s exclusive University Club, Uncharted promises to be stimulating, surprising, and fun."

Here were some thoughts I had about the talks I listened to on Friday, Oct 24. 




If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere
Dale Dougherty & Quentin Hardy
Dougherty is the CEO and founder of Makers Media, and he spoke about the importance of learning through making and building things instead of staring at textbooks. I thought it was exciting that there was a possibility of bringing mathematical models to life through 3D printers, so that mathematical education could be more hands on and visual instead of conceptual and abstract. Also, new scientific ideas tend to be protected fiercely by their makers, so that many people who truly want to learn about cutting-edge technology are denied access into the labs where most of the research/magic is happening. That's just the way the world works, and it's great that Dougherty's "Maker Faires" are trying to lend these ideas more accessibility.

The colorization of America
Jeff Chang & Adam Mansbach
Adam Mansbach is as funny in real life as his book, "Go the F*ck to Sleep," suggests. He and Jeff Chang, Executive Director for the Institute for Diversity in the Arts at Stanford, are the funniest duo in the lineup and have wonderful chemistry. I thought it was interesting the way Chang and Mansbach discussed racial and social justice through the lens of parenting. As a parent, Mansbach came up with an interesting idea: kids often think of "fairness" in very personal terms, often complaining that "my brother has more toys than me. Not fair!" Mansbach proposes shaping children's innate sense of "fairness" into a wider vision of social justice.

Here comes the sun: the new energy future
Nate Lewis & Annalee Newitz
Nate Lewis, Professor of Chemistry at CalTech, is working to harness the massive amounts of energy we get from the sun, turn that energy into fuel through artificial photosynthesis (imitating plants), and create enough storage to make solar energy practical and sustainable.
While I'm glad to be living in a world where science is so advanced (compared to the horse and buggy days), at the same time, I'm terrified to be living in a world that is in such desperate need of clean and efficient energy. The sense of urgency I got from Lewis made me realize how close the human species might be to the brink of destruction.
I'm grateful to all the scientists and innovators out there who are working so hard to make our world better, when all we have to do is sit back and enjoy the alternative energy that will gradually replace the oil we pump at our gas stations.

All in the mind: stereotypes exposed
Claude Steele & Lance Knobel
Claude Steele, UC Berkeley Executive Vice Chancellor, told the story "Whistling Vivaldi," in which an African-American student at U of Chicago realized that people on the streets stopped viewing him as a scary black man after he started whistling Vivaldi and Beatles' music as he walked down the street. I've definitely experienced "stereotype threats" of my own- I'm always paranoid that people will view me as a bad driver because I'm an Asian female (maybe that's why I'm a bad driver). I also agree with Steele: while stereotyping, categorizing, and simplifying information around us seems to be an innate and necessary human instinct, stereotyping people can have disastrous consequences, particularly when combined with police brutality, in the Treyvon Martin and Ferguson cases.

More thoughts on Uncharted, coming soon!

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Cough, cough, it's essay season

This time of the semester, people around me start disappearing into their apartments or the libraries, saying "Oh, I can't have dinner with you tonight. It's midterm season." Or "sorry I haven't really been on top of things. It's midterm season." For those of you who have not yet experienced college, midterm season is like the holiday season in every respect, except instead of getting presents, you get to sit in a cramped desk-chair with 500 other students and face multiple choice questions, "short" answer questions, and debilitating panic attacks. You would expect nothing less from a UC Berkeley class.

If midterms were a contagious flu, then as a student enrolled in five humanities courses, I've got to battle a different strain of the disease: the essay. College papers don't mess around. Each one takes up at least 30% of your grade and they just keep coming. I've barely turned one essay in for English on Monday, and the next day I'm already choosing new paper topics for Chinese.

Essays are like a constant, raging fever. Every time I think I have free minute, my unfinished paper assignment leaps into my mind, screaming "Write me! Write me!" I almost miss the high school days when all I had to do was stare at diagrams, stuff them into my head for a few hours, and promptly forget half the material merely hours after the test.

I have ambivalent feelings about papers. There are days when my fingers fluently type out a string of kick-ass arguments and eloquent prose. These are the days when my GSI says, "Think of the essay as your chance to demonstrate how smart you are," and I get a warm fuzzy feeling in my chest that urges me to run home and start up Microsoft Word right away.

Then there are days when every sentence I write is a shallow observation that I know I will sadly delete in a couple of days. These days, the professor called for six pages, and I run out of smart observations at two. Wow, I'm the worst writer to ever grace the Comparative Literature major.

I do realize that I spend more time complaining about essays than actually writing them. If I had any advice for myself, it's to shut up and start writing. Shut up and start coding. Shut up and start memorizing random facts for the next midterm. Stop complaining about how cruel your professor is, unless he schedules a midterm and a paper deadline within the same week (I'm looking at you, Chinese professor). Every spare minute you spend on your paper will bring it closer to completion. And yes, it will get better and better.


Monday, October 13, 2014

Philmont Journal

It's been over two months since I boarded a plane to New Mexico with my Venture Crew, and I still miss hiking with my 35-pound backpack and listening to crazy staffers play banjos. I've decided to post my Philmont Journal, which is a collection of scribbles I wrote down during the 66-mile wilderness trek. Hopefully I can return someday as an adult adviser, or go on other amazing Scouting adventures.

Philmont 2014
Venture Crew 468
Itinerary 12: Challenging, 66 miles


806-Romeo1
1. Celine Chen (chaplain’s aide)
2. Nicholas Kung
3. Clarissa Kung (wilderness guia)
4. Karen Lin
5. Ashley Wong
6. Renee Yen (crew leader)
7. Erin Liao
8. Mrs. Jessica Chen
9. Mr. James Kung


806-Romeo2
1. Eric Dang (chaplain’s aide)
2. James Dang
3. Eric Liu
4. Jeffrey Shih (wilderness guia)
5. Michael Wang (crew leader)
6. Benoit Yen
7. Bruce Powers
8. Mr. Gang Chen
9. Mr. Xiaozhong Dang


DAY 1: Opening Campfire @Base Camp
8 AM- Flying to New Mexico. Mr. Kung was late for our 6 AM meetup, packing last-minute items at home. What would we do without him? Boarding the plane, a man told me that instead of “Land of the Free and Brave,” New Mexico is the “Land of Fleas and the Plague.” That doesn’t bode too well…
1:23 PM- After our Subway lunch in Santa Fe, where we entertained the natives by being the only Asian people, let alone Asian crew, to ever cross their paths, our bus’ air-conditioning broke down, forcing us to switch to a party limo bus. The flashing lights and loud music are keeping us unpleasantly awake but thoroughly entertained. So far Bruce has refused to dance on the stripper pole, but is still brave enough to play his curse-word-filled music for all of us, including the Asian parents.
4 PM-Philmont Scout Ranch! The first stop was the dining hall. It was immediately evident that we were the strangest crews, aliens in a sea of 15-year old white boys. Heads turned to stare at the Asian boys and small girls. We raced through dinner to attend meetings for crew leaders, wilderness “guias” (guides) and chaplain’s aides. Our rangers stayed surprisingly absent until we showered and met for the opening campfire. Our insanely cool ranger, Jenna, is from the Naval Academy, and my age. For the campfire, dressed-up staff members taught us about Philmont history. Before bedtime, several crazy people had ice cream in the windy cold.


DAY 2: Ute Springs
Ranger training took almost all day. We were shuttled from a breakfast during which we consumed bacon that seemed to have been simply dumped in the pan and lit on fire, to registration, to shopping in the Tooth of Time trading store. While crew leaders and advisers planned our trek, the rest of us killed time by admiring the Nalgene tree in the shop and playing rock-paper-scissors- splits. Jeffrey only beat me by substituting in Crew 2’s tall and sassy ranger, Chris, who’s practically Michael/Harry’s white twin.
After lunch, we had a medical “re-check,” took the official crew photo, and picked up our food/bear bags/dining fly. As drops of rain began to fall, we ran into another Asian crew from Cupertino who had just finished their trek and were forced to take a photo with them. By the time we had to bring equipment back to the Welcome Center, it was hailing, and the other crews were standing by nonchalantly to watch the rain flood our backpacks. We packed up all the food and equipment, weighed our backpacks, freaked out about the weights, then loaded a bus.
3:30 PM- When we reached Cito Turnaround, our enthusiastic rangers taught us about lightning safety, bathroom etiquette, and orienteering. Then the hike began! I navigated for Crew 1, and we hiked so fast that the boys never caught up with us as we expected them to. Arriving at our first trail camp, Ute Springs, we set up our “Bearmuda Triangle” (bear bags, sump, campfire) our dining fly, and then cooked into the night. I sadly discovered that my spork was already broken. Jenna taught us how to use the sump, deal with all our smellables (items that attract bears), and do the yum-yum dance, which delighted all of us, especially Celine.  


DAY 3: Cimarroncito and Webster Parks
We broke camp fifteen minutes after the boys did, arriving at Cimarroncito too late to rock climb with them. We took advantage of the staff camp to wash our clothes, eat lunch, and play First Aid Charades. Our rock-climbing program started at 12:45 and lasted for more than an hour. The main rock wasn’t too bad, but some of us volunteered to climb a taller rock that was flat but for a giant crack that ran all the way to the top. Nick got stuck in a bend in the crack for so long that his dad stopped videotaping him to save batteries, while Jenna practically monkeyed all the way up. By hearsay, only 4-5 of the boys crew got to rock climb, since there were so many people up there at once.
3 PM ish- Off to Webster Parks! I got my first blisters and we got lost on the way there. All was well, though, and we eventually cooked up a pot of Mountain House spaghetti meatballs to devour. Jenna had a surprise dessert for us: a pound cake with frosting to “thank” us for being an awesome crew. The rest of the evening passed in a latrine adventure with Erin and our daily thorns/roses routine.


DAY 4: Sawmill
1:10 PM- We’ll start rifle shooting at 2, but the boys are already at the range, having twice passed us up on the trail. We thought we had a chance to beat them, but we got lost in the beginning and took a 20 minute break shortly after their own 20 minute poop break. So we’re setting up camp here at Sawmill, eating lunch, and swatting annoying flies. I’m so tired.  
6:02 PM- The rangers left us this morning, so we’re having our first dinner with the boys, our “sister crew.” Earlier we each made three bullets using a row of machines that resized each cartridge, filled them with powder, etc. We each had nicknames for our bullets. By happy coincidence, I was Catwoman, Clarissa was Batman, and Nick was Clarissa’s sidekick Robin. Our hike to the rifle range was quick, and pretty soon we were shooting at metal animal-shaped plates with eye and ear protection. The guns shot four inches high, so it was rather difficult to sight and aim.
Sawmill Canyon has shower facilities, so we all sent ourselves into near shock by dousing ourselves with ice water. Our dinner was Mexican rice, which Bruce refused to lick clean. Today was a sad day for Nick, who lost Bruce’s “No Shit Challenge” by only a few hours by successfully taking a dump earlier this afternoon. Also, Nick and I were the only two people to show up for the evening Rifle Cleaning program while the advisers had coffee on the main cabin front porch.


DAY 5: Mt. Phillips
1:38 PM- We’re sitting near Comanche Peak, waiting for several valiant members of our crews to fetch water from Comanche Creek camp, praying for it not to rain, and trying to trap a minibear in a bear bag. We’ve been trying to lure a chipmunk into the bag ever since Mr. Kung got a glint in his eye and muttered gleefully, “Time to break the rules!” It’s been a long hike up to Comanche from Sawmill Camp, where we woke up to watch the beautiful sunrise. The two crews started hiking together, so we pretty much stayed together the whole time, taking turns passing each other up during water breaks. At one point, we ran into another crew who asked us girls, “Are you guys with those bozos up there?” It turns out the boys were singing Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber songs all the way up the switchbacks. On the way up, we also met the Juliet sister crews to our Romeos and took a picture with them.
At Comanche Peak, Crew 1 stopped for lunch and got a welcome surprise: cell phone signal! We all called our family. Mom and Dad were happy to hear that we all were doing well and managing to carry the backpack weight.
At 3 or 4 PM we managed to trudge up the steep, rocky mountain and set up camp on top of Mt. Phillips. Our dinner was Thanksgiving-themed, consisting of stuffing, cranberries, and canned turkey. Then while Nick, Celine, and I went to put up the oops bags, everyone else put out the campfire and left to go watch the sunset, leaving us to wander the deserted camp as if we were in a zombie apocalypse. We found them eventually, and took crew/family pictures in front of the beautiful view. I would have loved this camp if we hadn’t nearly frozen to death in our sleeping bags that night.


DAY 6: Clear Creek, Crooked Creek, Porcupine
Downhill all the way to Clear Creek! Tripping and slipping over rocks, we fumbled our way to Rocky Mountain Fur Co. and were welcomed by rangers dressed in mountain men “pelts.” Mr. Kung immediately declared a tomahawk-throwing war on Crew 2, and we set about trying to lodge small axes into wooden “cookies.” We also had an “adults vs. kids” competition and a “Red Bulls + some Hawks vs. Tigers + other Hawks” contest.
Black Powder Rifle shooting was explosive! and so much more accurate than the .3-06 rifles that our crew shot an average of one-two targets per person. Everyone did well, despite all the misfires and hangfires happening everywhere. We had lunch afterwards, and some people made lead bullets near the fire.
Amid the showers and sticky mud, Celine led us to Porcupine. After deciding that it was too dangerous to cross the rushing river to our campsite, we quickly set up camp with the boys and hiked to Crooked Creek for our homesteading program. The sun came out as we ground corn to feed the chickens, swung on a wooden swing, made rope, and pet the friendly burros named Ted and Bill.
Cooking was a noisy affair, as Bruce and James somehow managed to get high off a burnt stick.


DAY 7: Beaubien           
The quick hike to Beaubien, led by Nick and Benoit, was nearly painless, though it certainly wasn’t the “gentle uphill” as another crew described it as. Our crew got to Phillips Junction first on the way to pick up more food that weighed down our packs even more. We also chased away the cows on our trail for Crew 2. Beaubien is, after all, a cattle ranch. Poop is everywhere.
Horse rides were amazing, at least for me. After forty-five minutes of safety talk, I met Rooster, one of the wrangler’s “top 5 favorites,” and Rooster’s friend (Nick’s pretty, white, jerkface, aggressive horse) Cue Ball. Every once in a while, someone’s horse would stop to pee, eat grass, or in Michael’s case, trip over a rock and freak the hell out. Mostly, the horses plodded along behind each other on the trail and sniffed each other’s butts. Our knees hurt from riding them with our weight on the balls of our feet. They were so calm that some people even fell asleep during the ride (*ahem, Jeffrey). We returned from the rides to find that Mr. Kung and Bruce had caught two minibears in a bear bag, and we watched them squeal, poop, and grunt until we finally let them escape.
Renee, Clarissa, Eric, and Benoit rushed to prepare our chuckwagon dinner with the other crews (Juliet 1 & 2) while I took a freezing cold shower. Before dinner, we were also able to discuss our “Wilderness Pledge” rules and I branded the back of my hat with the Philmont logo.
The cowboy campfire was rowdy, terrifying, and in-your-face. The staff pulled out guitars, banjos, a bass, and a washboard, and generally made a racket with their instruments and voices. Nick and Bruce volunteered to participate in the “dance-off,” which would have been awkward if Bruce hadn’t pulled out his squat/jig moves. Sometimes the staff was so rowdy that I feared for my life, although some people managed to fall asleep at the end. Again, the night was freezing. I found minibear poop in my mess kit cup and a moth in my bowl. Boo.


DAY 8: Beaubien
We woke up an hour before our conservation project, which entailed chopping up firewood for the “timber stand project-” chopping down/clearing trees to prevent dangerous wildfires from destroying the South Country (crown/ladder fires). Our entertaining staff were entertained by Bruce during debriefing, especially when he asked them, “When do we get to hit stuff?” We indeed got bow saws and other dangerous tools to chop branches and logs. Eric Dang split a log with an impressive front kick, and I sawed branches off for Nick to leisurely pick them up and sort them.
After lunch, the adults and most kids decided to lounge at the camp or visit Phillips Junction, leaving me, Nick, Celine, Ashley, and Erin to hike the extra miles up to Bonito Peak by ourselves. Ashley navigated, and we ended up on a fake peak that was prettier than the actual peak. The only real perk of reaching Bonita Peak was a rain-drenched notebook we found in a bag under a rock, with records of many crews that had passed through and written their names. I wrote a page for the five of us, and we all signed our names. The other fun part was talking about horror movies on the way up. Nick and I were joking that as the oldest ones on the hike, we were the new “advisers.”
Upon returning to Beaubien, we found the rest of our supercrew trying to rope a piece of wood. James, Michael, and Mr. Chen did the best at roping, perhaps foretelling their future careers as cowboys.  As we cleaned up, the hail started up, so Benoit, Nick, Mr. Kung, and I stayed behind on the porch to talk to Joe, an Eagle Scout staff member. Back at camp, it was still raining on and off, so we found a “dry” spot to cook mashed potatoes and soup. Halfway through cooking, we had to stop and assume the lightning position. No one got shocked, but we would have at least appreciated warmth.  


DAY 9: Abreu
Abreu is a mosquito-infested wannabe Mexican farm. Jeffrey and I navigated today, and today’s trail was indeed a navigating challenge. Trail Peak was our first destination, and everyone trudged up the mountain, up to the remains of the B24 bomber plane that crashed in 1942. Crew 1 stopped on Trail Peak for lunch, then ran into Crew 2 on their lunch break as we slipped/ran down the steep mountain.
We took an out-of-service road through Fowler Mesa, which was green and beautiful. Then came a series of the strangest trails we’ve hiked so far: steep rocks, a random meadow, and desert-like switchbacks, complete with cacti and a resting rattlesnake.
After what Benoit and Jeffrey heard was 11-13 miles, we finally arrived at Abreu. There was a sunflower garden and some pooping goats there to greet us. We had to cross a river and a meadow to get to our campsite, but Nick and I only had time to hang up bear bags before heading up the road to help prepare the Mexican dinner. Our job was to chop three heads of lettuce. Some random adviser told us to chop it in some random yolo way, so we finished way too quickly and left Eric Dang and Benoit to carefully cut their tomatoes. The burritos and churros made a satisfying dinner with all the meat, beans, and vegetables mixed together. Nick and I then took our showers and headed to the cantina to drink root beer ($1 per cup!) and play cards with our crew members. Mosquitoes and flies are everywhere. Lord help us.


DAY 10: Urraca
2 PM: Sadly, we woke up covered in mosquito bites this morning. We’re at Urraca now, about to head down to Challenge Events. The hike here was horrendous, just unrelenting uphill that made us all sweaty and angry. The boys stopped on top of Urraca Mesa for lunch, but we continued down all the switchbacks to Urraca camp. Our Challenge Events time isn’t until 2:30, so we’re using this hour and a half to eat lunch, set up camp, and in my case, listen to Mr. Kung talk about science and leadership.
5:30 PM- Our packs are clinging to the trees, koala style. I just caught a wasp in my nearly empty beef jerky bag. Water is boiling to prepare for our Chili Mac & Beans dinner. Challenge Events were fun enough. We started with some icebreaker games: lowering a hoop with our fingers, “Hug tag,” and “spotting.” Then we headed to the “magic carpet” wood that we all had to balance on, the ropes that we had to walk on with the help of two spotters each, and a lofty wall that we each had to scale. We eventually all got over with the help of each other’s shoulders, a tanbark pedestal, and a belt. Our staff leader said we were the smallest group he’s ever seen get over the wall. The boys did slightly different events, and Bruce didn’t get over the wall. :(
The campfire was OK; four of the staff just sang songs, played their mandolins/guitars/bass, and told us scary stories. One staff member failed badly at scaring us as the “murderous imp who kills people” by tripping over a log.


DAY 11: Stockade Ridge    
3:40 PM- After a late-night discussion about our performance as a team, we all managed to wake up right at 5:30 AM to watch the sunrise from Inspiration Point. The view from up there was beautiful, although the sun was covered by clouds for most of the event. We again had some trouble finding the right trail out of the campsite, but we eventually found our way. At Lover’s Leap, we took a 20-minute break, which was merely a conglomeration of giant rocks jutting out to form a rather terrifying cliff (no one leaped off the edge- no one here’s a lover?). Later, we stopped by the stockade, a cool wooden fort where we could rinse ourselves off and have lunch.
Now we’re sitting in the boys’ campsite, waiting to cook. Benoit found the “Holy Grail” latrine earlier just by randomly walking through the bushes, and we merely had to follow his voice to find the right place to take a dump. Several boys are napping, since we’re waking up early tomorrow to hike Tooth of Time.
Dinner was chicken and rice, but since there was something wrong with our fuel, I had to wait for the boys to finish cooking so I could boil water with their stove. We cleaned up early and had some free time to hang out before bedtime. Before long we got tired of slapping mosquitoes and retired to our tents at the very late time of 8 PM. Renee and I shared a tent, and the other four girls have squeezed themselves into Celine’s “two-man” tent. Hopefully they’re not roasting to death in there.


DAY 12: Base Camp
7 PM: We’re finally back at Base Camp! This morning we woke up at 4 AM and started hiking at 5 AM when it was still pitch black but for some moonlight. Reaching the first intense uphill climb, we each agreed to go at our own pace. Crew 2, Nick, Clarissa, and I were able to make it up to the peak of Tooth of Time to watch the sunrise. The view from the top was amazingly expansive, stretching from Mt. Baldy to the mesas we hiked over, from the glittering Base Camp to the stockade we lunched at yesterday. It was hard to imagine that we had hiked through these blankets of trees and towers of mountain peaks in a mere ten days. After the sun came up, the rest of the crew reached the peak, and we took plenty of pictures. When we bouldered back down, we raced down the switchbacks on the Trail of Tears (so named because you can see your destination the whole way down but can never actually get there). Nick claimed that he almost did shed tears. But we eventually walked through the Philmont “Welcome Back” gateway at 9:30 AM, two whole hours before lunchtime. Finally done backpacking and carrying heavy equipment and bruising our hips and shoulders. We dumped the crew gear: bear bags, pots, dining fly, etc., back at the equipment center, and moved into our tents. We were all dead and slowly trudging across Base Camp, so steep and tiring was the Tooth of Time climb.
First order of business: showers! After three mornings of intense sweating, the warm shower, especially in the deserted Adult Female section, felt wonderful. When I finished, I went with Nick and Mr. Kung to the museum/library to reserve a 2 PM tour for the Villa Philmonte. Then came lunch: real food at last! It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t trail mix or granola bars at least.
We all met up after lunch for the tour of Villa Philmonte, which was where Waite Phillips, donor of the Philmont land to the Boy Scouts, lived with his family. The charming summer house was fancy and stylish, with real animal furs for rugs.
Nick and I visited the Philmont museum/library afterwards, getting a visual tour of all the Philmont lands and Philmont history. We rested on a bench for quite a while, and the lady who worked there thought we were watching a video that was actually on pause the whole time.
We found the rest of the crews outside the Tooth of Time snack shop, where we bought ice cream and hot cheetos. I finally found a shirt I liked at the Tooth of Time Traders shop and branded my Nalgene. Halfway through my bag of Cheetos, we had to go eat dinner, then prepare for Awards Campfire. Everyone’s Class A uniform smelled slightly weird, since they had gotten wet during Day 2’s storm.
Awards Campfire was an interesting mix of song, plaque presentation to crew leaders/advisers, and slideshows. Apparently it was more interesting than the one from three years ago.
Mr. Kung suggested we forgo Thorns and Roses for the night and speak about what we learned from Philmont. He emphasized always returning to “the basics” as our takeaway point from the trip. And so on a slightly windy night, we ended our daily reflection routine.


DAY 13: Going Home
Now that I’ve cleaned out my backpack, I feel like a turtle without its shell. No matter how much it hurt my hips and shoulders, my backpack, with its numerous pockets and vast carrying capacity, was my ticket to making the grand outdoors my home. Now I have clean clothes, running toilets, and a longing to be back in the wilderness, lighting fires and eating trail food with the people I was with for the past 12 days. It’s so strange to be longing for inconveniences with my comfortable bed just next to me, but perhaps now it’s even stranger to be stuck in front of a computer and eating luxurious crab for dinner when I now know what crazy, wild lives are out there beyond my walls.
We woke at 6:30 this morning, packed everything up, and prepared for breakfast. We managed to get some last minute shopping in (Jessica Ayi generously bought some patches for us) before the bus arrived to take us to the airport. It sadly was not a party bus, but we managed to get some sleep. At the airport, we all gravitated towards Panda Express, the “best, most authentic” Chinese food in New Mexico. It was rather nasty, but represented one step closer to home for us.
We toured the book stand next to our gate A5, lingering on the magazines that spoke of Robin Williams’ death. I spent the plane ride with Jeffrey, Nick, and a guy from a Portland, Oregon troop who had also just finished a Philmont trek and was returning home. His name was Philip, and his crew completed a 100+ mile trek that took them through both North and South country. There was a troop from Livermore also on the plane, but we didn’t get to interact with them much.
We landed spectacularly well and headed through the terminal. The parents greeted us loudly and snapped a billion photos. And just like that, we survived. We thrived. We’re home.


Thus ends the Philmont adventure.    
    
Crew 1 Cheer
Romeo 1, Romeo 1,
Only we have all the fun
Romeo 2, Romeo 2,
That’s our bozo sister crew.


Crew 2 Cheer
North, East, South, West,
Romeo 2 is the best
(need help remembering the rest)


Philmont Grace (said before each dinner)
For food, for raiment,
For life, for opportunity,
For friendship and fellowship,
We thank thee, O Lord

Amen

Friday, October 10, 2014

The modern paintbrush beckons

Haha butts
I swear that art is getting weirder. I've held this opinion ever since my parents told me about a Chinese painter who created beautiful images of peaches by dipping his rear end into paint.
A recent visit to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York left me with no doubt: avant-garde artists are pushing at the boundaries of normalcy. Some works were so bizarre, simplistic, or abstract that my friends and I had many “What is this doing in a museum?” moments. I’m not sure if our world is just getting bored, or if normalcy really is evolving. In any case, the “advance guard” of artists is marching ahead into the realms of eccentricity, and we must catch up or be assaulted by accusations of ignorance.   
A classmate once told me that he had a problem with avant-garde art because the works are so inscrutable that they need “statements of purposes,” usually in the form of text on plaques hanging on the wall next to the art installation. According to him, what you see in the artwork itself is what you should experience, without little footnotes telling you that the painting represents “the antagonistic juxtaposition between absolute ataxia and syzygy,” and such. At that time, I wasn’t sure if I agreed with him or not.
During my MoMA visit, I saw a tall, pink plank leaning against a wall in one of the exhibits and thought “I can totally paint a plank pink. What is this doing in a museum?” I walked straight to the plaque on the wall and learned that the plank, named The Absolutely Naked Fragrance, represented “the physical world of standing objects” as contrasted with the wall, which represented “the world of imagination…and all that.”
A pink plank? (By John McCracken)
            Perhaps my first mistake was to search for the author’s intention before I had even formed my own opinion on the work. If I hadn’t read the statement, perhaps I would have first noticed that the pink plank closely resembles a certain male body part and thought that the artist was commenting on the sad reality that I have a dirty teenage mind that is polluted by the overabundance of inappropriate images in media. Eureka! But I read the artist’s statement and allowed the “correct interpretation” to put me to shame. But somehow I cannot force myself to believe in “the world of imagination...and all that” when I don’t see it in the art. If my thoughts are inconsistent with the “correct statement,” I don’t believe I am incorrect. I believe I am merely interpreting the work in my own, albeit crude, way.
The artist’s intention and ideas are relevant when explaining the motivation and history behind the work, but they should not dictate the way people view art. The statement on the wall is just the Cliff Notes. Fancy, scholarly analysis of Edvard Munch’s Scream can never replicate the same sense of horror that the actual work evokes.
There is no problem with avant-garde art. In fact, wild experimentation is the basis of innovation. But the pioneers of art must be brave enough to accept the reality that their work will not be widely understood. The more bizarre the art, the more unlikely everyone will see the same thing. The Last Supper depicts Jesus Christ, there’s little question about that. But any Jackson Pollock drip painting could be graffiti gone wrong, dyed rain, or blood splatters from an alien massacre. But it doesn't matter what Pollock’s paintings are “supposed” to be. That’s why they are so innovative.
Greatness often needs time to develop. The funny thing is that the more you stare at a monstrosity that couldn’t possibly be “art,” the more it might start to make sense. Right now, we may be just a bunch of unappreciative ignoramuses who don’t understand the innovative techniques of Minimalism and post-post-postmodernism. Maybe in a couple of years, people will say, “That giant pink masterpiece leaning against the wall? Yeah, of course that’s supposed to be the juxtaposition between physical and imaginary objects. What were you thinking, a plank?”
             Yes, avant-garde art is weird. And stupid. And wonderful. As our world grows increasingly technological and abstract, the avant-garde artists document the evolution of our society. We may not agree with these artists. We may not understand them. We may commit them to a psychiatric ward. Regardless, the artists should allow us to interpret their paintings and sculptures on our own. The diversity of responses to the same piece of art is interesting and reflective of our society. 
“Trust me, there’s nothing weirder than Russian avant-garde art,” my roommate once assured me. That’s a challenge for every aspiring artist. Shock us, mesmerize us, and make us think about the world in a different way. If your art inspires people, it will survive time, doubt, and society’s short term memory. There’s a chance it will shrivel up and vaporize into nothingness. But that doesn’t mean you can’t stand at the frontier of art and throw stones into the unknown to see if it hits something that resonates. Your goal is to touch only one person’s life. After you achieve that, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks.


(Column clip written in 2012)

Monday, October 6, 2014

Why I have two "useless" majors

Now that I'm halfway through college, I become increasingly nervous when others ask me, "What are you going to do after you graduate?" College students love to ask each other this question, just to contribute to the overall atmosphere of sheer panic. 

Most humanities majors suffer judgement to some degree from naysayers who look pointedly at us and ask "What do you plan to do with that major?" I'm always psyched to be a double humanities major, so I can suffer double the judgement. But I am not here to answer the question of how my degrees will help me in the "real world," because I am still cooped up in my Berkeley bubble, degree-less and jobless. 

I'm only telling the story of how I ended up on my current path. In doing so, I want to demonstrate that everyone's choices are determined by personal influences in their own lives. Before you judge someone else's decisions in life, I hope you remember that most people make their choices with good reason, and you would do well to listen to their stories first. 

Why I'm majoring in Comparative Literature
 I've enjoyed literature since I was a child, always writing stories in little notebooks and devouring chapter books. Up through eighth grade, I was considered one of the better writers in my classes. Of course, I'm now surrounded by amazing writers who make me feel that I have the analytical skills of an eighth grader.

I came to college intending to major in English. My first semester, I took an English class in Middle English, the first of many required courses. It was fun- we read Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and Milton's Paradise Lost. I never thought about switching majors until the second time I showed up in my professor's office hours when he asked me casually, "So, who are you?" 

"Who are you?" I asked myself over the next few days. I suddenly realized how large and impersonal the English department was, despite being one of the top English programs in the nation.  So I visited Dwinelle Hall to check out the requirements for Comparative Literature. Oddly enough, I didn't even think about Psychology or Cognitive Science or any of the other majors that might have been more interesting to me. I was still focused on studying literature. 

I switched to Comparative Literature since I had the freedom to take foreign-language literature for my major requirements, allowing me to dabble in Chinese texts. I also considered taking French literature, but after one semester of time-consuming French 1 classes where I told my professor I had a Van Gogh table (tableaux), I gave up that notion. 

I declared my Comp Lit major a few weeks ago. I'm still taking English courses, but don't have to call myself an English major like the billion other people in my department. I'm still surrounded by intelligent people who are much more insightful than I will ever be, but I hope my classes and peers will help me become a better reader and writer. 

Why I'm majoring in Music
I've always had the strange habit of allowing music to take over my life. I've dabbled in many instruments, and I'm proud to say I have rusty and amatuerish skills on the French horn, flute, saxophone, and erhu. 

Berkeley isn't known for having a particularly stellar music program,  so i didn't expect to be heavily involved in music. I only intended to join the orchestra and play percussion with my awesome friend Andy. Almost immediately, the orchestra began to demand more and more of my time. I didn't think much of it,  because I appreciated the solid community that the orchestra provided. Everyone was so passionate about music. An aspiring conductor told me that most graduate music programs required a music degree, which is the reason why he pursued one even after earning his biology degree at Berkeley.

It was difficult to avoid the idea of becoming a music major, with many orchestra students double majoring in Music and other subjects. My conductor casually mentioned that if I became a music major, I would be able to take subsidized (free for me!) private lessons through the Music Department. 

My very first semester as an orchestra percussionist, Cal Performances provided me and other members of the orchestra a free trip to LA and NY, where we would perform in Walt Disney Hall and Avery Fisher Hall with the London Philharmonic. It was an amazing opportunity that came out of nowhere. 
During a bus ride on this tour, I suddenly thought to myself, "How awesome is this? Traveling the nation and expensive cities for free, just to play music? This could be my life." 

I returned to Berkeley with a new resolve. I declared my music major and started taking the annoying music theory lessons. Of course, there have been no free trips since, but music has still brought me amazing new experiences: playing gigs at a pizza place, performing in Mozart's church, and banging on pitched flower pots, just to name a few. 

Why I'm not majoring in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Math)
As much as I love science, I can't deny the power of my inspirational high school English teachers who kept my fascination with literature alive and well. Ideally we could have more interdisciplinary fields that combined the arts with technology and science, but then again we wouldn't have the in-depth focus necessary to succeed in a particular field. 

That being said, I think our generation should take mandatory computer science classes in high school, as our culture is so steeped in the computer world. Ironically, I have zero patience with malfunctioning computers, since I operate in shades of gray, while computer logic is often all or nothing, right or wrong.

As I'm a good little hypocrite, I still judge people with even more obscure majors (according to LinkedIn, Governor Brown got a degree at Berkeley in Classics before going on to Yale Law School). But if you know what you love and want to study, others' judgement should be irrelevant. Hopefully this post will inspire everyone to forge their own path. And hopefully I won't be blogging later on about living in a cardboard box. (Just kidding)

Thursday, October 2, 2014

MUSIC REVIEW: Linkin Park's Living Things is as good as ever




Courtesy of b-sides.tv.
Linkin Park is back in their full pessimistic glory with the release of their most recent album, Living Things. Unlike their last album, A Thousand Suns, which made references to political statements with short clips of speeches--including Mario Savio’s “bodies upon the gears” speech in the powerful track “Wretches and Kings”—Living Things features lyrics that are based on personal experience. Linkin Park always had a gift for writing lyrics that were general enough to make every person feel as if they could relate, yet specific enough to distinguish each song from one another. Rest assured, listeners will experience more of the band’s raw rock power in Living Things.

As usually happens to artists who experiment with their sound through the years, there are fans who complain about missing the “old sound” of LP. Really, there is no “new” Linkin Park, only an evolved one. It is true that their music has more elements of pop than before, but Bennington pushes at the extremities of his vocal range as well as ever. Songwriter and keyboardist Mike Shinoda still flawlessly weaves the rap, vocals, and melodies together into coherent and meaningful songs. The drumbeats are more geared toward the pop audience, but DJ and sampler Joe Hahn still manages to add the usual touches of unique electronic sounds that set Linkin Park apart from other bands. The lyrical material is mostly dark, but does contain optimistic moments and is flexible to different interpretations.

It’s hard to tell now which songs will become radio classics like “What I’ve Done” and “In the End” from previous albums, but the catchy tracks “Burn It Down” and “Lost in the Echo” are strong candidates. Some of the songs are so undeniably Linkin Park, the sounds so familiar, that listening to them feels akin to wrapping yourself with a blanket and sipping on your favorite wine. There are plenty of head-banging opportunities that allow listeners to tap into their own wildest, most aggressive emotions. In any case, there is incredible variety in Living Things. “Castle of Glass” boasts a thumping metal country beat, and “Victimized” features Bennington artfully screaming with his usual utter abandon, reaching deep into the visceral angst of the human soul and twisting at the gut. Add all the elements together, and Living Things becomes a solid album fit to join the legendary list of masterpieces that Linkin Park has already released.

Linkin Park has been categorized as everything from “alternative rock” to “metal,” and their evolving style has confused many listeners, leaving die-hard fans at a loss on how to view them. But Linkin Park has always relished their artistic freedom, and fans would do well to appreciate, respect, and enjoy the music they have to offer.

(Album released in 2012. Article written in 2012, edited in 2014)