Jason 2.0

Group Collaboration and Evaluation

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 27 Aug 2014 01:03:00 +0000

Group collaboration offers many notable benefits. In the case of collaborating musicians, each member most likely plays a different instrument and have a unique background. This way, they can contribute something unique to the group in composing a piece. In working together, ideas can run wild and they can feed off each other's opinions.

When students work together, the effects can last a whole career and even a life time.

As dental students, this can not be truer. Not many people would understand what we are going through. Our peers understand the best because they are going through the same challenges. It is each student's job to contribute as much as they can to the group and to see that a weakness in one member is a weakness in us all. We all come with different majors and experiences. One student worked in a funeral home, another as a pharmacist and is coming back to school after 5 years in the field. We have bio majors, biochemistry majors, even singer managers. We each have something to offer. Together we can accomplish much much more.

Evaluation, both of the self and of other members of the group is crucial in professional development. In evaluating yourself, there may be something that was on the back of your mind that you didn't realize was a problem until you started thinking about it. You being to see activities as opportunities to grow and in self reflecting, you can make the adjustments, and set the goals to make this possible. Evaluating others can help you learn something about yourself. If you find that a person could do something in a particular way that is an improvement over their current state, then you could realize that you may have this problem too. So in giving feedback to others, you subconsciously apply this feedback to yourself.

In the professional setting, collaboration can improve patient compliance and outcomes in treating a disease. One professional may have read a journal article that another has not so he may be able to bring something to the table. We could have a general practitioner collaborating with a dentist, pharmacist, and nurse practitioner, each offering a different point of view of the disease so they can all create a single treatment plan that considers all aspects of the disease. One dentist could offer another dentist advice on how they perform a certain procedure or how they communicate with their patients. It is up to the second dentist to evaluate the advice given and implement changes to his practice if appropriate.

Overall, dentistry is about collaboration and to be effective collaborators we must be able to give feedback and to receive feedback efficiently and regularly.

--
Jason Tu

Academic Success and Boat Cruise

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 20 Aug 2014 05:23:00 +0000

I find it reassuring that the school states out front that it will do everything in its power to help us succeed. Not just succeed but to become the best dentist that we can be. In order to do so we will be getting a thorough education (or rather, re-education) on the basic sciences, and will be getting lots of practice in the hand-skills and technical components. This means that we will have more time to worry about patient interaction, arguably the most difficult aspect of practice.

Dentistry is "arts and crafts at its best" apparently. You have students who never practice and can produce fantastic soap carvings, but you also have the majority who need to output sweat and blood to produce something passable.

Basically the above information and the workshop on public safety was the most useful to me. I might as well have fallen asleep for the rest of the "content". I guess they could have video recorded everything they wanted to say to us but they wanted attendance. But attendance was only 50%. Where did everyone go?

During lunch, I had the privilege of dining at a Persian place with Tuan, a student with some of the most impressive credentials I have ever seen.

The boat cruise had some magnificent views and I was able to talk to many people but because of the overcrowdedness and not to mention loudness, I don't remember most of those I spoke to. Although many D1's went to a bar/club in the meat-packing district, I just went home, in preparation for a new day.

--
Jason Tu

Professional School

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Aug 2014 05:14:00 +0000

Today was the first day of orientation at NYUCD. Dr. John Sexton and Dr. Bertolami talked about professional school. Professional school is different from undergrad. It just is. It is not solely about the self or achieving one's goals but rather it is about changing one self so that one is able to serve others in a respectable profession. It is about standing for something larger than yourself and making your life meaningful. To do so, like before-mentioned, incoming students undergo a metamorphosis; they change. They morph into leaders in their community who make a dent in other people's lives.

I can never forget how a simple procedure can change a patient's self confidence. Imagine if you tripped, fell, and chipped a tooth. Your self confidence would drop since our society connects status with the condition of your teeth. You don't smile with your teeth exposed, you avoid opening your mouth for others to see. But, however, when you get a veneer to fix the chipped tooth, you have renewed confidence. You can smile again without worry of judgement from others.That is the kind of impact a dentist can make. It takes minutes, but the effects inundate the fabric of time.

We can absorb all the information, learn all the facts by heart, then practice what we've learned on a mannequin, but even still we could be missing something: the human aspect. We must not lose sight of how we are dealing with human beings who feel pain, and suffering, and have fears and concerns. Part of the excitement of being in professional school is that we, in a few years, are going to be depended upon for sound advice and technical excellence while treating the patient as a whole. And by whole I don't just mean in the biological sense, but also in the psychological, the subconscious. Dr. Bertolami says that a patient can go to a dentist and have their teeth fixed perfectly as if my automaton but even still, something would be missing. Something indescribable that only the patient can put a finger on.

Hard work: a virtue and a vice?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 28 Jan 2014 07:49:00 +0000

I truly admire those who work hard. Whether their effort shows in sport, school, or in their struggle to survive an illness, I am truly impressed. Impressed by the human spirit. Recently, I've been thinking about immigrants to Canada because I was helping a friend revise a personal statement. He is from Viet Nam and came to Canada about a year ago. Like how the climate of monsoon rains, and scorching temperatures were replaced by relentless rain, his life was changed. His family came to Canada, like most immigrants, to pursue a better life. A life and dream rooted in the American Dream, but is no longer quite the American Dream (I would argue). They were forced to adapt. To the climate, to the English language, to the uncertainty that unfolds in day to day life. But never did they give up. My friend told me that he worked harder, studied harder, and developed a resilient personality, one of great maturity. He says he's doing it for the good of his family and for that I admire him profoundly.

In most cultures, it seems, adversity is something that no one really wants. But it's a fact of life and society considers it noble to face adversity head on. To sail in the storm. To ride the waves. To tell you the truth, I don't mind adversity or challenges. I welcome them. Actually, I don't want them, but when I a challenge faces me, I try to trick myself into believing that the challenge is there for a reason. Maybe I can learn something from it. Maybe I can grow. Maybe I can come out of it with a different outlook on life.

The above-mentioned ideas, however, don't always hold true. In a Daoist's view, effort can be disastrous. What you seek, constantly escapes you. It's the yin and the yang; opposite forces must be in balance. Too much effort, too much hard work and what results is counter-productivity. If we try too hard to make the grade, or to land that dream job, we may develop the incapacitance to achieve the said goals. Similarly, if a jazz pianist tries too hard to improvise a piece, it won't sound improvised; it'll sound rehearsed and awkward. Arguably, this may happen to us in our daily lives. How often do you hear someone tell a friend that he himself is worried about an exam and his friend tells him not to worry because hard work will pay off. Truth is, hard work doesn't always work.

Perhaps, what we need is work that doesn't feel like work? Then it must be effortless, rendering the process itself rewarding. Maybe then creativity would really flourish, and people would be less of workaholics.

--
Jason Tu

Saturday, the goal-free way

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 26 Jan 2014 05:35:00 +0000

So it was Saturday today, which probably explained why I had a hard time waking up this morning. It seems like I am always the last one to wake up and usually have little snippets in my memory of everyone else's actions as they woke up before me. Dad yelling at sister to wake up. Dad cooking something in the kitchen. Sister saying goodbye. She has a thing with with saying goodbye to me while I am asleep. I am not supposed to hear this but I do for some reason.

Having nothing better to do, I headed over to a friend's house where I found him studying vigorously like a monk working hard transcribing an ancient text in a dark monastery. I began doing a jigsaw puzzle. I really enjoy them now, partly because of the rush of dopamine that gets released whenever pieces click into place, but also because of how when I put the piece together, It is like I am also putting together the pieces of my life. While it is a relaxing past time, it is also a personal one.

If you thought jigsaw puzzles are something for people with way too much time on their hands, listen to this: I spent nearly two hours making a bracelet with string. You could call it a friendship bracelet but I was planning to wear it myself. Call it eccentric, call it childish, heck you can even call it girly. But I had such a good time, i felt like I was in a trance. It was meditative even. Therapeutic. It is something you would get a little kid to do to keep them busy for hours on end during the summers. Maybe arts and crafts can help offset the effects of an analytically oriented society.

On Transit Fares

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 05 Jan 2014 00:57:00 +0000

Having used a U-pass for five years, I have recently realized the value of what I have lost since graduation.Public transportation in this city is just not practical and does not make money sense! Yesterday, I spent $12 in change to use the system, $12 that I would never see again. Such exorbitant fees for such sub-par service has left me thinking about how the system could be improved.

First, we need to abolish transit zones. I have tried again and again, and still haven't been able to wrap my head around the reason for zones Monday to Friday before 6:30 pm. You could take the 99B-line from UBC to Commercial Station, and from Commercial Station back to UBC for just $2.75 (mind you, this is at least 20 km of service). But, however, if you take the sky train from Joyce Station to Patterson Station (entering into Burnaby and traveling a grand total of 1 zone and 1 km of track in 2 min) you would be set back $4. Zones just have to go.

Second, I have an issue with timed-fares. At the instant that you purchase a fare, it goes on self-destruct mode where it would be invalid in 90 minutes. But what if a trip takes 91 minutes to complete? I remember taking the 49 bus to get home after a sky train ride. I would have just made it onto the bus if it had not been for the long line up ahead of me. My ticket expired by 2 min and had to purchase a new 2 zone ticket for $4. The bus driver said that it was fine by him but if transit police asked me to produce a ticket, then I would be fined. Wait a minute! That does not make sense to me. If, for example, I got on the bus a minute before my ticket expired and suppose transit police were to enter the bus later on in the ride, my ticket would have already expired. Would I then be fined despite entering the bus with a valid ticket? In addition, often I would pay for a bus ride that would total 20 min. The 70 min of what remains on the value of the fare would go to waste. Needless to say, it may be cheaper to drive a car for a month than to buy a monthly pass.

Why can't we have a system that deducts from our compass cards an amount proportional to the time traveled (like in Singapore)? Or a flat rate per ride with designated free transfers (like in New York)?

Third, it's well-known that with the introduction of the Compass Card, Translink will abolish the privilege that allows for families to travel under one monthly pass on Sundays. Could they at least uphold this policy? It is, after all, a policy that promotes the use of public transit. The removal of such policies may contribute to a preference for driving over taking public transit.

One final though I have has to do with the distance between bus stops. Why are there bus stops on every block? We would see better traffic flow if buses stopped at every other street (including main streets of course). While having many stops increases accessibility, we clearly don't need stops every 100 m. Now, some may argue that we have express bus lines like the 99 and 43. The issue at hand is that we need more stops like these. In addition, what if we were to have express trains. Or even express trains that run from Metrotown to Granville or Waterfront to the YVR during peak periods?

If we consider some of the points I have raised here, maybe our transit system will make some progress earlier rather than later.

--
Jason Tu

This is not how you cross the border (Part 2/2)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 03 Jan 2014 07:29:00 +0000

Then the cars started moving, which meant that I had to turn the Matrix back on. The engine must've started several times when I decided to simply leave it on. Maybe doing so would eat up less gas. We must've been 5 cars until the border guard's booth when we began to hear rattling under the car somewhere.

"You better hope and pray--very hard--that we make it!"

"No, not in your head--OUT LOUD."

Thoughts raced through my mind. What if the car in the next lane let us in front of him? I mean, we'd be better off if the car died with us in the front of the line. People often times are masked by the steel shell of their cars; while in them, they have no empathy--unless I give some eye contact. Oh forget it, no one's going to let me through. But what if our car does die. Would anyone come out of their vehicle to help us push?

Aeons later, we made it to the border security booth.

"So where are you going and why?" (Texan accent)

"Blaine, to pick up some racing seats for my friend"

"Why can't he pick them up himself?"

"He's at work, and I'm doing him a favour."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a student."

"What about the guy next to you?"

"He's a collision repairman, but he got laid off."

"Yea? Well, is there any chance that he can fix that annoying rattling sound?"

"Actually... the car is out of gas. The pilot's been on for over half an hour. Where's the nearest gas station?"

"It's a block away. Just right there."

In synchrony with his signal to let us pass, the car died. I stepped on the pedal, but it would not nudge. The border security guy rolled his eyes, and smiled at us, but from his eyes I saw laughter ("These guys are such idiots!")

"Guess you guys are out of luck."

So, I set the gear to neutral, we got out, and pushed the car, stopping to position the wheels occasionally to the gas station, a 20 min feat. We were entering the land of the free, in style! Nice and slow, treasuring every second (yea right). At the end of it, I felt sweaty and cold--not a pleasant combination, but I felt a sense of accomplishment. It's not everyday that I get to go on such exotic adventures.

This is not how you cross the border (Part 1/2)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 22 Dec 2013 08:21:00 +0000

I'd admit, it was a dumb idea, one which I wholeheartedly regret.If I could turn back time, this would be something that I'd erase from the fabric of my being.

It was the day before yesterday when I foolishly decided to drive across to Blaine. I considered it to be practice for that class 5 road test. You know, high ways, mergers, and the like. No big deal. Save for the fact that I hadn't driven for a year, it was snowy and icy, and I was driving a friend's car without snow tires. What's more?...I was up for the adventure. I just had to drive slowly.

On the highway, I was going about 10-20 km/h below the speed limit--in the less-icy fast lane. The inner lane, however, was covered in ice and snow. The cars in this lane were moving slower than I was. Off the road, I saw a car spun out and stuck in a ditch. Then the car behind honking at me for going to slowly. I was below the speed limit but didn't he know that I was doing my best in these conditions? I maintained my speed so he passed me in the other lane at 100. But he didn't slow down for the ensuing windy turn; he underturned and screeched to a stop off the road. Needless to say, I passed him slowly and surely and not without a grin.

Of course, more incidences came. Minutes after, I drove off the highway (my mistake) and had to pull off my first U-turn to get back on. I understand that such a maneuver is both illegal and commonplace. Soon after that I was in the inner lane, wanting to switch into the outer. However, I was taking too long in shoulder checking, and lost sight of the road ahead. Peter (in the passenger seat) yelled, "Watch out!" Eyes shot forward--the car in front slammed on its brakes and attempted to steer off the road but still had a part of its rear in my lane. Thankfully, my reflexes kicked in and I quickly steered to the left (partly into the outer lane, avoiding collision) and promptly back into my lane (avoiding getting rear-ended by the car split seconds behind in the outer lane). Phew! We looked at each other with sighs of relief, a feeling that I hoped we wouldn't need to have again today.

We arrived at the border expecting a 10 min wait but I counted 25 cars ahead of us in the queue. No big deal: just a 30-40 min wait. Oh, and by this time the gas pilot light was on (I'm such an idiot). We had begun our journey with half a tank full and my friend had said that it would be enough to get me across the border where there was a gas station a block away. I knew that this meant I had 30 min before the car would die. The cars in front of me weren't moving so I turned off the engine, heart racing in disbelief.

--
Jason Tu

The Vancouver Crossing Guard

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 25 May 2013 06:39:00 +0000

Imagine a tanned, highly-built 40-year-old lady with whistle. With leopard tights, pink top, and pink lipstick. With a teddy-bear from her childhood strapped onto her waist by belt…Now imagine this whole package on a pair of rollerblades…to help pedestrians, you and I alike to cross streets safely.

This was the sight the other afternoon while we were crossing Cambie and Broadway. She was spinning like a ballerina beside the driver’s door of a car that had stopped at the red light. The walk sign was blinking a wild orange-red as I was halfway across the walk; it was at this time that she stopped her graceful spin—and gave me a stare so cold and serious that I could not help but smile at.

“3—3; 2—2; 1—,” the walk sign flashed.

She skated over to us, on her a complexion of determination.

“Let’s go tub-tub,” she said in a Terminator-like tone and began using her hands and body to get us to cross the street before we get run over.

“Let’s go, let’s go. C’mon guys. I work out three times a day. Flat stomach.” She patted her stomach.

By the time we had crossed that particular street, it was time to cross the next. Of course, she skated ahead with us. And when she got to the other side, she did her ballerina spin, knees bent, by the 99 stop.

When the cars stopped once more and it was safe to cross the next cross walk, she was off—gone to fulfill her life’s calling, gone before I could gather my thoughts of what had just passed.

She has also been spotted Downtown. Has anyone else seen her?

The kitten-kite runner

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 18 May 2013 06:04:00 +0000

I was sitting on a park bench when I saw a strange sight, one of which I could not help but smirk at. A woman--fully clothed from head to toe as if underneath was an invisible being—walked before me. In her gloved hands was a leash. And at the end of this leash, was not a dog, but a kitten. They sat down on the edge of a water fountain in front of me. Her radio was blaring, her sunglasses reflecting a sinister glare from the sun. She took out a comb and began combing her cat who lay down as if it were royalty. As fur balls floated into the air like puffs of smoke and into my face, I hoped with all my heart that they would leave me alone.

My wish came true: a toddler, waddling like a penguin, entered the scene. Smiling, he kissed the kitten on the lips and laughed. Disgusted the kitten moved over to another segment of the water fountain, but the toddler stumbled over, kissing the feline once more. This resulted in the cat running over to the nearest tree, while its cloaked owner hung onto the still-intact leash.

Then, while the owner hung onto the leash, the kitten climbed the tree. It was as if the cat was a kite and its owner its runner… an invisible woman running a kitten-kite. But it seemed as if the kite was stuck in this tree since the kitten did not know how to get down. Within minutes, crows perched on the branches directly above that which the cat was clinging onto. They cawed a teasing caw, knowing that the cat was stuck and wouldn’t be able to claw at them.

Seeing that the kitten was in distress, a passerby returned with a stool for it to jump onto to get down. But the kitten refused to jump; and the passerby refused to give up. He said that he would return with a ladder, but before he returned the kitten jumped, caught itself on a branch with its arms, hung there like a gorilla, then leaped headfirst onto the trunk, and then onto the grass. (All this took place while its owner held onto its leash and watched patiently). And so with the leash still intact, the lady walked its cat out of the park as if this was a daily happening.

Minutes later, the man returned with a ladder. His hands were blackened and his hair had twigs in it. Standing by the tree and scratching his head, he let out a sigh of relief and of disappointment.

Strathcona Dental Fair at Britannia

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 17:29:00 +0000

Strathcona Dental Fair

Britannia Secondary School

It took about the same amount of time to get to Britannia as it does to commute to UBC on the 49th bus. In retrospect I should've taken the skytrain but I ended up arriving on time anyways.

We had our first presentation in a home-ec room, evident in the stoves, cupboards, and bag of oats. We, the pre-dent students, all stood at the front of the classroom and in pairs gave mini speeches on different components onoral health. My partner was Aaron Monga. Our part was "nutrition." I started off strong, read off the page for a line or two, then decided that the script was useless. So I put it down and gave a natural conversational on alternative sugars and the importance of fluoride.

Immediately following the mini speeches, we broke the class into groups and disctributed ourselves among them. The objective? To teach the kids how to brush and floss, techniques for which I did not have knowledge when I was in high school. I learned that it is best to have each of the kids to introduce himself and show us how they brush. After, I would show them the correct way. In return, they would mimic me. We ended with a bunch of questions designed on the fly to test their knowledge. Within 5-10 minutes we ran out of things to say and resorted to asking the kids which subjects they liked best.

Section three of our presentation involved us reconvening at the front of the class, explaining the Strathcona Dental Clinic, which provides free dental care to those kids in need of it, and asking trivial questions to which we awarded toothbrushes, toothpaste and the like. So far I wasn't thrilled but was indeed satisfied that I got some stage time in public speaking.

After recess, we repeated this for another class. This was an art class. I asked a kid if the teacher actually taught them art. He replied by saying, "Well, she shows us how to do art but we just work on it ourselves." This sounds much like my art classes at Killarney. When I asked a student what his favourite class was he replied that it was this class, an art class, bacause it consisted mainly of watching movies. Instantly, the teacher yelled across the room that he wasn't supposed to tell me what they really did. We repeated the same presentation but this class seemed more energetic. Many of the students said they already had us come in last year.

By lunch time, we had set up a table in a major intesection in the halls. There, we would hand out gum to students (just one stick each) after having asked a trivia question about dental health and receiving a correct answer. Mostly, we asked them, "How many times are you supposed to brush your teeth daily?" Indeed, such questions were and are lame.

More interestingly, some of us (including me) headed downstairs to the cafetaria where we caught students in-line to pester. We went from table to table in the table with a decent success rate since we only got rejected by one table.

Soon after heading upstairs, Harjot followed some kid to his locker despite his disinterest in learning about oral health. Holding a jumbo-sized toothbrish and giant teeth/jaw model, he gave an enthusiastic account on how to brush your teeth. Everyone broke out into laughter either due to his enthusiasm or the kid's reaction. The laughter doesn't stop here: A teacher, a lady in her 30's, walked by but was unfortunate enough to have caught Harjot's eye. He followed her down one flight of stairs despite her having told him that she was good and that she was aware of how one should brush one's teeth.

At this point, I have had the feeling that if I heard about how you should brush your teeth one more time I would shoot myself. Mustering my strength, I carried on. With two more classrooms to go, it would surely be a long day.

15-minute flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 15 Dec 2012 05:45:00 +0000

Time: 15 min
What: pen and markers
When: 6 pm
Why: to experiment with markers, blotchy-style.

The Pearl by John Steinbeck

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 09 Dec 2012 03:43:00 +0000

The paradox of the pearl is rather intriguing. It brings wealth, power, and status to whomever bears it. Yet it brings peril. At first glance into the "Pearl of the World," one may see a bright future, a future of abundance. Eventually this tainted image morphs into one of insecurity, fear, and death. I am reminded of the ring in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings: "One ring to hold them all, one ring to bind them..." and also of Epicurus's idea of insatiable desires. Sure, the pearl brings wealth, but it also brings an endless desire for more, a reoccurring theme in society throughout the ages. The tragedy of pearl symbolizes good and evil and perhaps serves to remind us of the importance of moderation.

The Horowitz Steinway

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 05:18:00 +0000

Location: Tom Lee Music, Richmond BC
Time: 16:30
Forecast: cloudy; light drizzle

Today I had the great honour of playing on Horowitz's piano, the Steinway CD314503. Vladimir Horowitz, arguably one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century, trusted no other piano but his own. If you were around for any of his performances, you would see a crane lifting his piano in and out of the building in which he was scheduled to play. Where ever he performed, his piano would follow.

Recently, this very piano was to tour the nation for anyone to see and lately it happened to be in Richmond. When I entered the room containing this piano, my eyes were out of my head. Undoubtedly, music can connect you to the past. But at my finger tips were the same keys that Horowitz played so beautifully. It was surreal.

Horowitz's Piano

I wouldn't consider myself a pianist but I managed to play part of the first movement of Moonlight Sonata, which conveys the sadness of a rainy day. Here is what it was meant to sound like:

Hand-washing workshop for kindergart'ners

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 28 Nov 2012 07:18:00 +0000

Kindergarten class (x2)
Second Street Elementary School
Burnaby, BC
09:30 am

"Do any of you know what a pharmacist does?" we asked them.

"I know--I know! ... he makes--animals!" the kid in green shirt and pants exclaimed.

We broke into laughter and when the laughter subsided, one of us (but not me) said in a kindergarten-teacher-like-voice, "Not quite, but that is very close. When you get sick, you go to the doctor. But the doctor doesn't have the medicine in his office. So he writes the medicine on a piece of paper and you bring it to a pharmacist who gives you medicine. But today, we are going to teach you how not to get sick. We are going to teach you how to wash your hands."

So there I was with two ~~other~~ second year pharmacy students running a workshop to teach kindergarteners the art of hand washing. We even had wallet-sized cards with clear instructions--not that they had wallets. As part of our introduction, we passed around stuffed toys--stuffed germs.

"Did anyone ever have a cough? Well, this is what the cough looks like. You can blame your cough on him."

"OooooOOOhhhh...!"

"Yes, we are going to show you how to wash these germs off your hands. Because if your hands are dirty, and you touch your nose, then play tag, someone could end up getting sick. And that's not good."

Basically, we shone a UV light on their hands before and after they had washed their hands after having had them rub a fluorescent lotion on their hands. While they washed this lotion off their hands we had them sing "Happy Birthday", which meant that we had to sing along. So because of this, we must've sung this 60+ times to my dismay.

Overall, I would say this was an enriching experience. While we were setting up, the teacher and the kinds sung the Months of the Year and Days of the Week songs, which sent chills of 15 years past down my spine. In terms of the actual hand washing, I was surprised of how enthusiastic and overt many of the kids were. Some of them came back for a second hand washing. I was quite the shy kindergartener so none of them were like me.

We shone the UV light onto the hands of the last kid. "Oh, it looks like you may have missed a spot by your wrist. So, next time make sure you wash up by your wrist ok?"

Towards the end, we wrapped up. "Some of your friends aren't at school today because they are sick. So when they come back, be sure to teach them how to wash their hands. So they don't get sick again. Spread what you've learned today."

With that, we started to head out of the building within which contained kindergarteners whose hands were that much cleaner...

Then facing a dark corner of the room by the door between a shelf and a wall, one kindergartener with a smirk on his face silently worked his finger up his nose. Then out. Then into his mouth. Then he giggled.

Yes, without a doubt we did some important work here today.

Rainbow over Irving

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 20 Nov 2012 06:00:00 +0000

How to get kicked out of a restaurant

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 14 Nov 2012 05:47:00 +0000

It's been a couple months since we were basically kicked out of an Italian restaurant and told never to return. But the reason that I am reminded of this event is because this restaurant has shut down, recently having been replaced by a Chinese place.

Now, how did we ever find ourselves in such a predicament? I mean, it's not every day that someone gets kicked out of a restaurant. Getting kicked out of a club is much more common, but that's the topic of another story. I can assure you though that it had nothing to do with me.

It was two friends of mine's birthday and we decided of all places to go to an Italian restaurant on Kingsway. We had made a reservation for nine, but one person couldn't make it. The restaurant owner/cook came over and said we had to have set menus because we now had eight people. Confused and unrelenting, we demanded that we order off the menu. He conceded to our demand but was unhappy.

Then the server came over and we ordered. One person asked him to confirm that the spinach dish he wanted was vegetarian friendly. We also gave him a cake to put in the fridge. I wasn't really looking forward to this dinner. Online reviews said that this place was nice, small, and cozy. I, however, found the atmosphere to be dark, cramped, and foreboding. The plan for me was to eat quickly and boot it out of there.

40 minutes later and our food still hadn't arrived. We started talking about the sluggish service and about how the food wasn't even that great. One of our friends said he wasn't feeling well because he was too hungry. He left saying that he was going to get some pizza, but he never returned. What a lucky soul. He wouldn't want to see what was to come.

A very small portion of pasta. Note: baseball is for scale and was not present in the actual dish.

When the food finally came, we noticed some peculiarities. The guy who wanted to confirm that his dish had no meat whatsoever had a very small serving. The reason that people liked coming to this place was because of the large servings (not because of the tastiness). But seriously, his dish was small. Another of my friends had a hair in her dish and even still another had very little sauce. It was like the chef ran out of sauce and had to scrape out every last drop of tomato sauce from the can and still didn't have enough. It was horrible. We didn't even bother complaining because we had already been waiting for an hour and couldn't afford to wait any longer for fixes.

Finally, the server came out with the cake, lit with 22 individual candles. Note: at this time the restaurant was empty except for us. We carried out the logistics of a birthday and started eating the cake. After that, we continued to socialize for perhaps five minutes.

The server came out with the bill--hang on--don't we normally ask for the bill instead of being handed one. It was as they wanted to kick us out. We looked at the bill and it appeared that they charged us a $2/person cake fee. We asked the server what the meaning of this was because we were not told this to begin with. Plus, some of us had come here many times with cakes and hadn't been charged such a fee. We asked our server (the only server in the restaurant) to ask the chef/owner in the kitchen to remove this.

Moments later, a broad shouldered, thick eye-browed man stormed to our table. One of us asked him about the cake fee. He said in a snaring voice that all restaurants charge a cake fee of which they are not obliged to inform the guests. He also said that the fee goes towards lighting and putting each of the 22 candles onto the cake (ok so this may have been my fault because I personally bought those candles owing to the fact that I couldn't find numbered candles at the dollar store).

One of us said that she was going to call her lawyer. This was when he got really mad. He yelled with flaring nostrils, "Get out of my restaurant." (Note: this wouldn't have been hard because the restaurant was so small that each of the three tables were steps away from the door. Plus, our table was next to the door)

[Pause] Ok, say this is when I started to lose faith in humanity. Whatever happened to the customer being right? Whatever happened to good service? How about anger management?

So, the owner/chef went back into the kitchen. We just paid whatever we had to pay, but with no tip, and left. Many of us were angry because we hadn't been treated like this in a restaurant in our lives.

Where did we go next? The Japanese restaurant next door because one of us was still hungry on account of that miniature vegetarian dish. There we talked about how we were all going to remember this event for a long long time. Some of us wished that that the restaurant would shut down when we were through with it. We talked about the No Name brand tomato sauce they used. We talked about egging the windows.

Despite all this, I found the experience quite enjoyable (mostly because I was sitting off to the side, further away from the heat of the moment). Where else would you find the opportunity to get kicked out of a restaurant and to listen to people argue about the bill? Where else would you see all the fragile tenets of customer service carelessly broken? Personally, I found it to be like something out of a TV show. I laughed knowing that with this owner's attitude and behaviour, this restaurant would probably shut down in the coming months.

Culture and the wheel of change

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 05 Nov 2012 01:14:00 +0000

Frog on a spinning wheel, Royal BC Museum, Victoria BC

I have always been fascinated by culture. One of my good friends is Indian but I realized that over the years I didn't know that much about Indian culture (mind you, there are a plethora of Indian cultures). Most of what I knew revolved around food. I learned about saag, paneer, and alu gobi, how to say water in Punjabi because I often needed it. Then I learned about the mundir, temple, where they have a food kitchen every Sunday.

Just to be clear, we are not talking about a bacterial culture. This is not the kind of culture you find in yoghurt. Instead, we are talking about:

something profound,
a universal human capacity,
an inevitable human expression,
something that connects us to our past.

Here are some interesting facts I compiled:

In some parts of Europe, they celebrate birthdays to ward off evil spirits.
In the Yugar (a Chinese minority) weddings, the groom shoots his bride with a blunt bow and arrow three times. He then breaks the arrows to signify that their love will be forever.
(Ireland) On a child's birthday, they pick up the child, turn him upside down and bump his head on the ground "x" times (where "x" = age).
(Gypsy) Girls get pulled out of school at age 12 and marry.
Clapping is as old as humanity itself, dating back to the Romans who clapped to show approval when gladiators fought to the death.
(China) Wearing a green hat shows that your wife cheated on you.

Culture is an amazing thing. It may help us to define our goals and values, to foster a sense of belonging. In many ways it is like a bacterial culture. It can grow and spread, and be passed down from generation to generation. It is cultured. Like the appearance of new strains of bacteria, culture changes and fuses. The wheel of change must keep spinning. So maybe our roots may be worth exploring. After all, they may remind us to celebrate our identities, to be part of something grand, to see how far we have come.

Winter Monarch

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 04 Nov 2012 03:42:00 +0000

An experiment with pen and messy pencil crayons.

Taj Mahal

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 03 Nov 2012 02:14:00 +0000

Boats and Scorpions

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 15:29:00 +0000

Superhero Politician?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 06:05:00 +0000

Thinker

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 06:03:00 +0000

Koala

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 06:02:00 +0000

Everything must strike a balance

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 27 Sep 2012 04:26:00 +0000

Koerner Library, UBC

I got a ride from a friend to school today, which put me in a good mood. Who wouldn't if they could save 20 minutes?
After class, I stayed till around 5 pm to do some studying in Koerner before heading to the bus loop. When I got to the 49th stop, Jenny was standing beside what seemed to be a fallen student. Someone was lying on the ground. Turns out it was Peter. Then Sam came over. So, Jenny, Sam, and I all stood around Peter as he lied on pavement. In fact, he had had a long day.
Soon we all boarded the 49th bus and I was in full anticipation of arriving home. 20 min into the ride, the bus broke down (in front of a bus stop too). The driver tried starting the bus like seven times before announcing that the next bus would be here in 5 minutes. So we simply exited the bus, walked to a previous stop and took the next next bus (the immediate next bus was full).
So in essence, it seems like it was a coincidence that the bus happened to break down when all five of us boarded the bus. It is like the coming together of titans. So beware next time you are on a bus and see all five of us sitting in the back. Oh, and the 20 minutes I saved from that ride from a friend today? It was offset by the 20 extra minutes it took to get home. As the old adage goes, everything must balance.