It's been a crazy summer. Lots of updates in the works, as soon as I get my act together and upload all these pictures clogging my computer. What have I been up to? In short, preparing and plotting my next move that'll hopefully take me through at least the next few years. Meeting new people and discovering things about myself that I didn't know I believed. Attending my first ever wedding, bachelorette party, and bridal shower. Going to concerts/shows out the wazoo.

But what brought me back to blogging wasn't any of those things. It was a youtube video I just found after staying up til 4 am last night watching The Pursuit of Happyness. Not the first time I've watched this movie, but somehow this viewing has catapulted the film into one of my all-time favorites.  It's just incredibly relatable on so many levels: whether I am the twentysomething now pursuing my dreams in New York City, or the former college student finding my way in the bay area where Chris Gardner was once homeless, or the child of immigrants being dragged around to various workplaces while my parents struggled to make ends meet when they first came to this country.

That's why I found it hard to keep the tears from brimming in my eyes when I saw the real Chris Gardner, so unpretentious, sincere, and absolutely driven and inspirational, speaking at the 2009 commencement convocation at the 'ol alma mater. (Dang it, my year, we didn't even have a speaker because of a strike.)




"Achieving balance in your life is more important than the balance in your checking account."

By the time I was old enough to start idolizing musical artists, Michael Jackson had already fallen through more cracks than most people do in a lifetime. Long past his prime, he was the butt of the jokes, and it was cooler to make fun of jacko than to bust out with "Beat It."

It was only through years of accidental and unconscious pop culture infiltration that I got to know why the King of Pop was the King of Pop. For me, this was a dude that I grew up sort of scared of but as a young adult learned to respect, and then, fiercely admire. It was a reverse idolization -- loving him only after undoing all the stereotypes I'd come to associate with him -- that was cemented through various threads of experiences: the fascinating Oprah interview that revealed what a child he was inside; the Halloween concert my college choir threw together dressed up as multiple Michael Jacksons; the Tribeca Film Festival Drive-In I went to last spring celebrating 25 years of "Thriller," and just last October, dancing the very routine as part of the Village Halloween Parade.

Words cannot describe the gaping hole Michael Jackson has just left on the music/entertainment landscape. The only comfort I take is that this extraordinary life ended without extended suffering...unlike Farrah Fawcett, who hung on until what appeared to be the bitter end. How insane it is to lose both of these icons in the same day. At work, we've been prepared for Farrah for weeks (almost to agonizing proportions). But we didn't see Michael coming. That sound I hear is all hell breaking loose.

Over the Memorial Day weekend, I went back to California and stayed in my childhood home for the last time. My parents are moving to a neighboring town, and while they've been toying with the idea of buying a new house for about a year now, I still didn't think they'd find one so soon. I had thought that no matter where I moved to here on the east coast, this house where I grew up would be a place I could return to for a long while yet.

So it was bittersweet. Going back to a home that was such a constant for over half my life and knowing that I'd have to say goodbye to it once and for all. Packing up my room was such an ordeal. I dug up so many things from under my bed or in my closet/cabinets that I hadn't seen in years and had forgotten were there. Memories came flooding back to me as I sifted through my childhood toys and soaked in old but familiar delights. I redressed some of my Barbies. I read and smirked at a lot of the writing I did as a child and preteen (did I ever hear of paragraphs -- it was always just one big block of text). I shuffled through some of my old schoolwork, thinking I sure as heck can't conjugate those French verbs anymore.

I threw a whole bunch of things away. It was difficult, but also easier than I thought it would be. Many of the trinkets and things I remember treasuring as a kid now made me wonder, "Why did I keep this for so long?" Then there were things that I know I'll probably never look at again but I still couldn't bear to chuck. Mostly these were school projects that I still remember toiling away on in junior high and high school. So I compressed some into boxes and took photos of others. That'll have to do.

On my last day, as I stood for one last time in my room, I saw my childhood and adolescent years flash before my eyes. This was the place where I burned the midnight oil in school, where I plastered posters of all my teen idols, where I spent countless hours in hobbies that I loved. How do you say goodbye to the place where you came of age?

I haven't lived in this house regularly since high school, and almost never in the last few years I've been in New York, so in some ways, I've already gotten used to being away from it all. Still, the house has been an anchor psychologically for me, something I saw as a bedrock of my hometown and a window into my past. I still consider California my home, but I am more attached now to my New York apartment than this new house, however beautiful it is. It's time to let go and move on -- two things never easy for this pack-rat -- but I guess inevitable if I want to go on living.

Moving can be such a traumatic experience, physically but often even more so emotionally. Our memories -- and the physical locations and things associated with them -- are so much a part of who we are. I'm sure many more moves are in my future, but few, I hope, will be this emotionally draining.

Boo-ya! This is the fourth year in a row that the West Coast has taken the crown in the International Championship in Collegiate A Cappella. And I couldn't be happier with the group who won -- one of my faves back when I was an a cappella junkie in school -- Mt. San Antonio College's FERMATA NOWHERE! Who said two-year community colleges couldn't compete with the four-year bigwigs? No one in the a cappella world is going to think these orange jump-suit guys came out of nowhere anymore. They just put Mt. SAC on the map!

Unlike 2008, there was a TRUE competition this year. So many of the groups had at least one song that had me grinning from ear to ear, and a couple had me gasping for air with their zany antics.  It was a very male-dominated night. Five of the seven competitors were large all-men groups (usually of at least 12 guys), with only two all-female groups representing. Sadly, co-ed groups got shut out this year. The night was much more international than it has ever been, with a group from South Africa joining for the first time the European champions. Choreography got noticeably amped up too. Virtually no group just stood around and sang -- everybody was out to make their set stand out. And it made for a very entertaining night.


This was the first year in which the ICCA Finals were held in the newly renovated Alice Tully Hall - and I gotta say, it was so gorgeous. It made the last year and a half of looking at the construction eyesore at Lincoln Center worth it. Also, for the first time, the show was being recorded by MTV for a possible national broadcast! Throughout the rest of the night, we in the audience were frequently called on to make "fake applause" for various intros and transitions by our "fake" host, a Vanessa Minnillo-wannabe gal from MTV. Our real host was a charmingly flamboyant guy from Varsity Vocals.

The night kicked off, as always, with the high school competition. It's always impressive to see high schoolers tackle a cappella, but very unsurprising when they make rookie mistakes like inserting corny, pretentious transition speeches between songs (Crimson) or choosing lead singers who go off-key (Soulfege). However, one group this year had the finesse of a well-polished collegiate choir. There were only eight members, but they had the chemistry and harmonies -- and some cute, unaffected Texas twang -- to usher in a win over the funny, Broadway-stylized ladies of Vocal Forte. I can't believe The Eighth Notes from A&M High School have gone all the way to the top after being together less than a year. This is definitely one group to watch!

The college competition started off with the The AcaBelles from Florida State. Beautiful voices, but probably the most boring set of the night, and it was mostly due to their song choices. All mid-tempo, moody, atmospheric ballads - just not diversified enough.

Next, The Beartones from Missouri State. Holy crap these dudes were good. They started off with the groovy, bluesy "Out on the Boondocks," and it was this funky, gritty, sexy number with a killer bass line and vocal percussion. It was so hard not to get up and just get down. This was my favorite song of the night. Everything about their set was well-rehearsed and tight, and they definitely put heat on their competitors. During intermission, I heard someone who knows the group say, "This lady next to me told me through tears, 'Tell them some crazy lady loves them!'" Go bears, indeed.

Out of the Blue, from Oxford, England, came next. They come to the competition every year, but they've never really blown me away. They've always seemed a little stiff. This year, they've taken a cue from their crazier American counterparts and revved up some of their dance numbers. "Mustang Sally" was cute, but wasn't nearly as jaw-dropping as...

Fermata Nowhere. The energy in the hall changed once these orange-clad dudes bolted onto the stage. Unlike a lot of the clean-cut guys we'd seen until then, here were a bunch of dudes who could, well, be your neighborhood gangster (especially given their prison-suit-like attire). But boy could they sing. I actually thought they weren't loud enough in the beginning, but their set just got better and better. It was a signature Fermata Nowhere repertoire: A foreign-language number with a tribal vibe; a soul-crushing ballad; an outrageous pop medley. This last one seriously felt surreal. Three dudes danced Beyonce's "Single Ladies" music video, down to the hip gyrations. People were shrieking it was so funny. I haven't laughed so hard at an a cappella show since college.



Just when we thought the guys-dancing-like-girls thing wouldn't be attempted again, we got The Duke's Men from Yale University. This was probably the most physically uneven group I've ever seen: There was one guy who was a head taller than everyone else and almost twice as tall as this super short lead singer. The little dude totally belted though and was the best dancer in their "Umbrella" ending song. Unfortunately, with all the height discrepancies, there was only so much they could pull off without the choreo looking a little messy. Still, these coattailled guys were fun.


Ithacapella from Ithaca College followed, once more representing the mid-Atlantic region, and they seemed stronger than before. I absolutely loved their choreography and rendition of "I Want You Back." However, by then, it was too late to save the dude who did their previous song, a One Republic ballad that got increasingly off-key as it went on.

The final competitor of the night was the all-female South Africa group Marjolein. Okay, I have to admit I was quite surprised when every single one of these ladies turned out to be white. It makes sense, of course, but it wasn't what I first pictured when they said "Africa." These gals looked very sharp in five-inch red heels and red-trimmed grey suit dresses. They sounded great too, having won all kinds of national competitions in Africa, but they were one of the few groups who stood around more than they danced. Plus, their song choices also went along the lines of The AcaBelles: mostly pretty serious, moody stuff.

During judge deliberations, we were once again entertained by a professional a cappella guest group that blew our minds. Almost Recess, from North Carolina, instantly brought the house down with "You Give Love a Bad Name" and followed up with several more awesome pop/rock covers (including for the second time that night "Umbrella" and "Single Ladies." Geez, show 'em how it is done!). Four guys made more sound than any of the competitors. Their one-man rhythm section, nicknamed the "Picasso of vocal percussion," made noises that just didn't seem human. He got a standing ovation.

By the time our MTV pseudo-host was getting ready to announce the winners, we were all pretty antsy. They dragged it out reality-TV-style of course, with stupid "drama-boosters" like telling the top four groups to step forward and making everybody else go backstage. In past years, all were allowed to stay onstage while the winners were announced. Lame.


Finally the results -- In fourth place: The Duke's Men. I would've placed them third, but oh well.

In third: The Beartones. I literally said, "What???" out loud when they announced this. I actually thought they were going to win, or at least come in second after Fermata Nowhere.

In second: Out of the Blue. They got off easy in my opinion. No way was their set better than the Beartones. I guess their haunting ballad, which earned a "Best Arrangement" award, might have made them seem more sophisticated than they were.

In first: Fermata Nowhere!! No complaints here. I'm so proud of the West Coast and of these MTV-dubbed "underdogs of a cappella." They worked the crowd like no other and gave us moments that we all live for -- those jaw-dropping, so-hilarious-my-stomach-hurts performances that leave us going, "No they did NOT just do that!"

Fermata Nowhere swept most of the other individual awards too, including "Best Soloist" and a no-brainer award for "Best Choreography." There was no time for any teary speeches, so they jumped right into their encore number. Unfortunately, if I'm being honest, their Charles Barkley "Smiley" cover didn't quite make them sound like ICCA champions, but by then, it didn't really matter. These guys undoubtedly worked their butts off to get where they were, and they really proved that you don't need to be a donor-funded four-year university to have a kick-ass collegiate musical group. CONGRATULATIONS FERMATA NOWHERE! I'm feeling the California love!

Last week, I got out of this neverending winter in New York to spend an "alternative spring break" in Guatemala. It was my first time volunteering in a foreign country, and it was unlike any kind of volunteer work or travel experience I've had in the past.

VOLUNTEERING

For starters, the "light construction" we were told we'd do turned out to be hours and hours of nonstop dirt-digging atop a mountain that took nearly one hour to hike up to. It was to be the site of an eatery for a local tourism business in this remote, poverty-stricken village of Vuelta Grande, but starting from scratch was just plain painful.

Thankfully, not all the volunteer work was so back-breaking. We also worked extensively in a public school, painting murals...

...Teaching English. (An interesting experience to say the least, given that I speak no Spanish. Lots of drawing, gesturing, and repeating).

Many of these kids were adorable; they were totally game for learning the Hokey Pokey during recess.

                  

On our last day, we organized and distributed donated clothing to boys and fathers. (Girls couldn't get anything because they were supposed to keep wearing their traditional clothing.)

             

 

GUATEMALAN LIVES

I'm not gonna lie: Volunteering itself didn't inspire me to want to do more for these people. Rather, it was witnessing how they lived their lives that left me with the most sobering impression. A lifetime of watching TV shows or reading articles about third-world poverty couldn't hold a candle to actually being in a shuttle van, zipping through miles and miles of mountainous terrain, and watching that extensive distance sprinkled all along with children walking hand-in-hand from school to go back to their remote tin-sheet homes.

Main room. Wire along the ceiling hooks up shared electricty for the TV and CD player.

Kitchen with stone stove and water storage.

               

Outhouse is on a cliff about 50 steps away.

ANTIGUA

Life in the rural mountains seemed like a world away from the established, colonial city of Antigua, where we stayed for the week:

  

Surrounded by three volcanoes (one of which was active), Antigua also experienced a small one-shake earthquake while we were there.

The streets (save for some narrow sidewalks) are entirely cobblestone, making rides bumpy and feet easily achy. But to preserve the look of this historic town, the roads will never get paved.

Buildings, also for the same reason, will never take on "bright colors," although judging from all the hues, it sounds like by "bright" they mean "ultra neon."

Antigua's city center feels like a step into Spain. Below, the Catedral, the oldest church in town.

Their main shopping street is "Fifth Avenue" too, which also lines a "Central Park."

Many buildings' plain exteriors don't give away the fashionable boutique, high-end restaurant, or swanky art gallery hiding beyond their doors.

     

While the city looked like it hadn't been touched in hundreds of years, it was also decidedly modern, employing technologies such as these green-energy light bulbs inside its lamp posts.

"The Laundry" - where clothes used to washed. Now: a major make-out spot for Guatemalan teens.

The market, full of knockoff souvenirs, aggressive salespeople, and all kinds of street food.

With the majority of the country deeply Catholic, I guess it was no surprise that we saw things like a pre-Easter parade shutting down a major public street...

...or giant Bible verses on a billboard in the middle of a supermarket.

School buses donated from the U.S. get reborn as public transportation in Antigua - called chicken buses because some passengers would take chickens onboard en route to outer towns. People sit three to a row.

Wandering through Antigua feels like meandering through a maze. Virtually no street signs and lots of narrow lanes with ground-level storybook buldings. It's distinctive and charming, but also super easy to get lost!

EXCURSIONS

Outside Antigua, we traveled to Lake Atitlan, in the running for one of the modern wonders of the world.

Drop-dead gorgeous houses along this lake. Imagine retiring here...

We climbed up the pueblos of San Antonio, where views and architecture brought to mind Santorini, Greece.

                    

We shopped along the streets of Panajachel.

 

OVERALL IMPRESSIONS

Guatemala is a beautiful country, and during mid-March, a weather paradise. It was mostly sunny and 70s during the days but could get very chilly in the mornings and nights. Antigua was especially picturesque -- the maze-like compression of Beijing's hutongs and the mystique of old European towns combined with an uniquely chillaxed, Central American vibe. Coming from New York, I was not used to how friendly the people were; many of the smiles that greeted us felt genuine. Food was a bit of a surprise, to be honest. I expected something hot and zesty like the cuisine of its neighbor Mexico, but so much of it was corn-based (especially tortillas) and rather bland/hard. The biggest thing I had to get used to was using bottled water to brush my teeth. Surest way to spend those quetzales (8 to a dollar exchange rate) was getting water.

One of the reasons I volunteered was to gain a new perspective doing something I've never done before, and after working in poverty-stricken villages, I definitely appreciate my life in the U.S. more, as cliche as that sounds. Now when I get antsy sitting in my cubicle at work, I think, "Hell, at least I'm not digging dirt!"

As far as the people in those remote villages, they may live in dire conditions, but I didn't see a lot of complaint in their faces. Sure, they hope for a better life, but they also make the best out of what they have with a spirit and resilience I can't help but admire. Living in a city where there's always that desire for bigger and better, I could take a cue from some of these Guatemalans every now and then and appreciate life just as it is.