Monday, November 24, 2008




I know a man who went to law school. While working on his PhD in philosophy, he applied to law school and was accepted. He attended the University of Western Ontario. He did not enjoy the experience. In fact, after graduating, he could not find employment as a lawyer and had to resort to finding jobs in warehouses and factories. Imagine the debt after completing an undergraduate degree, working on a master's and PhD, and then taking on tens of thousands of dollars in additional debt from law school. Eventually he found legal work, but despised it, and told me didn't know what he would be doing next. I don't know where he has gone.

It sounds like a nightmare. I'm assured that it's a rare experience, but I'm also told it is common for lawyers to become disillusioned about the profession, and that many eventually seek out other careers. So I have spent a great deal of time and effort to find out whether the legal profession is right for me. I love reading cases and arguments and writing essays. I enjoy interaction with clients, though I'm not sure about interaction with corporate clients. I'm inspired by certain individuals and firms in the profession, like Lorne Waldman, Bakerlaw, and Swadron. It would be a dream come true to do the work that they do. Still, the number of jobs in the areas they practice is very, very small. Is there a lot of competition for those jobs? I'm not sure. Probably. Is the legal profession right for me? I guess we'll see...

I hadn't screamed loud enough...



Some things never change.

Deuteronomy 22:23-24 (New International Version)
New International Version (NIV)

Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society
[NIV at IBS] [International Bible Society] [NIV at Zondervan] [Zondervan]

23 If a man happens to meet in a town a virgin pledged to be married and he sleeps with her, 24 you shall take both of them to the gate of that town and stone them to death—the girl because she was in a town and did not scream for help, and the man because he violated another man's wife. You must purge the evil from among you.

Every time I poo in a public restroom




Silence is paramount. I quietly push open the bright orange door, the gateway to my liberation. Left, my head turns, then right. All clear. This is what I had been praying for. I walk briskly past the urinals, excitedly about to stake my claim on my pick of the toilets.

As silent and as solid as a statue stands a pair of shoes under the middle of three stalls. Someone else is here. Mission failure. Now begins the awkward descent into the handicapped-accessible stall, the Taj Mahal of toilet stalls. There are a few drops of yellow on the toilet seat. White porcelain hides nothing. Slowly and silently I dispense a few squares of toilet paper, carefully placing them over the toilet seat. The drops disappear under the strips of white. All the while I am wary of the mysterious agent in the stall next to mine. Who is he? Why is he not moving? Surely he has been sitting there for several minutes. He should be collecting toilet paper, cleaning himself. Is he constipated? I wait a few moments to see if he will move. He doesn't. So I sit there too, motionless, hoping for someone else to walk into the washroom to break the silence and guise the sound of my "evacuation" with the sounds of footsteps or running tap water.

My toilet stall holds chronicles of those who have preceded my sitting, like the commissioned artworks and scriptures of past kings, attesting their existence and rule over their throne. This stall particularly has preserved a rich history of illustrations and phrases that mark the spaces on my left, to my right, and on the stall door in front of me. The preoccupations of the human mind uncensored lie here - images of phallic symbols, politics, sex, and the miseries of life remain reported on these walls. They are comment cards on the everyday affairs of the average people. They entertain me for some moments.

I have been waiting several minutes, yet neither my neighbour nor any stranger has made a sound. Ridiculous, I think to myself. So I begin. It leaves me slowly, smoothly, but I brace for the inevitable. The surface of the water shatters from the contact it makes with my evacuation. I cringe as it is almost deafening amidst the silence. With my vulnerability now exposed through the obviousness of my presence, I take shame in collecting the tissue paper to clean myself as quickly as possible to make my escape.

The door opens. Voices fill the washroom, so I stop as suddenly as I began. My stall is impossibly close to those voices. Might they recognize my shoes? I draw my feet in towards me. The strangers turn on the tap. Fantastic! This is my opportunity, and I seize it, cleaning myself with the speed of lightning.

Finally I'm finished. But I cannot leave the stall just yet. There remains one last task. A turn of the handle will signal with thunderous warning my activities. I could wait for them to leave. By now I have established a strange sort of comfort with my porcelain friend. I could conceivably sit here forever in shame, waiting for the washroom to flush out its invaders, save me, at its will. How could I bare to face the invaders, me, an obvious perpetrator charged with the crime of committing a "number two"? Unfortunately, the strangers seem to be taking their time. Amazingly, the person in the stall next to mine hasn't moved since I arrived. I wonder for a moment whether he's even alive.

With my eyes on the ground and my head down, I take a deep breath and flush. I promptly flee my stall, only briefly rinsing my hands before darting out the door. My liberation, at last.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Dear Future Mother-in-Law,

I sincerely regret that our first meeting began with, "GET OUT! I don't like this friendship." I understand your concern, but I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Your son is very happy, and I think you should thus be happy for him. He would, conversely, be quite unhappy should you force him to date a "nice Tamil girl".

You of all people should understand. Before you got married, your mother forbade you from seeing your husband-to-be, simply for the reason that he came from a poor family. You ran away from home with him, you chose love over class, and now you have a beautiful family in Canada. You of all people should understand.

I am not a bad person. I have mentored troubled youth, served meals to the homeless, built houses for the poor in a developing country, volunteered in hospitals, tutored struggling high school kids, written letters for refugees, and given free legal advice to poor clients. I am an excellent student, and a future lawyer. My future ambitions are to represent refugees in federal courts, facilitating the immigration process for migrants of war and human rights abuses. It is the very same work that permitted you and your family to come to this country.

All this aside, I love your son. If all goes well, we'll be married in the summer of 2012. Hope to see you at the wedding.

When I was a child

Do you ever get a little bit terrified at the prospect of falling asleep?
What if... what if you never woke up? Every night we face that dilemma... perhaps one night the book will close and our lives will end. Eternal darkness. Eternal non-existence. Just nothingness. Keep reading, Babar, keep reading. Stay awake.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

When I drive the speed limit


Smooth black road
Shining ahead, relax.
This is therapy,
Healing the mind,
Giving me quiet,
Soothing meditation.

Chopin on the radio,
Trees left and right,
Green forest paradise.

Mirrors, mirrors all around,
Who's that person gaining ground?
Black, shimmering Jaguar,
Preparing for the chase.

Therapy no longer,
Hurry now,
Its head is catching
My tail.

Jaguar growls,
Racing past.
It despises me,
Telling me I was
Only an obstacle
On the smooth black road

My dad told me...


"Mom, if Santa Claus is so fat, how does he fit down the chimney?" I asked, with innocent curiosity pouring from me.
"I don't know. Hey, you know what? When we get to your uncle's house, why don't you ask him?"
"Why? Does he know Santa?"
"No, but he's very fat."

I believed in Santa Claus until I was seven years old. Parents give their children ample opportunity to excite their imaginations. Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and the Easter bunny are some of the magical creatures I grew up believing were real. Of course, I questioned the logic of their existence. How do reindeer fly? How does Santa get all those gifts delivered to all the children in the world in just ONE night? Why are the naughty kids getting better gifts than the nice? Why didn't I see Santa when I snuck downstairs at midnight? As it turns out, logic wins and Santa loses.

Although I learned the truth, I will never forget the excitement I held at the possibility of there being a real Santa Claus. Just think about it! The notion defies the laws of nature. It's absolutely extraordinary. It's like superheroes, or UFOs, or the paranormal, and all the other subjects that spark our interest in fantasy. Reality is very boring, and anything that strays from it is an exciting prospect. Reality is no fun, and it's just too bad that logic wins. Won't it lose just once?

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

I feel like we're at a really amazing point in history


"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled - Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he's fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation's promise in the months ahead.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation's next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that's coming with us to the White House. And while she's no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics - you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you've sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to - it belongs to you.

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington - it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime - two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor's bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers - in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House - a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, "We are not enemies, but friends...though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection." And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn - I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world - our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down - we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security - we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright - tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

For that is the true genius of America - that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing - Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons - because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes We Can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America."


I woke up in a new world.

But throughout this Presidential election, some people have questioned the issue of race. "If race doesn't matter, then why does it matter that Senator Obama is black?"

I think it would be very naive to claim that race doesn't matter.

I understand the notion that some people mean that race shouldn't matter in a presidential campaign, and I agree with that. But that's not the world we live in - it DOES matter to much of the electorate what race/religion/etc. you come from. This is indisputable - just as you could not expect to see an Asian American elected, or Latino, or homosexual, or Muslim to be currently elected as President. And to ignore that fact is to miss the significance of electing a black man to the White House - because people care about race, yet this man gets elected to the White House. It says something about the changing values in the USA and how far they've come.

The historical mistreatment of African Americans has led so many to believe that even a black man with the best vision, ideas, credentials, and character, could not make it to the White House solely because of his race. And this election proves that sentiment to be incorrect, a hugely significant event for those who grew up in times when something like this was inconceivable.

This election gives new hope to the world. It says that the system can change, and people can change. It says that what once was unaccepted now is accepted. Fifty years from now maybe an Asian American will be elected, or a homosexual, or a Muslim. I have hope that in some years my Korean descent will not be a factor on which I will be judged, nor my homosexuality. I have hope that others will not look at me and see a homosexual or a Korean, but will rather see my beliefs, my ideas, my dreams, and my hopes.

And so it is that I woke up in a new world. I could not be happier for it.

Monday, November 3, 2008

I Feel More "Me" When I'm Stoned


It was frosh week, and I had thought, coming into university, that everyone would be drinking. They were. So did I, but not so much because others were doing it. I thought that me in real life was boring. And everyone would tell me how much fun I was when I was drinking. So I drank to become 'more fun'... and I have to admit, like the poster of this secret, that I think I am more 'me' when I'm drunk.

The walls slip away, and all the social norms I learned at any point in my life suddenly seem very silly. All the inhibitions disappear. And so I say what I want, do as I wish, and then I'm having fun just like a kid. I voice my concerns, I apologize to others what I was never able to say while sober, and never hurt others during my intoxication. Hours later, reality kicks in and I become the quiet, serious, inhibited 'me'. But this is not 'me' at all. In my mind, I am a completely different person. And I drink rarely... I remain inside where I am chained and locked up by my own fears and restrictions.