Fortune Cookie Wisdom

Things that make you go hmmm

2007-02-19T22:33:00.000-05:00

This cracked me up! To think they've come up with an official disorder for what on the street we simply call an "asshole." Watch in the next three months as 3 out of 4 lawyers and judges are diagnosed with "extreme narcisism."

BY JON CRAIG JCRAIG@ENQUIRER.COM
COLUMBUS – Mason Municipal Court Judge George M. Parker should lose his law license for at least a year because of misconduct, the Ohio Supreme Court’s disciplinary counsel recommended Monday.
But Parker’s attorney, George D. Jonson of Cincinnati, said a public reprimand is punishment enough because the judge is getting treatment for a personality disorder that helped cause his misconduct.

According to Jonson, Mason psychologist M. Douglas Reed agreed with a state-appointed psychiatrist that Parker suffers from a narcissistic personality disorder, a pattern of self-centered or egotistical behavior that flares up under stress.

The state’s psychiatric expert, Dr. Michael Beech of Bexley, testified Monday that Parker displayed symptoms of a disorder for which few people seek treatment. Narcissistic personality disorder can cause distress and an inability to function at work or in relationships, Beech said. “Seeking out help in and of itself is a favorable sign,” he said.
Earlier Monday, Parker testified he has seen two psychologists since last summer to treat his problem.It marked the third and final day of hearings before a three-judge panel of the state Supreme Court Board of Commissioners on Grievances and Discipline. The panel will recommend action to the board, which can range from dismissal of the seven-count complaint against Parker, to permanent suspension of his law license.

Assistant Disciplinary Counsel Joseph M. Caligiuri recommended an 18-month suspension of Parker’s law license with six months stayed. He said Parker is “simply just not content being a neutral, detached judge.”Jonson said the most Parker should face is a six-month suspension, and that he be allowed to continue practicing law if he meets counseling requirements. “The judge has admitted to many things,” Jonson said, adding Parker is “painfully aware of the baggage he brought to the bench and he’s getting treatment.”When he took the stand Monday, Parker admitted he used to talk too much and offer too much advice to defendants. He admitted to most of the misconduct outlined in the complaint. “Judges are human. I’m human,” Parker testified.

Parker said he sought counseling in March 2006 primarily because “the people who knew me well were concerned I wasn’t reacting well to the way that I was portrayed publicly.”In the complaint filed in October 2005, Parker was accused of:

-- Asking to join police in executing a search warrant that turned up stolen signs and marijuana. Parker later sentenced the accused to a day in jail.
-- Calling 911 to ask Mason police to transport a prisoner from the Warren County jail.
-- Pressuring a Mason police officer to agree to reduce charges in a domestic violence case.
-- Jailing the mother of a drug addict who interrupted him in court.
-- Calling an alleged drug dealer, on a speaker phone from his courtroom, to confront him.

Jonson submitted 13 letters of support on Parker’s behalf, including several from court employees.The Mason Municipal Court serves more than 50,000 residents in Mason and Deerfield Township.Parker defeated three fellow Republicans in the May 2001 primary and ran unopposed in the November 2001 election. His term ends in December. Parker declined to say whether he will run for re-election later this year.

Long time no cookie

2007-01-05T01:25:00.000-05:00

Hey all you cookie-munchers:

Happy New Year! My resolution this year is to fu*%ing learn how to drive. And get my license. And hopefully, a car.

I have greatly shirked my blogging duties, I know. But life has been a real roller coaster these last months. If I had read my fortune a couple of months ago, it would have said, "Hold on tight, you're in for one hell of a ride." Eventful? Yes. Almost lost my lunch a few times? Yes. Do it again if it was either that, or repeat high-school? Hell yes. Have time to write about it for my faithful blog audience? No. Sorry.

So the news is: I have a new job, started apprenticing as a seamstress at a friend's business a couple of months ago. It's a great place to work, very enjoyable and something I always wanted to learn. So far, in regards to personal projects, I have made a nightgown, a laptop case, a machine-sewn purse, and a hand-sewn purse. The hand-sewn purse took about 8 hours and I am so proud of it. I gave it to my mom. If I had to put a price tag on it, it would have to be at least $300 for the amount of time and effort that went into it, not to mention the blood as I stabbed myself with the needle repeatedly. I think that gives it that magic touch.

I'm also in the process of moving - friends of mine bought a house and have very generously given me my own room. The place needs serious rehab, which we'll do as we move stuff in. So that's taking a fair bit of free time.

Apart from that, not a whole lot to report. Book signings have been boring, but Rosa Farm is doing well. For those of you not hip to it, the book can be viewed here: http://www.randomhouse.com/catalog/display.pperl?isbn=9780375836817

Christmas was OK. My sister disappeared on boxing day after an altercation with my folks. Lots of family drama right now. But that's not blogging business.

Did I ever mention I have a cell phone? 513-254-5033 for those who want their cookies fresh.

Happy 2007, everyone. Rock and Roll.

12-year reunion

2006-10-03T02:05:00.000-04:00

It's time for a new cookie. I just opened one that read:

It must be home-grown.

Eh. A somewhat lame fortune.

Well, my luck of late has been sort of mediocre. I mean, I have only one student now and the funds are quite slim. I am looking for more work. I resonded to an ad in the classifieds today, having misread the title as "reflexology" - in fact it was "relaxology." To make a long story short, I thought it would be a good deal to get free training and make $40 an hour rubbing peoples's feet ... then found out it was in fact recruiting for a more "sensual" service. Oops. I'm not quite that broke yet.

However, something really cool happened this weekend - I got to see someone I hadn't seen since I was 15. I had been thinking of him over the years and tried to make contact several times, sending letters etc. I'm talking about a Shawnee guy who adopted me as his grand-daughter years back.

Well, some friends and I drove 2 hrs north to visit him on Saturday and it was really a dream come true. It was great to see him again and to chat. He's had some health problems but looks like he's still going strong. That made me really happy.

Apart from that, just chugging along, trying to figure out what to do with myself. Excuse me, my bad self. Yeah, and the bag of chips that comes with it.

Yes, it's past 2 a.m. Can't you tell?

Shut up and eat your cookie.

And so and such

2006-09-17T20:11:00.000-04:00

So it's official. My little sis is at college, drove up yesterday ... attending Ohio State at their Wooster branch five hours away. The nest is now empty - except for me, of course, as I'm staying with mom ... then again, I'm hardly ever home these days, working 11-hour days at Berlitz and rehearsing/taking classes in the evenings.

Played my first gig since being back on Friday for the opening of a condominium - jazz duo doing hand percussion and some vocals with an outstanding local pianist - it was a blast. A friend recorded it so hoping to put together a demo and see if I can't find some more work.

So the news is that things are going well, busy as ever, but can't complain.

I went out to a Chinese restaurant today. I'm going to open a fortune cookie right now and tell you all what your fortune is for the week:

Change is the watchword of progression.

Whatever that means.

Oh, and fish in Chinese is "Yu."

When it Rains ...

2006-09-04T23:14:00.000-04:00

Last Thursday I went out to see a local band play ... because of the rain, they cancelled. This was the second time in two weeks myself and the same group of friends had gone to see this band and been thwarted (the first time we were told the gig went until 10 but they stopped at 9). Strike two.

We went somewhere else instead and saw an entirely different band. Then we watched The Best of Saturday Night Live until the wee hours of the morning. I thought about calling home to let mom know I was staying the night with friends (she had the number) but decided against it because it was so late.

I called the next morning instead. A routine check in. But a shocking response. Mom's voice was trembling slightly as she told me the news: the Graeter's ice cream shop my 17-year old sister works at had been robbed. She had been held up at gunpoint and locked in a closet with her other co-workers. Because the thief had taken her purse (with keys and ID), mom had the locks on the house changed. They will be changed again tomorrow.

As you can see, it's been quite an eventful time.

More news: I recently joined an acoustic rock band (plays originals) called Akarya. Will post when we have a gig.

I will never again think of working at an ice cream parlor to be a cake job.

Too tired to write more. Over and out.

Like a thief in the night

2006-08-16T11:18:00.000-04:00

I'm not talking about Jesus.

I'm talking about a disgruntled ex-employee con artist who, after having lost a bogus lawsuit against my mom, is now seeking other less lucrative forms of revenge: a big pile of pig shit in front of my mom's cafe door at 1 a.m.

This is the reality I woke up to this morning.

And apparently the cops couldn't care less.

Guess they have better things to do than to protect citizens from scatological harrassment.

But this guy knows where we live (he lives only a mile away) which is troubling.

His methods are even more disturbing.

And if it's bad having a stalker, it's even worse to have a nut job with ties to the agriculture industry scheming up ways to compensate for his worthless, weasly excuse for a life.

I smell trouble. And it smells like shit.

Doubtlessly to be continued ...

What you never suspected about herrings

2006-08-12T14:27:00.000-04:00

Have you ever heard whale song? Apparently these ultra intelligent beings communicate through what sounds like high-pitched shrieks and burbles ... probably an advanced form of radar.

Well, herrings do them one better: like Jim Carrey, they talk through their butts. I quote from News of the Weird ...

"Research suggests that herring routinely communicate via a high-pitched sound emitted from their anuses. This June a scientist from the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources told a Rhode Island conference that herring also release gas bubbles from their anuses to make it more difficult for orcas to hunt them ..."

I guess farting is a way to get those predators off their scent, ha ha.

This definitely makes my list of the top hundred most highly undervalued pieces of irrelevent but supremely worthwhile information.

Your fortune: A fart is worth a thousand words.

Galleta de Suerte

2006-08-11T11:33:00.001-04:00

Galleta de Suerte, aka Fortune Cookie.

I got one on the plane yesterday with my pathetic lunch, which almost made up for all the hassle they put me through. As soon as I got comfy in my window seat, they came up to me and asked if I would move so a mother could be with her child. Damn it if I don't have "sucker" written all over my face. I said OK, and they led me back to the emergency exit, which (I now know) PROHIBITS you from reclining your chair. I had wanted to sleep. Now I couldn't. Not only because of the chair, but also because my overweight neighbor was hogging the entire armrest and the window (being an emergency one) was too far away to lean against. Then the stewardess confiscated my bag of snacks, saying that it was against the rules for passengers in the emergency section to have anything on the floor. She even took my extra blanket, saying i couldn't have that much in my lap. What the F***? I mean, a fleece blanket is not exactly going to hurt anyone if it accidentally flies through the air and falls on someone's foot. A freaking bum deal. So I spent the trip (which tacked on an extra hour at the end due to bad weather) reading all the homework - articles being discussed at the journalism workshop I'm heading to in a few hours.

But ... the cookie! I was excited to find it under my coffee cup, like a little crunchy, folded friend. Fortune cookies have always made me smile, who knows why. I even collect the fortunes. But ... after eating my lunch, when the guy came by to collect garbage, I accidentally gave him my tray without having opened my cookie - it was still hidden under the cup. And let me tell you, it was a big ordeal everytime I had to get up, because my neighbor was too big to get past, so he always had to get up twice each time I had to use the toilet. I sat there, thinking about what to do.

A couple of hours later, my neighbor got up to get something from his bag and I seized the opportunity. I went to the back and asked the stewards gathered there if I could have another cookie. They said sorry, but those only come with the meals. I pleaded with them (jokingly), saying I forgot mine and could they please look ... that I collected them. A nice stewardess found one for me and I opened it on the spot, sharing the wisdom with everyone there. It was in Spanish, and translated to: Every good deed you do will return to you. They all laughed at that and said it always said something good. I told them actually, sometimes they didn't. They laughed at that too. I returned to my seat, satisfied, and wondering what good things were going to come from my very charitable change of seat.

I want to diverge here and mention that something cool happened wile I was changing planes in Mexico City - I met this girl, my age, who happened to be going to Chicago too. And she knew one of my friends from there. AND she had been working under one of my friends in Oaxaca. AND her ex-boyfriend in Oaxaca knew the ex-editor of Oaxaca Times (whom I had never met) and she had almost the previous summer submitted an article, so I MIGHT have met her in Oaxaca last year. All those coincidences. Oh, and she had just written a children's book and knew the woman I wrote a profile about for my summer fellowship at NorthWestern in 2002. So it was pretty lively conversation ... till I got stuck by the emergency exit.

Anyways ... the journey was long and grueling, but I made it eventually, as you can see. Again (becuase I left my bank card with Jake), I had to come with little money, only $27 - exactly enough for my train ride and one night at this youth hostel. I didn't even have enough for a bottle of water and since I was dying of thrist had to drink the nasty tap water. But this morning I got up hella early and withdrew from the bank. I wasn't sure if it would work, but it did - which is lucky because if it hadn't I would have been s-c-r-e-w-e-d. Don't want to even imagine what that would have been like.

So... back to the fortune. As this girl and I were parting in the airport last night, I asked her what her fortune said. It said the exact same thing as mine - meaning they probably all said the same thing. So - no wonder the stewards were all laughing. But you know what, I was traveling with a huge, heavy suitcase as well as a heavy backpack and two small bags, and every time I needed help with them up or down the subway stairs, there was a guy offering to help me. So I guess that was karma. People were actually very helpful the whole time, directing me to the correct train and everything. So. A fortune fulfilled.

Traveling While ... Brown???

2006-08-08T18:32:00.000-04:00

Here´s a new one – I´m used to getting flack while returning to the US, but yesterday while bussing from Guatemala to Mexico, an officer started interrogating me at the Guatemalan side of the border as if I were a Guatemalan trying to sneak out of the country. It didn´t matter that I had a US passport, which usually expedites matters anywhere in Latin America … I guess this is the down side of having a good tan?

I´m fairly used to being singled out. When traveling, the airport security folks almost always choose to search my bags. Sometimes they get checked up to three times during a journey. And I´ve often had to parry insulting questions upon return. In 1998, after a summer study program in Mexico, the Chicago immigrations guy, before stamping my passport, looked at me with raised eyebrow and asked if I could speak English. I nodded at my passport and informed him that I was American. He stamped reluctantly, seemingly disappointed.

Another time, an Asian-looking official scrutinized my passport photo and asked me about my surname, Wu. I told him it was Chinese. To which he responded, “I´m Chinese. You don´t look Chinese.” Well, SORRY, DUDE! I shrugged and admitted that I was “mixed.” He sneered and waved me on.

So I´m at the border, waiting outside in hellish heat swarming with money sharks and kids that beg (more like pester) for money, choking on the constant fumes belching out from the bus. After forever in line, I advise Jake to take the passports and do the talking, since he´s white and male. It does help, believe me. But not this time. He spent a total of five seconds with Jake´s papers, but took forever with my passport, running around checking it at different computers. Finally he came back to the window and proceeded to ask me:

“De donde eres?” Where are you from?

Ohio.

“Donde naciste?” Where were you born?

Ohio.

“Que es tu nacionalidad?” What´s your nationality?

American.

“Que estabas haciendo en Guatemala?” What were you doing in Guatemala?

Living there for six months, now returning to the US.

“Donde estabas viviendo?” Where were you living?

Close to Antigua.

“A que te dedicas?” What do you do for a living?

Write.

He seemed a bit thrown by this and waved over an accomplice. I continued, “I have a book – wanna see it?” I tossed a preview copy of my children´s book on his desk and he literally jumped. Suddenly, he was all smiles, as if I were famous, and clumsily tried to read the title. I informed him my name was below. He hurriedly stamped my passport and let me go. Who would have thought being a published writer could hold such clout? Or perhaps it was just proof of my American citizenship. Anyway, I had brought the book in case of border troubles (more as a prepared response to the inevitable question when returning to the US of what I do for a living that allows me to have such a free schedule). Now I won’t want to travel without it.

Throughout the rest of the journey, from the border to Oaxaca (an all-night ride) I was constantly picked as the one to show my passport, presumably because I didn´t look American enough. A problem that seems to follow me whether in my own country or another. Sometimes, you just can´t please anybody.

But happy to say, after about 21 hours non-stop on the road, we made it safely to Oaxaca. And what´s going on here? Revolution. Revolt. Riots. People hijacking chicken buses.

But that´s another story…

Tooth Trauma

2006-08-02T17:21:00.000-04:00

Now that I think about it, I have teeth trauma. My earliest memory of tooth shame is at age six. Both my front teeth fell out, resulting in the classic lisp. Of course, my parents and any other adult witnesses thought this was the funniest thing in the world. I remember looking at my red, raw gums with the wide empty space in the mirror with hatred. I wished my teeth would hurry up and grow in.

Then they did, and provided another source of ridicule, now for my class mates. It’s bad enough to look Chinese when you’re in an elementary school for snobby preppies. To have the slanted eyes and darker skin. Add big buck teeth to that, and it’s like dumping hamburger into a mob of sharks.

So, not only have my teeth been a constant source of self-consciousness, but I’ve had my share of dentist horror stories. One of my most frequent recurring nightmares is that my teeth are all falling out, hanging by bloody veins. Maybe this is because losing my teeth during childhood was always such a painful process. One molar, in fact, refused to fall out, and the new one grew in behind it. A dentist eventually pried it out with some sort of spoon. Then again, a psychologist might have a different interpretation. All I know is that these dreams seem very real, and I always wake up with sharp pain in my teeth.

I won’t go into my long history of tooth trauma, just update you on the latest. Yesterday, I went to a local Guatemalan dentist for a check-up and a cleaning. It was a singular experience.

The reason for it was logical enough. Jake has had blood tests done in this lab with no complaints, so I thought it must be fairly professional. Also, I hadn’t had a cleaning in a year or two, and have recently had some persistent toothaches. Fearing I might have a cavity but not wanting to spend $250 dollars for a cleaning (the price last quoted to me in the US), I opted instead for the $40 job here before I hit the road. I guess you get what you pay for.

I rushed to be there on time, but was let to wait on the plastic chairs outside the office. This dentist was in the local equivalent of a mall, by the way. As I sat there, growing increasingly paranoid about whether they would observe good hygiene, I thought about Jake’s blood tests, trying to persuade myself I would not contract some fatal disease from shared dental tools. At that moment, a Jehovah’s witness in street clothes offered me a magazine called “Blood.” Coincidence? Was it time to get right with God?

I finally go in, and it’s a tiny room with two reclining dentist chairs. The dentist orders me to sit down, shoves a mirror in my mouth, and curtly tells me the cost. I say OK. Then I start wondering whether that mirror had been sterilized. The assistant preps up, tying on my bib and wiping down the instruments with what looks like a baby wipe. I presume it was soaked in alcohol, but still wonder whether that’s really enough for decent sterilization. Actually, I don’t want to think about it.

I’ll cut to the chase. The dentist mercilessly picked my teeth with the sharp metal thing, apparently indifferent as to whether she was scraping tooth or gum. She didn’t let me spit, so I had to swallow the blood and other nastiness produced by the scraping. She then stuck some sort of water pick in my mouth, which sent a continuous spray of water in my face throughout the whole cleaning. Luckily, she put the sucking hose thing in as well to get the excess water, but my face was soaked. They wiped me with a rag from time to time. The water tasted tangy. I tried not to think about whether it was safe.

The worst thing was the electric metal pick thing she used – it buzzed like a drill, apparently jack-hammering the plaque off my teeth. I couldn’t take the pain and, envisioning my teeth crumbling to dust, eventually asked her to stop. She seemed bemused. I can’t describe how it felt other than having a buzz saw jammed into the base of your teeth, then scraped along them.

In any case, I survived the thing, and if I have contracted any unfortunate diseases, the symptoms aren’t showing yet.

All I have to say about this experience is that for as much traveling as I’ve done through Mexico and Guatemala, yesterday was the first time I really felt like I was in the third world.

Now I’m thinking about getting dental insurance.

Today's fortune

2006-07-27T15:49:00.000-04:00

I was researching metaphors online today when I found this example:

A catapillar is an upholstered worm.

I also came across this old message, a friend sent me years ago:

In Japan, they have replaced the impersonal and
unhelpful Microsoft error messages with Haiku poetry
messages. Haiku poetry has strict construction rules -
each poem has only 17 syllables; 5 syllables in the
first line, 7 in the second, 5 in the third. They are
used to communicate a timeless message, often
achieving a wistful, yearning and powerful insight
through extreme brevity.

Your file was so big.
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.
--------------------------------------
The Web site you seek
Cannot be located, but
Countless more exist.
--------------------------------------
Chaos reigns within.
Reflect, repent, and reboot.
Order shall return.
--------------------------------------
Program aborting:
Close all that you have worked on.
You ask far too much.
--------------------------------------
Windows NT crash'd.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No-one hears your screams.
--------------------------------------
Yesterday it work'd.
Today it is not working.
Windows is like that.
--------------------------------------
First snow, then silence.
This thousand-dollar screen dies
So beautifully.
--------------------------------------
With searching comes loss
And the presence of absence:
"My Novel" not found.
--------------------------------------
The Tao that is seen
Is not the true Tao-until
You bring fresh toner.
--------------------------------------
Stay the patient course.
Of little worth is your ire.
The network is down.
--------------------------------------
A crash reduces
Your expensive computer
To a simple stone.
--------------------------------------
Three things are certain:
Death, taxes and lost data.
Guess which has occurred.
--------------------------------------
You step in the stream,
But the water has moved on.
This page is not here.
--------------------------------------
Out of memory.
We wish to hold the whole sky,
But we never will.
--------------------------------------
Having been erased,
The document you're seeking
Must now be retyped.
--------------------------------------
Serious error.
All shortcuts have disappeared.
Screen. Mind. Both are blank.

Git down!

2006-07-21T15:37:00.000-04:00

I know everyone needs a good laugh, so here's me celebrating on Jake's Bday.

Yah!

Eventually I'll figure out how to put a photo on the profile.

Oh, BTW, if you are in Cincinnati and happen to be reading this, you are invited to my birthday party, which will be the weekend of the 19th (not sure which day yet).

If you can't make it then and want to say hi, just drop by my mom's cafe on the 17th or whenever's convenient.

Paz,

Liz

My first AC article

2006-07-19T13:14:00.000-04:00

Hi,

Just wrote my first article for Associated Content, a site that buys writing cheap, pays through PayPal. Check it out, and if you don't mind, rate it highly, even if it bores you to tears as there's a $ bonus for high ratings.

Thanks!

Words, words, good for your heart ...

2006-07-18T18:13:00.000-04:00

Words:

Like molecules, they're everywhere. Like air, they're invisible.

By the time you finish this sentence, your eyes will have picked up the pattern of lines and spaces, sent a message to your brain to be decoded, and you will have arranged the information into a cohesive message, ending with this little dot.

Within seconds, you will have transformed these little squiggles on the monitor into an understandable chunk of information. By the time you reach the end of the paragraph, you will have translated the message automatically, paying little attention to the process.

Words, like silence, are taken for granted. What are they, really?

A word is essentially a symbol representing an idea or a state of being. The letters that make up a word are also symbols, but only represent the sounds necessary to pronounce a word – words exist independently of their spelling. Literacy, or even having a written language, is not necessary for communication through words.

Therefore, the value of a word is not in its written form, but in the idea it represents. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Conversely, a word can contain a thousand pictures. A word is a tiny package of information, which, when released, can invoke all manner of impressions.

Words, like magical incantations, build bridges between one reality and another. They compress the environment, emotions, thoughts, and perceptions of one person (real or imagined) into a universal code. Used in this way, words are powerful – they can communicate a lifetime of experience in a short amount of space and time. They can also record permanently a thought, feeling, or command (such as in a written law). The drawback to this, of course, is that words can be interpreted quite differently than they were originally intended to be.

How does one make the most of words? Understand them. Whoever believes that words are cheap most likely uses them indiscriminately. In fact, words are priceless, with the power to twist reality as much as represent it. If you are a writer, you cannot afford to underestimate the potency of words; in fact, you must learn how to cultivate them - by observing, pruning and nurturing them, and eventually harvesting their fruits.