I admit, I will miss this class. It meant so much more to me than say, the Cournot-equilibrium—I mean, please. Real life application? Photography, on the other hand, is actually a viable (though difficult) hobby that I can further pursue and refine. For those interested in VS181, Janet Delaney is…the hip Berkeley mom with a JOBAMA poster in front of her house. The humble, lovable, yet extraordinarily talented professor who prefers to be called by her first name. The typical Wurster inhabitant decked out in black—who still comes to class with a genuine smile (despite pulling half an all-nighter putting together PPT slides for us). And the students? Talented. All talented. And inspiring. And constructive.
I’ll just say, I’ve never spent so much money in one semester for…anything (studio supplies, lab fees, you name it)—yet I’ve never felt so satisfied with my work before. Within a semester, I’ve created a portfolio that I’m actually proud of for once. Architecture studio projects never did that for me because the inputs always outweighed the outputs. Without much further ado, here are glimpses of my final photo project in book form. I’d rather not show my photos just yet—because I want to continue with the project and get some better shots before I show all of them together someday.PREFACE
This book is not my story, nor is it my parents’. Rather, it is the story of all first generation Asian parents told in their own [unedited] words but through the perspectives of their second-generation children. Underneath the bitter sarcasm, underhanded compliments, and passive-aggressive emails, the children are still able to recognize and experience the subtlety of the first-generations’ unconditional (and often unexpected) love. The term “fob” was once used in a derogatory way to address Asian immigrants in the United States, but since then, people—like me—have tried to repossess the term to describe someone who is culturally unique, hilarious at times (for not quite fully assimilating into the American way of life), but—in the end—still downright lovable and worthy of sharing. My friend, Teresa Wu, and I started mymomisafob.com and mydadisafob.com in October 2008, to do just that—showcase our “fob” parents in all of their [priceless] glory. People send us submissions because they think their parents are the cutest people on the planet—not because they are embarrassed of their parents’ surface-level shortcomings. I have compiled and organized a few favorites by dates posted to help me narrate my story. “Yellow peril” and general feelings of xenophobia have nearly vanished from the multicultural Bay Area and other parts of this country we call America. As Asian Americans, we no longer try to deny and hide our families’ cultural differences; rather, we fully embrace them and hope others can slowly understand and appreciate the shoes at the door, the questionable-looking (but exquisite) dishes, the eccentric Feng Shui beliefs—and yes, our parents’ mastery of the new Chinglish language.
joke. (crap, typo too)
I kid. The last time I ate congee for breakfast was…on the plane to Taiwan.
my book was formatted with headings + submissions on the left, images + titles & subtitles on the right.
most people had beautifully matted prints that put my project to shame…
Oh, side note, in the middle of review, policemen and firefighters busted through with a stretcher. Apparently, a poor kid fainted in the middle of his final review for ED11B. ED11B?! That’s the first [intro] design studio within the series. No one should have to be sent to the hospital on a stretcher because of studio. To all you intended or current architecture students, 72 hours of non-sleep makes you medically insane. Don’t do it. Brain-damaged students can’t design anymore. With that said, I should probably take a nap before I start/finish my 10-15 page paper due tomorrow (you can count on it being 9.5 pages before the period trick).
Yesterday, we were going to take a bus from Phuket, Thailand, to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, but when I called China Airlines, they said all flights out of Kuala Lumpur were booked—so we didn’t leave. This morning, we waited at the China Airlines office in the Phuket airport and we weren’t hoping for much. People in front of us were cussing in Italian, translators were waving their hands in the air, people in line were getting impatient—then it was our turn. All flights to Hong Kong were booked until the 24th, all flights to Singapore were booked until the 2nd, and all flights to Kuala Lumpur were booked until the 4th except for one flight tomorrow, because no one could get anywhere today. All flights from Taipei to San Francisco were booked until the 12th but our flight on the 30th was still confirmed, we just needed to get to Taipei in time. Miss the 30th? Wait until the 12th when school’s over and I can forget about…everything. Just imagine our anxiety then. We grabbed tickets for tomorrow’s flight from Kuala Lumpur to Taipei without knowing how we’d get to Kuala Lumpur from Phuket. Everyone else was in a similar or worse off situation. We all tried to grab whatever we could, even if the flights didn’t connect. Then we went from ticket office to office, with no available tickets to Kuala Lumpur until the 2nd.
Here’s when God granted us a miracle. An angel at the tiny airline company, Firefly, sent two requests for two additional planes to Subang tonight and tomorrow morning. We all waited for five anxious, uncertain hours until the government finally approved the night flight, and then the race began. The lucky 70 who were there since the morning were able to get plane tickets, and even that wasn’t easy. It took a fifth credit card to work, because they didn’t accept American Express, Citibank and BOA thought we were performing “suspicious activity”…
I’M LOW ON BATTERY POWER AND I DON’T HAVE AN AC ADAPTER. Anyway, I’m in Kuala Lumpur…I’ll finish the story when I get power.
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