I'm No.1!

University of California Genetics of Absolute Pitch Study
test results

Congratulations! You have Perfect Pitch.
First name: Tony
Last name: Cheng
Age: 24
AP rank: 1.00
Pure tone score: 34.75
Piano tone score: 35

I usually don't brag about this absolute pitch thing, at school or anywhere else. But I'd just like to say, I've become the new number one in the perfect pitch vs. DNA relations studies for UCSF!

I know I at least beated 2000+ other people who have been "diagnosed" with perfect pitch who participated in this study. Too bad they're not sending me a trophy or anything, boo...

[22:09] psychobrain70174: hah

[22:09] psychobrain70174: i'm ranked number 1

[22:09] psychobrain70174: HAH!

[22:09] psychobrain70174: i'm no. 1!!!!

[22:17] psychobrain70174: aren't you proud of me

[22:17] psychobrain70174: i'm finally no. 1 at something

[22:17] jehwie422: i suppose, there should be some sort of jeopardy perfect pitch show

[22:17] psychobrain70174: seriously

[22:17] psychobrain70174: we would've make a great team

[22:17] jehwie422: then you could give a shot at wei mien guan jin

[22:18] psychobrain70174: what's wei mien guan jin?

[22:18] jehwie422: undefeated champino

Useless brag of useless human talents, over.

Unmentionable politics

Growing up, my parents were hard working people. Regardless of how I got along with them, or secretly dread every single encounter with one of them like Charlie Sheen in "Two and a half men", they're hard working people.

My mother used to come home, a face loaded with crap written all over it. Finds that I have escaped my simple 9 year old duties of doing homework, and find an excuse for why she's pissed beyond belief. Finally one day I had a chance to ask her why she REALLY looked that angry. I knew I had done my homework, I knew they were tastefully correct (that means, I copied the answers from the back, but left perhaps one or two mistakes on purpose to show that I'm still human, instead of the genius I really am). And I knew I've done nothing wrong of the sort or the mistakes were already covered up until she finds them sometime during the upcoming week. I knew I had all the elements of requirement to strike the topic without her saying "You're why I'm mad everyday for the last 9 years."

Me: Why are you pissed?

Mom: Me? Pissed? Oh no, I'm fine and dandy.

Me: Well, you look pissed.

Mom: I'm not, you did your homework and they're mostly correct (me snickering during moments when she had her eyes fixed on the tv), you showered, and you did all that before the clock struck 11 p.m.. Should I have a reason to be pissed?

Me: (Frightful I might slip out something wrong) No.

Me: (continues) But you seriously don't look like you're in great shape, mom.

Mom: It's just grown-up stuff. Things at work aren't going well.

Me: Is it the money?

Mom: Obviously not, you had fish for dinner didn't you?

Me: Yeah, but I thought that's just because it was cheap at the market today.

Mom: No, it's not cheap. And it's not about money. It's about politics at work and why people get in arguments at work.

I never understood why she said politics back then. But since I was a kid, I naturally didn't care enough to ask her to explain to me what I thought politics mean, which was the basis of our Taiwanese governing system, and what's the difference between our uncle being a senator or a congressman. Until years later, when I had encountered myself.

I've always pride myself in dedicating myself to a leader, or a company, or an organization. Whichever I was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to work for, or work with. This came from an upbringing where I was to accept anything my dad shoved down my throat when giving me piano lessons (to defend my dad, he really is a pretty laid-back person) and to question, but obey the authorities if they were to make a decision. This tradition was communicated to me in my early years of studio work as an intern, assistant, and eventually...the authority. I've come to accept this method of discipline, yet never afraid to question my past and current authorities their reasons of going about things. Worst case scenario, I can learn what NOT to do. Yet until a few years ago, I still never really had to deal with "politics".

I've seen politics, among other co-workers or friends who are in the working field as well. But I can't honestly say it really ever affected me. Since my bosses knew I'd always bust my fat behind to get something done on schedule and miles beyond that, they never troubled me. And I've always had enough leverage to say "Hey, I did my job, and I helped you with the ones you couldn't do, what's your complaint?". Until a couple days ago...

I will not go into details to show my very basic act of general kindness and respect (God only knows at what level of my respect I have for this person). But I'll just say. If you're going to file a complaint about me, do your job and do it well. Do not make me have to work on weekends for your very preventable and predictable mistakes. And do not make me think I need to work weekends waiting on some files to arrive at 6 a.m. and disappear without even a puff of smoke. I'll take this as a humbling experience to continuously remind myself that, until I become the role of authorities sometime down my path of careers, I will always need to accept how my authorities deal with situations like this. Sometimes though, I just wish somebody at work would stand up for me and tell someone else "Hey, Tony's saving your ass, you don't have to be grateful..but shut the hell up and don't get yourself into any more mess. Oh, and quit backstabbing him, because he IS essentially more important to us than your fresh-out-of-college ass is."

This is a rant, take it with a grain of salt and let me go on my merry way. That jerk ain't worth my time anyway.

Traveling with food

Those of you who knew me best knows that I'm a food enthusiast. Food channel was my daily dose of relief to ensure myself that I'm home, from a long day of either at school, at work, or just general life in the outside world. I was quoting Rachel Ray, Emeril Lagasse before tabloids start writing about Rachel Ray's private life, even before she appeared in Maxim magazine. But that passion was gone awhile ago. Not because I don't love food anymore, but because it had gone so commercially mainstream, it has lost it's own flavor and spice. I soon realize that to keep the general American public happy, the Food Channel will always stay within this 50 state border, in fear of terrifying their growing mass audiences.

Well, that eventually just doesn't cut it for me anymore.

I was born and raise in Taiwan, although growing up I never took much pride, or even think about what it means to be a native of Taiwan, I finally started to realize the real treasure that lies within that tiny ass piece of land that is surrounded completely with water it's pretty much like Alcatraz. And the closest escape out of those water is right into the hands of our communist brothers, the Chinese (no offense to all my Chinese friends, seriously). Other than our unique way of showing passion in our politics with fists (I must note, this was more notoriously mentioned in the Mike Myer's version of "Cat in the hat"), I slowly begin to see what others see in my tiny piece of home town.

How does my nationality and Food channel have in common? I'm getting there.

The one way I start to become more aware of where I'm from and what it has to offer was through my growing annoyance with the Food Channel. What with Giada de Laurentis' overly excited faux Italian food, or with Mario Batali over stressing about his every motive in every process of making simply a lunch, or with Bobby Flay's artificial Southwest mix (another word for watered-down tex-mex), I had begin to think: How many shows can you repeatedly do with a piece of Sirloin steak or pasta?

Don't get me wrong, I learned a load. Alton Brown taught me every necessary part of the cow and the pig I need to know. Bobby Flay taught me how to deal with those parts over open fire. Mario Batali trained me in how to process pasta and Italian ingrediants to just the right texture and flavor. And Giada along with Rachel, well...I just like looking at them over the dinner I had already made by this time. On the other hand, Alton couldn't teach me me the unnecessary parts of the cow and the pig. Bobby Flay couldn't show me what other ways to deal with those parts. Mario Batali, just shut up and you don't deserve to be an iron chef. Giada and Rachel...I'll still look at you. You get my point.

So my alternative by accident became the Travel Channel. At first, it was me surfing the channels because I had already seen the Emril Live show that evening, and it came to Anthony Bourdain. Another renowned chef in NYC. I figured...a fresh face and style on TV, can't be too bad. Next thing I know, he's taking me across the globe to Ireland.

With my growing interest and a new found attention. I continued watching. Surprisingly, Anthony (or Tony) didn't just show us where the Guinness factory is, and where to eat the best mash and bangs. He showed me where to get the best blood pudding, where they make a dish with one of the cows four stomaches, and all the down and dirty joints they have to offer in Ireland. Don't get me wrong, I'll probably be hesitant to try the dish that was stuffed into one of the cow's four stomaches. But it's just refreshing to see someone willing to go the length to expose what the rest of the world is eating instead of just bread, salad, pasta, and meat every single day and a turkey for Thanksgiving and Christmas along with bread, salad, and mash potatoes. It was a refreshing moment.

So, how did the mention of Taiwan come in play, up to this point?

The other day, I was watching Anthony Bourdain on No Reservations. He was in Korea. He went out of his way to experience food and activities normal Americans won't do (by the way, his producer, who's a Korean, who convinced him to do this Korea episode, waaaaay hot). And it ended before I've had enough. The very next guy that came up was this dude:

And guess where he went? Yes, my smart readers. Taiwan. Although it was touching to see someone finally doing a food show of Taiwan, it was also quite dumb. The guy thinks stinky tofu stinks (go figure where the name come from). He couldn't swallow a bite of fermented duck eggs (The official term for you Americans is "Thousand year old egg"). He finds pork blood tasteless, and speaks of the intestine stew with such formality I doubt he trully understand that dish. Nevertheless, I enjoyed what his show had to offer, maybe not so much on him, but the show itself. At least, at the very least, he's brave to try and give a genuine opinion on what he really think of the dish he's trying. Frankly I don't think the show should be called "Bizzare Foods" just because it's foreign and unfamiliar. I don't know why Americans have to glorify all the terms we use to describe different kind of animals.

Cow = Beef
Pig = Pork
Deer = Venison
Baby cow = Veal

In every other part of the world. Beef = Cow meat, pork = pig meat, venison = deer meat, and veal...well, veal is still just cow meat. Can you imagine the day I got into McDonalds or one of those signature American fast food joints, and ask for a "double quarter pound of dead cow wrapped with two pieces of bread"? Watching Andrew Zimmern painfully swallows some of the signature Taiwanese foods made me realize how much I miss that country and culture, especially the food. And how much America is lacking in it's self-imposed thought of openness in food culture. I'm not promoting everyone to eat weird food. I'm just saying, food is the most basic element in a human beings life and history. Mankind just ate things, anything, when they were hungry millions of years ago. So why is eating anything other than a burger and salad weird to mostly everyone in this country? Is it because they're not pretty? Well I bet that dead cow pattie ain't pretty wrapped in your two buns when it was slowly getting grinded.

That's all for tonight, if you get a shot, check out those two shows.

Uno, dos, tres!

I used to have blogs. In fact, I was one of those who started on Xanga early on before it was popular. Or, before the Chinese language even invented the term "部落格" to accomodate the increasing popularity of this so called new pop "culture".

To me, it was just human nature to share things or write down everyday ramblings somewhere, whether it be publicized or private. Whether it should be classified as a "culture", I'll let you decide. Just because more and more people are utilizing the free hosting functions now available online doesn't really make it anything special. I guess it is quite cool to be able to share your thoughts with the mass of audience. For me, it was just the place where I can leave my thoughts knowing that my dear mother would never be able to find it.

This is somewhat a boring starter for my new blog. I guess I'm kind of giving myself a good enough reason, or excuse, for this newly created blog. I used to write blogs, just for my then girlfriend(s) to see. Now that I think about it, and when that relationship ended, that specific blog would've met it's life's end as well. In one case, many blogs were created and destroyed due to the up and downs of the hell-ish nature of the relationship. Then I realized now, two years later (don't ask me what took me so long to find my common sense), if I wanted to write stuff just for her to see, there is always something called the email. I felt the previously created-deleted-recreated-redeleted blogs received an unfair treatment and I should probably start one just for my sake.

Having a place to share my opinions, photos, random daily life with my friends and family might actually be therapeutic. So, enjoy (or suffer, if you're one of those who really don't care for other's opinions yet can't seem to shake the addiction of reading a seemingly boring blog regardless). Leave a comment if you'd like, it's always nice to know my reader's feedbacks. And wait for more to come!

Goodnight now, I will have more to update when the new photos arrive :)