Monday, March 30, 2009

The Danger of "Sex and the City"

I understand the wild popularity of the HBO series “Sex and the City” among women, although I myself have never been a fan. Presumably, when the movie came out, vast majority of the audience in the movie theaters were women – there may have been a few men in the theater, who were dragged into it by their spouses or girlfriends. While I have only seen bits and pieces of just a few episodes of the HBO series, I did watch the DVD of the movie.

I have wanted to write down my impression of this “Sex and the City” phenomenon for a while, but I have struggled on how to crystallize my thoughts. Generally, there is no point analyzing the reason behind the popularity of any shows, because entertainment does not need justification. It is only when some pretentious critics decided to elevate a TV show to the level of a “phenomenon” and make statements on how it portrays the modern women and what it means for modern women that I feel like saying something.

Simply put – “Sex and the City” is just a modern-day rendition of the same old Cinderella story, dressed in designer clothes, polished with pseudo-intellectual remarks, and staged in a nice neighborhood in Manhattan. At first glance, it may seem that these women are different from the Cinderella types – they are all educated, accomplished, and even, “independent”. But when we take a closer look, we realize that these women exist for the sole purpose of catching men.

It is a fantasy story just like the Cinderella story – in that die-hard female fans of “Sex and the City” perhaps wish or dream that they could be like one of the characters in the show, or at least live like them and look like them. Hardly anyone above the age of 15 would dream of being a Cinderella, because it is not “real”. But to be like one of the women in “Sex and the City”? – That may be (just may be) within the realm of possibilities. In a nutshell, “Sex and the City” reaffirms women’s subordinate roles in the society, while masquerading that by showcasing these women as witty, strong, and often difficult and bitchy. – Somehow, if a woman is portrayed with an attitude or a temper, as opposed to behaving docilely as women from the Victorian era did, she must have been an “independent” woman, and therefore labeled as a modern independent woman. Looking closer, however, we see the fallacy of this argument. Their sole mission is to find the “ideal” man, and throwing temper tantrums is one way to sort out or identify the “ideal man”. Clearly, if a man cannot pamper them or indulge their temper tantrums, he cannot be the ideal one. Therefore, “Sex and the City” might as well be called a modern rendition of “finding good husbands and keeping them” or “getting rid of bad husbands sooner than later”.

I am by no means a fan of the opposite of the “Sex and the City” culture, which would be the extreme and radical branch of the feminist movement, calling women to act like men and forget about their looks. Perhaps Candace Bushnell was rebelling against that branch of feminist movement in her writing by going to the other excessive extreme – these women seem to be living for the clothes, the shoes and their own sizes. Just as I do not see the harm of the Cinderella story, I do not see the harm of “Sex and the City” if it is honest about its theme being as much of a fantasy as Cinderella. The danger lies in a fantasy story being delivered as if it were plausible, so that people get the wrong idea planted in their heads.

Michael pointed out that one of the most popular Hollywood films “Forrest Gump” was partly responsible for the anti-intellectual movement that dominated American culture for the past decade. Our politicians were terrified of being seen as smart or intellectual, because the American people seemed to believe that the “right” heart with no brain would work out just fine – Just look at how successful Forrest Gump was! Now, that was a fantasy story, but the filmmakers did not put a disclaimer on it.













Likewise, had the makers of “Sex and the City” put a disclaimer on it as a modern rendition of Cinderella, people would still be able to enjoy this frivolous show. There is nothing wrong with frivolous fun, but let’s not make it larger than it is, as if it were more cerebral or profound than silly shows like “Friends”. By the way, I loved “Friends” – it is completely light and forgettable, but that’s what it was meant to be.

Living the "Southern Californian" Way

This past Saturday, I went to Irvine to give a talk at a conference organized by a non-profit organization. Since my cousin lives in Orange County, Michael and I decided to have dinner with them after my conference is over.

It was a very beautiful and sunny day on Saturday. It seemed that too many people were going to the numerous beaches along the coast of San Diego – otherwise, how does one explain the near-stand-still traffic on Interstate 5 all the way to Carlsbad? We even tried to take local roads to avoid the freeway jam, only to realize that the local roads were even worse! Michael commented, “There seems to be no recession in these places, as all the restaurants have long lines waiting outside!”

When we finally got past Oceanside, the traffic lightened up. It had been almost 2 years since I last went up to Orange County. The neighborhoods around UC Irvine reminded me of that movie “The Truman Show”. Everything was new, clean, beautiful and carefully planned. There were hardly any people on campus. The residential communities nearby also looked completely dormant, as if no one lived there. The whole area gave me the impression that no germ or virus could grow there, because the whole area is scrubbed clean constantly!


After my talk, we drove to my cousin’s house, which was in a more lively residential area. All the houses in that area are at least 2500 square feet with at least 4 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms, and they are all in pristine condition. This contrasts sharply with the houses I have seen in the past year or two in San Francisco Bay Area – old houses that are small and dark but still cost a great fortune. It turned out that a couple of houses were for sale, and we went and picked up a flyer. Such a modern beautiful mansion with 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms is now asking for only $699,000, whereas a house like that even in medium-priced Bay Area cities such as San Mateo, Belmont or Foster City will be asking for twice as much, not to mention better areas like Palo Alto, Portola Valley or Hillsborough!

Redwood City (San Mateo County): 2 BR, 2 Ba, 990 sf, built 1940, high school API score 774, $645k

Foothill Ranch (Orange County): 6 BR, 3 Ba, 2600 sf, built 1993, high school API score 814, $675k

My cousin’s two sons had grown a lot since I last saw them. I have a hypothesis that people become much more acutely of their own aging, when they see how fast the kids grow. His older son played “Fur Elise” on the piano, and played chess with Michael. The younger one is a bit shy, so he did not want to perform anything. As a result, his mother showed me some paintings he did in his room. My cousin of course has got another new car – cars are one of his passions. He and Michael went out for a drive in this new sports car, while his wife and I stayed behind and chatted. When we talked about our upcoming move to Bay Area, they both commented on how million-dollar homes in Bay Area often are not even livable because of the shabby condition, the small size or the bad neighborhood.

On the way back home, Michael commented that my cousin’s family are now more “Southern Californian” than even a lot of indigenous southern Californians. They used to live in New Hampshire when Michael and I lived in Boston area. In just a matter of a few years, they have got used to the way of life in Orange County – now, they can’t imagine living in a house with less than 2700 square feet or fewer than 5 bedrooms; they can’t imagine staying in low-budget motels while vacationing; they can’t imagine driving average Japanese cars anymore; etc.

The current recession has prompted a lot of public debates on how the Americans have over-extended themselves, and lived above their means these past few years. Now a lot of people are learning a good lesson in the importance of fiscal discipline at home, which incidentally has been severely lacking in the corporate world as well!

My cousin’s family actually has never lived beyond their means. But I suppose in the eyes of the super-cautious, or in the eyes of the Europeans, they, as well as most Southern Californians (Michael and myself included) would be perceived as living wastefully. But they do enjoy their big and modern home and their nice cars. If money can buy some happiness and you can afford it, why not?

A recent article I read mentioned that opposite to the extravagant and careless spenders there are a lot of people who now save even more fanatically than before, due to the recession, which in itself deprives them of a lot of pleasure in life that they can easily afford. But life is too short. For those of us who don’t believe or at least doubt the possibility of an afterlife or another life, this life is it. It does not mean, however, we should live irresponsibly and wait for others to save us or bail us out when we run into deep debt. It simply means that as with most things in life, moderation or balance is the key. Extremes are rarely the right approaches. However, we human beings have a habit of over-correcting ourselves. It is perhaps futile to hope that we human beings as a species will evolve to develop a perspective that allows us to remain cautious when times are great, and to retain our zest for life when times are tough.

No wonder there was a huge traffic jam on the freeway on Saturday – beaches in San Diego are free.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Inspired by the Jellyfish

On a recent spring day, a friend and I decided to leave work early so that we could enjoy the afternoon outdoors. We first went to Filoli Garden in Woodside. I had been to Filoli just once before in May, and did love the flower gardens. I especially love the origin of the name Filoli – “Fight for a just cause, Love your fellow men, and Live a good life”. A great motto to live by for sure.

To our disappointment, it was not open that day. Faced with the choices between going back to work and trying another place, the two of us truants decided on the latter. We drove all the way to Golden Gate Park to visit California Academy of Sciences.
There is nothing in common between National Academy of Sciences and this “California Academy of Sciences”. The former is a true academic body with elected members and its own austere journal. The latter is actually an aquarium, a greenhouse and a natural history museum housed in one building. My friend knows all about the plants, the fish and the butterflies, and was busy taking photos. Being a city girl myself, I know none of the names of the plants or the fish, so I simply observed, appreciated, and listened.

In terms of size and varieties of fish, this aquarium is much smaller than the one in Monterey, California. In terms of activities and shows, it cannot compare with the San Diego Sea World. Nevertheless, I enjoyed it thoroughly, perhaps partly because it was the afternoon of a week day, when I am usually still in the office. When I got to the jellyfish exhibit, I found myself transfixed in front of the tank. There was something elegant and artistic about the way the jellyfish were moving, turning and twisting, as if they were dancing. It was completely quiet and musical at the same time. While they moved in complete silence, I felt that I could almost hear the soothing music to which the jellyfish danced – a melody like Enya’s. The translucent and soft whiteness of the jellyfish did resemble the flowing sleeves of classical dancers. The whole spectacle was absolutely poetic. I had a feeling of serenity and intoxication – intoxicated by this peaceful happiness brought on by the jellyfish. Just watching the jellyfish made me realize at that precise moment, what happiness is all about.



Happiness has always been profound and trivial at the same time. It is being able to enjoy a beautiful spring afternoon when we are normally supposed to be tied up in mundane mind-numbing tasks at work. There is indeed so much beauty in life, if only we care to pay attention. While my friend and I did not get to visit Filoli that afternoon, I felt that we did practice the last two letters of Filoli – to live a good life includes appreciating the ethereal beauty of the jellyfish on a spring afternoon...

Dylan Thomas and Sylvia Plath

A fan of the exuberant actress Keira Knightley, I have been paying attention to upcoming films of hers. Since I do not live in a big city like New York or Los Angeles, it looks like that I will have to wait until it gets onto DVD to see her in the independent film “The Edge of Love”, in which she plays one of the two feisty and free-spirited women united by the brilliant poet Dylan Thomas, who loved them both. With Sienna Miller playing Dylan Thomas’ wife Caitlin McNamara, Keira Knightley played his lover Vera Phillips. It is well-known that Dylan Thomas was an alcoholic, and may have drunk himself to death at the early age of 39.

Just earlier this week, I read about the tragic suicide of Nicholas Hughes, the son of the American poet Sylvia Plath with her husband, the former Poet Laureate of England, Ted Hughes. The tumultuous marriage between Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes has been discussed for decades, and even made into a movie. – I must add that that movie has remained one of the few in which the actors were actually less attractive than the real-life characters they played. Daniel Craig as Ted Hughes looked rather “small” that one would wonder how he could have seduced all these women in his life, and Gwyneth Paltrow was so vapid that one could hardly reconcile such a bland character with the violent and visceral poetry written by Sylvia Plath.

Sylvia Plath committed suicide at the age of 30 by putting her head in a gas oven, after Ted Hughes left her for another woman Assia Wevill. After her death, the feminist movement made her a martyr and portrayed her exclusively as a victim of Ted Hughes’, ignoring the fact that Sylvia Plath did suffer from depression periodically all her life. Six years after Plath’s suicide, Assia Wevill committed suicide by gassing herself as well. The only difference is that she not only killed herself, she also killed the four-year old daughter she had with Ted Hughes. A poet that drove two women to their suicide certainly could not have been normal himself, but at least until his death, Ted Hughes never had any mental breakdowns. Perhaps his insanity lay in the very fact that he remained unfazed and unchanged on the surface, even though ordinary men in his position would have been rendered distraught by the dramatic actions taken by these women.

We all have heard the theory that there may be a link between manic depression and genius. After all, even in business, we say that a very fine line exists between vision and lunacy! Historically, so many artists, writers, musicians and poets were known to have suffered from depression. Perhaps it is true that unless one can feel orders of magnitude stronger than average people, he/she will not be able to command the imagination for the right words, the right image or the right melody to express the intensity of that feeling. Genius is by definition out of the norm, and to reach an extreme, I suppose one must be at an extreme. Nicholas Hughes’ suicide perhaps serves as a rebuttal to the ultra-feminists. Although Ted Hughes did play a significant role in Sylvia Plath’s and Assia Wevill’s suicides by abandoning them and cheating on them, Sylvia Plath was first and foremost a victim of the mental illness which killed her mortally, but immortalized her as well through her powerful, violent and unique poetry.

Likewise, Dylan Thomas’ alcohol addiction probably killed him prematurely, but who knows whether he could have been able to write such profound poetry were he completely sober and sane, like the rest of us ordinary people, who spend most of our time thinking practically and logically about jobs, kids, houses and mortgages? We are never compelled to contemplate the eternal continuity of life in nature, as he did in one of his most famous poems –

“And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.”

There is no question that one career path I will discourage my son from pursuing is that of a poet – it seems that one is either an awful poet, or a dead poet.

Penelope Cruz in "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" vs. "Volver"

I inherited my mother’s love of movies, although I hardly ever like the same movies as she does. Mentally I always keep a list of favorite movies and favorite actors. Undoubtedly Woody Allen is among my favorite filmmakers. To this day, I have yet to find someone else except for my husband who matches me in my preference for Woody Allen’s films.

It is therefore no surprise that I went to the theater to see “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” when it came out – Michael and I were among the few people in the theater, as Woody Allen’s films never attract big audiences. It is therefore also no surprise that I was absolutely delighted that this movie won Penelope Cruz an Oscar award as best supporting actress. I totally loved the movie, especially since I was in Barcelona not too long ago as a tourist. Although I was sick from a cold the whole trip (obviously induced by the enormous stress of finding out at the San Diego airport that Michael’s passport expired, which delayed our trip by three days), which did dampen my enthusiasm for Spain, I was still delighted to see the familiar sights of Barcelona in the movie. Written by Woody Allen, it was positively delightful and funny, and of course crazy at the same time. Penelope Cruz played a neurotic avant-garde Spanish artist, quite convincingly.

Penelope Cruz in "Vicky Cristina Barcelona"

Thrilled as I was at Penelope Cruz winning the award for her great performance in this movie, I could not help remembering her best performance so far – the lovable and earthy Raimunda in Pedro Almodovar’s “Volver”. In “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”, Cruz spoke a mixture of English and Spanish, and was directed by an American director. The performance was strong and funny, but in no way does it match the power of her performance as a quintessentially Spanish woman, speaking Spanish, acting Spanish and exuding her Spanishness thoroughly in the Spanish movie directed by the most acclaimed Spanish director. Maybe there is something about acting in a Spanish film that brings out that most vivacious and enlivening essence of Cruz’s persona. In “Volver”, she did not only give a great performance, she lived and breathed as Raimunda, as if she were Raimunda all her life.

There are of course many reasons why foreign actors never seem to be at their best when they act in American films. For one thing, American films are often rather bland and formulaic, leaving little room for talented actors to shine. But I do believe that the culture in which these actors grew up has affected them so profoundly that only by acting in their native tongue can they do something truly extraordinary. To some extent, it is almost as if they cannot feel their characters by speaking English, irrespective of their English proficiency. It is as if the naked feelings need to be expressed directly by their native tongues, in order to maintain the freshness, the urgency and the authenticity. Much is lost in translation when they act in English-speaking films, as was the case with Penelope Cruz in her many Hollywood films, Zhang Ziyi in the much-anticipated but ultimately disappointing “Memoirs of a Geisha”, and Juliette Binoche in “The English Patient”, which won her an Academy Award but felt extremely flat to me.

Come to think of it, the best can only be brought out of us, when we are in our own element. That abstract-sounding “element” could be a cultural context in which we feel completely at home, or an emotional milieu in which we feel viscerally alive or expressive, or an intellectual exchange in which we are inspired to demonstrate, however transiently, a flash of wisdom or insight that astounds even ourselves.

A Fresh Look at John Adams


History could be rather dull, if you have learned it in school in China as I did, because it was simply a long litany of facts, dates and names. It only becomes fascinating when we see it repeating, or when we discover a new interpretation of historical events that defies the conventional wisdom. And that is how I feel about the HBO movie which claimed several Golden Globe awards “John Adams”, with superb acting from Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney as John and Abigail Adams.

Those of us who are not very well-versed in American history still know about John Adams, but surely his name stands behind his contemporaries such as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin. From what I learned previously in school, I had an impression that the American Revolution was spearheaded by a group of lofty-minded intellectuals, and everything went perfectly according to plan. That version was neither interesting nor educational.

With this HBO movie, I do not profess to know the veracity of all the details, but I find it very fascinating and believable – and more importantly, much more enlightening than the previous version I learned.

John Adams was a short and stocky man, without the regal gravitas of George Washington, the worldly persona of Benjamin Franklin, or the sophisticated charm of Thomas Jefferson. Without height and charisma to aid him, his rise to fame was purely based on his intellect, hard work and integrity. When he argued passionately for standing up to the regime of England against the wimpy representatives from southern states, he did not get support from others who even shared his opinion, including Franklin and Jefferson. It turned out that Franklin and Jefferson were more politicians than idealists, whereas John Adams was more idealist than politician. In private, they told John Adams how they supported his position, but that they did not want to make enemies. They only came to his side when the tide turned more in that direction and it was politically savvy and safe to do so.

When Adams went to France to enlist the help of the French, he wanted to go straight to see the king, whereas Benjamin Franklin told him that it’s more important to first live like the French, and then to try to talk. That includes taking up the French habits, including having a mistress. Of course, the puritan in Adams made it impossible for him to do that, and he really WAS passionate about the cause. So he tried to push, and sure enough, the French were not keen about serious conversations, and found him too serious. He found no audience for his cause, and his earnestness was not reciprocated. With Benjamin Franklin portraying him as a loose cannon in letters back home, he was effectively demoted and sent off to Holland. He got sick, and was terribly homesick, but still tried heroically to get the Dutch to lent money to the independence movement, without success until after the British surrendered.

Later on, when he became the president, with Jefferson as his VP, he tried to pursue what he believed the right agenda for the country, which means having neither Andrew Hamilton or Thomas Jefferson in his camp. He resisted going to war with France (thereby alienating Andrew Hamilton), because he was right in saying that the young United States could not afford to get into an unnecessary war. But he also resisted Jefferson’s push on the other side to become too close to France and Jefferson’s belief in having a very weak federal government (thereby alienating Thomas Jefferson). His whole life was dedicated to the ideals of independence, democracy and justice, whereas other politicians were much more practical and human – they too, fought for those ideals, but they thought of personal positioning a lot more.

His son, John Quincy Adams, become a president as well. Heavily influenced by his father (or one could say a carbon copy of his father), John Quincy Adams was too saintly to stay in the president’s office for more than one term. He was so pure that instead of inspiring others, he enlisted fewer friends, because most people were not that pure. A devout Christian, he was the only president that put his hand on a book of laws when he was sworn into office, as opposed to a Bible, to demonstrate his commitment to the separation of church and state. Knowing how certain policies would be unpopular, he chose to implement them anyways, instead of worrying about his re-election. As a matter of principle, he did not assemble a cabinet of his own, but rather kept most of the cabinet members from the previous administration to demonstrate that he would rely on merit as opposed to personal loyalty for his political appointments. As a result, all presidents after him decided to assemble their own cabinets, for obvious reasons. Even after John Quincy Adams lost the re-election, he chose to be a congressman and served in the House of Representatives until his death during a house debate, because he said that “there is no greater honor than serving your country”.

Rep. John Quincy Adams, 1848

This movie did not turn John Adams into a hero. He was passionate, earnest and honest, but he could often be emotional, impetuous and obtuse. While he chose to do the right thing for the country at huge political costs to himself, he was bitter about it, as opposed to philosophical or graceful about it.

There are perhaps two major lessons to learn from this movie, or this rendition of the history. One is that each revolution or bold endeavor requires idealists, but rarely could idealists emerge as the winners, even if the revolution turns out to be a success. Two is that in order to accomplish anything that involves human beings, one has to not only accept the numerous flaws of other human beings, but also adopt a fair number of them himself.

In a way, these two lessons are probably tied to each other. An idealist would not do things that are obviously wrong to accomplish an interim goal or to stay alive so that he could accomplish something bigger in the future, but a pragmatist would. A pragmatist still needs idealists in the mix to push certain things forward, although he himself would never want to be an idealist or serve as a martyr. What is theoretically good and right often cannot be done because human beings go by feelings and emotions rather than theory most of the time.

History does repeat itself. The Chinese communist revolution, which happened centuries later, had its own share of idealists and pragmatists, with the idealists paving the way for the pragmatists to claim victory.


So what is the relevance of these lessons to us? – It would seem that idealists should wake up and become pragmatists. But I think we as human beings should not be so harsh with ourselves. After all, when we force ourselves to change in a certain direction that does not fit our temperament, we might lose what makes us special or good to start with. We are what we are. If we are naturally pragmatists, we should find some visionary idealists to work together to accomplish something great. If we are by nature idealists, we should bear in mind that we will be at best John Adams as opposed to Thomas Jeffersons or George Washingtons, and at worst “lunatic losers”, and we ought not to be bitter about it, because what we are determines the role we will play.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Venting on the Healthcare System

Prior to my pregnancy, I hardly ever had to see a doctor, except for the annual physical exam. Therefore, I never realized how awful the healthcare system was in this country – no wonder all the presidential candidates would have “healthcare reform” as an agenda item. Now that I have had some experience with both the providers (doctors and hospitals and diagnostic labs) and the payers (insurance companies), I realize that this system is like a huge tumor on a vital organ – sure, it’s best to surgically remove it, but you will probably die as a result. Therefore, we continue with various forms of healthcare reforms, which are more or less like palliative care that only superficially reduces the worst symptoms.

First of all, why is it that there seems to be a shortage of doctors everywhere? Usually when we see a supply/demand situation that’s continuously off, it is because someone is holding up supply arbitrarily. Since Michael is an MD as well, he knows more about the medical profession than I do. He said that the shortage of doctors is created by the doctors themselves, so that they can charge a lot. – Most medical schools run hospitals and most medical faculty members are practicing physicians themselves. Indeed if they allow more people to enter medical school, there will be more doctors, especially in general medicine and primary care. With doctors paying more attention to their patients, short-term problems will get fixed instead of worsening into long-term problems that would cost the healthcare system millions if not billions. If it’s not that difficult to get an appointment, most people will probably stay healthy for longer. After all, the United States is known for the superior dental health of its population. A simple explanation is that my dentist would call me to schedule the next cleaning, whereas when it comes to doctors, the responsibility is all mine to find a good doctor that has openings.

Second, why is it that while there seems to be armies of staff at doctor’s offices and insurance companies, we as patients still have to waste a ton of time sorting out missing paperwork, wrongly charged items, referral letters that should have been sent but were never sent, tests that were sent to the wrong places, etc? A snobbish explanation I have heard frequently is that if these people were smart and competent, they would not be working in those jobs. I got a bill from Quest Diagnostics for $799 for a test ordered by my doctor, which was denied by my primary insurance company, which is a PPO. Since Quest does not accept any HMO (which is my secondary insurance), I made the decision that I would ask the doctor to send my tests to be done at a place accepted by my HMO as well. The office staff simply could not understand this simple request, saying that they would always send patients whose insurance is PPO to Quest. I asked, “just pretend that I only have HMO. Where would you send my tests?” – They looked at me as if I were stupid, and said, “but you have PPO as well.” I changed the question slightly, “For a patient that only has HMO, where would you send her tests?” They said, “ the hospital.” – I said, “Okay, that’s where I want my tests to be sent as well.” – So they put a note into my folder. Guess what happened next time the doctor ordered a blood test? – They sent me to Quest again!

On that $799 bill from Quest that was denied by my PPO, I paid for it first because I just could not stand the idea of having outstanding bills. Then a friend of mine said that I ought to call and check, as these companies make mistakes all the time. I called PPO, and sure enough, after many people’s involvement in checking on this one bill, they realized that they should have paid for it. So they told me to wait for a few weeks. A few weeks later, I got a statement from the PPO stating that it’s been paid and Quest would refund me. Now two months later, I still have not received the refund. So I called Quest twice – the first time, I got hold of someone who could hardly speak English and categorically denied that it was paid. The second time, I got hold of someone who has a normal IQ, and she said, “Thanks for calling us about it. Now that you have brought it to our attention, we will initiate the refund process, which is going to take another 30 to 60 days.” – I thought to myself, “ had I not called, they would never have activated this process!” Basically, they are just relying on people getting lazy or fed up to not have to pay!

Besides, the pricing scheme seems to be a scam. A bill from Quest could be as high as $799, but the PPO would claim to have a saving of $600, and pay just $150 of it. That means the test really cost at most $199, if at all. So why do the diagnostic labs charge so much? Or in general, why do doctors and hospitals charge so much? – From talking to friends, I have come to realize that because many people do not pay at all, and they don’t care if their bills get into collection agencies, those of us who can pay will have to shoulder their share of the burden. Those of us who do not have the patience to spend hours on the phone will certainly have to shoulder even more of the burden than others!

So why are there so many people who get “expensive” medical services that they either cannot pay or refuse to pay? – Maybe in a way, the complete lack of respect for a subject like health economics is the root of the problem in this country. There is no price associated with one’s life, so the doctors and hospitals have to treat those who cannot pay at all. And for those people covered by insurance, 90% of the cost is incurred by at most 10% of the most sick patients. In a way, an insurance system that receives contribution from members should probably set its mission somewhat differently in that it should emphasize preventative care, basic care and emergency care, and leave the super-expensive cancer treatments that would prolong one’s life by at most 3 months to individuals’ discretion. Our own lives are indeed invaluable to us, but not to others. Health economics should not be portrayed as a heartless subject. On the contrary, the practice of health economics will result in much more conscientious decisions, and will reduce the blatant abuse of this healthcare system by irresponsible lifestyles (like overeating), or uncaring doctors (who prescribe a lot of unnecessary tests since there is no downside to them anyways).

A friend of mine who works at a health insurance company once told me that the system was so inefficient and broken that she did not see the reason for the payor sector to exist at all! – On the other hand, now that we have been living with this system, I am rather pessimistic about seeing any real changes happen in this country. Often, it is harder to change or reform a broken system than to start something from scratch.

I talked about changing doctors forever – my doctor and her office staff have awful reviews on the web, for very good reasons. But just the idea of having these incompetent staff handling transferring files has made me wonder if I might get myself into new troubles.

The healthcare system is about the closest thing to an absolute monopoly that does not answer to any external feedback or pressure. We may be fed up with it, but we have no other choice either.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Natasha Richardson and "The White Countess"


I will always remember Natasha Richardson in the James Ivory film “The White Countess”, based on the screenplay by Kazuo Ishiguro, who is perhaps most famous for his novel “Remains of the Day”. Portrayed as a destitute former Russian aristocrat reduced to work in a night club to support her family in exile in Shanghai in the 1930s, Natasha Richardson was positively convincing in conveying a sense of regal beauty humiliated by poverty in exile. Her in-laws, who were also former Russian aristocrats somehow could not wake up to the fact that they were no longer a privileged class, were so heartless as to abandon her when they finally had a way to leave Shanghai for Hong Kong. Natasha Richardson’s mother, Vanessa Redgrave, played one such relative in the movie. Although they lived in abject poverty in Shanghai, they would not stop talking about the good old days back in Russia, when they carried lofty titles, had numerous servants, played the piano, and went to ballet. To some extent, they were like the forlorn Southern plantation owners who lost everything in the Civil War, and yet could not accept that life was forever changed for them.

The tragic and untimely death of Natasha Richardson reminded me of this movie again. She herself was from an acting dynasty, and she did continue the family tradition of acting. However, she had always given people the impression that while artistic and intelligent, she was not so full of herself. She made a smooth transition from a “legacy child” to a true working actress. An accomplished cook, she was known to host great dinner parties at home, besides raising her two sons and maintaining an active acting career. Her husband Liam Neeson was from a working class background in Northern Ireland. She was refined, but also down-to-earth. In a nutshell, she was genuine “royalty” but never carried herself like one.

I often find myself with a very bad habit – a habit of attributing my behavioral tendency (especially the bad ones) to my own family. When I watched “The White Countess”, I could not help thinking about my grandparents. I do regret not learning more about their lives when they were still alive. Now that they are gone, I find that my memories of them always give me a sense that I have something to live up to. Both of them came from very privileged families at the beginning of last century, and they both went to Europe for their education. Their families and acquaintances consist of many famous names in politics, economics, science and literature. Perhaps they were the last generation of aristocrats before the Communists took over in 1949. My grandparents themselves were pure university academics. The limited memories I have of them are full of their references to their days abroad in Europe, their friends and colleagues who were inevitably intellectuals, them listening to operas on vinyl records , my grandmother smoking a Moore cigarette and drinking brandy, and my grandfather reading some books in some foreign language. – I felt like a completely awkward, uneducated and unrefined village girl, every time I went to my grandparents’ place. My mother raised my sister and me by herself, whereas my grandmother had nannies to raise all her kids back in her time. I always found my grandmother a bit intimidating and disapproving of me. By then, my grandparents lost most of their wealth already, but I still felt that somehow I did not belong to this family, for I possessed none of the skills and traits of this intelligentsia class. Chinese intelligentsia back then were like the Russian aristocrats in the sense that they would never talk about money, or the importance of money, despite having lost almost all of their money. They would have loved to get the old life back, but they would not stoop so low as to go actively after money in some “lowly pursuit”. – That is the snobbery I have inherited. I even wrote in the acknowledgement section of my PhD thesis that I hoped to live up to the expectations of my ancestors, which I certainly have not, since I eventually left science. – how ironic! I would occasionally find myself thinking about whether I would meet the approval of my grandparents or not, even though there is no way that they would know or care!

It must be that sentimental nostalgia that I have inherited, against my better judgment!

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

How Transient Life is

Tonight I was shocked to read about actress Natasha Richardson’s death from a skiing accident. Unlike old age or terminal illness, which makes one more or less prepare for it, death from accidents is especially hard to accept.

It shows how transient and vulnerable life could be. After all, she died from an injury incurred on a BEGINNER’s Trail at a ski resort. I find myself literally shudder at the thought of going skiing again. The winter of 2001 was when my passion for skiing was at its peak. I must have gone skiing in New Hampshire and Vermont five times that winter alone, while living in Boston. To this day, I would still mention one ski trip I took with a friend. She was just starting to ski then. As a teacher, I was a very bad and impatient one. Instead of making her stay at the bunny slope, I was very cavalier about taking her onto a longer trail, reassuring her that the trail was really easy and it would be all “green” from beginning to end. Then half way through the trail, I realized that there was no more “green” trail left – we would have to go down a “blue” trail in order to go down the mountain. Sensing that the truth would freak her out, I decided not to tell her. Since she’s so tense and so focused on her skis, she never had the time to read the signs to realize that she’s on a “blue” trail. All she said when she reached the top of this “blue” trail was, “are you sure that it’s still green?” – to which I mustered all my lying power and said, “yes, it still is green.”

I skied to the bottom of the hill, and waited for her. She must have fallen a hundred times, as she was so nervous about going fast that she would fall down deliberately every minute – of course in reality she was going as slow as a snail. I know that the slope must have looked vertical to a beginner. I could not help laughing a little bit at the time, when I saw her whole body tense up, making a little turn only to sit down again, over and over again. She spent most of the time falling and getting up, as opposed to skiing. But her skiing improved dramatically after this trip and she’s probably a better skier than I am today. I thought that it had to do with my brutal way of teaching – which is equivalent to throwing someone into the water without any life jacket to teach him to swim. When Michael and I returned to the same ski resort a few weeks later, I pointed to the trail that we went down. He was positively surprised that a beginner could actually ski down, even if it included falling down many times. He said that he was quite amazed that she believed my lie that it was a “green” trail.

Now that I read that it’s possible to die even on a beginner’s slope, I shiver at the thought of how close I was to be a murderer, if my friend had suffered a fatal accident as a beginner on that treacherous “blue” trail.

We all take life for granted, until it’s taken away from us. Youth is wasted on the young, and life is wasted on the living.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Home Sweet Home


It is perhaps human nature to appreciate something only when you are about to lose it, or worse yet, only after you have lost it. For years, I took our home in San Diego for granted, without giving it much thought. Now that we are about to leave San Diego, suddenly I find myself wanting to savor for one last time the many things that are associated with “home sweet home”.

There is no question that it will cost me a fortune to find in Bay Area something similar to my Spanish villa style house in terms of condition or neighborhood. Still, as I was showing our house to some prospective tenants yesterday, I found myself lamenting the fact that I hardly went to our swimming pool or Jacuzzi, rarely went down the exclusive trail down the canyon to see the waterfalls, or to simply walk around and enjoy the beautifully (and I shall add, expensively) landscaped neighborhood.

So Michael and I went down the canyon trail today after breakfast. It’s a fairly cool morning, with the sun coming in and out from behind the clouds. It was raining a lot earlier in the month, but it has not rained in the past week. As a result, the canyon is all lush with vegetation, but the trails are mostly dry already. As I paused to take a break (after all, I am weighing already a whopping 124 pounds due to the pregnancy!) while going down the canyon, I looked around, and could not find better words to describe the view other than that sentimental Hollywood movie “How Green is my Valley”.


Once we got down to the bottom of the canyon, we started seeing people biking, hiking, jogging or horse-back riding. For people who don’t live in our community (our hefty HOA fee covers this keyed access to the canyon), they have to park their cars at the end of this long trail and hike for an hour at least to get to the waterfall. When we got to the rocky part of the creek, we heard torrents. To my pleasant surprise, the water took on this utterly beautiful green color due to the vegetation growing in the creek. While San Diego is known to have a desert-like Mediterranean climate, we are very lucky to have in our back yard this canyon reserve park in almost complete wilderness.


After getting back from this hour-long hike, I sat down to drink my ginger-peach tea and eat the grapefruit grown in our garden – these little things never seemed to catch my attention before, but somehow I am mentally recording all these events now! While Bay Area does boast great outdoors even on the peninsula (with the beautiful Portola Valley hills, Woodside area, Half Moon May and Crystal Springs Reservoir), it’s not possible to have those in the backyard while having a 15-minute commute any more. I looked around our house, which is sure to be trashed by tenants (who will take better care of it than I), and wondered what it would look like if we ever come back to San Diego many years later…

By the time we leave San Diego, I will have lived in this house for almost 7 years, which is the longest where I will have lived in a place. Although I have lived in Beijing and Cambridge, MA longer (16 years and 9 years, respectively), I did not live in one place for that long. My mother still lives in the same place where I lived from middle school to high-school. But it’s been so many years since I left home that it definitely is no longer my home. In Boston, I was a student and lived like a student most of the time, staying first in the dorm and then a tiny one-bedroom rental place, while spending most of the time away from home. Definitely the little apartment never felt like home. So it’s really this house – the first house that I have bought in my own name – that I genuinely call my home, in an area where I felt like that I just moved in for 7 years until I am almost about to leave. It is difficult to describe that feeling of feeling like a stranger or outsider for so long, until suddenly you are about to leave, and you realize that you are after all quite familiar with the place that you really know about it as much as other San Diegans! – And I never considered calling myself a San Diegan!


When it comes to what one calls home, for those who move around a lot, it could be a real challenge. While I was born and raised in Beijing and my nostalgia should be mainly reserved for Beijing, I must say that today’s Beijing is so completely changed that it might as well be a new city. – It’s impossible for me to even find my own ways around anymore. Boston is where I spent a large part of my formative years, but because I was constantly moving from one place to another (Harvard to MIT to Genzyme to McKinsey), I never had a sense of “permanence”. Besides, as a college town, it is naturally a city of high turnovers in its population. My Boston years were like a very long transition period. So it really is San Diego where I can truly call “home sweet home”…

Photos copyright Michael Lin.

"Ah Q Spirit" and "Thinking Positively"

The other day, I was complaining to a very close friend about a few things in my life – as usual, she listened with patience, even though I knew that she did not think I had much to complain about. When her patience finally ran thin, she said, "it's very important to practice the Ah Q spirit, because we all need it. Your problem is that you don’t have any of it!”

For those who grew up in China, Ah Q is no stranger – he’s the loser protagonist in Lu Xun’s novel “The True Story of Ah Q” - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_True_Story_of_Ah_Q. To sum up “Ah Q spirit”, it is essentially about seeing the positive side in everything, including the most atrocious, the most miserable and the most unfair. In fact, even when Ah Q was sentenced to death for some minor crime, he still managed to feel good and self-delusional.

Ah Q is well-known for his “spiritual victories”, since in real life he’s a constant loser. By not facing up to the reality and deluding himself to believe that he’s successful, he was an object of ridicule. Lu Xun, the writer who was known for his absolutely intolerant sarcasm, used Ah Q as a metaphor to admonish the Chinese people not to feel good about themselves as their country was bullied, invaded and ruined by foreign powers.

Having been indoctrinated in school as I was growing up about the danger of not facing the reality, no wonder I have an aversion to Ah Q spirit, and constantly check myself to see if I am not seeing the reality as it is. Since I am always quick to complain about things (and very passionately often I might add), Michael has told me that I obviously do not practice the act of “thinking positively” enough. When I told him the Chinese version of “thinking positively” – i.e. Ah Q spirit – he could not help shaking his head and said, “you Chinese are so fatalistic.” “But isn’t it the same as thinking positively? See, Ah Q was thinking positively, hoping that something good might happen as he was dragged off to his own execution!” – I protested. “Well, maybe the major difference is that the western way of positive thinking is a very proactive one in that positive thinking is a premise for doing something, whereas the Chinese version is to be completely passive.”

Later, when I relayed this exchange to my close friend, she said that there was a reason why the Chinese way of positive thinking was so passive. For centuries if not millennia, the Chinese lived under completely totalitarian control without any power. It is in the Chinese mentality to put up with whatever hand is dealt them, because otherwise life would be miserable. By comparison, the concept of justice and demoracy – an entirely western European concept – made the Europeans much less tolerant of pure oppression. What prompted them to mount a revolution, or to migrate to the brave new world like America might have been considered really tolerable condition by their Chinese counterparts. But they decided to ACT, and do something to change their fate. No wonder the western “positive thinking” is always linked with definitive action.

As for me, who is obviously a product of both Chinese and western education, it is inevitable that I could sometimes be more Chinese, and at other times be more American in my philosophy. And Lu Xun’s language was just too visceral for me to ever consider adopting Ah Q spirit for the rest of my life. But I guess I ought to turn around to my western education, and practice more proactive positive thinking. For example, while I am lamenting the fact that I am getting heavier and therefore can’t easily go on trips any more, I should probably savor the peace at home, looking out of my windows to see the blooming spring flowers growing in the canyon. I just complained (again perhaps too loudly) to some friends that my life has been reduced to one of trivialities recently, due to the upcoming move and miscellaneous things that come with it (e.g. hiring an agent, looking for a house to move into in Bay Area, identifying a landscape contractor to fix the front yard, signing up a moving company, organizing the house and donating stuff that we don’t intend to move, going to the numerous scheduled doctor’s appointments for this pregnancy, and not to mention getting ready for this baby, etc). But maybe I ought to “think positively”, and be happy how I am becoming such an “accomplished housewife”! – Indeed this weekend I interviewed 3 prospective tenants, decided on the landscape design as well as the landscape contractor, went grocery shopping, cooked a few times, did laundry, cleaned up the house, and even went hiking several times. My brain, however, remained completely unchallenged and un-stimulated. I remember reading a biography of the architect/poet Lin Hui-yin, in which she lamented to her friend Wilma Fairbank (the wife of the famous Harvard scholar on modern China John Fairbank) that she was swamped by the numerous household chores that she worried that her life would eventually be consumed by one of wife and mother. I can so identify with that anxiety now! But I guess I ought to think “more positively”!

Sunday, March 1, 2009

The Quest for Style – Inspired by Tan Yuan Yuan

When Michael and I lived in Boston area, we did take advantage of the famed cultural and intellectual scene of Boston. We went to Arts First at Harvard in April, Tanglewood in the summer, film screenings with directors present, plays and operas, Boston Symphony Orchestra, and of course the world-famous Boston Ballet quite a few times. Both of us decided that ballet was just not for us, as it was a combination of sub-standard components – often the music (with the exception of “Swan Lake”) is not as brilliant as other classical pieces, the orchestra is somewhat mediocre, the stage design not nearly as remarkable as the Met Opera, and the dancers themselves? – well, perhaps we were just not well-versed in ballet to truly appreciate them. They felt, well, kind of heavy and flat. To some extent, I almost came to the belief that ballet was not necessarily a great form for artistic expression.

Therefore, it was no wonder when I bought tickets for the world premiere of San Francisco Ballet’s new production of “Swan Lake”, Michael was understandably apathetic. Still, it had been years since we went to a ballet. And our shared spirit of “trying something new” made us at least believe in trying it once more with a different ballet company. And we had no idea what we would see.

The lead ballerina of San Francisco Ballet is the world-famous Tan Yuan Yuan – originally hailed from Shanghai. Slender, beautiful and passionate in person (I have since read more about her and watched a video clip of her interview), she made me believe that a true artist in ballet could absolutely convey emotion, just like a true artist in opera can. Her movements were fluid, light and effortless, making us almost believe that she was a swan in human form. It was the first time I was ever touched by the tragedy conveyed in dance movements.

Photo copyright Erik Tomasson

Helgi Tomasson was the one that discovered Tan Yuan Yuan when she won a competition in Paris at the age of 16. He recruited her to San Francisco Ballet when she was 19, and two years later, she became the youngest principal ballerina at the company. Tomasson’s new production of Swan Lake was picture perfect. I used to have the impression that ballet was kind of repetitive, mundane and tedious, despite the amazing athletic abilities of the dancers. Tomasson has the unique ability to keep the best of the tradition while making it more aesthetically appealing, through more elaborate choreography and better stage design. While Tan Yuan Yuan positively shined as the star, the other dancers were also beautiful, light and expressive. How should I describe the whole experience then, compared to the Boston Ballet’s performance of “Swan Lake” which made me feel like that I could hear their heavy footsteps (even when I could not) because they looked so heavy and un-elegant? – Ah, there is no other better word to describe it, but “style”. This production absolutely has the best style.

Then it occurred to me that a few years ago a college friend of mine got into a discussion on what constitutes the essence of each famous city. Since he and I both went to Harvard and MIT for college and graduate school, we naturally started with Boston. Despite its image as the most “European” city in the US and names like Boston Symphony and Boston Ballet, we both agreed that it is a city with a “quest for knowledge”. After all, this is the city with the best-known institutions, and many more prize-winning scientists than artists or musicians!

So how about the other cities? – We gleefully went down the list, and tried our best to capture each city with just one word. New York is the city with a quest for money; Los Angeles with a quest for looks; London with a quest for sophistication; Paris with a quest for romance; Singapore with a quest for identity; Tokyo with a quest for technology; Shanghai with a quest for modernization; Las Vegas with a quest for vulgarity; San Diego with a quest for comfort, etc.

And San Francisco is a city with a quest for style – that style that cannot be bought with money, but does require the backing of money. It is not the richest, nor the most beautiful, but it is undoubtedly obsessed with style. Think about it – this is the biotech and high-tech hub of the United States. While other areas (like Boston and San Diego) boast big and vibrant biotech clusters, they cannot compete with San Francisco Bay Area on the “style” of the companies. Genentech is the coolest biotech company in the world; Apple (thanks to Steve Jobs) built its reputation on stylish products; and of course Google is the internet darling. One just has to go on the campus of Google to realize what a unique and cool experience it is. You almost have to obtain a hyper-active brain just to be able to absorb everything that’s around you on Google’s campus. It makes you want to start a company of your own, but more importantly, it makes you want to start a company that is as cool as Google.

Now that I am moving from the city with a quest for comfort (i.e. San Diego), I will have to leave the most beautiful and convenient weather for periodically cold and foggy weather of Bay Area, not to mention the older conditions of homes, much more congested traffic and overall much higher living expenses of Bay Area. But Tan Yuan Yuan’s performance under the brilliant direction of Helgi Tomasson made me happy about the move…

The Joy of Renting

Due to my reluctance to spend any time finding a furnished place to stay during the week (as I have been commuting back and forth between San Diego and Bay Area), I looked at just one place available as a sublet and decided to accept it. That was July 2007. Now that I am finally about to finish my stay there, I have to say that even I myself am impressed with my own endurance. But I also learned the importance (once more!) of dealing with sensible people in my life, if I have the choice. There are enough people that one cannot reason with out there! We cannot avoid a lot of them in our lives, but when we have a choice (like in the case of renting a place), we would be wise to avoid them.

The apartment is actually in a very nice location, surrounded by million-dollar homes in the most upscale part of San Mateo. But the apartment is old and run-down. The woman (I will call her Nancy) who has been renting it for many years from property management appears not have a very steady job. She is subletting it furnished because she wants to keep the lease for an eventual return while she pursues other interests and does not have anywhere else to move her stuff.

To start with, when I moved in, the place was filthy and smelly – I had no experience dealing with a sublet and did not realize that when I was told that the place would be ready and clean, it might not happen! I called Nancy, who was upset at being bothered, and told me how she really did not have time to deal with it. A cleaning lady finally showed up, who apparently had been drinking too much coffee or alcohol or both. She spent most of the time on the phone, agitated in a way that scared the living delight out of me, arguing with someone. Finally, when she was off the phone, she told me that she was on the phone with Nancy, because Nancy was paying her too little for cleaning up a very dirty apartment! – I already paid Nancy $500 in advance a cleaning deposit, with the idea that it would be cleaned before I moved in. When I asked the cleaning lady how much she was paid, she told me that she was only offered $50! I got on the phone again with Nancy, who went into a frenzy calling the cleaning lady unprofessional and complaining once more that she really did not have time for this. The cleaning lady left, and I had to sleep in the dirty apartment for one night, before another cleaning person was sent in the next day to clean up.

Finally, after the place was cleaned up, I tried to wash all the dishes in the dishwasher. Five minutes later, there was soapy water soaking up the entire kitchen. I called Nancy again, who said that I ought to contact property management directly, even though I did not have a lease with the management – my agreement was to sublet from Nancy for $1500 a month. When I called, it started a long phone tag with various people. To make the long story short, I ended up staying at home several times to wait for the guy to show up, only to have someone come in finally (without apologies) and say that the dishwasher was too old to be fixed. They said that they would deliver a new one. When the new one showed up, I realized that it was not new – it was merely NEWER than the old one. The guy installed it and left. I started the dishwasher, and there was soapy water all over the floor again. I called again, and was told that they then did not know what to do! – After dealing with it for a while, I finally gave up.

Throughout the past year and a half, it was good that I always have a big and nice house in San Diego to return to, or else I would have been driven nuts by having to deal with people associated with this apartment. The rent went up a couple of months after I moved in, although that’s between property management and Nancy. Even though my agreement with Nancy was for a year at $1500 a month, I quietly decided to pay the new rent, simply to avoid having to talk to her by phone or e-mail. Then the rent from property management increased again, and this time, Nancy asked to split the increase between the two of us. I also agreed, because any disagreement, suggestion or complaint would lead to a very long and extremely unproductive string of phone calls or e-mails, with me having to spend more time dealing with her.

At one point, the laundry machine did not work, and I complained to property management, threatening to reduce rent if they were not to fix it soon. Their response was “our agreement is with Nancy, so we just go after her if you don’t pay the full amount.” – Just imagining having to deal with Nancy made me quiet.

Very recently, Nancy wrote me and asked me if she could take away the microwave. I was like, “in this dysfunctional kitchen, the only thing I use occasionally is the microwave.” I also took the opportunity to ask her to negotiate with property management to reduce the rent, since the entire rental market was going down. Now, that was a huge mistake. This started a long string of e-mails from her asking me why I thought so, and how her research had shown that other places with cheaper rent were all “lesser” places, etc, and how she did not feel comfortable doing it, etc. I then realized something really sad about people like her. While she clearly is tight with money, she’s also completely inept at saving money. She does not have any confidence or sense of security in negotiating with anyone, which explains the super high price of her lease agreement with property management, despite her financial status. You would think that people like her would become expert at getting good deals – actually it’s quite the opposite.

She then started talking about how she would have to pay the rent for another 2 months after my departure without living there (because she would not return from whatever spiritual retreat she was involved with until 2 months later), how she’s afraid of losing the place (on what grounds I am not sure), etc. She mentioned her son’s death again, which happened almost 4 years ago. A simple request for her to ask property management to consider lowering the rent turned into a long saga again with her, without her actually doing anything yet. I kicked myself for even bothering with her – women like her need to be avoided at all cost, even if it means paying more money!

But my patience was running thin. After more questions from her about how to approach property management to get them to lower the rent, I finally wrote perhaps a bit nastily, “I really don’t need to bother about your agreement with property management. We all have personal situations we need to take care of, and whatever problems I have in my life are my own and not yours. And vice versa. The only agreement between you and me was broken a couple of months after I moved in. I silently covered all the rent increases for your sake even though it’s against our agreement, despite this dysfunctional apartment. I would appreciate some gesture from you on my going beyond the call of duty.” – I did not know whether a stern email like that would lead to her getting upset (when she again had the sense that the entire world owes her), or her apologizing profusely (when she realized how unreasonable she was). This time, it was a combination of both!

Due to various factors, I have decided to rent a house instead of buying one in Bay Area starting from May 1 after we move the content of our San Diego home to Bay Area, but only reluctantly. After all, you never know who you will have to deal with in renting! But with everyone saying that property value would further go down, we decided to wait for a few months before seriously looking for a house to buy.

Since I do not want to stay in apartment complexes, I have to look at town homes or single family houses, which are often rented directly by the owners. I visited several places, and the experience was quite interesting. It’s not nearly as much hassle as buying a house, but one does encounter all kinds of people.

The first one was in redwood city, and the minute I walked in, I decided to walk out – it was too dark, and run-down. The owner is this old guy that did not seem to belong to the current times.

The second one was in Belmont, which is a very nice town house. But it’s got 3 floors, and I felt that it was a bit too “vertical” to be convenient.

The third one was in Foster City owned by an old couple – their sense of smell must be all gone, as again I could smell the staleness of the carpet the minute I walked in.

The fifth one was in San Mateo, which made me believe that I would surely sink into a depression if I were to move in, for more reasons than one.

The sixth one was in Foster City again, owned by a semi-lunatic Cantonese woman, who immediately told me that she broke up with her boyfriend last year, and how she’s trying to save money etc . She said that she travelled for work often, which would make paying for this town home a waste. I instantly saw Nancy's face, and realized that it would be suicidal for me to deal with an Asian version of Nancy, despite the fact that the place was kept very clean and it was bright, spacious and modern.

Now I am keeping my fingers crossed for the house I am about to rent…