Rather than getting an Easter egg, I received a Little Miss Sunshine chocolate from my flatmate John as a token of gratitude for my marvelous job at helping out with his spring cleaning.

"Randy I have a gift for you." "Is she supposed to be me?" "Yeah, in a way." 

Before I was christened Mandy in high school by my dear chums, I was known as Sunny, a spin off from my real name Sun Hyung. All my friends from Greece and middle school continue to know me as such, which must be confusing for them when they see my new name on Facebook. 

Names do make you I suppose, since I was in actuality more of a cheerful and happy character as Sunny. Closer to Little Miss Sunshine than I could ever be in one lifetime. 

As Mandy (and never Amanda) I have a theme song by Barry Manilow which was also redone by Westlife. The urban myth is that Mandy was the name of Manilow's dog but consensus is, the story is simply bollocks. 

Other than the pop song, I would have thought that Mandy did not have direct correlations with particular attributes or nuances, although a dig into Urban Dictionary suggested otherwise (I am especially fond of definition 3: a beautiful person who all the guys want to sleep with. She is really sweet but drinks a lot). 

Which ties in quite well with my newest nickname Randy, harmlessly derived from the rhyming original (an ingenious effort on John's part). I am called Randy Mandy/Randers/Randinsky around the flat. I have no choice but to try to live up to the name. You are what you are.

Walking around my favorite neighborhood of New York to get some cupcakes for my roommate's wedding ceremony at city hall helped me realize that I'm back, not in UK.

Just finished reading Thinking Fast and Slow. So many points to ponder about but the concept of remembering self and experiencing self regarding happiness is stuck on my mind as I watch my roommate enjoy her small wedding.

I stumbled upon this quote today in a book I'm reading for my essay.

Places are fragmentary and inward-turning histories, pasts that others are not allowed to read, accumulated times that can be unfolded but like stories held in reserve, remaining in an enigmatic state, symbolizations encysted in the pain or pleasure of the body.

- from Michel de Certeau's The Practice of Everyday Life    

Resonance! Just in the morning on my trip to the library, I spotted this cute little ensemble of windows and barren bush. I stopped and took the time to chuckle at its resemblance of a dazzled and dopey smile. And just like that, this arbitrary place on the street became a fragment of my 'accumulated time,' a space that I now will always find endearing and personal.   

March 28, 2013

It's been a while since I last saw a blue sky! The sound of rain is comforting at times but this morning, I'm glad to get some sunshine. The vastness of the atmosphere between the ground and the sky amazes me when the rain clears up the sky overnight.

My department is housed in the School of International Public Affairs (aka SIPA, need to be careful of the pronunciation when mentioning it to Koreans). The building structure supposedly imitates the UN NY headquarters, but I personally like the rotunda building in Geneva more.

Lines are fascinating creatures of space because they determine

in and out    /    top and bottom    /    left, center, right

also the boundaries between:

me and you    /   you and another    /   another and the other    /    the other and others

they viciously and maliciously:

cut          divide         limit           exclude 

but we dare not bear grudge,  for they work so industriously to keep us connected from:

Oxford-------------------------to New York. 

march 27, 2013

I'm starting my day at the newest library on campus, aka NOCO (northwest corner building library).

It took me more than two years to realize I enjoy reading and summarizing to share what I've learned. Every day is a gift to be thankful for that I can study and spend time with those around with me. I'm not blessed with creative writing skills like Mandy, but I'll try my best to disseminate any new things that I come across in la vie quotidienne.

a petite and silvery woman looked pensively at one of Salvador Dali's works - The True Painting of "The Isle of the Dead" by Arnold Bocklin at the Hour of the Angelus - at the Pompidou Centre in Paris. 

I wondered whether she was thinking of death or of life. Quite possibly and inevitably both. 

march 26, 2013

one of the memorable breakfasts we shared this month

normally I don't eat croissant, drink delicious freshly squeezed orange juice AND a HUMONGOUS cup of drip coffee.