The Jain Empire

Dear Followers,

I am eight feet away from a scene which threatens to rupture the space-time continuum. Seated around a single wooden dinner table are 11 full grown members of the Jain Empire. Not even my second-rate headphones cranked up to the highest volume level can crowd out this orchestral sound. Every few seconds my Thai Ji and Bua erupt with laughter only to be overtaken by my Thou Ji’s deep chuckles. Mama’s rhythmic jokes always reach the punch line right on cue while his hand movements conduct the crowd. My Didi and Bhai are busy playing with the dogs in the backyard while Chachu Ji drinks an ice cold beer. Indian honorifics are a mess. I prefer just using the classic “Auntie” and “Uncle.”

Yesterday was the first time in my life that somebody had referred to me as a member of the Jain Empire. I liked the ring of that phrase. I was at an Indian graduation party on a broken swing swaying back and forth like a pendulum, counting down the minutes until I would be able to leave. Speaking of the graduation party, my cousin’s daughter, the only biological one, was celebrating her acceptance into WashU. Some which way or another, I was probably related to 85% of the partygoers who crowded into that backyard. No, I don’t mean a common ancestor from hundreds of years ago (while, I guess Krishna Bua could be that old). The Jain Empire is simply that big.

My family is a unique conglomeration indeed. My eldest Bhai is homosexual and has recently found a new boyfriend. My Didi decided to adopt a majority of her kids from India while my other Didi is busy working in the Galapagos. I have direct relatives in Plymouth, North Oaks, Maple Grove, Toronto, New York, New Delhi, Jaipur, and San Diego. The upper half of my family lives in multimillion dollar homes while the bottom half resides in suburban homes with a television in nearly every room. My family is made up of doctors, of architects, of NEETs, of engineers, of entrepreneurs, of CEOs, of lawyers, of authors. I have a hard time even remembering names.

I guess the Jain Empire for me begins way back with my father’s parents who had, unfortunately, passed away by the time I had reached middle school. I remember seeing both of my grandparents face’s through a small window as they were slowly eaten away, piece by piece, by bright flickering flames. I don’t really know if I plan on being cremated. The foundations of the Jain Empire were laid down with what I like to call, “The Original Five.” Krishna Bua, Neelam Bua, Vipin Thou Ji, Anil Thou Ji, and, of course, Praveen. From “The Original Five,” through a mixture of marriages, the Jain Empire would soon come to encompass the Manglick, Garg, and Patel dynasties.

However, “The Great Schism” once threatened to usurp all of these gains in a single swoop several years back. My parents never like to talk to me about what happened. This retelling is only my interpretation from shreds of information my parents let slip. After “The Original Five” had moved out of the house, each was responsible for supporting my grandparents by sending them monetary aid every few months. With a young child and baby boy on the way, however, Praveen was unable to send his payment one month. Naturally, the rest of “The Original Five” was furious with him except for Neelam Bua who always protected her younger brother. The rest is history.

While my parents would never speak of what happened and pretended that everything was normal, I knew they were lying. My visits to Anil Thou Ji’s and Krishna Bua’s houses became more and more infrequent as I grew up. I remember when I was in elementary school we would all go to Toronto during the summer as a family. That was when I first started playing The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker. We haven’t all gone up together in our minivans since. Eventually I knew everything had reached a low point. Neelam Bua wouldn’t even speak to Anil Thou Ji after one dinner party. I don’t remember seeing Anil Thou Ji at Fufa Ji’s funeral.

Since then much has smoothed over, but the scars from the conflict remain. I hardly know most of my relatives. Aside from a few random conversations here and there, they remain complete strangers to me. The fact that I am the only one my age in my family doesn’t help either. I can’t help but feel left out when they can have conversations of shared vacation memories while all I can do is try my best to fit in. For Shray, who grew up when our family was a cohesive whole, such notions as “The Great Schism” probably don’t even exist. Hopefully one day I will be able to relate with my relatives, but for now I can only try.

However, there is one thing which unites all members of the Jain Empire: our blood. Being a Jain is not recommended for the light hearted. We Jains are a fierce and competitive people. Try playing a game of spoons with us and coming out alive. No wonder every Jain male eventually loses his hair. We Jains are shrewd. You would be surprised just how much we know behind these smiling faces. We Jains know how to make the most of our money. Don’t be surprised if you come across a room full of coupons when you visit a Jain home. Finally, we Jains love unconditionally, and we never forget about one thing: our family.

P.S. Forgive my spellings of Hindi honorifics.

Jain Male Baldness,
Noel

APYC And Me

Dear Followers,

The first day of camp remains crystal clear in my mind. I woke up at 10:30 after a night of relishing my old world. My world of being in the same room in my friends and saying nothing verbally for hours, my world of narrowly focusing on only my own problems every day, my world of drifting between identities like outfits. The harsh awakening I received when I was pushed onto my back and deprived of my comforter was only a foreshadow of what was to come. Sluggishly shoving down some quick breakfast noodles, I put on my white tennis shoes and shuffled into Kaleen's minivan.

Why did I sign up for the retreat? I definitely didn't want to learn how to be a leader. Those glossy bureaucratic words and phrases had lost effect on me when I was in elementary school. There was no parental pressure. In fact, my parents seemed to forget about me completely when they realized that I could succeed without them directing my every action. Shray will probably need them to move his strings for a few more years yet. Did I want to meet new people? Not really. I was never gung-ho for meeting new people, especially without my friends by my side.

I guess I just wanted a break. A break from all the work that had piled up from my summer-induced negligence. A break from my detached parents and disappointed cousins. A break from everyone's expectations and preconceived notions of my character. Going to a retreat is like receiving a blank slate. Nobody really knows you, the mistakes you have made, the type of person you are, the talents you posses. The retreat would be a time for me, at the very least, to just relax and forget about my life.

While I knew Partha fairly well, I wasn't very good friends with Silvia, Miri, or Kaleen, and I figured I could take some time to get to know them more comprehensively. I would have never guessed that after the retreat I would have so many more friends.

Several drops of rain hit me in the face. After banging my head on the cold metallic siding of the bus, I looked up to find nearly everybody sleeping with the exception of Wibi MacDonald and Latifah Moss conversing dramatically in the back. I decided to close my eyes and go back to sleep. I figured to more I slept, the sooner I would be able to go home.

When I opened my eyes again, rain was cascading down, shaking each and every tree outside the bus window and leaving uninviting puddles on the muddy brown path leading to the ferry. As we slowly crossed the lake on a wobbly pontoon, I had an awkward conversation with Steven Aviles to pass the time as I waited for when I would be able to see the people I knew once again. We were separated on the way down I guess. As I brushed off my muddy tennis shoes and stepped into the main chapel I kept telling myself the same verse over and over again: "only five more days, only five more days."

My first visit to the public bathrooms was horrifying. Slowly opening the door, I came across an odd sight of a sparkling white bathroom plastered with muddy tracks from floor to wall. I quickly finished my business and then sprinted up to the dining hall to catch the first night's dinner.

So many foreign eyes. As I shifted from table to table I could feel each and every one pierce me. Only when I saw Partha on the far side of the room did I begin to feel less uneasy. Dinner that night was out of this world. With one bite of Ray's homemade cooking, I nearly forgot all of my superficial worries. The barbecue chicken was juicy and easily slide off the bone when pried while the cheesy potatoes sent even the lightest eaters back for seconds. With Partha, I felt fairly confident at the dinner table and made my usual round of awkward and unusual jokes.

These were my first impressions: Chris Her was very quiet, Shoryeah Yang was very shy, and Pranav was very sociable. 1 out of 3 isn't bad.

After dinner we all headed over to the lodge to pick up our luggage. The sparkling clean hotel rooms which viewed through inviting doors contrasted heavily with the dismal wooden cabins I passed on my way to Cabin 7. On the way over I met up with BY Min and Chris Her and we slowly made our way over to Cabin 7. For those of you who never embarked on the journey, Cabin 7 really is in the middle of nowhere. Chris told me on the final day of the retreat that his first impressions of me where that I was awkward. Based on the walk over, I can understand why he thought so.

With a sigh of relief, each of us slowly unloaded our luggage after calling our respective beds. While Cabin 7 is the furthest from civilization at Bay Lake Camp, the lavish interior serves as a reward for weary inhabitants. We even had a decorative accent light which we would eventually display proudly to passing campers whenever we could.

After a few awkward workshops, I was on fairly good terms with Chris and BY. I remember being manhandled by Allan Nguyen during the group drawing game and having my first conversation with Emily Choe, Juhyun Kwon, and Soo-Bin Song, collectively know as "The Koreans" with Miri and Silvia eventually, because I mentioned the song "Gee" by SNSD when the dance group met. At this point, I could probably name 11 kids at the retreat in total.

On the first night, our mutually morbid conditions brought us together in Cabin 7. As BY played his guitar, we slowly opened up to one another and even played card games for a few hands as our mentor Chee Yang slept like a distressed housewife in the front of Cabin 7. Who would have known that Bomb could be so confusing? What really sealed our bonds in Cabin 7 was the paranormal activity we experienced after midnight. Right before we were going to all go to sleep, Trong began to tell several disjointed ghost stories. The next moment, the light was flipped on and I was placing shoes on all the chairs in our cabin. That shared memory created a permanent bond which would last for the rest of camp.

The next morning I felt more confident than before. With my Cabin 7 posse, I easily slipped into Sandy Kwan's morning yoga session. Srivastiva was easily the most enjoyable pose for me and 95% of the campers who couldn't pull off a Downward Dog. My stomach growled as I shuffled into the mess hall for breakfast. I didn't know when, but all of a sudden I was surrounded by male campers at the breakfast table. Turns out spending a night in a cabin gives you a collection of shared experiences which are easy to complain about and make natural conversation with. Now I could name 20 people at the retreat. Ray's morning french toast was the cherry on top of a great morning.

The second day was when we really began to get into the legislative sessions. The legislative sessions, while helpful for some of the campers, really just are not for me. After having participated in policy debate for 2 years and covered my fair share of governmental policies and fundamentals in high school, I couldn't help but feel like much of the information was fairly basic. In order to inconspicuously pass the time, I decided to draw whatever came to mind as the sessions continued on.

My doodles soon helped me meet a few new people who were impressed with my feminine sketches of Chris. Soon nearly everybody recognized me as somebody who could draw. I doubt that even some of my closest friends know that I like to draw.

From that moment, everything seemed to pick up and quickly fall into place.

During the Ninja, Bear, Hunter organized game, I was able to get to know Wibi MacDonald by tricking him one round by flashing the wrong sign. When Brian pulled us aside to work on our legislative roles, I met Henry Vo who was my fellow lobbyist. Unfortunately our carefully crafted plan to scare Chairwoman Jasmine Nabhan into voting the bill down was foiled by security. While learning "Bad But Good," I met Calvin, Latifah, and Rathminee whose rendition of "Push Push" forced my mouth to drop for a good 2 minutes. Watching SNSD videos with Anthony Her eventually pushed me into a funny conversation with Steven Aviles and Mikey Xiong. I unknowingly joined Joua Her's election campaign and unofficially helped with Elbert's. After huffing and puffing my way across the forest, I was able to high five Adrian Ke, Jasmine Nguyen, and Sheng Vang before quietly heading over to the prison.

By the fourth day, I really felt like I was part of a family. Anybody who was at the reflection session would understand just how close we had become as a group. I had never experienced anything like that reflection session. For everybody to so openly talk about whatever they wanted to without fear of being judged, fear of being categorized, fear of being disliked, such a feeling was incredible. Having the chance to listen to all of the experiences, good and bad, that the other campers had to go through not only reinscribed how fortunate I was, but really sealed the bonds that I had formed with them over the past week. I could now name every single person at camp.

On the bus ride home I didn't want to close my eyes for a second. I feared that if I fell asleep I would lose a moment with my new family. Physiological needs eventually got the best of me. After all, nobody can go on less than 5 hours a sleep every night forever.

When I stepped of that yellow school bus I came face to face with a genuinely wonderful sight. The stairs in front of the government building were filled with campers and mentors. Some were laughing, some were hugging, some were crying. I could barely come to terms with the fact that in a few moments we would each drift apart and go back to living our individual lives. Even when the cameras clicked for our group picture I could only think about what we would do as a group next.

Only when I opened my front door and shifted into my empty house did I begin to understand that the retreat was actually over. Were it not for the flood of Facebook messages and texts I received from campers, I know I would have felt extremely lonely.

The next few days I had to stay with my friend Evan Chen as I waited for my parents to come back from a journey across North America. When I threw up a “W” with my hands and my friend didn’t even change his expression, I became aware of a genuinely profound fact.

I was part of a whole new world.

I couldn’t even believe how dramatically my world had expanded over the week. I was connected to kids in Brooklyn Park. I was connected to kids in Rogers. I was connected to kids in St. Paul. I was connected to kids in White Bear Lake. Hell, I was connected to more than that even. I was connected to the collective experience of the Chinese, the Hmong, the Korean, the Filipino, the Thai, the Indian, and more. I even downloaded some Thai-Pop today after I had cleaned out Juhyun’s K-Pop list.

I feel like I have aged considerably. Suddenly all of those expectations I was so worried about before the camp have melted away like the packet of chocolate BY downed one night. I feel more real than ever right now.

Today, when my parents came home, I made sure to run downstairs and hug both of them while covering them in smooches. My dad nearly peed his pants in surprise. I told my dad that I was the one who backed into the fire hydrant with the car, not Shray. I spoke confidently, without hesitation. I felt like President Hanning.

The 2011 APYC Leadership Retreat means something different for each and every one of us. For me, I have been given the chance to experience something genuine, something rare, and something remarkable. I would have never imagined joining APYC before the camp. Now I can’t imagine my life without joining APYC. I am looking forward to seeing everybody again and working as a group once again. I thank each and every one of you who went to the camp for creating so many memories.

For those of you reading this who didn’t go to the camp, I recommend that you go next year or join APYC this year. After all, everybody is welcome IN DA HOUSE.

Throw Up Your W’s,
Noel

When I Was A Kid, I Smoked A Lot Of Weed

Dear Followers,

While my mentor is making his daily run to Starbucks coffee to chat up the transvestite who works the register, purchase his Grande Cappuccino and Raspberry Chocolate Cake, and work his magic with University of Minnesota females (I usually picture the lemur from "Madagascar"), I guess I will spend my time catching up on anime and blogging while he is gone. Marathoning "Puella Magi Madoka Magica" was confusing. And a slap in the face.

Behind me, Matt is rocking out to 89.3 The Current on his laptop. God Matt, you are so damn Indie. To my left, Robyn is watching a mouse consume species while answering Jaqui questions regarding which primers to use for her double digest reaction. Even though they are a room away, I can hear the Japanese interns going crazy over koi shopping. Meanwhile, Jon is cleaning the gel electrophoresis machines in the sink. Yep, looks like Jon is the only one doing work around here. Again.

I really love the laid back feeling of my lab. Before coming here last August, I had a very different mental image of a university lab. I pictured a bleak and metallic room filled with lifeless technology and researchers who were so absorbed in their research that they barely spoke to anybody else. Instead, the summer sun shines through our giant windows overlooking Stadium Village and bathes our rich lab garden, cared for by Robyn, and not a day goes by without a group pep talk and joking session.

Apart from the amazing opportunity I have been given to be actively involved in cutting-edge scientific investigation, working in Bagchi lab has made me feel more connected to the scientific community than I ever though possible. I get to speak to the man who invented Sleeping Beauty Transposons whenever I want to. I am allowed to freely experiment with technology I could only previously dream about. I am allowed to voice my opinions amidst scientists young and old during CGE meetings.

Feeling accepted amongst society's scientific intellectuals and leaders is a wondrous feeling indeed.

Well, that's all of the time I have today. Dr. Anindya Bagchi is back and is motioning for me to get ready for work. As I slip on my neon green protective gloves and pick up my DNA samples, I can't help but think about how I have one of the funnest jobs in the world.

F*@& Businessmen, Just A Bunch Of Pricks,
Noel

You're More Likely To Get Shot By A Fat Cop If You Run

Dear Followers,

I find it ironic how citizens fear the police as an agent of law enforcement. The police department is an institution designed to foster a safer environment for citizens. Yet, when we spot an officer in blue patrolling, we do not feel safe. We are afraid. We are afraid that we will be misjudged as criminals. We are afraid that we will unnecessarily fined. The police department has fallen from an institution of respect in the public eye to one of mere bureaucratic annoyance.

How could the police department change so drastically from a symbol of safety and morality to the definition of inherent inefficiency? There are no doubt epistemological reasons for this metamorphosis which are undoubtedly linked to our national culture. From my point of view, the answer to this question is simple when taken from this view. What follows is by no chance historically accurate. I am merely interpreting history in a way which reconciles the phenomenon I seek to explain.

I will choose to begin my brief analysis at the turn of the century. Even after the Gilded Age, a period of repression for the bottom members of society by a combination of nativism and Social Darwinism, the police was seen as a stabilizing force among Middle Americans. The occurrence of the First World War empowered the institution of the police department as many Americans sought order following the disillusionment associated with the mass killing and powers of destruction experienced during war.

While inefficient, the police department continued to thrive through the era’s of Harding’s “normalcy” because of how people viewed the function of government in general. Simply because Americans had adopted a hands off approach to government which stemmed from the very first years of the Union, the complacency and inefficiency of the police department was not only accepted by expected by the public. However, with Roosevelt’s overhaul of the role of the federal government in the lives of citizens during the Great Depression, these expectations would take a turn for the worse.

Even during the days of the Great Depression, the inefficiency of the police department became more noticeable with a sharp uptick of crime associated with American desperation for economic survival. However, the years following the Second World War would serve as the fatal blow for the police department. Born in an age of American consumerism and prestige, young Americans soon adopted a culture which clashed with notions of old.

With the completed forms of these developments springing up in the 1960s under the banner of various college organizations like the Students For A Democratic Society forming what became known as the counterculture, the police began to symbolize repression like never before. However, a negative image of the police was not fostered by youth alone. Images of Officer Eugene “Bull” Connor spraying helpless African American protesters with fire hoses in Birmingham and of officers repressing female textile workers during the era helped as well.

The development of a society which sought change and the unfortunate development of the police department becoming the hammer for conservative thought eventually lead to the discrediting of the police department when the new ideas of tolerance and morality won out in the end. Since then, movies and television shows which have developed the image of rotund and inept cop who spends more time eating donuts and drinking coffee has simply reinforced this epistemological outlook. Does Chief Clancey Wiggum ring a bell to you?

Why waste my time on completing such an arbitrary analysis you may ask? Last Saturday, when I was coming back after another slew of standardized testing, I was pulled over by a police officer on Schmidt Lake Road. There is no doubt about it, I was speeding. Even if I was only going 5 miles over the speed limit, the simple fact is that I was breaking federal law. Indeed, my motivation for completing this analysis comes not from the reasoning for why I was pulled over but the feeling of being pulled over itself.

As the police officer walked back to his car to look up my criminal record with my driver’s license, I couldn’t help but wonder how ridiculous the punishment system for speeding was. Are we Americans such irresponsible drivers that we need police officers stationed every 5 miles to enforce even the smallest violations? In Plymouth that may be the case. My dad always explains how the cops are desperate and need to collect all of the criminal revenue they can find. I have never sought to verify the validity of this statement.

Either way, I cannot understand why officers choose to strictly enforce minor offenses at the cost of responding efficiently to major offenses. Perhaps by resolving minor offenses the police department is contributing most to the safety of citizens. I look forward to conducting an interview with a member of the police department in the near future to substantiate or refute my current thoughts. Hopefully the police department is as understanding of my inquisitive nature as the church.

Even The Police Have An Unlisted Number,

Noel

Counting Stars

Dear Followers,

May 25. Seems like years have passed since then. In the moments between the last time I posted and today, I have finished AP Exams and SAT II Subject Tests, said goodbye to some good friends who I only met this year, and accumulated nearly an hour of miscellaneous footage of candid high schoolers. I even got Mr. Skerbitz to admit that he loved me. Looks like I can cross off a life goal now.

As the clock is ticking down and Minnesota heats up to a whopping 100 degrees (Fahrenheit) many of us are just itching to bust out of school tomorrow to begin a well deserved 3 months of summer vacation. I’m not.

For me, the excitement of summer is simply the feeling of the last few weeks of school filled with anticipation for the adventures to come. My mouth waters with the thought of freshly sliced watermelon (by katana) filled with tiny black seeds and melt-in-your mouth s’mores fresh from a crackling (upgraded zergling) evening bonfire. I spend my remaining school days imagining long days playing soccer and long nights playing Starcraft. All of these ideas are always flying through my head when the final bell rings.

In reality, many of my summer dreams fail to materialize.

Soon the realization that many of my friends have their own summer plans and will soon be flying across the globe or the nation for the summer hits me. Soon the realization that much of my summer will be spent working just as hard as during the school year or watching anime in solitude hits me. In short, the magic of summer wears off quickly, leaving me anxious for school to start once more.

I am not saying that I don’t enjoy summer vacation. Summer vacation is a remarkable time where I have made late night trips to McDonalds, squished together with 3 other men on a train ride to Paris, and nearly broken my leg when playing soccer with an over-aggressive soccer fanatic. I am simply coming to terms with the somber realization that summer is not a magical time which is free of worries.

Nostalgia is being a punk and kicking in as well. This whole year I have been saying I am a junior without giving any extra thought to how close I am to graduating. In one year, this journey is over. When the seniors left last week, this very fact became more apparent to me than ever.

That’s why for these past two weeks I have been relishing every moment I can with everybody together. That’s why for these past two weeks I have been improving my sniping skills to get some memorable shots of everybody that will last forever in the confines of my computer’s secret folders.

Speaking of the seniors, I can’t thank you all enough for making my junior year one of my most memorable. Who would’ve thought that such amazing individuals where under the same roof, and often in the same classroom, as me for the past 3 years? I really regret not stepping out of my social boundaries and for not being able to spend as much time with all of you as I could have. Good times. I wish you the best for college!

With all this in mind, I plan on making this summer amazing. Time to act on these summer dreams.

Cozy, I really hope that you remember about our plan to release hundreds of red balloons this summer. Jeff, we are marathoning Shugo Chara. And Ground Defense Force Mao-Chan. Evan, I am going to have to stay at your house for a while… I am expecting some mapo dofu. Ishmam and Raph, we need to get moving on A-Wing. Samantha, you are going to wear the dresses I make for you whether you want to or not. Bradley, I expect you to catch more fish next time. Oliver, you aren’t going to break my bunker anymore. Aronovich, we are going to get some Indian food in Chicago. James, I am going to kick your ass in tennis. Spencer, keep colossus healthy.

Watch your back. S@$% just got real.

Another Reflection,
Noel

Chemistry Is Bad When You Make Crack With It

Dear Followers,

For everyone who has yet to experience the joy of the Chemistry X Final, the note card I crafted is now available under the "Notes" section of this webpage. I basically synthesized all of my note cards from throughout the semester when I made this last year. Good luck!

Please use note cards responsibly.

Here is the periodic table of elements which I referred to often when doing my chemistry homework. If you know more than 30 of the characters, hats off to you.

Chemistry Is Good When You Make Love With It,

Noel