Pamphlet-master flash

A couple weekends ago, I volunteered at Fiesta Asia, a festival that celebrated asian heritage. It was the first year they were having it, so it is somewhat small compared to the annual japanese cherry blossom festival. However, there were a good amount of vendors there, and various asian troupes were performing. At first, I got assigned to the water booth. This is where I sell water and coke(not 'pop' on the east coast) for $2. But it wasn't long before the organizer came running around with her arm full of pamphlets that advertise Fiesta Asia, and recruiting me to hand them out. It's a bit of a different world when you're handing out pamphlets. People readily try not to make eye contact, and they're usually fairly terse. Normally in a social situation, the natural inclination is to stop talking to people that have that kind of reaction to you. But when you're handing out pamphlets, you do it over and over again regardless. However, everyone should do it at least once in their lives. Handing out pamphlets is kinda fun if you can get people to smile. Selling is giving people what they are already looking for, but don't know it. I tended not to target runners for obvious reasons. Since it was a festival on the weekend, I looked for families that were strolling around--people that were looking for something to enjoy the weather with. I found that simply just starting with a smile and holding up the pamphlet instead of shoving it at them made them far more receptive to what I had to say. Standing under the sun, it wasn't hard work, but it was thirsty work. I definitely appreciated people that stopped to talk to me for a bit. I'm often guilty of this myself; much too absorbed in myself to stop and talk to pamphlet people. Lastly, I find that no one wants to take your last pamphlet. With a stack of pamphlets, you are someone different, someone separate from them. You shout your hellos and you disseminate your message. You have a purpose. With every recipient of pamphlets, your stack--your purpose--dwindles. If people take your last pamphlet, you lose your raison d'etre. And with that last pamphlet gone, you transform back to being one of them, blending into the crowd once again. Wil Chung is currently making rounds in the Midwest enroute to Taiwan. He likes standing under cherry blossoms shedding their petals and try to catch them on his tongue like snowflakes. He keeps a tech blog at http://webjazz.blogspot.com.

Lucky Number 4, Anyone?

There's no denying that a big part of our character is built from cultural values instilled in us by our parents. Being Taiwanese American, I'm mostly happy and grateful to have many of my values. At the same time, I don't find that for the most part, I really stand out as an oddity in this society, since I also follow many American customs, thought patterns, and beliefs. But you never know when, in what may seem like the most ordinary circumstance, some of the more offbeat customs might leak out into your every day existence. I was house hunting with a friend of mine recently, and dinged what to anyone else, would have been a perfectly fine apartment. It was fundamentally wrong in a way I just couldn't explain logically. "That one's bedroom door opens up right onto where you'd put your bed. That's no good - it's bad luck," I mumbled. "Pardon me?" asked my friend. "Oh, um, sorry. That's this superstitious feng shui thing my mom told me...sorry. I know you don't believe in it. But uh, it's just sort of ingrained in my mind." I am half superstitious and half not. I'm not really sure if that's possible, but all I know is, while I try to scoff at most of the things I've learned from the elders regarding the way things should and shouldn't be, I still follow certain rituals and codes which are designed to avoid misfortune, and bring me luck. All while not believing in them, of course. Sort of. When I lived in San Francisco, my bedroom door opened up right onto where I planned to put my bed. Unacceptable. I had to buy a bookshelf to block the direct view onto my bed. Why? I'm not sure. All I knew was, "it's bad luck." There is no mirror in front of my bed. Something about my energy bouncing back and forth and therefore stealing my chi. My desk, to my mom's relief, is finally positioned so that I face the door, instead of my back. I suppose that logically, I just wouldn't want anyone sneaking up on me. But according to my mom, it's feng shui. Every Chinese New Year (and regular New Year, just to be safe...) we empty out our garbage cans before midnight. But on New Year's Day, we leave the trash that's been collected in our waste baskets, and we don't shower. I know - it sounds gross. But first of all, we Taiwanese don't really stink that easily (unless you've been downing that stinky tofu), and second of all, it's only 1 day of the year. (Ok, 2.) I think the idea behind that is, we empty out all the old stuff from the last year, but we keep the good fortune for the new. By not taking showers? It's highly suspect, but hey. I play along. My mom looks at certain features in people's faces, and decides she can tell what kind of lives they'll have because of them. Your nostrils, the size of your earlobes, the size of the holes between your fingers when you look at your palm, the little semi-circle of a hole that's above your earlobe - the differing sizes and widths of all of these little seemingly inconsequential features, will actually tell you how lucky you will be, about your fortunes (or misfortunes), the strength of your character, and even how spendy you'll be. We avoid living on any floor with the number 4 in it, because the homonym of it in Mandarin means death. I once had to take flight 44 back to New York. It was definitely the most excruciating, longest flight ever. Along the same lines, it's apparently bad to give clocks as gifts, because the term for sending the deceased off on their wake sounds exactly like the phrase "to send a clock." I had to break that news to a buddy of mine a long time ago, when he got his girlfriend at the time a clock for her birthday. His only consolation? "Well. Luckily, neither of us is Taiwanese." (But now he's engaged to a Taiwanese girl, so I guess now he's going to have to comply...) There's something about not giving umbrellas to friends either, or splitting a Chinese pear, because the homonym for those two words both have to do with splitting up...and you wouldn't want to split up your friendship would you? It's kind of funny how these things permeate my life when they sound so silly. I know that there's really no logic to most of these beliefs, but I do them anyway. At this point, it's habit, and for the most part, it's harmless. All I know is, when I grow up, my kids aren't taking showers on New Year's day and I won't be splitting any pears with my husband. Audris is a freelance blogger, essayist, photographer and world traveler. Lost in the hustle and bustle of New York City, she too often finds herself rubbing shoulders with famous people who shouldn't be mentioned here because they might sue her. Instead, she would like you to know that her favorite dessert is Tsua Bing.