Erwaman's Personal Journal - August 2012

I got the idea to start writing my initials on all my bills from Alan Jiang. I don't remember exactly when he gave me this idea, but it was either in high school or my freshman year (his sophomore year) in college. We were talking about something, and somehow this topic came up, and he said it would be cool if a dollar you spent came back to you. I think he mentioned that he did or used to sign his bills as well, and maybe some day, one would come back to him. I thought this was a cool idea, too, and began signing my bills with AH, always on the front of the bill, in the bottom-right corner.

You might think what I'm doing is illegal -- that I'm defacing US currency. However, in my interpretation of Title 18, Section 333 of the United States Code, I do not think what I am doing is illegal. Here is the text from this section, with the important words bolded:

My intent is certainly not to "render such bank bill...unfit to be reissued," and that is why I do not believe what I am doing is illegal, just as I do not believe it is illegal for store clerks to mark bills with a counterfeit pen to check if they're real.

I've been writing AH on my bills for a few years now, and apart from it being a fun story to share, it has helped on a few occasions. Every now and then, I'll be eating out with friends, and we'll be splitting the bill, and there's a pile of bills in the middle of the table, and then someone (perhaps me) will forget how much money they had put in. Well, that's when I can look through the bills for any AHs, allowing me to figure out exactly how much I paid.

This is one reason I always try to pay in cash when I can: to circulate more of my AH dollars around. Whenever I get a bill back, I always check to see if there's an AH on it, and if there isn't, I sign it on the spot.

Yesterday (Thursday, 8/16/12), I finally got back one of my AH bills. On Wednesday (8/15/12), I went bowling and to dinner with Ken Kawamoto, Greg LaLuna, and Alex Szajko. We ate dinner at Penang in East Hanover on Route 10. We decided to split the bill evenly - $19 apiece. I put in $19 exactly, and then Ken put in a $20 bill and took one of my dollars. The following day (which was yesterday, Thursday, 8/16/12), Ken, Greg, Steve LaLuna, and I went to see Rifftrax Live: "Manos" The Hands of Fate at the AMC theater in Rockaway. The idea behind a Rifftrax Live movie is that you watch a horrendous movie while three comedians commentate live about the movie. I'd never heard about or seen such a movie until yesterday. I can honestly say that "Manos" The Hands of Fate was THE WORST movie, hands-down, I have ever seen. Without the comedic commentary, it would have been absolutely unbearable.

Before the movie started, we all bought tickets at the theater. Ken was in front of me in line. He paid his $12.50, and then I went up to the same clerk to pay my $12.50. I brought a bag of change with me, so I first pulled out two quarters and said, "Here's fifty." Then I looked in my wallet and saw I did not have a $10 bill, so I gave the clerk a $50 bill instead, and said, "And here's fifty." The clerk accidentally typed in $50 instead of $50.50, so the change reported $37.50. He realized he had typed in the wrong number, so he tried to fix the mistake in his head. He gave me $37, none of which had AHs on them. I noticed I was one dollar short, so I pointed this out, and he gave me another dollar. I looked at the bottom-right corner of this bill, and glancing back at me was a penciled-in AH! I talked with Ken afterward and we figured out that this must've been the AH bill he took back the previous night. My life is now complete.

Everybody has experiences as a child that make a lasting impact. You might call these formative experiences. For me, there are a few that stick out, and in my next few posts, I'd like to share them with you.

The first formative experience I want to share happened to me in 4th grade at Mountview Road School, in Mrs. Kerins's class. We were doing some sort of group activity, so Mrs. Kerins had the class split up into groups, which we could choose ourselves.

There was a student - let's call him John Doe - who wanted to join my group. He asked to join my group, but I said no. The reason was because I thought JD was mildly retarded and would not benefit our group.

JD went to Mrs. Kerins and told her that I had rejected him from my group. She told me she was surprised and that what I did wasn't very nice. I felt really bad.

That day, I think JD ended up joining a different group. However, I resolved to be more accepting of others in the future. Everyone is different, and not everyone thinks the same way as I do. I shouldn't discriminate because someone is different. We all need to learn to work with different kinds of people. I think this incident in Mrs. Kerins's class made me a more open-minded person.

Back in Mrs. Spencer's 3rd grade class at Mountview Road, I had a crush on Jillian Thomas. For part of the year (I think we changed seats each marking period), I sat on one side of the room, while Jillian sat on the other side of the room, facing me. In 4th grade, at recess one day, Alex Chiang told a group of girls (among them Jillian) that I had a crush on Jillian. I was shooting some hoops with John McCormack when Lindsey Waldron came up to me (with a bunch of giggling girls (including Jillian) and Alex behind her) and said, "Hey Anthony! I know your secret!" I could already guess what it was, but I asked anyways, "What secret would that be?" "You have a crush on Jillian!" they taunted. Trying to keep my cool, I just focused on making lay-ups.

Fast-forward to middle school at Memorial Junior School. I didn't really have a crush on Jillian any more, but seeing her would bring up memories of the embarrassing encounter from elementary school. One year (8th grade, I think it was), I had chorus class with Jillian. The chorus room was a terraced room, and I sat on the top row at the back of the room while Jillian sat in the first row in the front of the room. One day, I was making a lot of noise in the back and disturbing the class (I was probably chatting loudly with the boys next to me), so the teacher Mr. McCabe told me to "come sit down here in the front row next to Jillian". This immediately triggered my memories of the embarrassing encounter in elementary school. I knew Jillian was probably thinking about it, too, and I was too embarrassed to move down. I refused to move, even after Mr. McCabe repeated what he said several times. Finally, Mr. McCabe said he would have to give me a warning for my insubordination and that I should see him after class.

After this chorus class incident, I decided that I should not let my fear of embarrassment cause me to disobey authority (when authority is making reasonable requests). I also decided that getting embarrassed is not that bad and that I should just face potentially embarrassing scenarios with confidence.

Fast forward to 10th grade at Whippany Park High School, to Mrs. McNally's Algebra II with Trigonometry class. I often used to eat snacks in her class, and one day, I was eating a peanut butter jelly sandwich. She spotted me and told me to stop eating immediately. When she saw that it was a PBJ, she also exclaimed, "Anthony! Some people are allergic to peanuts! Go to the bathroom right now, get some wet paper towels, and clean your desk." Though very embarrassed, I recalled the warning I had received from Mr. McCabe in 8th grade chorus class for disobeying his orders, and I promptly obeyed Mrs. McNally's orders and left the classroom to fetch some wet paper towels from the bathroom.

I think by obeying orders after you have done something wrong, you acknowledge that what you did was wrong and are now making an effort to correct yourself. These experiences taught me not to let my pride or my fear of embarrassment get in the way of doing what is right.

During my life so far, outside of friends and band directors, I've had three private clarinet teachers.

The first was a lady (whose name I forget) who I would go to on my way back from Chinese School at Montville HS on Sundays. I don't remember much about her or what she taught me, except she showed me how to use cork grease to lubricate the joints of the clarinet. You wipe a little grease from the chapstick-like tube onto the cork, and then you use your finger to spread the grease evenly around the entire joint. What I remember was after she finished lubricating her clarinet, she said, "Now when you're done, your fingers are oily, so you should wipe them off on a tissue or wash your hands. I try not to do this, but sometimes I wipe them off my jeans, too [which she proceeded to do]. After all, what are jeans for, if not for wiping crud on them?" Now, every time I apply cork grease on my clarinet, I think of my first clarinet teacher and what she said. Despite the fact that she said you shouldn't wipe your fingers off on your pants, because she did it and I saw her do it, I, too, am lazy sometimes and just wipe my fingers off on my pants. This made me realize that what a person does often has a bigger impact than what a person says. If a person preaches one thing but does something else, you'll tend to just follow what he does. If you're trying to teach something to someone, you better practice what you preach.

My second clarinet teacher was Mr. Lee Zakian at the Calderone School of Music on Ridgedale Avenue in East Hanover. I spent all of middle school studying with Mr. Zakian and I went through the entire Calderone music program, completing all the music theory and history books, as well as starting a solfeggio book. I learned a lot of scales and arpeggios and clarinet fundamentals from him. However, I think he was a bit too nice and didn't really push me to improve, so I just got by with minimal practice and didn't improve very much. What I remember most about him is his little quirks -- he had a goatee; he liked asking you analytical questions about the music like what chord or scale characterizes this passage?; and at the end of my lessons, his farewell would always be "so long". Now, whenever I hear or use this farewell (which I don't think is too common), I think of Mr. Zakian.

In high school, my band directors were Carl Sabatino and Peter Sciaino. Since I was a clarinet player, I took my band lessons with the woodwind instructor, Carl Sabatino, who is himself an alto saxophone player. One of the first things Mr. Sabatino corrected in my playing was my embouchure (the shaping of my lips and the use of my facial muscles). I had always played with a bunched-up chin (sometimes called a peach pit chin), which usually worsens your tone quality substantially and suggests that you don't have enough muscular strength in your other facial muscles or that you are already fatigued. You're supposed to play with a flat chin. Mr. Sabatino corrected this improper embouchure of mine within a couple months. He told me that if he could show me a recording of me when I started high school versus a couple months later, I would notice a huge difference in tone quality. I don't remember improving that much, but I'll take Mr. Sab's word for it.

Mr. Sabatino also introduced me to my third private clarinet teacher. His name is Charles Tobias, and he used to be the band director of Randolph HS and then of Hanover Park HS. I learned the most from Mr. Tobias. The most important thing he taught me was to fix in my mind the idea of what a good clarinet sound is. We listened to a lot of different clarinetists, and he gave me copies of many clarinet CDs. There's certainly some difference in color and style of professional clarinetists, but all of them play with a good tone. Ever since I got this idea of what a good clarinet sound is, I knew what I was striving towards and my appreciation for good clarinet playing increased tremendously. It was Mr. Tobias who really made me fall in love with the clarinet and want to continue playing it through college and to continue practicing and improving.

Mr. Tobias taught me much about the clarinet and clarinet playing. I also learned several life lessons from him. However, for this post, I will focus on just one lesson. One day at my lesson, he asked me a question about the piece we were working on. I don't remember what the question was, but I do remember it was a yes-no question. Instead of saying no or I don't know (because I don't think I knew the answer), I said something like maybe with a smile on my face. Mr. Tobias was not amused and scolded me, telling me "not to be a Smart Alec". I regretted trying to fool around with him and not giving him a straight answer. I realized that there are times for humor and there are times to be serious, and when my clarinet teacher was trying to explain an important concept to me was an inappropriate time to be playful. By trying to be funny and saying "maybe", it showed that I was not too serious and that pissed Mr. Tobias off. In general, I realized, it's better to err on the side of being too serious than too fun-loving. I cared about what Mr. Tobias was saying, but by my humorous response, he clearly got the impression that I wasn't too interested. After this experience, whenever people (especially mentors, teachers, and managers) were talking to me, I tried to listen carefully and seriously, and when they asked me questions, I tried to answer them directly and straightforwardly. There are other opportunities to show someone that you have a sense of fun and humor, but if you start out being too silly, it's hard for you to win others' respect and for others to take you seriously.

Back in high school, I once went to my friend's -- let's call her Peggy May -- house for her birthday party. Another friend -- let's call him John Smith -- had to leave early. I remember that JS's mom came to pick him up. She rang the doorbell and actually came inside for a bit to say hi to PM and the rest of us. I was sitting on a couch by the door and turned to see who it was. There were a bunch of people who were standing, and they had already crowded around JS's mom, so I didn't bother getting up. JS left with his mom and the party continued.

A few days later, when I saw JS again, he told me that his mom was really upset that I hadn't greeted her when she came in. I thought we had perhaps made eye contact and that was sufficient acknowledgment, but she apparently expected me to go up to her and say a few words. My not doing so was disrespectful. I hadn't realized that failing to greet someone could be considered such a snub by someone. I mean, suppose I was in the basement and heard the doorbell ring, knowing it was JS's mom. Would it still have been considered rude for me not to come upstairs and greet her?

Communication is a tricky thing sometimes, and lack of it can be interpreted as disinterest or someone purposely ignoring you. Even when you do communicate, sometimes your words and your intent are misinterpreted. After the experience with JS's mom, I vowed to always greet people when I see them, even if it seems a bit superfluous. It's less likely someone will fault you for saying hi to them than it is they will think you dislike them for ignoring them.

Fast forward to the day of my college graduation. After the ceremonies were finished and I had received my diploma, there were luncheons for families and friends in the respective residential colleges. At my luncheon in Ezra Stiles, my family got our food and then sat down at one of the many circular tables set up in the Common Room.

My grandma, my dad, my brother, and I sat down at the round table drawn in above, but we were one seat short. Instead of pulling a chair over, my mom decided to sit in the chair circled in red above and eat while facing the wall.

After eating for a bit, another Stilesian -- let's call him Mr. Moose -- I knew and his family entered and asked if they could join us. Of course. They pulled some chairs over and sat down. Thinking back to my experience with JS's mom, I immediately stood up, greeted, and shook hands with MM's mom and dad and his girlfriend. Then I sat down and started chatting with MM and his girlfriend. A while later, MM asked me if my mom wanted to join us at the round table. So I went to her and asked, but she said she was fine where she was. This probably seemed strange to MM and his family -- maybe they thought my mom didn't want to chat with them.

MM and his family finished eating first and left. Immediately after they left, my dad and brother scolded me, saying I should have introduced them to MM and his family. I guess I had forgotten to introduce them, but I thought that given we were all sitting at the same table, they would naturally introduce themselves to each other and start chatting. Since I was caught up in conversation with MM and his girlfriend, I hadn't realized everyone else had been sitting in awkward silence. Yes, I think I should have introduced my family. However, since I forgot, instead of remaining quiet, I think my family should have introduced themselves. Regardless, this incident made me realize that in addition to greeting people, I should also introduce people who might not be familiar with one another.

Now, for a whole different kind of communication: e-mail. Back in April, a friend, whom we'll call Bob Jones, emailed me and two other friends what he thought was an "interesting VC article". Since all 4 of us know each other pretty well, I replied all, saying:

BJ replied all:

Thread dies at that point. Fast forward about two months to June. I haven't chatted with BJ for a while, so I pinged him on GTalk and had this conversation:

Two months later -- that's when I found out that BJ thought I was "a dick" for my honest email stating that I wasn't interested in the article he had sent me. Perhaps my email was a tad curt, but I thought I had stated my disinterest respectfully, and by replying, I had not only acknowledged that I had received his email and looked at the article, I also showed interest in how BJ was doing.

How often do you send emails that never receive a reply? For me, it happens occasionally, but still a little too much that it annoys me. I dislike it when others ignore my emails, so I try my best to respond to all my emails. I also try to be respectful when voicing my own opinion. It was really surprising to me that despite my reply and what I thought to be a fairly respectful tone, my friend BJ thought I was "a dick" for two months and never talked to me about it until I messaged him again.

These experiences have shown me that sometimes acknowledgment is appreciated but that other times acknowledgment can be misinterpreted. Communication is definitely a tricky thing sometimes, and we all need to work on it. Personally, I think trying to communicate something is almost always better than not communicating at all. That at least opens the potential for dialogue, which allows both people to explain themselves more fully.

In addition, I learned that how we say things is really important, too. Making the effort to communicate is important, but when communicating, we also should try to be respectful and friendly.

I like the fact that Google Maps shows pedestrian/bike trails and that users can make contributions by using Google Map Maker. I have found the trails useful when planning running and biking routes. I like plotting out my runs on Google Maps first so that I know exactly how far I am running.

In my numerous runs and bike rides around Trailwood, I have noticed and used a trail connecting McNab Avenue and Chestnut Road. About a month ago, I was planning a running route and wanted to use the McNab-Chestnut trail. That was when I discovered that it had not been added to Google Maps yet. Frustrated, I decided to submit a contribution via Google Map Maker to add the McNab-Chestnut trail to Google Maps. My contribution was approved and published:

However, even though the trail now shows up on Google Maps, when I try to use the trail, it doesn't work:

I looked at my Google Map Maker edit more closely, and I thought the problem might be that there was an intersection created between the trail and Chestnut Road, but there wasn't an intersection between the trail and McNab Avenue. So then I added an intersection between the trail and McNab Avenue and this was approved and published:

However, the trail still doesn't work in Google Maps. But it works in Google Map Maker:

I'm baffled. See, I would be okay with just using Google Map Maker to plot my runs when I wanted to use the McNab-Chestnut trail, except Google Map Maker doesn't allow you to modify a route by adding checkpoints to force the route to use certain roads.

I doubt the McNab-Chestnut trail on Google Maps will be fixed by the time I leave for California, but perhaps when I return to visit, it will be fixed and I can finally plot a run using it.