If you've never seen the Netflix original series, Black Mirror, I suggest you go and give it a try right now (after reading this blog post of course). Put simply, the show is about the dark side of technology, set in a world not too far from our own. The show gets its name from the black screens of phones and televisions that resemble a mirror when turned off.
One of my goals during the fellowship was to break away from technology, or at the very least, my phone. I have always prided myself with being below average in terms of phone addiction, yet I still fall victim to checking it during inappropriate times. Accessible WiFi and internet cafes have made it extremely easy to keep my device connected, and part of me wished the opposite were true. A recent trip down a YouTube rabbit hole led me to some interesting talks by Simon Sinek, who discussed the problem of modern cellular use in depth.
The attention problem is just as pervasive in Cambodia as it is in America. Whenever I go to a restaurant, I can place a hefty bet that when I look to my right or left, someone is going to be on their phone. The worst is when a group of two, three or even more are all on their phones. It makes you wonder what the point of going out together was in the first place. Cambodia is still playing catch-up in terms of the technological game, but in a matter of a few short years Facebook has already captured the attention of Cambodia's youth. People always seem to be checking their digital selves in the black mirror.
Since arriving in Cambodia, I have been extensively working at improving my artistic abilities. For the past three months, I've made sure to draw, or simply create every single day. For "a small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules." - Anthony Trollope. In order to inspire and cultivate creativity for my artistic endeavors, I need to allow for an incubation period, or a period of time for all my thoughts to come together in new and interesting ways. If I am constantly bombarding my brain with new information via a Facebook feed or other digital nonsense, there is no incubation period. There is no creativity.
In describing how his brilliant mind worked, Albert Einstein cited "combinatory play," or the blending of various ideas and disciplines into brand new ideas which were greater than the sum of its parts. This combinatory play however, required an incubation period, an allowance of oneself to be bored for a change, in order to produce meaningful ideas. In today's world we never allow ourselves to be bored, and because of this we lose sight of what's going on right in front of us. We don't give our minds a chance to make sense of the millions of stimuli we encounter on a daily basis.
I have been working on creating a personal logo for myself, and the process has been challenging. I had a breakthrough however, when I decided not to take my phone into the bathroom while I conducted my business. Having nothing to do except think, the idea for a logo I actually liked came to me in the moment, after I stared down at my watch and took a careful look at its intricate design.
This idea of work and creativity brings me to my next point, flow. Flow is the state of mind when you're simply "crushing work." Ideas are coursing through your neural networks, you're typing at 100 words a minute, you're laser focused, this is flow. In other words, you're "in the zone." But whenever we see that little banner pop up or feel the buzz of a new message, our flow is ebbed, and it can be near impossible to get it back on track. A simple solution is to just put the phone away.
As of late I have been extra cautious of my phone usage. I never take it our during meals with others. I leave it behind when the situation doesn't call for it. And I allow myself time to be bored. I look out into the world and see what is happening right in front of me. I believe the issue of phone addiction is deeper than just addiction.
In our digital world we have an unwritten social rule that you need to respond immediately to everything, which keeps us shackled to our devices. More and more people are answering emails off the clock and are distracting themselves from real-life conversations with digital ones. The world is simultaneously more connected than it has ever been, and more divided than it has ever been.
So this Thanksgiving, put those phones away, and talk to the people around you. Don't worry about that email or text message, it can wait. The people surrounding you on Thanksgiving are the only ones that truly matter. Take it from someone who is 8,000 miles away from the people who truly matter.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Tarantulas and To-do Lists
While I was still at home preparing to be shipped off to Siem Reap, I loved telling people that I was going to try a fried tarantula; a sick twisted idea to most Americans, but a delicacy to most Cambodians. Something about those disgusted reactions made me feel all tingly inside because I was willing to try something they weren't. I've played the scenario over and over again in my head. I see the crispy eight-legged creature and think, "oh that's gross," and then immediately dive right into that juicy thorax. But holy shit, actually seeing this "delicacy" in person is far more intimidating than I ever could have imagined. I have never been so afraid to put something edible into my mouth. And I use the term "edible" lightly.
I recently mentioned how I met another American, from Saratoga nonetheless, and he would be accompanying me on my other-worldly dining experience. We went to the Bugs Cafe, a semi-famous restaurant that serves tarantulas, scorpions, water bugs, crickets, and even bee larvae. For the first time in my life, I was actually nervous to try the restaurant's food. It took awhile to decide what to order (it all sounded so good...), but eventually we both settled on a fried tarantula and scorpion.
For what seemed like an eternity, we waited while our specimens were prepared in the kitchen only feet behind us. I could see the glow of the flames on the wall in front of me and could hear the sizzling and searing of different creatures. Part of me wanted to get it over with, while another part of me wanted to savor the moment. When our meals finally came out, the task ahead suddenly seemed much more difficult than the scenario I had played on repeat in my head.
We just stared at our plates. I'm not sure what we were waiting for, maybe a reason not to eat what was in front of us, so we welcomed the owner's offer to explain exactly what we had gotten ourselves into. With a sophisticated French accent, the owner explained how all the poisonous parts were removed (only 2 people have died), and which parts of the arachnids were the best, and worst. Once we competed our crash course, there was nothing standing between us and our plates.
For whatever reason, I decided to go with the scorpion first. I thought the tarantula was more intimidating, so I thought the scorpion would be a nice warm-up. I started by tearing off one of its pincers, and chomped down with some onion to provide a sense of comfort. The pincer was the crunchiest thing I had ever eaten, and it sorta felt like I was eating a hollow M&M that just wouldn't break. Once the pincers were finished (luckily there were only two), I moved on to the body. The scorpion's exoskeleton gave me another crunchy experience, but not nearly as crunchy as the pincers. I tried my best not to look inside, but I couldn't help myself.
The crunchy exterior was home to a stringy brown paste, and it tasted just as good as it looked. I cannot describe how it tasted, as there is nothing I can compare it to, but I imagine it was my first taste of something "gamey." As I was finishing the scorpion I could not wait until it was gone, and upon finishing I took a big swig of my beer while trying to keep it all down. I was now halfway done with my meal, and I had saved the "best" for last. In a lot of ways the scorpion resembles the first half of my fellowship. Extremely hard, gross, and in some ways I am joyous it is over.
The tarantula was in the form of a "donut," so it was covered in a light brown coating, slightly abstracting what was lurking underneath the comforting fried exterior. Eight long legs served as a gentle reminder that this was in fact a tarantula, and that is where I chose to begin. The legs weren't much of a challenge, as they were thin and didn't provide a great deal of flavor. The body was described as being similar to crab meat by our French host, and I was looking forward to giving it a try. I bit down on the body, taking the whole thing in one bite, and I was pleasantly surprised. It actually did resemble crab meat. The thorax was where I was really nervous, as this was the section of the spider that housed the organs and excrement.
As I watched Dave devour his thorax first, I took one last pre-thorax swig of beer and quickly ate the most intimidating part of the tarantula. Again, I was pleasantly surprised, as I think my grossness expectations were unrealistically high. We both felt accomplished and cultured as we washed out any remaining arachnid parts from the corners of our mouths, and most importantly we both conquered some pretty strong fears. At this point there is nothing I cannot eat. Balut, snake, scorpion, tarantula; I'm proud to say my once very basic pallet has expanded into territory most are unwilling to explore. The experience also put it into perspective that while one culture may adore a particular custom, another may despise or outright reject it.
After our bugs were finished, I learned more about Dave's experience working in Baghdad, and the inner-workings of US military operations abroad. He talked for hours about the topic, and I intently listened to every word. He later apologized for hijacking the conversation, and I made sure to express my appreciation for his sharing of such an interesting tale, and how the art of listening has been lost in our digital age. Too often is our attention divided between what is sitting right in front of us and some pointless cat meme. Before we parted ways Dave confessed that he missed speaking with an American, and I found this to be particularly relatable. In my four short months of living in Cambodia, I have experienced the same longing to speak with someone with common life experiences and language capabilities.
Too often do I find myself struggling to find the right way to convey an idea, or wondering if the person actually understood what the hell I just said. It has been frustrating at times, hilarious at others, and is always a test of patience. Last night TGC director, Judy, took Sydney and I out to a fancy dinner and for two hours, we felt as though we were back in the US. The atmosphere and decor of the restaurant, as well as our conversation with Judy, were able to transport us back to a land I think about every day. There are many things we take for granted, but I never thought simple communication would be one of them.
My exciting experience with feasting on arachnids made me think about the order in which we complete tasks, and the all-mighty To-Do list. Many people like to save the hardest tasks until the end, while others like to get them out of the way first. I would label myself as a student of both schools of thought. In this instance, I decided to save the hardest task for last, which was the shit-and-organ-filled sac of the tarantula. I could've eaten that first and gotten it over with, but sometimes it's best to build up to something like that. For you thesis students out there however, you might find it best to tackle the longest and most difficult parts first. After the biggest hurdles have been crossed, the rest feels like eating a few measly legs.
I recently mentioned how I met another American, from Saratoga nonetheless, and he would be accompanying me on my other-worldly dining experience. We went to the Bugs Cafe, a semi-famous restaurant that serves tarantulas, scorpions, water bugs, crickets, and even bee larvae. For the first time in my life, I was actually nervous to try the restaurant's food. It took awhile to decide what to order (it all sounded so good...), but eventually we both settled on a fried tarantula and scorpion.
For what seemed like an eternity, we waited while our specimens were prepared in the kitchen only feet behind us. I could see the glow of the flames on the wall in front of me and could hear the sizzling and searing of different creatures. Part of me wanted to get it over with, while another part of me wanted to savor the moment. When our meals finally came out, the task ahead suddenly seemed much more difficult than the scenario I had played on repeat in my head.
We just stared at our plates. I'm not sure what we were waiting for, maybe a reason not to eat what was in front of us, so we welcomed the owner's offer to explain exactly what we had gotten ourselves into. With a sophisticated French accent, the owner explained how all the poisonous parts were removed (only 2 people have died), and which parts of the arachnids were the best, and worst. Once we competed our crash course, there was nothing standing between us and our plates.
For whatever reason, I decided to go with the scorpion first. I thought the tarantula was more intimidating, so I thought the scorpion would be a nice warm-up. I started by tearing off one of its pincers, and chomped down with some onion to provide a sense of comfort. The pincer was the crunchiest thing I had ever eaten, and it sorta felt like I was eating a hollow M&M that just wouldn't break. Once the pincers were finished (luckily there were only two), I moved on to the body. The scorpion's exoskeleton gave me another crunchy experience, but not nearly as crunchy as the pincers. I tried my best not to look inside, but I couldn't help myself.
The crunchy exterior was home to a stringy brown paste, and it tasted just as good as it looked. I cannot describe how it tasted, as there is nothing I can compare it to, but I imagine it was my first taste of something "gamey." As I was finishing the scorpion I could not wait until it was gone, and upon finishing I took a big swig of my beer while trying to keep it all down. I was now halfway done with my meal, and I had saved the "best" for last. In a lot of ways the scorpion resembles the first half of my fellowship. Extremely hard, gross, and in some ways I am joyous it is over.
The tarantula was in the form of a "donut," so it was covered in a light brown coating, slightly abstracting what was lurking underneath the comforting fried exterior. Eight long legs served as a gentle reminder that this was in fact a tarantula, and that is where I chose to begin. The legs weren't much of a challenge, as they were thin and didn't provide a great deal of flavor. The body was described as being similar to crab meat by our French host, and I was looking forward to giving it a try. I bit down on the body, taking the whole thing in one bite, and I was pleasantly surprised. It actually did resemble crab meat. The thorax was where I was really nervous, as this was the section of the spider that housed the organs and excrement.
As I watched Dave devour his thorax first, I took one last pre-thorax swig of beer and quickly ate the most intimidating part of the tarantula. Again, I was pleasantly surprised, as I think my grossness expectations were unrealistically high. We both felt accomplished and cultured as we washed out any remaining arachnid parts from the corners of our mouths, and most importantly we both conquered some pretty strong fears. At this point there is nothing I cannot eat. Balut, snake, scorpion, tarantula; I'm proud to say my once very basic pallet has expanded into territory most are unwilling to explore. The experience also put it into perspective that while one culture may adore a particular custom, another may despise or outright reject it.
After our bugs were finished, I learned more about Dave's experience working in Baghdad, and the inner-workings of US military operations abroad. He talked for hours about the topic, and I intently listened to every word. He later apologized for hijacking the conversation, and I made sure to express my appreciation for his sharing of such an interesting tale, and how the art of listening has been lost in our digital age. Too often is our attention divided between what is sitting right in front of us and some pointless cat meme. Before we parted ways Dave confessed that he missed speaking with an American, and I found this to be particularly relatable. In my four short months of living in Cambodia, I have experienced the same longing to speak with someone with common life experiences and language capabilities.
Too often do I find myself struggling to find the right way to convey an idea, or wondering if the person actually understood what the hell I just said. It has been frustrating at times, hilarious at others, and is always a test of patience. Last night TGC director, Judy, took Sydney and I out to a fancy dinner and for two hours, we felt as though we were back in the US. The atmosphere and decor of the restaurant, as well as our conversation with Judy, were able to transport us back to a land I think about every day. There are many things we take for granted, but I never thought simple communication would be one of them.
My exciting experience with feasting on arachnids made me think about the order in which we complete tasks, and the all-mighty To-Do list. Many people like to save the hardest tasks until the end, while others like to get them out of the way first. I would label myself as a student of both schools of thought. In this instance, I decided to save the hardest task for last, which was the shit-and-organ-filled sac of the tarantula. I could've eaten that first and gotten it over with, but sometimes it's best to build up to something like that. For you thesis students out there however, you might find it best to tackle the longest and most difficult parts first. After the biggest hurdles have been crossed, the rest feels like eating a few measly legs.
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| Balut (Fertilized Duck Egg) yes, that's an eye |
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| Rest stop fried snake |
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| An ordinary page out of the Bugs Cafe menu |
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| A delicious Tarantula Donut and not-so-delicious Pan-Fried Marinated Scorpion |
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