Monthly Archive for December, 2006

Giant tree uprooted at Yesler and 8th Ave, photographed on Friday evening

Thursday night was crazy.

It was raining HORIZONTALLY. The umbrella was totally useless. I got wet anyway.

The wind was blowing so hard on some blocks that I felt I was being blown away. Not kidding.

I just want to clear the air about something. A friend (I know you tried, N!) asked me to write a piece for the NTU magazine, which I did, and I’ve posted my original below the article that appeared. People, people, I hope you know me well enough to know that I do NOT say things like ‘the impetus to soar.’ So help me God. Click on photo to read the article (and see why flight analogies only work if you are a dove).

My name is Dorothy. But you can call me Dot.

And just once—this year actually—someone sent a birthday card addressed to Dottie. Obviously they did not know me. It took a while to realize they meant me.

The only difference? It takes me an extra millisecond to respond to Dorothy, and definitely more than a few milliseconds to respond to Dottie.

And in the case of a roomful of Dorothys, then yes, excuse me while I figure out which one you’re calling out to.

But whatever your pleasure, I’m still me.

Dorothy, Dot or Dottie. I am the one with the scar on the knee where I fell off a bike in Sentosa when I was 13; I am the one with the unhealthy Hello Kitty obsession; I am the one with the NTU School of Communication Studies degree.

Oh wait. I mean School of Communication and Information.

Oh, double wait, I really mean the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information.

In the space of less than 15 years, my good old “SCS� has become “SCI� and now, I guess, “WKWSCI.� (Somewhere in there is a CSI episode waiting to be discovered.)

As a graduate of the pioneer batch of Communication Studies graduates, I am a little miffed with the identity crisis. What does it mean for my piece of very expensive certificate with gold manuscript lettering? Do I liquid paper off the word “studies�? More importantly, where do I find gold liquid paper?

I guess I know why they did it.

To honor a lifelong journalist and a popular President. To reflect more accurately what the school is about. To boldly fundraise where no one has fundraised before. Problem is, the longer name isn’t going to fit nicely into my resume.

But I’ll save that rant for another column.

If you think about it, WKWSCI can’t be too different from the CS I know—except maybe it’s got many more students, better facilities and oh yeah, a brand new building. Whatever the acronym, memories of mugging with my friends, falling asleep in the Chronicle room as we raced to meet deadlines, and taking classes in the reputedly haunted former Chinese Heritage Museum (where the school started in 1993) will stay with me.

Traumatizing moments like that don’t go away with a name change.

We live in an age when Hyacinth, Kareiah and Elissiana exist because Heidi, Karen and Elisa just don’t cut it anymore. Names need pizzazz. Names need celebrity recognition.

And while we’re at it, why isn’t the name Wee Kim Wee-Joseph Pulitzer-Oprah Winfrey-The New York Times-School of Communication and Information? That has a nice ring to it, plus we save time by doing all the possible name commutations at once. And imagine all the press that title will attract.

The name may be different, but I’d like to think the sense of adventure and idealism that started with the original CS lives on, in WKW and beyond.

All that’s left now is for me to take care of that “I Heart CS� tattoo.

Dorothy Ho is an editor and writer living in Seattle. Follow her search for gold liquid paper at www.dorothyho.com

Don’t look now.

But there’s a giant red truck in front of our house.

Jay said goodbye to the Subaru and hello to this Toyota Tacoma Truck.

It’s as big as a bus—trust me, the truck goes on, and on, beyond the frame.

Because it can easily carry the VW Beetle on its back (and/or run over my little bug with its huge wheels), I don’t know how I feel about it yet.

But it sure beats using the Subura for trash runs.

My personal favorites at tonight’s ornament show were The Poopsicles! Mama Poop has an apron!

Coming in a close second was the I-Don’t-Believe-Santa.

And of course, Jay’s Mountainoid. “Half mountain, half trapezoid,” he says. [Modeled in MAYA and cut out of museum board.]

I couldn’t even spell trapezoid.

Fine, fine. I am obssessing about these damn Santas.

I found the perfect trifecta of badges for my Bad Santas today.

I Used To Be Handsome

Rotten!

I’m calling my ornament “Surly Santas.”

Now if only I can figure out how to sew an eye patch on the old guy.