Lisa Zhang Wharton's Blog

I have had a great time reading at the University Club of St. Paul.  My reading caused roaring laughter.  Here is the story and you can laugh yourself. I will download the video to YouTube and share soon.


Can You Tighten My Bra By Lisa Wharton 05/30/2014
I knew her through work like most new people I have met nowadays.  We often ran into each other at the only bathroom in the garage.  Yes.  My office was built into the first floor garage of an air conditioning company where I worked as a consulting engineer.  I often walked along dollies, big heavy machinery, and giant sweepers operated by men.  Sometimes I passed by a group of workers standing in line to punch their time cards. Their often-leering stares sent shivers down my spine.  I didn’t belong here and I knew it.  But I tried.  That’s why I started talking to our cleaning lady, Mona, in the bathroom or the hallway.  She was a loud petit woman of 63 and loved to talk.  Of course, I wasn’t sure I liked talking to her all the time.  “Hey, Lisa.  Would you like to come to my house for a Jewelry party next Saturday?  I live really close.” She asked earnestly, which was reflected by her huge eyes behind her glasses.“I don’t have much time, especially on weekends.  Sure.  I will think about it.” I didn’t know how to just say no to my new friend.She immediately offered me a postcard and a thick catalog that had Mary Kay in it.  No, I didn’t want to have anything to do with Mary Kay.  I heard myself shouting.  Then, of course, if she had a pink Cadillac, then I might consider it.  I wouldn’t mind knowing a good Mary Kay saleswoman.  But I would never wear that kind of costume Jewelry.  Who did she think I was, just an airheaded model? She loved to look at herself in the mirror.  She seemed to never have a good hair day.  She had matted, straight, shoulder length hair, which reminded me of steel spikes pointing down.  But she liked to comb it even though there was nothing really to be combed.  She liked to adjust her glasses on her wrinkled skin.  She said, “I’m tired a lot”.  Even though I was so tired of hearing it, I did sympathize.  After all, she walked the whole day throwing garbage around.  She often cried about her twin sister who died of syphilis and her brother of diabetes.  One day she told me, “I’m going to a concert in two weeks and one day and 8 hours.”  “Which concert and where?”  I asked politely.  “It’s at the Maplewood Community Center,” she said with the same enthusiasm.  “Have you heard of Bret Michaels?”  Her eyes suddenly all lit up.  She said in such urgency as though if I didn’t know about him, she would slap me.  “No. Who is he?”  Of course, I had never heard of him, but I wanted to learn more.  “He is a very sweet Rock & Roll guy.  Oh, I can’t wait to see him. I’m in love with him.”A couple of days later, I ran into Mona in the hallway.  She stopped the big garbage can on wheels and tried to take a few pictures out of a sandwich bag.  “See.  This is HIM.  Look, he gave me a hug.  He kissed me, too.”  “Nice.  He looks very cute”, I said.  “Yeah.  He is so cute.  I love him so much.  I’m his groupie.” “Does your husband care?” I asked.   “No.  He knows that I’m in love with Bret.  I go every concert he has in town.  I wish that I could afford to go to some out of town ones.  I love him so much.”  She said with tears in her eyes.  I didn’t exactly understand her love for this hippie singer.  But her emotion moved me and I started to like her a little more until something else happened.I ran into her in the bathroom one day.  When I got out of my stall, I saw her looking at herself in the mirror as usual.  She looked engrossed in private thoughts.  In order not to disturb her, I picked up my teacup and tried to slip out of the door. Then I heard, “Hey, can you tighten my bra?”  “What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.  “I hurt my right arm yesterday and can’t lift it up.  Can you help me?”  She said sincerely.  I didn’t know how to react.  I didn’t really mind helping her.  Yet from all the sexual harassment training I had at my previous jobs, I knew I shouldn’t do it.  It could get me in trouble.  What if she decided to sue me?  But I couldn’t just refuse.  She would be offended and then I still had to see her every day in the bathroom or in the hallway.  It would be awkward.  If I helped her, it would be awkward, too.  So I decided to treat it with humor.  “You have weird requests,” I said.  “Besides, I also hurt my arm yesterday. You see.” I pretended having trouble lifting my arm. “You are out of luck. Maybe you can ask one of the guys to help you.” She laughed. “You, bad girl.” I smiled innocently and slipped out the door before she could react.  During the rest of the day, we just said “Hello” to each other whenever we saw each other in the hallway or bathroom.  The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to laugh.  It might have been a totally innocent request.  I remembered once that she asked me to scratch her back.  I actually helped her.  She just simply didn’t know the current corporation sexual harassment policiess.  She didn’t even know how to “work” the computer in her own words.  So how could she get computer training about sexual harassment?  I was desperate to share this incident with other people as kind of a bad joke.  But I knew if I did, people might misunderstand the situation and reach a different conclusion.  They might even think we were lovers. Eventually I did tell it to the lady I often ran into in the changing room before and after running.  She laughed, too.  Two days later, Mona came to my cubicle and said, “I’m so sorry to have asked you to, you know?  My daughter told me to apologize to you.”  She looked sincerely sorry.  “No problem.  Don’t worry about it”, I replied.  “I just didn’t want to get into any trouble.”  In the next few days, I thought that even though Mona was the most uneducated person I had ever known, she was actually an interesting person in her own way.  Now I don’t work there anymore and I even miss her sometimes.

I often meet people at work who are hilarious. I don't know whether it is true for everyone. I know many writers' dream of quitting their day jobs and become full time writers.  I really sympathize that. Actually my favorite place to write is on the beach in some tropic islands just like what Ian Flemming did. He wrote many James Bond books by starring at the sea. Who knows what I will see when I'm in the same situation.  Artist Jasper Johns goes to St. Martin every winter just to produce amazing art. So I will definitely try the same and I will do it soon.  I actually have been to both Jamaica and St. Martin. The French side of the St. Martin is the most beautiful. I have attached a beautiful picture of Oriental Beach in St. Martin for your enjoyment. Anyway, enough day dreaming.  
In the last five years, I find my day job is most inspiring and stimulating. It prompts me to write many comic stories. I will share them here one at a time.  The story I share today has caused a room full of people laughing when I was giving a reading at the University Club of St. Paul. It has happened at least six years ago and I have changed the names so no one knows who he is.



Asshole By Lisa Zhang Wharton

If I could, I would smash his ugly face.  If I were allowed, I would pull his blond hair off his stupid head.  If I don’t get into trouble for killing him, I would stomp him to death (metaphorically).  That was how much I hated him for calling me “Stupid”.I met him at work, which is how I meet most people nowadays.  Work had become my home away from home.  His name was M.  He was a short, blond and well-built middle-aged man.  When I first met him I found him weird because besides constantly typing at his computer, he also would continually eat Grape nuts.  He always kept a big bag of it in his cube.  Who would eat Grape nuts all day for fun unless he was a “nutty person”.  For a while, our workgroup either had celebrations for finishing our projects to the 50%, 90% or 100% point, or “Goodbye” lunches for many contractors we had laid off.  I could soon be one of them.  Sometimes I could imagine myself lying on the chopping board, being slaughtered or simply being run over by a car.  Luckily I was still working due to my long hardworking experience or my pleasant personality.  Maybe it was both, or neither.  Surviving as a contractor in a technology company was not easy.  Not showing up at parties would not be looked upon as a positive.  Once I asked M whether he was going to a free lunch/barbecue.  He said, “No.  Why would I want to socialize with people who are not married to me or related to me?”  This comment was the most blatantly anti-social behavior I had ever seen.  I was even impressed.  I mentally added another comment next to his name besides “Weird”, “Lovely eccentric”.One day, he came near my test station to talk to D who was my friend and also a Caucasian.  There were many East Indian engineers working here.  I thought M had a hard time relating to them due to his small pea brain.  Even though I was not Indian, I had already made many Indian friends within a few weeks.  He started talking to D about “chips”, the “computer chips”.  I was fascinated.  Even though we were engineers here, most people preferred talking about potato chips.  After half hour of intellectual jostling, my mind started wandering.  I knew what his problem was.  He couldn’t stop once he started talking.  D was smart.  He told M to talk to me instead, so he could get back to work.  I didn’t know when I stopped listening.  All I knew was that for the next half hour I just nodded my head while whispering to myself, “Nerd, Nerd”.  I definitely would put “Nerd” next to his name.  I began to worry that if I kept listening to him, people would start calling me “Nerd”.   That was how serious it was.One day, I was sitting in a station next to M’s station, typing away.  The reason I used this station was that it had a faster computer.  Since I had automated my tests, I could let it run by itself.  So I started chatting with him to pass the time.  He told me that he was going on vacation.  “Where are you going?”  I asked.  He told me about some place in Iowa, which sounded so boring that I didn’t pay attention to which town it was.  He told me that he could put in 40 hours work in two days and go on vacation the rest of the week.  I looked at him with my mouth open.  “How could you do that?”  I asked.  “Just work 20 hours a day!”  He said causally.  “I can go 20 hours on and 4 hours off.”  He was not only weird but also the hardest working person I had even known.  Later I found out that he actually didn’t work twenty hours a day.  He just said it.  Did he try to impress me?  If so, there was no need.  He had already impressed me with his weirdness.I didn’t know at what point he started to dislike me.  He gave me no reason or warning.  All he did was being rude to me.  Then I realized that it was not him who didn’t like socializing, but rather the other engineers who didn’t like to mingle with him.  Also he had a habit of ignoring every woman engineer’s opinion.One day, I saw him chatting with another engineer, which intrigued my curiosity so much that I made a mistake of joining in.  Of course, it was not pretty afterwards.  He and the bearded engineer were talking about driving accidents.  I remembered that I had something spectacular to report.“One day, as I was driving to work, the car in front of me rear-ended the car in front.  I slammed on the brakes, knowing that it might be too late.  Miraculously I stopped just one inch behind the car.  Hurray.  Without stopping for another minute to calm down, I went around the cars and drove away because I didn’t want to be late for work.”“Do you know there is a state law requiring a material witness to an accident to file a report with the police?”  He cocked his head with one of his satirical smiles.“I didn’t know that.”  I said honestly.“You are stupid for not knowing such a simple law,” said M.He called me stupid.  He called me STUPID.  I didn’t remember anyone ever calling me “STUPID”.  I could feel my head expanding, blood rushing toward my brain, and vessels on the verge of bursting.  Actually, a few capillary vessels had already burst.“You, asshole!”  I couldn’t help blurting this out.  “You, asshole!”  The second time, it was louder.  Then I raised my fist.  “Stop, lady.”  He tried to stop my fist from hitting his face.  “You stop!  You try to use the rule: that the more you ignore a lady, the more she likes you.  Let me tell you that I’m not that kind of lady.”I hit him in the face.  The blow was so weak that didn’t break his nose or anything.  He smiled, a big smile showing his crooked teeth that I had never seen before.
            

iPillow: Soft, comfy and silky.  It plays Lullaby to put you to sleep or ���white noise��� to shield you from the outside world.  It is a book, a TV or simply a pillow.  ���iPillow���, you can���t sleep without it.

iPet: Cute, lively and furry.  It is cuddly when you want it to.  It will bark at the intruders with the push of a button.  It sheds no fur and doesn���t chew your furniture like a beaver.  ���iPet���, the ultimate life-long friend you need.

iTap: It makes tapping sound when you tap your shoes.  It plays music when you tap.  It flashes neon light when you tap.  It even charges your phone when you are tapping.  ���iTap���, it brings color and sound to your life.

iPillow: Soft, comfy and silky.  It plays Lullaby to put you to sleep or “white noise” to shield you from the outside world.  It is a book, a TV or simply a pillow.  “iPillow”, you can’t sleep without it.
iPet: Cute, lively and furry.  It is cuddly when you want it to.  It will bark at the intruders with the push of a button.  It sheds no fur and doesn’t chew your furniture like a beaver.  “iPet”, the ultimate life-long friend you need.

iTap: It makes tapping sound when you tap your shoes.  It plays music when you tap.  It flashes neon light when you tap.  It even charges your phone when you are tapping.  “iTap”, it brings color and sound to your life.

Elon Musk Creates Our Future

Elon Musk, the current most revered inventor, a visionary who extends his talent from electric car, solar power to space travel, a dreamer who convinced us that the hyperloop could be a reality and a true innovator who gets his ideas during morning showers.  He runs three companies, serves as CEO for two and chairman for one.  Yet he still has time to tweet.  He posts for magazine covers like a true hero.  With his charisma and super brain, he is one of the most exciting inventors of our time.  I truly admire him.
I married an inventor once before, Dr. Arnold Lande, son of a famous Germany physicist Alfred Lande.  A trained heart surgeon and a talented medical device inventor, Arnie has invented the first commercial produced membrane oxygenator with the founder of Medtronic, Dr. C. Walton Lillehei.  He puts himself to sleep by inventing a upside-down catamaran.  His invention includes an wearable artificial kidney, an artificial lung, a diving gill and a frozen yogurt machine.  The following is a story about my exciting life with Dr. Arnold Lande.
                        I was a graduate student in the Biomedical Engineering Program at the University of Houstonthen.  I came to the United Statesin a way like most other Chinese students did --- going to the graduate school.  I met Manny in the Cardiovascular Fluid Dynamics Laboratory where I worked as a research assistant.  Manny was trying to do a joint research project with my boss.  It turned out the project did not work and Manny got a girlfriend in compensation.  He started the relationship by teaching me how to drive.  By the time I got the driver license, we had also gone to the movie theaters, concerts, ballets and sailing trips.  I had a wonderful time.  Then one day, I suddenly disappeared (in his words).  I left him for a handsome young Chinese student.  Actually he happened to be my roommate in a same house.  He dated me out of convenience (I did not know at the time).  He was so possessive that he did not even let me answer Manny's phone call.            On a Saturday afternoon, I ran into Manny in my lab.  That was not exactly the case.  Since he no longer collaborated with my boss, he was not there by chance.  He went to see me there.  Although I was the only one in the lab at the time, his sudden appearance did not scare me.  At age fifty-four, he had a youthful, pleasant look, even with his salt-pepper hair.  He wore jeans, a red button-down cotton shirt and a pair of new-balance running shoes.  His slender, medium-sized body looked fit and healthy.  His eyes were twinkling.            "Bonnie, how are you?"            "I'm...I'm fine."  I stuttered.  I was not good at patching up misconduct.  I did not know how to explain my disappearance.  For a girl from China, going out with men was something new.            "Have I hurt you?"  He asked earnestly.            "No."            "So why do you leave me?"            "You...you are too old."  I finally uttered the real reason.            "Okay, I hope I did not hurt you."  He patted me on the shoulder, winked at me and left swiftly.            After I broke up with my handsome roommate, I made a point calling him, although without any serious intention in mind.            He recognized my voice right away.  "Bonnie, it's so nice to hear from you."  He sounded so sweet that I decided to try again with him.            On my birthday, he took me out to a nice seafood restaurant along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico.  We had fresh oysters and shrimp.  Then we went back to his house and swam in his swimming pool.            After we both dried ourselves with towels, he suddenly held me tightly against his naked chest, nothing sexual though.               "Bonnie, I don't want to loss you again."  He said.  Although he did not cry, I could sense the deep emotion hidden behind his bony, tan chest.            These words were like religion, the gospel of my life.  I obeyed.  We got married a year later.            Now six years after that incident, I cannot think of any reason why it should happen again.  Things change, situations change, I tell myself.
            He has taken away my car, yet I feel the most free, even though I have to go to work by bus every day.  Today I am driving my boyfriend's car, I feel very restrained.  I am going to see these people, people I use to see everyday in the hospital, the nurses, volunteers, janitors and cafeteria workers.  They are used to see us, an odd couple, and everyday, coming to work together and having lunch together.
To be continued in my book:

                                          Get a copy of paperback for $4.86

“Fifty Shades of Gray” has entertained million of men and women with an adult version of the “Cinderella” story.  A young aspiring journalist happened to entice a prince charming who had a private jet and loads of money.  His dark past only made him more attractive. 
General Petraeus was Ms. Paula Broadwell’s Christian Gray, who not only had a private jet but also a personal cook and several security guards.  Dating him was also like dating the prince of Saudi Arabia.  He ran faster than Ms. Broadwell, who was the top athlete of the West Point and could do as many push-ups as Ms. Broadwell.  The fact he was 20 years older than she was only made him more desirable to Ms. Broadwell.   So the Petraeus affair was just a real life enactment of the super popular trilogy “Fifty Shades of Gray”.  Everyone is waiting anxiously for Ms. Broadwell’s own version. 
I, however, do have my own version, a version that is vastly different than the above versions because my version has happened to my friend's mother in China.  She was arrested and sentenced to two years in jail for having extra-marital affairs.
Mother was arrested and locked in the county jail waiting for a trial.I stood on the steps in front of our apartment building, staring at the brick paved alley.  Mother's voice still resounded in my mind as three stern faced policemen pulled her away."Meihua, take care of yourself. OK!  Mom will be all right.  Mom will be all right!"  She looked back at me hard.  Her swarthy face was calm.  Her loose fitting, half-buttoned tan blouse was billowing in the air as though she might fly away like a balloon and the policemen had to hold her fast.When she arrived at the door of the police jeep, she suddenly stopped and shouted, "Meihua, please remember Mom, remember me!"  Tears streamed down on her face. "Mother, Mother."  I ran toward the jeep.The Police jerked her into the jeep and slammed the door.The jeep disappeared into a cloud of dust."Mother, Mother!"  I screamed. 
Our home was in a mess.  A wooden bunk bed was pushed to the center of the living room next to my father's desk by the window while the dining table was in a corner against the wall.  Paper was floating on the floor everywhere.  The sheets in mother's bedroom were gone, leaving a bare mattress.  The police had taken away every piece of valuable furniture, including our only tape player. Reels of magnetic tapes sprawled on the floor like broken wagon wheels.In my room stood a bare wooden bed frame, a dusty mattress and an empty table.  The electric guitar, the cello and even my cheap violin had disappeared.  I covered my face with my hands, sobbing while listening to my father and his younger brother Xiangdong, a policeman, talking."Brother, don't feel too bad about this.  See how much trouble this woman has caused for you!  How much money has she squandered on her criminal friends?  She deserves it and should be locked up for life."  Xiangdong waved his fat hand.  Wrapped tightly in the police's blue outfit, Xiangdong was a gigantic man.  He had a square face, a broad forehead and a wide nose like father.  A pair of black-framed thick glasses sat on his nose like two camera lenses --- he was constantly taking pictures of people.  A purple wedge-shaped scar was under his right eye as if he had an additional eye to spy on people.  He had been working as a police investigator for thirty years and had already impressed me with a hand revolver and leather sheathed sharp knife."God damnit!"  Father had dressed up a little.  He even had a pair of ironed gray trousers on.  His yellowish eyes were hollow and his cracked lips drooped at the corners.  His hair had turned much grayer overnight."I know you don't feel good about it."  Xiangdong slithered his heavy body forward, and laid his arm on father's shoulder. "Shit, that god damn woman!"  Father cursed as though he did not hear Xiangdong's words."Don't worry; tell them you didn't know anything about what she had done.  She cheated you and stole from you.  She was corrupted by those thugs and thieves."I rushed out of my room to confront them.  "They are not thugs and thieves."  "How do you know?"  Xiangdong's eyes widened behind his thick glasses; his eyeballs were two big olives staring at me.  "Do you know you mother's friend Zhuzhu stole the cello, the desk and the tape-player from his work unit?""That kid has been corrupted by that woman."  Father's old eyes looked sad."Stealing from the government is not stealing.  They bought everything with people's money."  I remembered once mother's friend Zhuzhu told me."Damnit, how dare you defend those thieves?  They are in jail now.  Have you swallowed the devil's heart?"  Father pounded his fist on the desk so hard that his flowerpots began dancing on the wooden desk, making a clattering sound.  His bloodshot eyes stared as though he did not know me.Startled, I backed off a few steps.  It is a bad time to bother father, I told myself.  He might vent his anger on me."Big brother, calm down.  Don't be too hard on yourself."  Xiangdong patted father's shoulder.  "Kids don't understand.  She’ll grow to know what kind of person her mother is.""Yes."  Father dropped his head.  Shame took away his courage to face the world."Let me go and buy some wine and sausage.  Then we can talk about how to deal with the judge."  Xiangdong crawled out from under the top level of the bunk bed, towering over father.              "Wait."  Father said and rummaged through the desk drawer.  He found a crumpled ten-yen bill and handed it to Xiangdong who swiveled his big body happily out of the door."You don't understand, and you'll never understand mother and me,"  I murmured as I walked back to my room.  Just a week earlier a sad song from a popular North Korean movie --- “The Flower Girl” blasted my face as I walked in.  Mother's friend Zhuzhu sat in front of our old vacuum-tube radio, playing an electric guitar.  His long stringy hair danced around his head and his plaid bell bottom trouser cuffs waved as he played his guitar passionately.  I played violin and sang.  Mother smoked watching.  Sometimes we played cards.  Sometimes Zhuzhu gave me hand-written officially banned novels to read.  Once we aimed a hunting gun at the mother's bedroom wall.  I was a very good shot at a distance of two meters.  Those were happy days of my life.  But they were gone, gone forever.  I threw myself onto the bare mattress and cried.Father sauntered in and said, "Shame on you.  You are crying.  If you don't stop, I'm going to send you to jail, too."
The entity of the story can be found in the forth-coming "Chinese Lolita".

I have to say that like millions of readers, I have been smitten by the Amazon best selling trilogy, “Fifty Shades of Grey”, “Fifty Shades Darker” and “Fifty Shades Freed”.   Even with their imperfections, I found I couldn’t put it down.  I enjoy reading the first book so much and am reading it all over again.  Christian Grey has captured my imagination.  It is such a treat to be able to live in his world for a few minutes during breaks all throughout the day to lighten my life and my world.  Life seems to be full of joy and stimulation.  Of course, life would be even better if Christian Grey were real. 
I'm looking forward to flying in the Charlie Tango, soaring in a hand-glider, zooming around in the Mediteranean in a jet-ski, charging forward in the Audi R8 and much much more.  Life is definitely not dull in the Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele's world.  
“Fifty Shades of Grey” is a triple fudge chocolate cake with molten lava and runny frosting, a full meal with desert only. 
If you like “Fifty Shades of Grey”, please get this incesturous love story between a Peking University Student and her mother formal lover in the midst of 1989 Tiananmen Square Student Movement.  It is partially based on my painful childhood in China duirng the famous "Culture Revolution".  

                                                              Get your copy

"Last Kiss In Tiananmen Square", an incestal love story between a Peking University student and her mother's formal lover set in the midst of the 1989 Tiananmen Square Massacre is selling like hot cakes.  It has been reduced to $10.79 per copy by Amazon due ot its popularity.  See the following excerpt.



Get your copy
Inferno

A soldier jumped off a truck next to the tank, carrying a pack of rope-like things.
As a short stout man, he approached her slowly as though he was afraid of her. When he was two feet away from her, he released the black rope in his hands. It was a two-meter long black leather whip.
The whip was like a snake dancing in the air and hit Wu Zheng's body. She did not move and did not even look at her torturer. Instead, she ran towards him.
"Give me back my husband!" Wu Zheng cried like a wild animal.
The whipping continued. Her white blouse was broken into shreds and was full of bloodstains. Then she caught the whip in her hand. She started pulling at it. With God's power in her hands, she got the whip away from the soldier and started whipping him.
While this was happening, Pumpkin struggled in her husband's embrace. "Let me go! Let me save her!""Are you crazy? You are going to be killed. I'm not going to let you go!" His face touched her face, and their tears mixed. This was the most intimate act they had ever shared.
Wu Zheng tightened the whip around the soldier's neck and began strangling him.
Cheers came from the crowd. "Kill him! Kill the bastard!"
The tank started rolling and crushed them both.
The angry people moved over towards the tank.
They threw fire torches and gasoline; the tank caught fire. It blazed in the dark and moonless night.Everyone cheered as if they were the ghosts in Dante's inferno as the two soldiers were forced out of the tank.
The soldiers stumbled towards the angry people. As soon as they were away from the blazing tank, they were in the hands of the mob.
They beat them with sticks and metal bars. They spit on them. "Shall we kill them?"
"Of course. Why do you speak for the enemy?"
"They are not our enemies. They don't even know what they are doing."
"What do you mean? They have already killed innocent people. They are criminals." A middle-aged man went over, pulling at the collar of a young man as though he wanted to start a fight.
The soldiers disappeared in the crowd as their bodies were torn to pieces, and they quickly disintegrated through hundreds of angry hands.
Red-eyed people threw body parts back at the burning tank.
They held up their hands in a 'V' sign, until a spray of bullets from another vehicle gunned some of them down.

Do I Really Want People to Know Me Inside Out? It's Too Late!

If you want to know more about my as a author, please listen to this Book Junkie blogradio interview.  Book-junkies-interview-livecast/2012/02/22/a-chat-with-lisa-zhang-whartonI'm still overcoming the feeling of being exposed.  I'm having second thought of becoming a writer.  Anayway, listen to this when you can.  I may take it off very soon.