Sean is 24!!

On October 15, my brother Sean turned 24 years old.

Sean majored in cello performance at the prestigious Cleveland Institute of Music (CIM) in the not-so-prestigious city that houses the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (where I got to see the sullied canvas sack that contained John Lennon's bloodied clothes and glasses after he'd been shot).

Sean went on to a Master's program at the also-famous New England Conservatory in Boston. Just as I'm more or less self-taught with Chinese calligraphy, Sean's taught himself to play the piano. He feels he's better at improv on the piano than on the cello; I've asked him to try that with the cello but he always refuses. Bastard.

Sean's flirted with vegetarianism, having been a vegan for-- what-- a year or so? This was a while back. He finally saw the light and went back to meat, but then he got religion again and started the Atkins Diet. The Atkins Diet strikes me as very unsafe, but I can't deny that Sean's become very svelte since he began it. He and I used to look like twins; nowadays, however, I look like Evil Bloated Sean from Alternate Timeline Theta-2. I don't think people have trouble distinguishing us now.

Sean also composes music, as you'd expect from someone who majored in music. One of his pieces, written for a trio to play, was performed by Sean's chamber group, the Babadjanian Trio, at the Kennedy Center's Millennium Theater in Washington, DC. That piece was, in fact, Sean's Opus 1.

It's mainly thanks to Sean that I have some appreciation for classical music, though I also think I grew fond of the music's relaxing properties while I was a French teacher at Bishop O'Connell High School in Arlington, Virginia.

Sean also drives kind of fast, but it's better for him to drive in New York City than for me to do it. I'd go to pieces. Sean's fast driving is balanced by a keen sense of direction-- another faculty I lack. Luckily, in Seoul, all I have to do is familiarize myself with the subway system to get around. Or I can catch a cab, mention the destination, and let the cabbie figure it out (though occasionally you have to watch for the unscrupulous cabbies who deliberately take the long routes to cadge a bigger fare).

Sean's a radical extrovert. Like a lot of lastborns, he also tends to lose stuff. Not that I can criticize, after my recent cell phone scare.

Along with classical, Sean loves Bjork and rap.

Sean was born ten years, one month, and 15 days after yours truly. Mom blames the large age margin between me and my brothers (David is seven years younger than I am) on the pain she experienced in giving birth to me. Heh. A Korean mother's gentle sentiments.

"When you were coming out, Kevin, I screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeamed."

I don't think Mom screamed that much when Sean popped out.

Happy birthday, Mr. McVicker. (He calls me Dr. Bigglesworth.)
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