| WARBLEWARBLE. |
[Jan. 1st, 2015|12:00 pm] |
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If by some off chance that the dice of fate rolled you here by accident, I'm sorry to say that most of my entries are locked for those who are my friends on LiveJournal. There a simple remedy, really, which would be to make an LJ account and just friend me. Easy as pie...or, eating it, rather. You get the idea. |
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| Write and wrong |
[Oct. 22nd, 2009|08:10 pm] |
I still don't know what is going on in math, hence I am typing here. Worship my productivity.
I'm come to realize that one of the reasons why I have a lot of things to write about is because I don't mention then when the events themselves occur. This is mostly because I usually don't think of it in time; i.e., an interesting discussion topic comes up in class, I think about an answer that I wait for someone to bring up, then no one brings it up so I don't mention it, and I persist on thinking about the particular idea because there was no one to counter me to say "That is incorrect." or "That may be so, but this idea is superior.". It's very saddening, actually, because the idea seethes inside me, and I start getting fantasies about what would have happened if I had mentioned it. Essentially, it's like how I was while watching debates; I'm happy to make side comments, but speaking up is a problem. The problem is that the moment I try to speak, most of what I have dries up in an instant. My current rationale for not speaking is that I'd rather want to know what other people would think instead of try to voice my own thoughts, because 1) it seems more productive, because although I know my own thoughts already, I don't know those of others, so it's more interesting to listen to them [if they're smart, it's entertaining; if idiotic, also the same], and 2) it's a lot easier to make my own judgments about the merits of other arguments at my own pace, because I can't think fast enough to follow up on any counter-counter [i.e., if I counter their argument, and they refute, I typically can't think of anything in time, and the idea becomes something that I muse over anyway, so I'm back at square one with a different idea]. I embark on this reasoning endeavor because I slept through the good majority of my Greek Thought class today; not only does the professor probably know [there are like, 18 people in the class, and we all sit at a big round table, and I was sitting almost directly across from her], but I'm also afraid to speak up when I'm actually lucid towards the end, because I don't know if what's on my mind has been said or not. I also tend to let the rest of a group do most of the speaking whenever we have a group study during SOSC, even though they might just be repeating things that we collectively agreed on [my input included]. Moral of the story: get your reading done, get enough sleep, and get some courage.
Now that that tangent is covered, an interesting thought crossed my mind while I was walking back to B-J today, as I strolled past Goodspeed Hall [the music department's building; I love it so much, because there are about 10 practice rooms sprawled around the first floor, and I walk by it every day on my way to classes, and I can always hear something pretty awesome. I think it was a Mozart sonata today, but I remember hearing choir, a Chopin waltz, an erhu, violin, etc, at different times/days]. Anyway, the question in mind was this: Pretend that someone is doing something that is wrong [common enough]. There are a few possibilities [that I could think of] for why they are doing this wrong deed: the first is that they don't know what they do is wrong; the second, that they have an inkling, but refuse to contemplate the fact that what they are doing might be wrong, either willfully or in fear; or the last, that they have fully considered the consequences of their action, and have come to the conclusion that what they are doing is right, and firmly hold that belief. In your opinion, which of these is the most detestable? I'd like to know. [As a note, my question [and its framing] is also up for debate as well.] |
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| One more day, one day more |
[Sep. 18th, 2009|05:21 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dream, music | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Viens, Mallika, les lianes en fleurs...[Flower Duet]- from Delibes' Lakmé | ] |
Before I start, I think I should mention the dreams I had during my 1.5 hour nap this afternoon. The first one was typical in its craziness; it started with me trying to skateboard in a parking lot [kind of like the one used by Burlington], except the thing I was trying to skate on was shaped weirdly: it was basically two skateboards tied together with a strings, the left one was shaped more like a nail filer, but the right one was normal. How it worked was that I started on one skateboard, with the other trailing behind, and when the one I was one slowed down, the one behind would somehow slingshot forward as I slowed, and I would jump to that one and keep skating. It was pretty cool. I then saw my mom and my sister up ahead, and I knew they were headed to a shop that sold a lot of different things [in hindsight, I knew what it was in my dream, but there's no concise name for it now]. I ran over to catch up with them [my dual skateboards apparently vanished], and before we reached the ramp going out, we saw a stand that was selling brightly colored pottery. The motherly vendor was promoting her wares to a thin group of people, and we listened. There was one work that I particularly liked, and there was apparently an auction for it, but when I looked through my Nike bag for my wallet, I couldn't find it and so didn't get to bid. For whatever reason, everyone else int he crowd looked at me while I searched, and when I couldn't find my money no one placed a bid on it. Apparently, that would have been the last transaction of the day, so the vendor started to clean up. I told my mother and sister to go ahead to the store, and I went over to help her clear the ornate wooden tables. One of the small things she was selling on the sides was an interesting little game; it consisted of one large black cube that detailed a game on each facet, and the large cube had four smaller cubes, colored one color on each facet, with which to play the facet games. I don't remember the games themselves, but I know the score was counted cumulatively for all 6 games, and there were a few colorful graphs on the facets to explain how to play. The dream then flashed into the store, where we were browsing cloth and fabric, for whatever reason. Grandmother and Grandfather were also there with us, as if we were back in Taiwan.
Then my dreams turned more serious. I was in a large plaza of white stone, with battlements on the side. I only got to see one corner, but I assumed it was mostly empty; there was a long, long staircase going down parallel to the wall on the outside. There was an alcove on the side of the plaza, right up against the battlements, that had two seats and a small table, like a café. I went over. Sitting in the two seats were Tiffany, on my left, and her sister Harmony, to my left, both dressed in while, brighter than the stone. They were chatting with each other, seated in parallel direction to the wall, but there was a black bar that went from the wall of the alcove to the table that prevented Tiffany from leaving the square surrounding her seat [but there wasn't one for Harmony; I learned during our subsequent conversation that it was regulation for visitation]. We greeted each other like it was simply a long time since we'd seen each other, though I remember asking her what it was like where she was, and she laughed a little and said she couldn't tell. I also asked her if she went to see Lilian, but she said she didn't want to make her cry; oddly enough, I saw Lilian walking up the stairway just on the other side of where the sisters were seated. There was a lot of other conversation too, but I just don't remember it at the moment. It was very blissful and happy.
Yesterday, my mother and I hunkered down to finally do some packing; it was surprisingly painless, because she put everything away as I got it out, so we were done very quickly. It was also a big help that Lilian had helped fold just about all the clothes, so we were half way done in the first place.
Lately, I've been realizing how much hope I'm investing into UChicago. At this point, I'm almost scared that I'll be disappointed if angels don't greet me to my dorm room, and the heavens don't sing while I walk to class, and the dorm food doesn't taste like ambrosia [...okay, maybe not the latter]. I want college to be everything that I feel like I missed in high school; I want to be constantly stimulated, to do everything I can get my hands on, instead of confine myself to doing academics and little else. I want to meet my professors, to legitimately have an educated conversation with them, instead of the disappointing one I had with Professor Viotti at JSA Stanford [then again, the class was amusingly easy, so eh]. And, to be honest, I really want a primary circle of friends of my own, [you know, the group of people you do a lot of stuff with]. I know, its unbelievably selfish and 3rd-grader-esque, but I'm the kind of person who dabbles here and there. It just seems like most of my [really good, awesomely wonderful] friends have other people they would go to first when something is up, and I just hope that I can find something half as good as that at Chicago. I know it's silly, but that's probably my biggest high school regret, not being a better friend and better person to everyone; I guess what I'm hoping UChic gives me is a second chance at everything.
Tomorrow night, I will be boarding a plane to fly two thousand miles away from everything I've ever known. So, thank you to everyone reading this, for putting up with me and my crazy self for four years. You are all amazing, beautiful people.
For your relaxation. You will recognize it.
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| The fate of a firefly is to fade. |
[Sep. 2nd, 2009|10:31 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Ending Theme from Grave of the Fireflies | ] |
Guilt is fickle. Much like other strong emotions, it has both to capacity to come and go, as well as burn like a brand at the back of your mind. I like it in all forms though, because as an agent of conscience, it serves the purpose of self-betterment.
Today was my sister's last day of summer before she started school at Oak. For the past couple weeks when she's been home [after her summer program ended], we've been doing little to nothing together. Looking back [those weeks and beyond], I've been a pretty bad brother. It depresses me when I think about it. I don't know how to explain it. I just had such high standards for her, I just disregard what she does because I want more. Like the other day, when she read Wiesel's Night; I think all I did was just look at her and scoffed, ask if she learned anything from it. I even realize what I'm doing wrong most of the time, but my pride just doesn't let me make amends, because I tell myself it's for her own good and she'll learn from it, although looking back, that's kind of a weak excuse. Since today would probably be her last free day with me in a while, I asked her to watch Grave of the Fireflies with me, since I'm leaving her for a few months, and I wanted to leave her something memorable. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it; the movie is one of the saddest I've ever seen--I felt several emotional pangs throughout it, and my sister was sniffling and tearing up. I was hoping it would make her be nicer to our parents and more considerate in general while I'm away; I know for sure she remembers it, because she's trying to summarize it to my mom. Well, no, she just gave up because her Chinese sucks. *sigh*
My mom also was really late coming home today; she's usually home by 6, but she didn't get home until after 7. It turns out she was out buying last minute school supplies for my sister. I was really worried [like, REALLY worried, to the point where I called 5 times and left a message, which I NEVER do]. I hate it when scenarios flash through your mind like that. Anyway, she arrived home safely, and I was glad. She also bought a bag of Honey Dijon Kettle Chips that I like. I don't know what it is, but I love such quiet gestures like that; they're so stirring and provoking, more so, I think, than big gaudy flairs that most people like. She didn't even tell me she bought them, I just went out to get everything from her car like I always do and BAM, they were right there. This is significant because I know they're not on sale, and a bag costs like +$5 dollars. Gosh, I love my family.
EDIT:
IN OTHER NEWS, I found the shirt I want to wear to school: http://www.cafepress.com/collegepanda.252750884 |
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| Because this was starting to bother me. |
[Aug. 31st, 2009|12:36 am] |
Why do people care so much about how others care or don't care about keeping in contact? If it really mattered to you, you wouldn't worry about it; instead, you would just keep trying, instead of proverbially sitting there by the phone waiting for something to make it ring. Human relationship is a flurry of cause and effect, and if you're willing to be passive and contemplate about something happening or not happening rather than being a mover of currents, you are effectively negating your right to lament about lack of contact. If they seem not to be interesting, then my goodness, make sure first! Then, if all else fails, cut the person loose; if they don't consider your relationship worth maintaining, you shouldn't consider the relationship worth wasting thought over. I know it's not easy, I really do, but the reality is that there are 6.78 billion people out there; chances are, there is someone of similar caliber. There is no point in seeking a way through a dead end. Perhaps this is merely the summer heat fueling these words, and maybe this is a little more for me than anyone else, but I think there might be a sliver of truth somewhere in there. |
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| 350 |
[Aug. 19th, 2009|04:54 pm] |
Hey y'alls. I might have already sent you an email from www.350.org already, but if I haven't, I copy pasted the contents below; please check it out.
"Hey everyone,
Most of you know that I'm committed to solving the climate crisis. If you're like me, you're convinced about the urgency of this problem, but don't know what you can do that will make a real difference. That's why I'm writing you today.
I just discovered really important effort to stop global warming at www.350.org. It's a new global campaign focused on making sure the world takes the kind of big, bold, fast action that we need to solve this crisis.
Here's the situation:
- The science of climate change is getting darker by the day. The Arctic is melting away with astonishing speed, decades ahead of schedule. Everything on the planet seems to be melting or burning, rising or parched. No surprise there--scientists tell us that the safe level of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is 350 parts per million, and we're at 389 and rising.
- But there's good news: we're not cooked yet, and THIS YEAR we have an opportunity to make a real impact. In December, the nations of the world will be meeting in Copenhagen to craft a global treaty designed to help the world act together to solve global warming. The terms of this treaty may well determine whether we actually save the planet from climate change, so it's up to all of us to make sure we get it right.
- But nobody's going to do it for us--we all need to step up here. Here's how you can help: people all over the world are coming together to create an International Day of Action on October 24th through the website 350.org. The goal is to take a united stand to get the planet--and ourselves--back to 350 out of this huge mess. If we're loud enough all over the world, we can really make a difference. We need as many events as possible, all over the world! You can register your event at http://www.350.org/oct24
- Why 350? Find out in this fun 90-second video clip: http://www.350.org/animation
Thanks everyone--with your help, 2009 is going to be BIG.
P.S. I've also included the original invitation letter below if you want more information about 350. ALSO, sorry if you don't really remember who this is; I kind of just plugged it to everyone on my address book, since I assumed everyone lives on the same planet. Thanks!
------------------------------------------------------------ -- Dear World—
This is an invitation to build a movement—to take one day and use it to stop the climate crisis.
We are a group of people from around the planet—young and old, scientists and writers and activists—who have one thing in common. We know the most important number on earth: 350. And we know how to use that number to finally get global action on the worst crisis humans have ever faced. But we can only do it if you help.
A year ago, our greatest climatologist—NASA’s James Hansen—and his team produced a landmark series of studies. They showed that if we let the amount of carbon in the atmosphere top 350 parts per million, we can’t have a planet “similar to the one on which civilization developed and to which life on earth is adapted.”
The bad news is we’re already past that number—we’re at 390 parts per million, which is why the Arctic is melting, why drought is spreading across the planet, why people are already dying from diseases like dengue fever and malaria occurring in places where they’ve never been seen before.
The good news: that number gives us a target to aim for. When the world’s leaders meet in Copenhagen in December to reach agreement on a new climate treaty, we need them to go farther than they’ve planned to go: we need to make sure they’ll pay attention to the latest science and put forward a plan that gets us back to safety.
So here’s the plan. On October 24, we need you to organize an action in the place where you live, something that will make that most important number visible to everyone. People in more than 1000 communities around the globe have already announced plans—they’ll be school children planting 350 trees in Bangledesh, scientists hanging banners saying 350 on the statues on Easter Island, 350 scuba divers diving underwater at the Great Barrier Reef, and a thousand more creative actions like these. At each event, people will gather for a big group photo that somehow depicts 350--and upload that photo to the web 350.org. As actions take place around the world, we'll link all the pictures together electronically via the web--by the end of the day, we'll have a powerful visual petition linking together the entire planet that we can deliver to the media and world leaders.
So far more than 100 nations are taking part—it's shaping up to be to be the biggest day of grassroots action on global warming ever. But we need it to be much larger—we need you, in your village or town or city, to take part. It’s not hard—we can help you with materials and ideas. But you need to take the first step, by registering an action and starting to let your friends and neighbors know about it.
Involve groups that you’re in—everything from your church, mosque or synagogue to your local bicycle group. People want to help, especially if they see the chance for something that might actually matter. This is even more important than changing your lightbulb—this is your chance to help change the way the whole world operates. October 24 comes six weeks before those crucial UN meetings in Copenhagen. It’s a great chance to take a stand—maybe the last great chance, given what the scientists tell us about the momentum of global warming.
But it can only happen with the help of a global movement—and it's starting to bubble up everywhere. Farmers in Cameroon, students in China, even World Cup skiers have already helped spread the word about 350. Churches have rung their bells 350 times; Buddhist monks have formed a huge 350 with their bodies against the backdrop of Himalayas. 350 translates across every boundary of language and culture. It's clear and direct, cutting through the static and laying down a firm scientific line.
This is like a final exam for human beings. Can we muster the courage, the commitment, and the creativity to set this earth on a steady course before it's too late? October 24 will be the joyful, powerful day when we prove it's possible.
Please join us and register your local action today. Onwards, Bill McKibben - Author and Activist- USA
Vandana Shiva - Physicist, Activist, Author - India
David Suzuki - Scientist, Author, Activist - Canada
Bianca Jagger - Chair of the World Future Council - UK
Tim Flannery - Scientist, Author, Explorer -Australia
Bittu Sahgal - Editor of Sanctuary magazine - India
Andrew Simmons - Environmental Advocate, St. Vincent & The Grenadines
Christine Loh - Environmental Advocate and Legislator - Hong Kong P.S.—We need you to do something else, right away, that's pretty easy. Please forward this message to anyone you know who is even remotely appropriate. You can use our "tell-a-friend" tool import your e-mail addresses and send along this e-postcard to your friends and family." |
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| Age quod agis* |
[Aug. 8th, 2009|10:03 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | thoughts | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Non, je ne regrette rien - Édith Piaf | ] |
I got a haircut today. I'd missed going last week with my family since I went to Griffith Observatory with Elaine and Christina. It's refreshingly shorter now [less than one inch], instead of the unwieldy length it previously was; the idea is for it to last until I get back from Chicago in December, out of a bizarre mix of convenience, hopeful planning, and fear.
Yet, there is something else that I'm hoping will last even longer than my haircut. The lady who is our barber [her name is Wendy] typically engages the currently seated member of the family in conversation; like most Asian adults, a common shared topic is academics and college. Usually, most of the questions are directed to or deflected by my mother, since I'm the last person to take grades seriously, but I didn't have that luxury today. HENCE, I soldiered on in Chinese with Wendy, attempting to parry her pointed questions that revealed, for the most part, already formed preconceptions [the common ones, about taking as many APs as possible, cramming in outside classes, etc.]. Like many parents, she seemed pretty worried about everything, so most of my advice consisted of reassuring her that it'd be okay if her son [just going into 9th] simply went with the flow instead of cramming [She's having him take AP Bio freshman year with outside classes. Then again, maybe he's one of those crazy good people who want it.]. Throughout the conversation [lasting the duration of the haircut, about fifteen minutes], I could tell she was pretty tired because sometimes she would miss things that I said, or repeat something again. After she finished, I swept the entire floor of the salon as I usually do. I just wished I could do a little more to relieve the stress parents like her put themselves under.
As if by some bizarre stroke of coincidence, this morning when my parents and I went to the Citibank of Las Tunas, I happened to meet George, which is also going to Chicago in September. How odd that we'd happen to go to the same branch at the same time of day [equipped with the same orange colored paper from the parent orientation packet, no less]. It's unplanned times like these I wonder about the force of first impressions, because everything then is completely spontaneous. He must have been busy [or I revolting...probably the latter], for he left pretty quickly afterward. We should start planning that SGV meet-up soon.
This is the first time I'm using the Facebook Beacon, which allows me to post public entries on FB if it so pleases my momentary whims. We shall see if it's worth pursuing.
[*"Do what you do", in the sense of taking whatever you do seriously and as well as possible] |
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| Wordpress rant. |
[Aug. 8th, 2009|05:12 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | tirade | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Meditation - from Massanet's Thaïs | ] |
I just got a Wordpress, to see if there was a way I could link the people that read on that website together onto a friends page like the one on LiveJournal instead of clicking around to check on everyone. I've only been playing with it for ten minutes or so, and I already dislike it. Oh my goodness, no thank you, you do NOT have to post one of everything [an entry, a comment, an About page, whatever other random stuff] with generic text that I have to go back and delete. I also feel like Wordpress is oriented towards dissemination, especially with that self-consciousness inducing gadget that shows you how many times your page is viewed. Since I have nothing to preach, I see no need for such a thing. And worst of all, subscriptions don't work like they do on LiveJournal at all; basically, whatever you subscribe is condensed into a list of blurbs and links that you have to click on that redirect you, instead of a concise friends page that automatically lists everything posted by your friends. There's also this annoying thing called a Blogroll that I initially thought was the Friends Page equivalent, but instead turned out to be a Wordpress page bookmark list. And I still can't figure out how to remove pages from the list [no Wordpress, I don't need both Wordpress.com and Wordpress.org on a Blogroll, thanks], despite the needlessly bubbly and flashy Dashboard, which is it's equivalent of a directory [similar to the drop down menus on the bar above you see when you're on your profile page, but with more animation].
Yeah, I'm sticking with LJ, guys. |
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| Lethargy and shock. |
[Aug. 3rd, 2009|10:40 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Honey - Kara | ] |
I find myself exuding slob-like qualities left and right [and up and down and so on], and it disgusts myself, but I really shouldn't type about that, as it's not particularly interesting to read about.
I went to Jessica's house today with Tiffany to help the latter on her AP Chem work. I'll purposely leave most of it ambiguous to remind Tiffany to post about it instead in detail, so only a few notable points from me:
-FINALLY SAW JESSICA AGAIN AFTER FOREVER. 'Twas awesome.
-Um...Asian parents.
-Never finished the New Yorker short story, which I actually want to read now. *hinthint*
-Forgot everything chem-related.
-Conversation to die for [involving generous amounts of morbidity to boot]
-Jessica makes ambrosia fruit slushies worthy of worship.
-Biking back and getting Jessica's blister bandages.
That's all I'll mention for now {GO TIFFANY, GO!...after you finish your last three problems].
I also found this on FB, which clearly I haven't been able to completely stay away from since notices are sometimes dropped into my e-mail. It's slightly astonishing, the barely concealed revulsion; reading through it was like watching a train wreck: it's horrible, and the more you read the worse it gets, but you can't help yourself. Probably an exemplar of what I read would be this, from a Cathy Nign:
"I live near the corner of Daines and El Monte Avenue. The house at the corner is a mini mansion and somehow they managed to build the house without a garage! I guess they bought off the planning commission or the building inspector or got the rules changed. I am really sick of all the lion statues in front of the houses and mirrors above the doorways to scare off the bogeyman. Most of all I feel I need a passport to shop at Home Depot or any store in Temple City. And the driving is beyond bad, I won't even drive down Las Tunas anymore! Maybe I should learn Chinese! I am getting a flagpole for the front yard and flying the colors everyday!"
Oh. Hey there, sorry, I didn't realize you didn't consider us American. I guess me being born here and living here since said birth doesn't make much of a difference; pretty sure I can fly the colors as good as anyone though. Yeah, my driving might be a little off, but hey, haven't crashed yet [woot!]. I'm still not quite sure why not having a garage [and by extension, car] is such an insult, so I don't have a response for that one [maybe it insults the American dream, not having a gas guzzler parked next to you on every side]. Ja. Eye-opener of the day.
Well, I've tarried too long. Got to get up early for work tomorrow [LAST DAY, WHOOO!], so I'll see you guys when I see you. |
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| Organizing. |
[Jul. 31st, 2009|06:49 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | White noise from Gray | ] |
I just spent two hours cleaning up the accumulation of sheets of dead tree residue on my desk. Everything that I came across brought back a memory, so I was constantly pausing in my work too. There were several things of note:
-LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of UChicago mail. I didn't realize I had gotten so much.
-Some late college advertisement stragglers from Kettering and the University of Miami. wtheck?
-Programme from the Pasadena Symphony Orchestra concert from January, with ticket
-My four acceptance packages from the UCs; I stored these in my cabinet.
-That pretty Scholarship Award thing from UCLA [I also realized around this point that UCLA had also given me a window sticker, but it's only one fourth the size of the one Chicago gave me. BAHAHA.], which also went into said cabinet.
-Spring State forms, completely filled out and signed, dated March 29th, 2009.
-My notes from my black notepad that I ripped out. Various dates from Stanford summer school to swing dancing.
-A lot of practice Calc BC tests from Alpha. [LOL, I GOT TWOS AND THREES ON THAT. How the hell did I get a five again?]
-A page that I wrote on the back of one of those said practice tests dated December 20th, 2008. I'm not sure if I posted it yet, but I'm sure it is, so I'll go check. I wrote it after I chanced upon meeting Tiffany [Chiang]'s parents at Alpha; I guess that's all I need to say.
-A viewbook from Northwestern, of all places. I didn't even know I had one.
-Oh yes, and my favorite part was finding all those papers and glossy literature I got from my visits to Claremont McKenna. I trashed them all with vengeful glee [with the exception of my unopened rejection letter, which I'm keeping as a warning to myself to maintain humility].
I got a huge packet in the mail today from the University. I thought it might have been dormitory assignments, so I ALSJFHPAIFUSLKJSDHF-ed a little, but no, it was only all the stuff for parents. *sigh*
Oh hey guys, I found this game called Gray. I really like it. Play it until the end [I know it might get a little repetitive]; I hope it makes you think a little bit. |
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| Hindsight |
[Jul. 21st, 2009|06:17 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | thoughts | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | String Quartet No. 2 in A minor, Op. 51/2: IV - Johannes Brahms | ] |
Strange are the memories that surface on a sleepless night. Even stranger are the emotions evoked by viewing events through the lens of hindsight. Sometimes, I find myself involuntarily flinching, sometimes violently, in awkward remembrance of something [usually at really awkward times too, e.g., when taking a shower, when playing piano]; other times, I become somber.
Last night, chance brought to my mind an inexpressibly mundane memory. In late middle school [back when the internet was still an exciting New World instead of a well-trodden abode], I dallied for a while on a site called Gaia Online, which was basically forums on steroids, with money, games, manga, art, you-name-it, mixed in. I don't quite remember, but I think a friend showed it to me the site, and believe it or not, I stayed for a while because I liked the idea of role-playing. [Role-playing (RP) is basically assuming characters on a premade setting to write out an adventure-type story on a forum. The notion is slightly distasteful now.] By chance, I met a very engaging and interesting person while I was on my RP sprees. Her name was Kerrigan; she was a college student, studying music abroad in Germany. Needless to say, she was as creative as the devil, which utterly amazed my little self.
It must be noted that I was very full of myself at the time [perhaps I still am?]; my screenname was something ridiculously pompous like "Classical Enlightenment", and I scoffed at the pathetic punctuation of the masses on Gaia. In hindsight, she was extremely tolerant towards the little brat that I was, and I remember having online conversations with her and even some of her friends about a host of topics. Of course, she could very well have been someone fat, lonely, and pathetic, but something told me she was quite the opposite and only did RP as a hobby, because she was only sporadically online. For about two weeks, I was having so much fun, because I joined a different RP she was part of that was really good, making me check my account fanatically every day. Unfortunately, like all things good, it came to an end rather quickly. What happened was that while we were having a conversation, she made some typical sarcastic jab about Asian stereotypes which I should have just let slide. But my narrow-minded, self-righteous self wouldn't let it go, and when she pushed it again jokingly, for whatever reason I completely blew up and deleted everything I'd ever written.
I don't really know why I did that, because I remember regretting it almost immediately; I know even less why I thought of it again when tossing and turning last night. Now that I remember it though, I suppose it serves as a warning from the past against such stupid behavior as narrow-mindedness and vindictiveness.
It's kind of interesting though, this remembrance thing. What am I going to remember from today, if anything, years into the future? Will I remember how Chap Chae doesn't taste good anymore after the second day in the refrigerator? Will I remember discovering three baby kittens sleeping in a cardboard box in our garage? Or will I only remember remembering something even further back into the past? I suppose the answer can only be seen through hindsight.
------------------
I also found this email in my UChicago account today. It makes me sad.
"Two crimes involving violence or the threat of violence were reported recently at the CTA bus stop adjacent to the Red Line rapid transit station at Garfield Blvd. and Wentworth Avenue (Dan Ryan Expressway):
At 10:30 p.m., Saturday, July 18 – Two males, 18, and a female, 18, were among a group of people waiting for an eastbound CTA bus. Three young males, 12-14 years-of age, verbally harassed the victims before striking one of the male victims on the head with a stick and then throwing the stick striking the female victim. The other male victim was punched on the neck by a second offender.
At 10:30 p.m., Sunday, July 19 – A male, 20, waiting for a CTA bus at the same bus stop and was robbed by a young male, 12-13 years-of-age, who displayed the butt of a hand gun tucked into his waist band.
The location of these incidents is outside of the coverage area of the UCPD; Chicago police have been made aware of the crimes. If you are the victim of a crime, please contact the police as soon as possible by calling Chicago police emergency 911 and UCPD at 702-8181." |
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| Summer is nice. |
[Jul. 9th, 2009|03:51 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | happiness | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Tears Remover - Kara | ] |
Ah, I love living so much right now. There's so much joy to be found in relaxing to music after eating and showering.
I've come to notice that it's a lot easier to suffer when there's a particular end in sight to focus on. It's easier to, say, finish a race for example, when the finish line is directly in front of you than when you're halfway through a cross country race, as it's easier to finish a long test when you're almost done than right after you started. Sometimes it's just the trouble of seeing the finish in the mind's eye to keep yourself going to the end. Although there may seem to be no end to a particular bought of suffering, it has to end eventually at some point, you just have to look farther and focus on the end to keep going. |
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| Today has been pretty awesome so far. |
[Jul. 4th, 2009|09:09 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Libiamo ne' lieti calici - from Verdi's La traviata | ] |
I woke at 5:50 am to go running today. I had almost forgotten what it was like to run in the morning. There were very few cars, the sun was low in the sky so there was much shade to be had, and the air was crisp and clear, without a hint of the heat that is sure to come today. Everything was so green and beautiful. I ran to Valumart first, where I was supposed to meet Jessica; when she wasn't there I went ahead to her house. At the moment, I'm still not sure what happened to Jessica; she probably just overslept, but I hope nothing happened. Anyway, it was around 6:27 am when I got to her house [we were supposed to meet at Valumart at 6:30, and it's a bit farther than 3 minutes of running from her house, which is near the high school], so I decided to just run on my own, which was nice enough. I went back down Longden until I hit the first redlight, then turned back for home.
When I got home, I walked around for a bit to cool down, because my mom had to finish up the cycle of the washing machine before I could take a shower. I know I've probably covered this multiple times back when we had Saturday cross-country practices, but wow, there are few joys better than taking a hot shower in the morning after a nice run, with warm sunlight and bird chirping outside the window. Afterward, I hung up all the clothes from the dryer, and my mom and I went to Sì Hǎi [Four Seas] for a Chinese breakfast; she got xian dou jiang [savory soy milk, with rousong, scallions, and other stuff; I'm too lazy include the proper accents for these] and sao bing [a kind o baked biscuit with sesame], while I got tian dou jiang [soy milk] and sao bing with beef and parsley. It was good. My mom bought a newspaper after we finished, and we just got home. After reading a page or so, she went back to washing the clothes.
Aaaand, I literally juuust hung up another batch of clothes. Yay for productivity, eh? I think it's amusing, how centuries ago children would be raised so that parents would have more hands to work around the farm, whereas now most children are just pampered, spoiled kids whose parents do everything for them while they are hopefully studying. Progress? Perhaps. I'm not complaining; life is good. Really good.
My hands have become really dry recently; I'm not quite sure why. The palms have become kind of rough because of it. It's kind of odd. Maybe I just need to drink more water. |
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| Breakfast. |
[Jul. 3rd, 2009|02:56 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | 西口情韵 [Xi Kou Ballad] - 于红梅 [Yu Hongmei] | ] |
Christina, Wing, and I were supposed to have breakfast at around 9:45 today. I woke up late. Very late. Exactly when Wing called me when she was outside, in fact. I think that was the fastest shower I've taken in a long while. I still feel really bad about making them wait. T_T
Anyway, we went to eat at IHOP. I'm sorry to say that I liked our conversation more than the breakfast fare. It's really fun to talk to chill people. Whooo!~ After eating, we, being the kool kidz we are, went to sit down and chat at Pavilions, because it had chairs, tables, and air conditioning. All the talk of college made me kind of excited, but I mustn't get my hopes up. Take things as they come, you know?
I've come to terms with my relaxation. I refuse to call it boredom, as it really isn't. What everyone complains about is actually a luxury that few in the world are lucky enough to enjoy. For that, I am grateful. WOOPWOOPWOOPWOOPWOOP.
ALSO, if you have not taken this yet, you should, even if you've taken something similar to it. I think it's surprisingly accurate, and it also mentions what major might fit you best. HOHO. |
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| Futility |
[Jun. 30th, 2009|03:09 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | La Ronde des Lutins, scherzo fantastique for violin & piano - Antonio Bazzini | ] |
Sometimes, I wish that I could influence people a little more. I wish that persuasion would be able to keep up motivation longer than the length of said persuasion. I wish for many other things too, but mostly those two.
I believe that writing down one's thoughts does in fact lead to self-betterment. You don't have to read Death of a Salesman to know that self-awareness is key to contentment. When you write down your own thoughts, you're able to progress from whichever point you were at in your thought process, and evolve to another stage of thinking, since you don't have the same thought train chugging around in your skull anymore. Perhaps it doesn't happen quite as often as other people, but when a thought consumes you so much, it feels so calming to just write it out and reflect, knowing that a solution will present itself. I truly believe that if everyone were to be able to take the third and fourth looks at their own actions that writing confers to the writers, conflict within the self and with others would greatly decrease, if not cease altogether. Strangely, people are prideful enough to refuse to take even a second look at themselves, let alone express their thoughts through words, and continue walking away, sometimes blindly. I know I sound pretentious, and probably like a freak, but this is what I really think, which I am willing to record, as opposed to...what? Silent scoffs of scorn? I know not, because there is nothing written, and sometimes, not even spoken.
On a lighter note, writing about oneself serves as a both a record, and as entertainment. When you think about it, much of literature is about other people, usually fictitious. I actually believe that anything can be interesting, especially things that are more concrete than fiction, such as yourself. Even more interesting than that would be for yourself to read something written by yourself. What could be more enlightening than taking another glance at your own thoughts, feelings, and emotions, preserved through crystallized word for your own perusal, for reflection, for hindsight? A real person's life, no matter how mundane, I will always consider more interesting than grandest works of fiction. Perhaps you like to read my writing, but simply don't like to write. In that case, yes, you got a LiveJournal [probably for my sake], but why not write with it, for your sake? The sands of Time are indeed fleeting and brief; steal and seal away a couple grains while you can.
So you see my problems with influence and the sadness of futility. For those that understand the above, my gratitude is boundless.
~------------------~
As always, I've more to say. I'm probably going to go for my first drive today when my dad gets back from work. WHOO!~
I think I made my parents really happy yesterday, because I did some housework [vacuum, dishes, other stuff]. I should have paid them more attention when they were praising me though; I feel like I was ignoring them now, since I was on the computer at the time. Ignored praise always feels bitter for the praiser. Speaking of which, I like how my parents went about doing it. They had a conversation in the kitchen, where I could hear clearly, and were talking about whatever I'd done that day, so I could listen in on all the compliments. My dad asked me a question every once in a while [e.g., "Ay, dĭ dí, yào bú yào hē jü zĭ zhī?", "Do you want to drink orange juice?"] to make sure I could hear. It was pleasantly amusing.
This particular entry marks the end of an accomplishment. I've posted at least once every day for this month. Huzzah! My prize is self-satisfaction. =D
ALSO, Wikipedia is not working for some reason. This makes me very sad.
P.S. To those that comment: I really appreciate it, and although I usually never respond to them, I always read them. Thank you. |
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| Uhnprodukteev |
[Jun. 21st, 2009|04:22 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Violin Concerto in e minor, Op. 64 Mvt. III - Felix Mendelssohn | ] |
Today was a very unproductive day. I woke up at 12:15 pm. I've been reading about everything coming out of Iran, it's ridiculous. So, I've decided to record what happened at [or, rather, what I remember about] graduation and grad nite.
So, I spent most of the day trying to finish inserts, which I ended up only finishing three. I'm very pathetic. Jason gave me a ride to the high school, and parking plans with Sally unfortunately fell through. After standing around for forever, we finally walked to the field. It was very anticlimactic; I kind of wish I could feel the same excitement the people around me felt, and I remember giving off comments like "Calm down, you'll at least go through another one of these in your life." or some such when people started making excited-noises. It's interesting to note that everyone was in a good mood though; that was nice to see. Speeches were all good [though perhaps Michelle's was a bit too specifically oriented for most people to relate to, even if I felt like shouting our freshman year resolution], and it was all over very quickly. Many pictures ensued in the aftermath, vast majority being [as always] awkward enough to kill twenty awkward turtles. I'm a murderer.
Afterward, I ran over to the music room to fetch my violin, and gave Tiffany a ride home. I ate an unceremonious supper of Burger King, and then headed back to the high school for grad night. I was pleasantly surprised by all the effort that the parents had put into everything. The whole section of school seemed to be decorated, and every senior [with a yearbook picture] had a cardboard cutout of themselves. There was this Los Angeles/Hollywood theme, so we walked in on a red carpet to camera flashes from volunteers; to the left was a wall for autographing. It amuses me to think if any of those autographs will be recognizable [because it was multi-layered before the night was over] and/or worth anything in the future, and what they did do to it. Maybe we'll see it at reunion? That might be interesting, given the amount of "___ + ___" enclosed-in-heart signatures. Wow, I sound like a disgusting misanthrope; no misanthropy intended, I'm just making observations [albeit granted, they may be snide].
I've already lost track of the exact sequence of events, but I remember taking a picture with Nancy/Jennifer/Anthony on the beach-mobile, and then going into the casino to play blackjack when the room didn't quite stink so heavily yet. That was probably the most amazingly fun round of blackjack I've ever played. I still remember that one round when we all bet hundreds, and on the first deal everyone got either a face card or a ten. CRAZY STUFF. Then again, there were those two rounds were we all lost to 21s from the dealer; I think we were all betting so much by then we collectively lost two-three thousand per round. In the end, I walked away with around $500 off of my initial one hundred, so I was happy [although at one point I was near double that amount...ah well].
I don't remember the exact sequence of what happened afterward, but we went to go get smoothies and then played at the Santa Monica Pier-style arcade games. I liked that surfer spray game [BAHAHA, WON AGAINST ESTHER. WINWINWIN!]. At some point we also went on the crazy bungee jumping thing, which was really dizzying. I'm not quite sure why, but the two people operating it were laughing at me when I was on it; I'm not particularly insulted by it, but it'd have been nice to know why. Maybe it was because I was trying to do a front flip [everyone else was doing back flips, because they were a lot easier]. Anyway, there was also skee ball and pinball in the arcade in what was formerly Theatre 601, and we went to play laser tag and DDR on the other side where the basketball courts were. I also made a wax cast of my hand, but it kind of failed because the cold water ruined the gesture I was going to make [my fingers curled too much]. I also got a caricature drawn that didn't really look like me [I don't think they could draw Asian people very well. AHAHAHaww.]. By the time I mustered the courage to get a tattoo, the booth had closed, so I didn't get to do that. Andy and Jason got the most disgusting face paint things in the world. Why the hell would you want a shard of glass and the accompanying wound painted into your face, other than to gross everyone else out? How unlucky. I also went on a tricycle ride with Esther and then Sally, which was really fun for some reason, but the tricycle was surprisingly hard to turn. Guess I'm too used to bicycles. I also didn't get to go on the inflatable battlefield, because by the time we got to it it was already a challenge to put on the helmets [all grimy and sweaty].
In any case, the hypnotist's show was probably the craziest thing of the whole night. I was insanely amused; it's kind of sad that the guys microphone wasn't working for most of it, or else it might have gone even better. Highlights would probably be watching Jennifer do EVERYTHING [it was just so funny!], Anthony screaming "WHY YOU PISS IN MY POOL?!" and blowing on the whistle, Whitney killing imaginary cockroaches with such fury, that one part where everyone to the right was stinky [LOL AT JENNIFER AGAIN], Ashley skipping four while counting fingers, and of course, Jason Fujioka doing Britney Spears. I kind of wish I tried for a spot on it, just to see if I could make myself not to what the hypnotist was saying [it would have been better than that one retarded guy who just went up without him calling him just to sit there and look stupid. And he was fat. It amuses me how it's so easy to make fun of fat people.] I want to tryyy.
In any case, I guess it's over guys. Funnily enough, I started this LiveJournal thing when I was just getting into my freshman year. Four years later, I'm glad that everyone is now here, so I can still keep in touch with you and your life, and you with mine, after everything. I know not what your future carries in its mystery bag, but I hope that there's some room in its knapsack for me, as I will surely have room for you. Thank you for everything you've given me, and thank you for listening. |
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| Coincidence |
[Jun. 19th, 2009|11:12 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Für Elise - Ludwig van Beethoven; arrangement for string quartet and piano | ] |
Ehehe, I just heard on KUSC that it was going to play Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 in D at 1 pm today, the day of our graduation. I am amused, yet not amused at the same time. I'm really not looking forward to graduation, both for what it is and what it represents. I'm totally okay with just getting my diploma from 311, as much as I am not okay with leaving everyone. Ah well, it had to come sooner or later. I don't think I'll ever quite have the same month as it was the last month as school.
I also heard Chopin's first Piano Concerto again for the first time in forever; it's so beautiful. I've really been forsaking classical music for too long.
I've really been deprived of human contact these past few days. It's really sad, but it's my own fault. I'm still working on those yearbook things, and in trying to finish them I'm reluctant to do other things. Then again, I waste time on this, so it really shouldn't matter. I've come to terms that I probably won't finish a lot of people's by today, probably not ever if I completely lose the will to do them. Maybe it'll be more incentive to keep in contact with them. In any case, I'm expecting that anything written [or not] would stay in memory for a three weeks at longest. Ah well, it was the thought that counts, right? |
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| On the passage of time |
[Jun. 13th, 2009|04:12 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | "Tragic" Overture, Op. 81 - Johannes Brahms | ] |
After our visit to Dr. Hsu for orthodontal work, my family and I decided to go eat lunch at Sir George's Smorgasbord, a quaint, medieval-themed family buffet that no one in the family remembers going to in the longest time. The last time that I went was probably in sixth grade, when I ate there for lunch with Kiwanis for being a Student of the Month back at Emperor. My dad referred to the place as "run by old ladies", because his impression of the restaurant was cemented in his mind by the constant attendance of white-haired dames who graced the place with their soft chatter and sometimes-not-so-soft perfume. I was excited to go back, because I remembered they had really good barbecue ribs, and my dad said their chicken soup was really good too.
So, we got there. It looked the same as I remembered it, with the calligraphic sign and purple-striped awning. The old door looked both sturdy and frail, and I looked forward to seeing the inside again...until I noticed the white piece of paper taped on the inside of the stylized glass. "Sir George's is permanently closed." it said. I was crushed. Only then did I notice that our car was the only the third car to be parked in its empty lot, far too empty to be merely a product of our late lunch at 2 o'clock. I gave the carved handle a disappointed pull, heard the clank of a tired lock, and then left with my family.
While we were on the car driving around deciding where to go next, we passed by quite a few old places we hadn't gone to in a long time. We drove past my sister's preschool Love&Care on Arden, where she gave a nostalgic sigh. We then passed by the Pacific Athletic Center [PAC].
Years ago [summer from 5th to 6th grade], after I'd returned from my first trip to Taiwan when I'd learned how to swim, my parents decided that it would be a good idea to get membership at a fitness club and exercise and swim once a week. So, we bought membership at the PAC, and every Saturday we went there to play ping pong and swim laps for a couple hours. Sometimes after a workout on those Saturdays, we'd embark on a self-defeating drive to Rite Aid to buy some ice cream to eat. Those days were so wonderful; my sister was still too little back then to talk back, and my parents benefited from the exercise and were more energetic. Those were such good days. Is it possible to feel again the happiness felt by a ten-year-old, who, with pleasantly aching body from playing in the water, a loving, smiling family, and a big waffle cone of his favorite ice cream, had not a single worry in the world?
I thought these thoughts as our Toyota Siena chugged past the teal-tiled edifice. I could tell by a glance that the PAC was closed for good; the white gate, now rusting, was closed, the parking lot completely empty, an advertising banner hanging forlornly near the entrance. I wondered if it was simply closed for the day, but then I realized that it was, of course, Saturday.
We finally decided to eat at this dumpling house in El Monte that we hadn't gone to in the longest time. Thankfully, it was still open, but my thoughts were less than merciful. I continued to think and reminisce. The fact that the restaurant, which had been packed full up when we used to eat there regularly, was more than half empty didn't help my thoughts either. Then, when the waitress was serving us our food [beef stew noodles, simmered beef wrapped in green onion pancake, potstickers, vegetable rice with pork chops], I caught a slight shaking to her hand when she was placing the dishes onto our table. She was probably just tired, but a chill ran down my spine and through my arms when I saw it. My thoughts turned to age. It made me so sad to think that I was getting older that I grew weak at the thought. It sounds strange, but I'm infinitely more scared of becoming old that dying. Death is a pleasant end, like going to sleep and dreaming for a long, long time; old age is a suffering twilight between not quite living and final rest. I think it was just sadness and nothing else, but I was surprised at how seriously emotion could affect my physical state. It always makes me so sad when I see an old person with trembling hand, almost to the point that I freeze. How strange, that just yesterday I was so happy and energetic, to be with everyone. I guess my mind is just supremely fickle, like the passage of time itself. |
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| Qui pro innocente dicit, satis est eloquens* |
[Jun. 9th, 2009|06:09 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Overture to Die Fledermaus - Johann Strauss II | ] |
So, it's been a good three months since my last public entry. I've decided to make open entries again after writing this LJ into a few people's yearbook inserts. They'll mostly stay locked though [i.e., those from all other days], through both necessity and incentive, the former because it's mainly for people I know [and if you're not interested enough to make a simple account, you make me sad], the latter to entice people to get one. I'm so bizarre.
So, I just woke up from an unintended 1.5 hour nap. I also had a dream. It was surprisingly detailed [again, but not quite as much as the phoenix adventure], but I'm too lazy to record most of it. The basic gist was Shanghainese food at a Japanese restaurant, food that was ridiculously easy to prepare as well as physically impossible [something about chicken katsu bobbing around in a vat, and picking it out with chopsticks]. In a separate dream, I also killed an assassin who was going after my mom and sister; it was this crazy time warp thing where the same sequence played several times, me following an assassin following said family, until I finally managed to slice the assassin's throat with a knife I've never seen before in my life.
On that note, I remember the strange dream conversation with Nicole about her dream, where our dream-selves were plotting to kill someone, but she ended up killing me instead. It was interesting. SO much killing everywhere. I blame playing so much Mafia in Calc.
Just wondering, why do people always love being the Mafia when playing that game? I love being a civilian, because I feel like I have such power in knowing that I'm innocent and good, and there is satisfaction when your eloquence doesn't save you from death in knowing everyone is stupid and will fail. When I'm Mafia, I'm always scared of dying [noticeably absent as a civilian], and I can never defend myself because I know I'm lying. I can't lie, so the end result is a depressing game. Also, people are happy when you die. Who would ever want that? I suppose this could possibly translate to my life outlook, just to live an upright life and live it well instead of have the power to do something...or it could just mean that I'm a wimp afraid of responsibility. HMM.
I really need to figure out why I'm being tired lately. It's really annoying, especially because I've gotten nowhere yearbook signing-wise. This bought of laziness has, as you can tell, become a common thread through my most recent entries. How annoying.
[*"He who speaks for the innocent is eloquent enough"] |
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invesperascere's journal