It's been so many years, I can't even remember properly. The shape of your face, the smile on your lips, the sparkle in your eyes. I'm sure my perceptions of you are not only old, but blurred by the biases that my mind adds on over time. I hope you never read this, and I hope that you never find it or know of it. This blog seems perhaps a bit obsessive, and for those reasons long ago you stopped talking to me. Honestly, I was pleasantly surprised that you added me on Facebook at all, yet I hesitate to talk to you because I fear what past perceptions you had of me would resurface.
Just a simple message is all I want to give to you, and if it was the only sentence I could say to you for the rest of time, I wish you knew: You have been the most monumental change in my life.
It has nothing to do with the intricate emotion of love that stories, muses, and bards believe is the only true molder of human character. In fact, I am not even sure if what I purported to be me liking you was even that feeling of infatuation. What I am sure about, what I do know, is that you opened me up. With your outgoing personality, light words, and strong charisma, you drew me into society. I spoke up because you asked me to. I wanted to answer your questions, to prove to you that I was just as "cool," so I tried to be like you. And strangely, I found out that I liked being like you, at least in the most general way possible. I liked having myself be heard while still listening to others. I enjoyed relaxing and taking a break from schoolwork. I reveled in rebellion when I discovered that it was not a matter of pleasing my parents, but a matter of pursuing my own desires.
Without you, I honestly can say that I believe I would not be where I am today. I would be far more awkward, with little to my name and credit than good grades. You planted me in involvement, watered me with encouragement, weeded me with reality, and let the sun shine on me by extricating yourself and your shadow as my "big brother" from my life. Perhaps it was for the better that you stopped talking to me and broke off. In so many ways have you shaped who I have become, and to you I dedicate this month and this story.
NaNoWriMo 2009 - to the person whom I credit my amazing life.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Revelry in San Francisco
H'okai, so here's the earth. Here's San Francisco. (.) Yesterday (Oct. 3) I headed up to San Fran to hang out with my friend Kean who was in town for the USC vs. Cal game. Unfortunately, the beginning didn't start off well. I was planning to catch the 9:30 Marguerite shuttle in order to get to the CalTrain station in time to catch the 10:30 CalTrain. Well, much to my chagrin, I realized only when I got to the Marguerite stop that the Marguerite bus I was planning to catch didn't operate on the weekends. Fail #1. So instead, I started walking to the CalTrain station. It took me a good half hour, but my power walking did the trip and I arrived early. Kudos #1. Well, when I tried to buy my ticket, my card got an error reading three times (one time I inserted it wrong...) and I had to pay by cash instead. Fail #2. Luckily I had just the right amount of cash. Kudos #2.
When the Cal Train finally arrived, it was so packed with people that I had to find standing room only. And there were police who had arrived at the station while I was waiting, and they searched the train before it actually left, so I was stuck on a crowded train with nothing to do but hope half of the crazy looking people didn't attack me. Reason behind all this? It was Lovefest, and nobody had given me forewarning. Fail #3. (BTW, yes, I had mentioned that I was going to SF that day to a bunch of upperclassmen who were well aware of Lovefest). So on the train, I'm standing by people downing beers (already), a guy with a shirt that says "Dose Me," someone who's smoking a joint, and a girl who got high off of laughing gas (really, really, really extremely annoying). Fail #4. Luckily the conductor had a brain in his head to turn it into an express, so we skipped pretty much every stops except San Carlos, Millbrae, and San Francisco. Kudos #3.
When the Cal Train finally arrived, it was so packed with people that I had to find standing room only. And there were police who had arrived at the station while I was waiting, and they searched the train before it actually left, so I was stuck on a crowded train with nothing to do but hope half of the crazy looking people didn't attack me. Reason behind all this? It was Lovefest, and nobody had given me forewarning. Fail #3. (BTW, yes, I had mentioned that I was going to SF that day to a bunch of upperclassmen who were well aware of Lovefest). So on the train, I'm standing by people downing beers (already), a guy with a shirt that says "Dose Me," someone who's smoking a joint, and a girl who got high off of laughing gas (really, really, really extremely annoying). Fail #4. Luckily the conductor had a brain in his head to turn it into an express, so we skipped pretty much every stops except San Carlos, Millbrae, and San Francisco. Kudos #3.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Random Story of the Day
So today my roommate and I were just chilling in our dorm room with the door open. Two African American students came by and gave my roommate a small bag of candy with a little invitation attached.
They said, "Hey, welcome to Stanford! Come to the first BSU meeting!" (or something to that effect. BSU was definitely in there somewhere. After that, they turned around and left.
As they exited the door, my roommate asks, puzzled, "Wait, doesn't my roommate get an invitation too?"
The girls then reply, "Uhm, sure. I guess she could get an invitation and come too if she wanted..."
After they finally left, my roommate finally read the invitation and said, "Oh, they're black! Black Student Union." HAHAHAHA.
They said, "Hey, welcome to Stanford! Come to the first BSU meeting!" (or something to that effect. BSU was definitely in there somewhere. After that, they turned around and left.
As they exited the door, my roommate asks, puzzled, "Wait, doesn't my roommate get an invitation too?"
The girls then reply, "Uhm, sure. I guess she could get an invitation and come too if she wanted..."
After they finally left, my roommate finally read the invitation and said, "Oh, they're black! Black Student Union." HAHAHAHA.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Story of the Night
So there's this tiny spider that's been hanging out in the corner of the dorm room since forever and ever ago. It just hangs there and moves up and down every once in a while. Unfortunately, neither I nor my roommate wanted to kill it and we had yet to meet someone who would.
Tonight, we called our friend Josh into the room, and he picked up Malaika's (my roommate) huge water pack like he was going to toss it at the spider. She was yelling at him not to (of course), and he almost did, but he pulled a "psyche!" at the last minute. Next, he took up her shoes, and chucked them at the corner. It's a given that the aim was not fantastic, especially into a right corner angle of the room, so he missed a million times over and left a shoe mark on the wall. He tried tossing a shoe once again, and thought he made it, so the spider's body would drop down. Squealing like a little girl, he jumped back and pulled his arms to himself. It was hilarious! Malaika and I almost died laughing. Then he looked back up at the wall and said, "Dude, you have a black mark up there." Gee, I wonder who put it there? -_-;;
Luckily, the RA, D-Tran, a.k.a. Dr. Tran, stepped in to save the day. He borrowed Malaika's chair and a tissue and squished the poor little spider to death while thinking we were ridiculous for being so afraid of such a little thing. Yes, that's our life. Then he tried to convince us the spider wasn't really dead and it would come crawling back out of the trash can. Fantastic. Overall though the RA's pretty chill.
So I went party-hopping after that. Jumping through three frat parties in one night. Very interesting. Smells disgusting. Feels disgusting. Looks disgusting. Tastes disgusting. I've realized that having people hit me on the head because they're flailing like a dying fish in order to balance themselves while grinding on a girl since both that person and the girl are drunk is not my scene. No thanks, I like my head and I like my space. No grinding, no body-rubbing, and nothing awkward like dancing with the only friend who hasn't run off while both of you are sober. Doesn't work.
Tonight, we called our friend Josh into the room, and he picked up Malaika's (my roommate) huge water pack like he was going to toss it at the spider. She was yelling at him not to (of course), and he almost did, but he pulled a "psyche!" at the last minute. Next, he took up her shoes, and chucked them at the corner. It's a given that the aim was not fantastic, especially into a right corner angle of the room, so he missed a million times over and left a shoe mark on the wall. He tried tossing a shoe once again, and thought he made it, so the spider's body would drop down. Squealing like a little girl, he jumped back and pulled his arms to himself. It was hilarious! Malaika and I almost died laughing. Then he looked back up at the wall and said, "Dude, you have a black mark up there." Gee, I wonder who put it there? -_-;;
Luckily, the RA, D-Tran, a.k.a. Dr. Tran, stepped in to save the day. He borrowed Malaika's chair and a tissue and squished the poor little spider to death while thinking we were ridiculous for being so afraid of such a little thing. Yes, that's our life. Then he tried to convince us the spider wasn't really dead and it would come crawling back out of the trash can. Fantastic. Overall though the RA's pretty chill.
So I went party-hopping after that. Jumping through three frat parties in one night. Very interesting. Smells disgusting. Feels disgusting. Looks disgusting. Tastes disgusting. I've realized that having people hit me on the head because they're flailing like a dying fish in order to balance themselves while grinding on a girl since both that person and the girl are drunk is not my scene. No thanks, I like my head and I like my space. No grinding, no body-rubbing, and nothing awkward like dancing with the only friend who hasn't run off while both of you are sober. Doesn't work.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Belonging
As I wax nostalgic (yet again XP) I begin to think that this is a blog I should have written a long time ago. Over four years ago, actually.
So, in July of 2005, I found myself taking part in a summer program for eighth and ninth graders called the Oxford Prep Experience. Yes, this program was based in Oxford, United Kingdom (for more information, please refer to www.oxbridgeprograms.com). And the first official day of the program, ironically, happened to be July 4th. Needless to say, that was the first time I ever spent the fourth of July in the country that had the least reason to celebrate it. Or perhaps they had the most reason, if arguing along the lines of "look-at-that-one-trillion-dollar-debt-we-don't-have-to-pay-and-that-horrible-fashion-sense." The latter statement arises from a recent Gallup Poll that deemed the British to be in the top 3 most fashionably dressed tourists, along with the French and Italians. I digress.
Within three days of me being in the program, the directors and teachers were already telling us kids to call our parents and tell them that we were safe. Can you guess what happened? The July 7th bombing of the London Tube (subway system). It didn't seem like much at the time; I was in Oxford, and that happened to be two hours away from London, so I felt a bit indifferent to it. A week later though, on July 14th, my group was in London for our day-trip.
As the bus meandered through the packed city streets, we stopped suddenly. There was no honking from behind - all the cars surrounding us had stopped too. The bus driver turned on the radio solemnly and opened the door. Confused, all the students opened their windows too, wondering what the bus driver was waiting for. Glancing outside, we could see that everyone on the sidewalks and in the cafes, restaurants, and windows were standing still. It was eeriely quiet, as if a virus had swept, undetected, throughout the population, and none of the usual boisterous city noises could give voice to the harried emotions they were to express. A few bird chirps, some quiet engine motors, and perhaps babies crying or children whispering to their parents were all that convinced us we were still in reality.
Suddenly, a voice crackled over the radio and said that the moment of silence observation for the victims of the July 7th bombing was beginning. It was a pleasant surprise to see that even people on the streets, without a radio near them, were observant of the time and the silence that was to be held then. As I sat quietly, my eyes darting around the bus and streets, I felt as if I was a part of the British community. It wasn't just that I was there at the moment and being silent out of respect - it was also that I had been in the country when the bombing happened, and I was in the city during the moment. It's not quite something I could put my finger on. Simply put, I felt more apart of the people and culture, in the midst of London during such a crucial moment, than I could have felt were I still in Oxford at the time.
Later in the day, the moment of silence forgotten, my teacher for my major class (International Relations) decided that we (my class) would visit the bunkers where Winston Churchill had stayed during WWII. I was a bit displeased - I had thought the London trip would be mostly free time, culminating in a play at the Globe Theater, but there was sense and reason in visiting the bunkers then. Upon resurfacing, I was hoping that I could ride the Tube in my free time, but I saw that the stations were closed in the fear of another repeat bombing. There actually had been a threat that day.The last Thursday that I spent in the United Kingdom there was yet another bomb threat.
It was a very surreal sense to be around when the British equivalent of 9/11 happened. Although I feel guilty for admitting it, by being that close and more aware of such events (thanks to my age and my class focus), I felt more affected by 7/7 than I ever did by 9/11.
I can't tell whether it was the summer program or the 7/7 events, but regardless, I think it's a part of the reason why I feel so strongly compelled to return to the United Kingdom for my study abroad, almost more so than I feel like going to Kyoto. But when I do not wax nostalgic, they are about even, with Kyoto as a front-runner since I've never been to Japan.
So, in July of 2005, I found myself taking part in a summer program for eighth and ninth graders called the Oxford Prep Experience. Yes, this program was based in Oxford, United Kingdom (for more information, please refer to www.oxbridgeprograms.com). And the first official day of the program, ironically, happened to be July 4th. Needless to say, that was the first time I ever spent the fourth of July in the country that had the least reason to celebrate it. Or perhaps they had the most reason, if arguing along the lines of "look-at-that-one-trillion-dollar-debt-we-don't-have-to-pay-and-that-horrible-fashion-sense." The latter statement arises from a recent Gallup Poll that deemed the British to be in the top 3 most fashionably dressed tourists, along with the French and Italians. I digress.
Within three days of me being in the program, the directors and teachers were already telling us kids to call our parents and tell them that we were safe. Can you guess what happened? The July 7th bombing of the London Tube (subway system). It didn't seem like much at the time; I was in Oxford, and that happened to be two hours away from London, so I felt a bit indifferent to it. A week later though, on July 14th, my group was in London for our day-trip.
As the bus meandered through the packed city streets, we stopped suddenly. There was no honking from behind - all the cars surrounding us had stopped too. The bus driver turned on the radio solemnly and opened the door. Confused, all the students opened their windows too, wondering what the bus driver was waiting for. Glancing outside, we could see that everyone on the sidewalks and in the cafes, restaurants, and windows were standing still. It was eeriely quiet, as if a virus had swept, undetected, throughout the population, and none of the usual boisterous city noises could give voice to the harried emotions they were to express. A few bird chirps, some quiet engine motors, and perhaps babies crying or children whispering to their parents were all that convinced us we were still in reality.
Suddenly, a voice crackled over the radio and said that the moment of silence observation for the victims of the July 7th bombing was beginning. It was a pleasant surprise to see that even people on the streets, without a radio near them, were observant of the time and the silence that was to be held then. As I sat quietly, my eyes darting around the bus and streets, I felt as if I was a part of the British community. It wasn't just that I was there at the moment and being silent out of respect - it was also that I had been in the country when the bombing happened, and I was in the city during the moment. It's not quite something I could put my finger on. Simply put, I felt more apart of the people and culture, in the midst of London during such a crucial moment, than I could have felt were I still in Oxford at the time.
Later in the day, the moment of silence forgotten, my teacher for my major class (International Relations) decided that we (my class) would visit the bunkers where Winston Churchill had stayed during WWII. I was a bit displeased - I had thought the London trip would be mostly free time, culminating in a play at the Globe Theater, but there was sense and reason in visiting the bunkers then. Upon resurfacing, I was hoping that I could ride the Tube in my free time, but I saw that the stations were closed in the fear of another repeat bombing. There actually had been a threat that day.The last Thursday that I spent in the United Kingdom there was yet another bomb threat.
It was a very surreal sense to be around when the British equivalent of 9/11 happened. Although I feel guilty for admitting it, by being that close and more aware of such events (thanks to my age and my class focus), I felt more affected by 7/7 than I ever did by 9/11.
I can't tell whether it was the summer program or the 7/7 events, but regardless, I think it's a part of the reason why I feel so strongly compelled to return to the United Kingdom for my study abroad, almost more so than I feel like going to Kyoto. But when I do not wax nostalgic, they are about even, with Kyoto as a front-runner since I've never been to Japan.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Pre-Planning
I decided that it was high time that I did this. Since there are so many places where I would like to travel to, so many books that I would like to read, and so many movies that I would like to watch, I need to make comprehensive lists of them all. Of course, I doubt I can remember thing in one go, so this is a list that will be continuously updated.
TRAVEL
U.S.A.
-New York
-Washington D.C.
-Seattle
-Los Angeles
-San Francisco
-Houston
-Austin
-Orlando
-Miami
-New Orleans
-Chicago
-Columbus
-Detroit
-Santa Ana
-San Jose
-San Diego
-Phoenix
-Salt Lake City
-Butte
-Boise
-Portland
-Minneapolis
-St. Paul
-St. Louis
-Tallahassee
-Nashville
-Providence
-New Haven
-Philadelphia
-Boston
Canada:
-Vancouver
-Victoria Island
-Toronto
-Saskatchewan
-Ontario
Europe:
-Oxford
-London
-Cambridge
-Sussex
-Dublin
-Welsh
-Scotland
-Prague
-Florence
-Milan
-Rome
-Venice
-Luxembourg
-Berlin
-Moscow
-St. Petersburg
-Munich
-Vienna
-Paris
-Geneva
-Madrid
-Barcelona
-Oslo
-Stockholm
-Denmark
-Brussels
-Copenhagen (yes, falls in the Denmark category)
Asia:
-Beijing
-Shanghai
-Kyoto
-Osaka
-Tokyo
-Seoul
-Pyongyang (good luck with that one)
-Hanoi
-Saigon
-Phnom Penh
-Angkor Wat
-Burma
-Bali
-Mumbai
-Hong Kong
-Singapore
-Siberia
-Mongolia
Australia / New Zealand:
-Sydney
-Melbourne
-NZ
Middle East:
-Dubai
-Kabul
-Mecca
-Jerusalem
-Bethany
Africa:
-Cairo
-Rwanda
-Cape Town
TRAVEL
U.S.A.
-New York
-Washington D.C.
-Seattle
-Los Angeles
-San Francisco
-Houston
-Austin
-Orlando
-Miami
-New Orleans
-Chicago
-Columbus
-Detroit
-Santa Ana
-San Jose
-San Diego
-Phoenix
-Salt Lake City
-Butte
-Boise
-Portland
-Minneapolis
-St. Paul
-St. Louis
-Tallahassee
-Nashville
-Providence
-New Haven
-Philadelphia
-Boston
Canada:
-Vancouver
-Victoria Island
-Toronto
-Saskatchewan
-Ontario
Europe:
-Oxford
-London
-Cambridge
-Sussex
-Dublin
-Welsh
-Scotland
-Prague
-Florence
-Milan
-Rome
-Venice
-Luxembourg
-Berlin
-Moscow
-St. Petersburg
-Munich
-Vienna
-Paris
-Geneva
-Madrid
-Barcelona
-Oslo
-Stockholm
-Denmark
-Brussels
-Copenhagen (yes, falls in the Denmark category)
Asia:
-Beijing
-Shanghai
-Kyoto
-Osaka
-Tokyo
-Seoul
-Pyongyang (good luck with that one)
-Hanoi
-Saigon
-Phnom Penh
-Angkor Wat
-Burma
-Bali
-Mumbai
-Hong Kong
-Singapore
-Siberia
-Mongolia
Australia / New Zealand:
-Sydney
-Melbourne
-NZ
Middle East:
-Dubai
-Kabul
-Mecca
-Jerusalem
-Bethany
Africa:
-Cairo
-Rwanda
-Cape Town
Monday, June 29, 2009
Goody Two Shoes
Is who most people think I am. And honestly, for me, it's super hard to think of a moment, when people ask the question, "What's the craziest / riskiest / most insane thing you've ever done?" One day, it suddenly came upon me - the craziest thing I've ever done is something few others can claim.
I've been pulled over and searched for a suspected drive-by shooting.
So, my church hosts a yearly fund-raising dinner called "Bua Tiec Cong Duc." Back in the days (around 2005 or 2006), I attended this dinner, and frankly, I was bored out of my mind. Luckily for me, a few of my friends were also there, and, like me, bored.
We decided that we should head over to the Target plaza and buy ourselves a football. Now, this Target plaza was not any happy, white, middle-class, suburban SuperTarget plaza - it was run-down, ghetto, mainly Latinos, next to broken-down Lakeside (long forgotten, rickety, falling-apart amusement park), shut down mall Target plaza. It was a shady place, where anything could have happened.
My friends Kenny and Phillip decided to walk over to Target, while I, along with my friends Gary, Kevin, and Nick, decided to go to my friend Viet's car. Now, I was the only misplaced one in the story. Kenny and Viet were brothers, Nick and Gary were brothers, and Kevin and Phillip were brothers - all six were cousins. Me, I was just a friend (as obviously stated before). And the only girl to boot. Dressed in clothes that I normally, would not wear (in my opinion, I looked like a girl who got around). Anyways, I digress.
So, Kenny and Phillip, the two walking souls, approached the issue in a most unconventional way - they decided to walk through the back, poorly lit, pot-holed parking lot where there was a security / police office. Needless to say, none of us were made aware of this last detail until much later on in the story.
Viet, leaving a bit later because he had to go start the car and get everyone in, decided to drive the back way. We were not planning on the other two walking through the back of the plaza, but upon seeing their shadowy figures cross the forlorn parking lot, we decided it would be fun to chase them. Yes. Stupid.
So Viet, in his rush of adrenaline, shut off his headlights, rolled down the windows, and gunned his engine. The rest of us car occupants, laughing along, stick out heads out the open windows and start yelling at Kenny and Phillip. Those two, reveling in the fun of the moment, choose to run.
The expected happened. Viet started sending the car after them. And then Kenny and Phillip dash into a thick growth of tree in a hilly median that Viet's car could not dream to overcome. Instead, Viet starts to guide his car around and is speeding up the hill, hoping to intercept Kenny and Phillip at the top, when two blue cars box him in without any room to back out or pull forward.
Angry men with stereotypical mustaches, uniforms, and black leather belts, hop out of the truck and SUV, shining their flashlights into our eyes. They yell at us to get out of the car and put our hands on the hood and trunk. The two little boys, Kevin and Nick, got to watch the chaos from inside. My hands were on the trunk with Gary. Viet, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
Being the driver, Viet was yanked rudely out of the driver's seat and thrown against the side of the car where he was forced to put his hands on the hood as they searched him over. Gary and I were given a quick over by the other guy, but not as thoroughly as Viet (being that we were both younger, without licenses of any sort, and, well, I was the only girl in the whole scene). When asked for our I.D.'s, Gary, with his ever jovial, upbeat tone of voice, pointed out that he was only 14. I peevishly stated that I had yet to bother with even getting a learner's permit. Throughout this hectic moment, we keep trying to convince the cops we meant no harm, and that Kenny and Phillip were related to us. Well, them, not me.
The first angry man starts yelling at Viet to get his driver's license (from his wallet, in the car), and has a baton or gun at Viet's back the entire time as Viet dug through his messily displaced possessions. Right about this moment, Kenny and Phillip, laughing merrily, decide to burst out of the trees to become our "saviours." Right.
Keeping on top of his game, the second officer yelled at Kenny and Phillip to put their hands on the hook of the security / police truck, and demanded an I.D. Phillip claimed he forgot his (I don't know if he even had one at the time), but Kenny had his.
Mister Security Cop Guy Number One decides to do a background check on the two people with I.D.'s, and upon glancing realized that they were telling the truth - Viet and Kenny were, indeed, brothers. Or at least living at the same address. Still, to save some face, or make it seem like he was a "tough guy," Mister Security Cop Guy Number One called up the police records people, gave over the names and I.D. numbers of Kenny and Viet, and made sure that their records were clean (which they were, fyi).
Afterwards, he gives us a brief, almost imperceptible apology, and tells us he thought we were trying to gun down Kenny and Phillip. We continue on to the buy the football, and as we leave, Viet clicks his engine into neutral, and Kevin climbs out of the car to see if he can push the car for fun. Another cop car comes up, watching us suspiciously, wondering if we were forcing a poor kid, aged maybe 10 or 11 at the time, to push the car.
As soon as Kevin climbed back into the car and we decided to seriously head back to the church, another car comes tailing Viet. We wonder if it's the security guys, back to harrass us, but when we give a closer inspection to the rearview mirror, and behind us, we see that it's a car with at least one Latino guy and one Latino girl. And they follow us almost all the way through the parking lot.
Freak, we were wondering where the security guys were then.
I've been pulled over and searched for a suspected drive-by shooting.
So, my church hosts a yearly fund-raising dinner called "Bua Tiec Cong Duc." Back in the days (around 2005 or 2006), I attended this dinner, and frankly, I was bored out of my mind. Luckily for me, a few of my friends were also there, and, like me, bored.
We decided that we should head over to the Target plaza and buy ourselves a football. Now, this Target plaza was not any happy, white, middle-class, suburban SuperTarget plaza - it was run-down, ghetto, mainly Latinos, next to broken-down Lakeside (long forgotten, rickety, falling-apart amusement park), shut down mall Target plaza. It was a shady place, where anything could have happened.
My friends Kenny and Phillip decided to walk over to Target, while I, along with my friends Gary, Kevin, and Nick, decided to go to my friend Viet's car. Now, I was the only misplaced one in the story. Kenny and Viet were brothers, Nick and Gary were brothers, and Kevin and Phillip were brothers - all six were cousins. Me, I was just a friend (as obviously stated before). And the only girl to boot. Dressed in clothes that I normally, would not wear (in my opinion, I looked like a girl who got around). Anyways, I digress.
So, Kenny and Phillip, the two walking souls, approached the issue in a most unconventional way - they decided to walk through the back, poorly lit, pot-holed parking lot where there was a security / police office. Needless to say, none of us were made aware of this last detail until much later on in the story.
Viet, leaving a bit later because he had to go start the car and get everyone in, decided to drive the back way. We were not planning on the other two walking through the back of the plaza, but upon seeing their shadowy figures cross the forlorn parking lot, we decided it would be fun to chase them. Yes. Stupid.
So Viet, in his rush of adrenaline, shut off his headlights, rolled down the windows, and gunned his engine. The rest of us car occupants, laughing along, stick out heads out the open windows and start yelling at Kenny and Phillip. Those two, reveling in the fun of the moment, choose to run.
The expected happened. Viet started sending the car after them. And then Kenny and Phillip dash into a thick growth of tree in a hilly median that Viet's car could not dream to overcome. Instead, Viet starts to guide his car around and is speeding up the hill, hoping to intercept Kenny and Phillip at the top, when two blue cars box him in without any room to back out or pull forward.
Angry men with stereotypical mustaches, uniforms, and black leather belts, hop out of the truck and SUV, shining their flashlights into our eyes. They yell at us to get out of the car and put our hands on the hood and trunk. The two little boys, Kevin and Nick, got to watch the chaos from inside. My hands were on the trunk with Gary. Viet, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
Being the driver, Viet was yanked rudely out of the driver's seat and thrown against the side of the car where he was forced to put his hands on the hood as they searched him over. Gary and I were given a quick over by the other guy, but not as thoroughly as Viet (being that we were both younger, without licenses of any sort, and, well, I was the only girl in the whole scene). When asked for our I.D.'s, Gary, with his ever jovial, upbeat tone of voice, pointed out that he was only 14. I peevishly stated that I had yet to bother with even getting a learner's permit. Throughout this hectic moment, we keep trying to convince the cops we meant no harm, and that Kenny and Phillip were related to us. Well, them, not me.
The first angry man starts yelling at Viet to get his driver's license (from his wallet, in the car), and has a baton or gun at Viet's back the entire time as Viet dug through his messily displaced possessions. Right about this moment, Kenny and Phillip, laughing merrily, decide to burst out of the trees to become our "saviours." Right.
Keeping on top of his game, the second officer yelled at Kenny and Phillip to put their hands on the hook of the security / police truck, and demanded an I.D. Phillip claimed he forgot his (I don't know if he even had one at the time), but Kenny had his.
Mister Security Cop Guy Number One decides to do a background check on the two people with I.D.'s, and upon glancing realized that they were telling the truth - Viet and Kenny were, indeed, brothers. Or at least living at the same address. Still, to save some face, or make it seem like he was a "tough guy," Mister Security Cop Guy Number One called up the police records people, gave over the names and I.D. numbers of Kenny and Viet, and made sure that their records were clean (which they were, fyi).
Afterwards, he gives us a brief, almost imperceptible apology, and tells us he thought we were trying to gun down Kenny and Phillip. We continue on to the buy the football, and as we leave, Viet clicks his engine into neutral, and Kevin climbs out of the car to see if he can push the car for fun. Another cop car comes up, watching us suspiciously, wondering if we were forcing a poor kid, aged maybe 10 or 11 at the time, to push the car.
As soon as Kevin climbed back into the car and we decided to seriously head back to the church, another car comes tailing Viet. We wonder if it's the security guys, back to harrass us, but when we give a closer inspection to the rearview mirror, and behind us, we see that it's a car with at least one Latino guy and one Latino girl. And they follow us almost all the way through the parking lot.
Freak, we were wondering where the security guys were then.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Two Steps Forward
Have you ever realized how hard it is to coordinate your face? I mean, try smiling to your left and winking your right eye. Or vice-versa. Doing it at the same time, not just smiling, freezing the smile, and then winking.
Random fact: Americans spend $20 billion on ice-cream each year. $10 billion can solve world hunger. Therefore, Americans should stop eating ice-cream and start donating money. (Gotten from a senior project presentation)
Prom was fantastic. Dinner (sushi) was fabulous. We got ice-cream on the house. Green tea. And the Tropicana Roll (salmon and mango) was amazing.
I have a problem saying names. Britain's Got Talent's winner two or so seasons back is named Paul Potts. Except I kept calling him Pol Pot. So not good. And my little cousin, five, didn't even understand the reference, and he kept laughing, saying, "Haha, Pol Pot, that's funn-nee." Not really; it's sad that I confuse a man with talent with a man who kills his own people.
So I'm in the same class. Again. I really dislike this class. Or more correctly, I intensely dislike the teacher, and the sub today is no better.
Random fact: Americans spend $20 billion on ice-cream each year. $10 billion can solve world hunger. Therefore, Americans should stop eating ice-cream and start donating money. (Gotten from a senior project presentation)
Prom was fantastic. Dinner (sushi) was fabulous. We got ice-cream on the house. Green tea. And the Tropicana Roll (salmon and mango) was amazing.
I have a problem saying names. Britain's Got Talent's winner two or so seasons back is named Paul Potts. Except I kept calling him Pol Pot. So not good. And my little cousin, five, didn't even understand the reference, and he kept laughing, saying, "Haha, Pol Pot, that's funn-nee." Not really; it's sad that I confuse a man with talent with a man who kills his own people.
So I'm in the same class. Again. I really dislike this class. Or more correctly, I intensely dislike the teacher, and the sub today is no better.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Pardon my verbose English
Ever hear the term "Pardon my French?" I think we credit them too much - they didn't invent that much. Heck, French mainly came from Latin. Why not "pardon my Latin?" Or "pardon my German." Oh freak, I just posed a problem to myself. Now I have to go find the roots of all the crass and vulgar words.
I'm drawing into the last nine minutes of this class period, and since I do not seem to do very much work while I'm at school, I decided to post a blog. I miss these things.
Clearly I'm not a stereotypical Vietnamese. I know absolutely nothing about nails. And no one in my family (who I know) runs a nail shop. So my friend was doing my nails yesterday, and he asked me if I liked them round or square. What kind of a question is that? I like my nails however they are. I've never met anyone with particularly round or square nails. Maybe oblong. Yeah. That's what I like. Oblong. Or whatever they call it in Trigonometry. An ellipsis? So my friend is painting my nails, and he goes from my right hand to my left hand. Two minutes later (or probably less) I decide that he needs to redo my right hand. He takes a look and remarks that I have one of the worst records ever. People usually only screw up one nail, but I managed to screw up three. I guess that means I don't qualify for being a stereotypical girl either.
Speaking of being a girl... I was talking to two other friends earlier. One friend mentioned a lie, so I told him his life is a lie. He asked, "What if YOUR life is a lie?". Wittily, I answer, "It is." My other friend looks at me strangely, questioning, "So you're not a girl?". I shrug, and say in response, "Secretly, I'm African-American." So do me a favor. Next time you see me, DON'T make fun of my dancing skills.
I got a detention. For not wearing my school I.D. It was so random and inconsistent. The campus supervisors just choose random kids, and while they write out one detention, ten other kids without their I.D.'s on walk by. It was the ONE day I forgot my I.D. (I had taken it out of my backpack for a field trip). So guess what my detention was? Sitting in a boring room for twenty minutes during my lunch hour, talking to my friend about how the stupid No Child Left Behind Act is actually making thousands of gifted kids left behind. Ha, standardize education -_-;; Bell curves should always exist. Whether they want to shift the bell curve up higher on the axis is not a big deal, but causing the bell curve to narrow does not work. This is why colleges say kids are not unprepared. Because kids who originally would not be attending four-year universities are attempting to. And because kids who can are being held back, so they are not adequately prepared when they reach college.
This morning I was eating breakfast during Calculus (how does the shape of a muffin top represent a parabola? Is taking the derivative of a muffin top in relation to time going to tell you the velocity of the muffin? The answer is no.) Anyways. My friend turns around and asks me what I'm eating, and I say, "A lemon blueberry muffin." She remarks, "I hate how you don't gain weight." The person sitting next to her then proceeds to ask me, "Is that Asian?" Uhm, no, muffins are not Asian. I tell him blueberries don't naturally exist in Vietnam. Or Asia as far as I know. Then we try to explain to him how blueberries grow in more temperate climates. Like Austria. And he asks, "Austria is tropical?" Uhm, again, no. XD
By the way, I still have yet to discover whether it's Santa Claus or Santa Clause. Father Christmas for now.
I want a burger. Good Times burger. Or Red Robin.
BTW, CPK got rid of their roast duck pizza. I'm mad. Grrrr. See my angry face?
I'm drawing into the last nine minutes of this class period, and since I do not seem to do very much work while I'm at school, I decided to post a blog. I miss these things.
Clearly I'm not a stereotypical Vietnamese. I know absolutely nothing about nails. And no one in my family (who I know) runs a nail shop. So my friend was doing my nails yesterday, and he asked me if I liked them round or square. What kind of a question is that? I like my nails however they are. I've never met anyone with particularly round or square nails. Maybe oblong. Yeah. That's what I like. Oblong. Or whatever they call it in Trigonometry. An ellipsis? So my friend is painting my nails, and he goes from my right hand to my left hand. Two minutes later (or probably less) I decide that he needs to redo my right hand. He takes a look and remarks that I have one of the worst records ever. People usually only screw up one nail, but I managed to screw up three. I guess that means I don't qualify for being a stereotypical girl either.
Speaking of being a girl... I was talking to two other friends earlier. One friend mentioned a lie, so I told him his life is a lie. He asked, "What if YOUR life is a lie?". Wittily, I answer, "It is." My other friend looks at me strangely, questioning, "So you're not a girl?". I shrug, and say in response, "Secretly, I'm African-American." So do me a favor. Next time you see me, DON'T make fun of my dancing skills.
I got a detention. For not wearing my school I.D. It was so random and inconsistent. The campus supervisors just choose random kids, and while they write out one detention, ten other kids without their I.D.'s on walk by. It was the ONE day I forgot my I.D. (I had taken it out of my backpack for a field trip). So guess what my detention was? Sitting in a boring room for twenty minutes during my lunch hour, talking to my friend about how the stupid No Child Left Behind Act is actually making thousands of gifted kids left behind. Ha, standardize education -_-;; Bell curves should always exist. Whether they want to shift the bell curve up higher on the axis is not a big deal, but causing the bell curve to narrow does not work. This is why colleges say kids are not unprepared. Because kids who originally would not be attending four-year universities are attempting to. And because kids who can are being held back, so they are not adequately prepared when they reach college.
This morning I was eating breakfast during Calculus (how does the shape of a muffin top represent a parabola? Is taking the derivative of a muffin top in relation to time going to tell you the velocity of the muffin? The answer is no.) Anyways. My friend turns around and asks me what I'm eating, and I say, "A lemon blueberry muffin." She remarks, "I hate how you don't gain weight." The person sitting next to her then proceeds to ask me, "Is that Asian?" Uhm, no, muffins are not Asian. I tell him blueberries don't naturally exist in Vietnam. Or Asia as far as I know. Then we try to explain to him how blueberries grow in more temperate climates. Like Austria. And he asks, "Austria is tropical?" Uhm, again, no. XD
By the way, I still have yet to discover whether it's Santa Claus or Santa Clause. Father Christmas for now.
I want a burger. Good Times burger. Or Red Robin.
BTW, CPK got rid of their roast duck pizza. I'm mad. Grrrr. See my angry face?
Monday, April 13, 2009
MLR
I've come to accept the fact that I'm an overly pessimistic and cynical person. I've always known it, I just tried to deny it because I love myself too much. I guess that makes me narcissistic too. Oh well =)
Just kidding.
So my goal now is to change myself throughout college. I don't know how, but I hope I find some way of doing so without over-inflating me ego. Andrew said he'll keep me in check. And my godmother. I'll hold them to it. Of course, this new goal does not take precedent over my pre-existing goals, namely to play hide-n-go-seek in Ikea. And traveling the world. Nothing takes precedent over traveling the world, not in my book. What a funny phrase that is. "My book." Do we all really have a book? Sure, we have these lovely things called blogs. Some people (my former, middle school self) even keep diaries and journals. But who out there is really chronicling our lives to see if we live up to words, every time we say "(not) in my book"? God I suppose. Or maybe Santa Claus. (Claus, clause? What is he the clause of?)
People are disgusting. And weird. Demented shall we say? Let me link you: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7996815.stm. Seriously, who comes up with crazy ideas like that? Or gross ideas.
Anyways. To get to the point, I'm just procrastinating in school right now. I guess that means that all my previous statements were tangential or irrelevant. I'm stoked for college. MLR (my life rocks).
Just kidding.
So my goal now is to change myself throughout college. I don't know how, but I hope I find some way of doing so without over-inflating me ego. Andrew said he'll keep me in check. And my godmother. I'll hold them to it. Of course, this new goal does not take precedent over my pre-existing goals, namely to play hide-n-go-seek in Ikea. And traveling the world. Nothing takes precedent over traveling the world, not in my book. What a funny phrase that is. "My book." Do we all really have a book? Sure, we have these lovely things called blogs. Some people (my former, middle school self) even keep diaries and journals. But who out there is really chronicling our lives to see if we live up to words, every time we say "(not) in my book"? God I suppose. Or maybe Santa Claus. (Claus, clause? What is he the clause of?)
People are disgusting. And weird. Demented shall we say? Let me link you: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7996815.stm. Seriously, who comes up with crazy ideas like that? Or gross ideas.
Anyways. To get to the point, I'm just procrastinating in school right now. I guess that means that all my previous statements were tangential or irrelevant. I'm stoked for college. MLR (my life rocks).
Friday, March 27, 2009
I Need a Shoulder to Cry on Because I'm Sick of Sleeping on a Wet Pillow
I am tired of not having a shoulder to cry on and today has been a complete breakdown.
Please, I'm not as angry or emo as all that stuff above sounds. I just needed to get it out of my system. I've been a complete bitch today, and I can't really explain why. One little thing triggered it, and I am just crashing. Senior year is a major bitch. It's been worse than all my other high school years, and my high school experience hasn't been all that great. I am so ready for college. At least my dad will be letting me dorm wherever I go.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way -
SPRING BREAK WAS AWESOME!!!
I got to hang out with a ton of people who I haven't seen for a while. Saturday night, when I first got to SF, I hung out with Andrew and Matthew from DHDH. That was a blast since my parents actually let me go out on my own. We were having a long discussion about where to go, and I was feeling a bit picky that day (after eating In-N-Out Animal Fries -_-;;) so Andrew and Matthew cordially allowed me my pick of sushi. We ended up at a place called sushi boat, and Matthew was greatly entertained by how they priced the items and how the food came around on little boats swimming on water. It was fantastic, even with our sushi epic-fails. Matthew ended up eating mainly California Rolls since he doesn't have an affinity for sushi (according to him he splashes globs of soy sauce on). We were discussing the extreme oddity of the green tea cheesecake, and wondering about random food trays that floated by, when I saw something, covered by plastic wrap, that looked like goi cuon (springroll) with a yellow-orange sauce on top. I exclaimed over that, and Andrew and Matthew just laughed at me for thinking a sushi place would have goi cuon. Andrew took the initiative to try it out, although he said it wasn't that epic. Matthew decided to look for the "most-expensive-yet-rare-plate-of-awesomeness," but when he saw that it was just chunks of tuna, he decided he didn't really need to get it since it wasn't that awesome. After that, we were searching for the middle-priced plate because frankly, we never saw one of those. Matthew began a new trend of lemon-flavored soy sauce, which Andrew and I adopted, and while not epic, it was still pretty tasty. I decided to get a salmon and tuna nigiri, and when I saw the tuna one, Andrew picked it up off of the boat. I thought he was going to give it to me, but he just reached over me and placed it back on another boat floating by... Then Andrew and Matthew decided to fill up one boat all with the same thing. They got three plates of edamame on one boat, thinking edamame wasn't a popular item, but then a boat comes by with just one plate of edamame left and nothing else. Surprised, Andrew and Matthew grab at surrounding edamame plates and pile it back on a boat. A few minutes later, Andrew states, laughing, "Oh man, we got owned by sushi." And indeed we (the switch to 'we' indicating that I was fooled by the sushi also, although I did not partake in their festivities) did. The original boat was floating back with the three original plates of edamame still on it. Well, eventually they got a boat full of edamame, and as promised, I took a picture of it and set it as the background on my phone. Too bad Andrew didn't roll around on the ground - he was debating it.
After that, we decided to go for frozen yogurt. Andrew listened to Matthew and got lost trying to find the freeway. All three of us are pushing curfews, so we decide to look for Cold Stone. Alas, too late, using the GPS we find the nearest Cold Stone to be about 2.3 miles away. Backwards. So we search Baskin Robbins instead because I had my coupon (no clue if it worked in California). We found one, so we bypassed my hotel, I called my parents to let them know we were getting ice-cream, and ended up on El Camino Real where Andrew sees a Quickly (which I now desire to experience). Andrew figures out that well, he screwed himself - dropped his bank card in the mud and de-sensitized it (or de-sanitized it as I originally said). We're about to approach BR31 when Andrew spots frozen yogurt and says, "Look, Nubi Yogurt. I don't know if I trust that place, sounds too new." Ha-ha, ha-ha, very witty XP. We get yogurt, and Andrew, not being a fan of the froyo trend, abstains, saying he only partakes when there are enough people. I figured, even being from CO, I'm just not important enough. It's okay though, my reunion with DHDH people is enough to bring bad weather, and that's all anyone needs XD.
Sunday I go up to Sacramento with my parents and meet up with Anh Phi Hung, long lost Huynh Truong of Doan Thieu Nhi Thanh The Kito Vua Denver. We have a good time, I somewhat help out with the Thieu Nhi sinh hoat. I met a lot of people who I had seen at Dai Hoi Nghia Si III. I played a few games with the people from the Nghia Si Len Duong class, including 7-Up. I figured out the boys love to choi ngu, and they were super-dirty minded. -_-;; Seriouslyyyyy. After that went to go eat with Anh Phi Hung and a couple of Du Truongs. We had a good time. Checked out the UC Davic campus after that, had some frozen yogurt there (though not as cool as Nubi Yogurt). Went back to ChinaTown to eat.
Monday hung out with my cousin Mai Thy. We went down to Monterey Bay (so not worth it) and back up to SF. We got Nubi Yogurt. We checked out Pier 39, Fisherman's Wharf, and ChinaTown (again). Went down to Grand Century Plaza to eat at Saigon Restaurant. It really is a delicious place.
Tuesday went to Napa Valley, then went back to SF to go to Japan Town. That was pretty awesome, and I got myself green tea ice cream. Went to Westfield Mall after that. If anyone knows me well, they realize I hate shopping, so I ended up not being a big fan of Westfield. Went back to Grand Century to eat. Wasn't as epic food.
Wednesday hunted down the Jessica McClintock warehouse, went to the pier marketplace, went back to Japan Town to get a black yoshi, and then got Nubi Yogurt (again). Then I flew home. After eating not so epic sushi at the airport.
So I had frozen yogurt for a total of four times (three at Nubi Yogurt), and I got green-tea ice cream once. And green-tea flavored frozen yogurt once. It was an awesome experience, and I'm blessed with conservative parents who save enough so I get to travel out-of-state every year. Awesome awesome.
Please, I'm not as angry or emo as all that stuff above sounds. I just needed to get it out of my system. I've been a complete bitch today, and I can't really explain why. One little thing triggered it, and I am just crashing. Senior year is a major bitch. It's been worse than all my other high school years, and my high school experience hasn't been all that great. I am so ready for college. At least my dad will be letting me dorm wherever I go.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way -
SPRING BREAK WAS AWESOME!!!
I got to hang out with a ton of people who I haven't seen for a while. Saturday night, when I first got to SF, I hung out with Andrew and Matthew from DHDH. That was a blast since my parents actually let me go out on my own. We were having a long discussion about where to go, and I was feeling a bit picky that day (after eating In-N-Out Animal Fries -_-;;) so Andrew and Matthew cordially allowed me my pick of sushi. We ended up at a place called sushi boat, and Matthew was greatly entertained by how they priced the items and how the food came around on little boats swimming on water. It was fantastic, even with our sushi epic-fails. Matthew ended up eating mainly California Rolls since he doesn't have an affinity for sushi (according to him he splashes globs of soy sauce on). We were discussing the extreme oddity of the green tea cheesecake, and wondering about random food trays that floated by, when I saw something, covered by plastic wrap, that looked like goi cuon (springroll) with a yellow-orange sauce on top. I exclaimed over that, and Andrew and Matthew just laughed at me for thinking a sushi place would have goi cuon. Andrew took the initiative to try it out, although he said it wasn't that epic. Matthew decided to look for the "most-expensive-yet-rare-plate-of-awesomeness," but when he saw that it was just chunks of tuna, he decided he didn't really need to get it since it wasn't that awesome. After that, we were searching for the middle-priced plate because frankly, we never saw one of those. Matthew began a new trend of lemon-flavored soy sauce, which Andrew and I adopted, and while not epic, it was still pretty tasty. I decided to get a salmon and tuna nigiri, and when I saw the tuna one, Andrew picked it up off of the boat. I thought he was going to give it to me, but he just reached over me and placed it back on another boat floating by... Then Andrew and Matthew decided to fill up one boat all with the same thing. They got three plates of edamame on one boat, thinking edamame wasn't a popular item, but then a boat comes by with just one plate of edamame left and nothing else. Surprised, Andrew and Matthew grab at surrounding edamame plates and pile it back on a boat. A few minutes later, Andrew states, laughing, "Oh man, we got owned by sushi." And indeed we (the switch to 'we' indicating that I was fooled by the sushi also, although I did not partake in their festivities) did. The original boat was floating back with the three original plates of edamame still on it. Well, eventually they got a boat full of edamame, and as promised, I took a picture of it and set it as the background on my phone. Too bad Andrew didn't roll around on the ground - he was debating it.
After that, we decided to go for frozen yogurt. Andrew listened to Matthew and got lost trying to find the freeway. All three of us are pushing curfews, so we decide to look for Cold Stone. Alas, too late, using the GPS we find the nearest Cold Stone to be about 2.3 miles away. Backwards. So we search Baskin Robbins instead because I had my coupon (no clue if it worked in California). We found one, so we bypassed my hotel, I called my parents to let them know we were getting ice-cream, and ended up on El Camino Real where Andrew sees a Quickly (which I now desire to experience). Andrew figures out that well, he screwed himself - dropped his bank card in the mud and de-sensitized it (or de-sanitized it as I originally said). We're about to approach BR31 when Andrew spots frozen yogurt and says, "Look, Nubi Yogurt. I don't know if I trust that place, sounds too new." Ha-ha, ha-ha, very witty XP. We get yogurt, and Andrew, not being a fan of the froyo trend, abstains, saying he only partakes when there are enough people. I figured, even being from CO, I'm just not important enough. It's okay though, my reunion with DHDH people is enough to bring bad weather, and that's all anyone needs XD.
Sunday I go up to Sacramento with my parents and meet up with Anh Phi Hung, long lost Huynh Truong of Doan Thieu Nhi Thanh The Kito Vua Denver. We have a good time, I somewhat help out with the Thieu Nhi sinh hoat. I met a lot of people who I had seen at Dai Hoi Nghia Si III. I played a few games with the people from the Nghia Si Len Duong class, including 7-Up. I figured out the boys love to choi ngu, and they were super-dirty minded. -_-;; Seriouslyyyyy. After that went to go eat with Anh Phi Hung and a couple of Du Truongs. We had a good time. Checked out the UC Davic campus after that, had some frozen yogurt there (though not as cool as Nubi Yogurt). Went back to ChinaTown to eat.
Monday hung out with my cousin Mai Thy. We went down to Monterey Bay (so not worth it) and back up to SF. We got Nubi Yogurt. We checked out Pier 39, Fisherman's Wharf, and ChinaTown (again). Went down to Grand Century Plaza to eat at Saigon Restaurant. It really is a delicious place.
Tuesday went to Napa Valley, then went back to SF to go to Japan Town. That was pretty awesome, and I got myself green tea ice cream. Went to Westfield Mall after that. If anyone knows me well, they realize I hate shopping, so I ended up not being a big fan of Westfield. Went back to Grand Century to eat. Wasn't as epic food.
Wednesday hunted down the Jessica McClintock warehouse, went to the pier marketplace, went back to Japan Town to get a black yoshi, and then got Nubi Yogurt (again). Then I flew home. After eating not so epic sushi at the airport.
So I had frozen yogurt for a total of four times (three at Nubi Yogurt), and I got green-tea ice cream once. And green-tea flavored frozen yogurt once. It was an awesome experience, and I'm blessed with conservative parents who save enough so I get to travel out-of-state every year. Awesome awesome.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
The Random, The Pun, The Question Marks
Here's a random story that happened to me almost three years and some months ago. I recalled it recently and had to tell my friend Andrew because I figured it was right on his wave-length of humor. Of course, it is not something that goes so well read, as you will shortly understand.
So I was in my school's musical back in ninth grade. During practice one random day, I was wearing this shirt that I had bought in California. A girl standing across from me remarked, "That's a cute shirt! Too bad I could never fit it."
I had no clue how to respond to that. What was I supposed to say? "Oh, it would go fine on you."? "Work on losing that belly flubber and you'll be fine."? "I'm sorry you have such a pessimistic view of your own body."?
Regardless, I didn't have to worry. She just continued on with her talking and asked me, "How are you so skinny?"
A bit embarrassed at such a question, especially since I do absolutely nothing health or fitness wise to deserve such, I answer, "I think it's because of my genes."
In response, the girl says to me, "Girl, it's not, because if it was, I would've already bought them."
Obviously I am this skinny because I shoved myself into some size three jeans. No! Really now -_-;;
So my teacher was telling me a story the other day about his trucker brother. This brother happened to have to take a load from Northern Colorado to Souther Colorado, and he was driving on one of the narrow inner streets near downtown. He tried to light up a cigarette at a stoplight, but the line started moving so he accidentally flicked the lid off and spilled lighter fluid on his arm. Re-capping the lighter, that brother tried to re-light his cigarette. Genius that he is, he lit his arm on fire.
He rolled down his window and stuck his arm outside, waving his arm around. Unfortunately for him, a state patrol was driving behind him and pulled him over. He said to my teacher's brother, "I'm sorry sir, I'm going to have to put you in jail."
Throughly confused, the truck driver asks why, and the response he receives is, "Because you are in illegal possession of a firearm."
So I was in my school's musical back in ninth grade. During practice one random day, I was wearing this shirt that I had bought in California. A girl standing across from me remarked, "That's a cute shirt! Too bad I could never fit it."
I had no clue how to respond to that. What was I supposed to say? "Oh, it would go fine on you."? "Work on losing that belly flubber and you'll be fine."? "I'm sorry you have such a pessimistic view of your own body."?
Regardless, I didn't have to worry. She just continued on with her talking and asked me, "How are you so skinny?"
A bit embarrassed at such a question, especially since I do absolutely nothing health or fitness wise to deserve such, I answer, "I think it's because of my genes."
In response, the girl says to me, "Girl, it's not, because if it was, I would've already bought them."
Obviously I am this skinny because I shoved myself into some size three jeans. No! Really now -_-;;
So my teacher was telling me a story the other day about his trucker brother. This brother happened to have to take a load from Northern Colorado to Souther Colorado, and he was driving on one of the narrow inner streets near downtown. He tried to light up a cigarette at a stoplight, but the line started moving so he accidentally flicked the lid off and spilled lighter fluid on his arm. Re-capping the lighter, that brother tried to re-light his cigarette. Genius that he is, he lit his arm on fire.
He rolled down his window and stuck his arm outside, waving his arm around. Unfortunately for him, a state patrol was driving behind him and pulled him over. He said to my teacher's brother, "I'm sorry sir, I'm going to have to put you in jail."
Throughly confused, the truck driver asks why, and the response he receives is, "Because you are in illegal possession of a firearm."
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Raven's Wings
I seem to be attracted to people with a darker side.
Perhaps I find them to possess an alluring quality. People who are really nice and kind when you first meet them, yet as you get to know them you realize they have an innate dark side. The darker side of human nature - it's like bait to me. I'm scared of actually finding the truth, yet I always toy with it.
In middle school and freshman year of high school, I had some friends who were ridiculously funny when I first met them. However, as I got to know them better, I realized that they were depressed. I do not have the courage to support people who need me to be there for them, yet I continued to... lead them on? A part of me, a part I still try to suppress, wanted to see how far I could push things. I wanted to find out what wall they were running in to - a glimpse into their lives. In the end, I scared myself so bad I refused to talk to them, and to this day, there are still some who I cannot stand to look in the eye (yes, I know, a horrible solution).
Depression wasn't the only point though. The person who I am dating now has some traits that are definitely more (radical?) than in most other people. However, I don't think he reaches the definition of "dark" that I am trying to grasp.
Whenever I think about a "dark side" of a person, I immediately think about a guy who I used to like. And no, there is no reference to his dark skin. Often he is cheerful, joking, and laughing. I don't think I could find any depression in him, or else he skillfully conceals it. But there is definitely a part of him that I can sense. Sorry if I sound creepy. I was having this discussion with a couple other friends before, and I casually remarked, "Him and his brother have devils inside of them." My friends instantly replied, "Oh yeah, they definitely do." That guy and his brother have changed a lot. Everyone does, but theirs is...different. Their choice of friends and hanging-out has changed radically. They've changed so much that I almost can't even say "hi" to them, no matter no strained the greeting.
On top of that, I've heard stories about this guy's past, whether from other people or from himself. They are anything but pretty. I can't attest to them because I have never witnessed any of those actions for myself, but I can say that those tales came from him and not through other parties. He stabbed another kid in middle school with a glass shard. Tell me that's not scary. I think he's making an effort to keep it on the DL, but there have been moments where I see a hint of his anger, and I shudder to try to talk to him then.
Pondering on the darkness inside of others leads me to reflect on myself. Self-assessment tells me that I lack some qualities that should be more important in human beings. Compassion is not my strong suit, and I would hardly call myself social. All of the underclassmen Asian girls at my school avoid me, because I don't say anything. I just sit there and stare, probably not with a very genial look. They talk to my upperclassmen guy friends, including my boyfriend, and they talk to one another, but I am the one who they never approach. One girl who said to my boyfriend, "Your girlfriend's in my class, but I don't talk to her. I don't think she likes me." A part of me thinks indignantly, "You don't know anything about me!" while another part grins evilly inside of me, nodding and agreeing, "Yeah, I think you're fake, annoying, and too desperate for society." Maybe I'm jealous of those girls' easy-going nature. Or maybe (as I like to believe) I'm at a more mature level. I am quick to judge - most girls now I find annoying. The girls who I do talk to are more focused on their future. They don't act all flirty with guys, and they are kind to everyone; clique-less is probably how I would describe them. In girls, I probably enjoy talking to people who's personalities are the opposite of mine. Mind you, I said their personality, not their act for society.
I am like a double edged sword. Neither side of me is very nice. There is only a delicate balance on the ridge where I am particularly "good" or "kind." One side of me is the hard exterior that all of the girls at my high-school see. The haughty attitude that others sense, the one that says, "I'm better than you. I'm smarter than you. I'm more mature than you. I don't like you. I don't like your personality. I don't like the way you act and talk. I don't like your clothes." The other side is one that people see after they get to know me well. That attitude is more disdainful. It's the one that puts out there, "I'm getting annoyed of you. I can't stand hanging out with you. You were cool, but I'm getting sick of you and your personality. You're more shallow than I thought, and I can't continue like this with my own goals." Most of my friends have probably seen this side of me. I try to be nicer, but it all ends up so fake, and I can't stand fake. I'm definitely like a sword laying flat. People start on one sharp edge, and then they climb the smooth, cold metal, resting safely at the top (that's for people who are my friends). Over time, they can't help but slide down the other side, and they encounter the other sharp side of me.
I'm not trying to push away all of friends, and honestly, while I can sometimes have a bad attitude towards them, I don't want to lose them. They are important to me, and I truly do value their thoughts and opinions. I just don't think my personality is suited towards them and what they enjoy doing.
With that being said - I actually regard myself as a fairly open person. Often I cannot stop talking about myself or things that I find funny. It gets to a point where my attitude is a "put-down" attitude, but I'm trying to change that. Besides that, if anyone asks me something, chances are I'll answer their question. I hardly side-step stuff saying, "It's not something I really want to talk about" or whatnot. I don't understand myself.
Just a thought. I could ramble on this topic forever.
Perhaps I find them to possess an alluring quality. People who are really nice and kind when you first meet them, yet as you get to know them you realize they have an innate dark side. The darker side of human nature - it's like bait to me. I'm scared of actually finding the truth, yet I always toy with it.
In middle school and freshman year of high school, I had some friends who were ridiculously funny when I first met them. However, as I got to know them better, I realized that they were depressed. I do not have the courage to support people who need me to be there for them, yet I continued to... lead them on? A part of me, a part I still try to suppress, wanted to see how far I could push things. I wanted to find out what wall they were running in to - a glimpse into their lives. In the end, I scared myself so bad I refused to talk to them, and to this day, there are still some who I cannot stand to look in the eye (yes, I know, a horrible solution).
Depression wasn't the only point though. The person who I am dating now has some traits that are definitely more (radical?) than in most other people. However, I don't think he reaches the definition of "dark" that I am trying to grasp.
Whenever I think about a "dark side" of a person, I immediately think about a guy who I used to like. And no, there is no reference to his dark skin. Often he is cheerful, joking, and laughing. I don't think I could find any depression in him, or else he skillfully conceals it. But there is definitely a part of him that I can sense. Sorry if I sound creepy. I was having this discussion with a couple other friends before, and I casually remarked, "Him and his brother have devils inside of them." My friends instantly replied, "Oh yeah, they definitely do." That guy and his brother have changed a lot. Everyone does, but theirs is...different. Their choice of friends and hanging-out has changed radically. They've changed so much that I almost can't even say "hi" to them, no matter no strained the greeting.
On top of that, I've heard stories about this guy's past, whether from other people or from himself. They are anything but pretty. I can't attest to them because I have never witnessed any of those actions for myself, but I can say that those tales came from him and not through other parties. He stabbed another kid in middle school with a glass shard. Tell me that's not scary. I think he's making an effort to keep it on the DL, but there have been moments where I see a hint of his anger, and I shudder to try to talk to him then.
Pondering on the darkness inside of others leads me to reflect on myself. Self-assessment tells me that I lack some qualities that should be more important in human beings. Compassion is not my strong suit, and I would hardly call myself social. All of the underclassmen Asian girls at my school avoid me, because I don't say anything. I just sit there and stare, probably not with a very genial look. They talk to my upperclassmen guy friends, including my boyfriend, and they talk to one another, but I am the one who they never approach. One girl who said to my boyfriend, "Your girlfriend's in my class, but I don't talk to her. I don't think she likes me." A part of me thinks indignantly, "You don't know anything about me!" while another part grins evilly inside of me, nodding and agreeing, "Yeah, I think you're fake, annoying, and too desperate for society." Maybe I'm jealous of those girls' easy-going nature. Or maybe (as I like to believe) I'm at a more mature level. I am quick to judge - most girls now I find annoying. The girls who I do talk to are more focused on their future. They don't act all flirty with guys, and they are kind to everyone; clique-less is probably how I would describe them. In girls, I probably enjoy talking to people who's personalities are the opposite of mine. Mind you, I said their personality, not their act for society.
I am like a double edged sword. Neither side of me is very nice. There is only a delicate balance on the ridge where I am particularly "good" or "kind." One side of me is the hard exterior that all of the girls at my high-school see. The haughty attitude that others sense, the one that says, "I'm better than you. I'm smarter than you. I'm more mature than you. I don't like you. I don't like your personality. I don't like the way you act and talk. I don't like your clothes." The other side is one that people see after they get to know me well. That attitude is more disdainful. It's the one that puts out there, "I'm getting annoyed of you. I can't stand hanging out with you. You were cool, but I'm getting sick of you and your personality. You're more shallow than I thought, and I can't continue like this with my own goals." Most of my friends have probably seen this side of me. I try to be nicer, but it all ends up so fake, and I can't stand fake. I'm definitely like a sword laying flat. People start on one sharp edge, and then they climb the smooth, cold metal, resting safely at the top (that's for people who are my friends). Over time, they can't help but slide down the other side, and they encounter the other sharp side of me.
I'm not trying to push away all of friends, and honestly, while I can sometimes have a bad attitude towards them, I don't want to lose them. They are important to me, and I truly do value their thoughts and opinions. I just don't think my personality is suited towards them and what they enjoy doing.
With that being said - I actually regard myself as a fairly open person. Often I cannot stop talking about myself or things that I find funny. It gets to a point where my attitude is a "put-down" attitude, but I'm trying to change that. Besides that, if anyone asks me something, chances are I'll answer their question. I hardly side-step stuff saying, "It's not something I really want to talk about" or whatnot. I don't understand myself.
Just a thought. I could ramble on this topic forever.
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