v-e-r-n, v-e-r-n
So my sister's ipod shipped from China today, and the first thing she says is:"Yeah, some poor kid probably just finished packaging it."I'm forever amazed at how she manages to look sweet and innocent all the time. Really, I'd bottle and sell it because it still baffles me completely. So about me now. I'm feeling less sore today, but I'm still taking cheap shots at Karl to make him feel guilty for not giving me a proper lesson. To be honest, I don't blame him half as much as I seem; after all, I do understand that beginners are supposed to get their assed kicked the first time down. Still, cheap shots are so much fun, and once you get on a roll, it's really hard to stop.We finished building the Star Destroyer set today, and the thing looks so awesome. If you ever see the insides of that set, you'll realize exactly how intricate it is. The outside consists mainly of flat plates and doesn't look all that impressive, but the entire thing is actually held together by MAGNETS. Can you imagine? Some parts don't even connect--they just kinda sit on top of each other. Okay, I have to admit one thing. I'm trying really hard to think of something funny or profound to write about, but honestly, I'm obsessed. Seriously obsessed with getting back on the slopes and kicking its ass for a change. I doubt it's anything more than me being a perfectionist, and plus, I never liked losing to Karl. A little bit of leftover grudge, know what I mean?A few closing points: Yahoo suggested that "Lazy Sunday" is perhaps the most popular (and perhaps funniest) skit that SNL has ever done. If you haven't seen it yet, check it out on break.com or google videos. After watching it time after time, it's still funny. "Rain Man" is a very good movie. I'm going to be acting like a retard for weeks just in honor of the movie--no, I am not just giving myself excuses.
center of gravity
Snowboarding Test 1 of 3--Disaster in the Making
Exhibit A: a seriously bruised right wrist
Explanation: trying to grab onto the mountain for dear life as falling
Exhibit B: a very sore tushie
Explanation: when keeping center of gravity just doesn't cut it
Of course, the peak-end effect rule does come into play. I did fine somewhere in the middle of the mountain, then clung onto Karl for the very end; therefore, my stupid psychological self thinks that I had a good time, which I did, though I could just be saying that because of the psychology.
Anyway, the way I learned to snowboard today is the same as if you threw a kid into the ocean, then said, "Oh, just float. Now move your arms. Kick. Remember, it's all about the bouyancy--hey! Stop sinking!!"
Let's just say that instructions were lacking. The entire way down the mountain, I kept thinking, "Just get the fuck up. Get down the fucking mountain. Go as fast as you fucking can cuz this is fucking ridiculous. Just get this fucking over with." But truth be told, at some points I felt really good about myself. The board was straight, I was going at a good speed, and the toe thing actually worked! Still, good things don't last for long.
As I lay there with my face in the snow, I couldn't help but wonder how people found the determination to get back up the mountain and do it all over again until they're good. It's so depressing to see a 5 year old glide effortlessly down the black diamonds. I certainly wasn't going to lose to a 5 year old. So, at some point during break, I'll give it another shot and hopefully get the instruction I so desperately need (ahem).
Plan A: do it academia-style. Find all the articles about snowboarding and memorize all tips. Rehearse them like vocabulary words.
Plan B: bust my ass again on the mountain and hope it'll get sick of beating me up.
Plan C: go back to skiing, stupid girl.
At one point, I fell forward down the mountain and landed right on my belly, and it felt like a punch. Couldn't breathe. Started to feel like throwing up, passing out. Passing out was definitely not an option though, not after fainting the last two times I went skiing. It would be off to the hospital for me--blood tests, fuss, doctors lecturing about nutrition and hydration, low blood pressure. Could it be atmosphere? Are you eating? Such a pain.
I'm really looking forward to lying in my bed and letting it work out the aches in my shoulders. What's strangest is that I'm becoming almost obsessed with getting good at snowboarding. I can't stand giving up at something that I know I could potentially be good at. And I see potential in this, I really do. It could just be my inner optimist talking, but the optimist is also good at denial. Therefore, if it actually doesn't work out, the inner optimist will cheer me on anyway.
rhetorical questions
I'll preface this posting by mentioning that I was thinking very very hard about Carrie Bradshaw and her "Sex and the City" column-writing techniques. Although it's easy to associate her writing with constant questioning, you have to understand that women really do think like that. We question everything because that's the key to our survival. The one that forces the dead carcass away from the subordinate female is the one who maintains a keen and inquisitive view about her surroundings. Makes connections between seemingly ordinary routines and bizarre facts about relationships. Seriously, listen in on any conversation between 2 or more women, and you'll find out that at least 50% of the conversation consists of questions--most of which are completely unanswerable.This is why men and women cannot communicate successfully most of the time. When a man asks a question, he expects an answer. Guys, I know what you're thinking: "Well, what's the point of asking a question if I'm not going to get an answer?" It's perfectly binary--problem to solution, question to answer. To tell you the truth, and not just to stereotype or judge, but when a guy asks too many questions (especially rhetorical ones), he just comes off as being a bit of a jerk. Or insecure.In Women World, it's completely understandable. We don't ask questions simply to get an answer; we ask questions so that other women can support our confusion. Most of the protocol answers don't even make sense in the first place (i.e. "Why hasn't he called me back?" leads to "No honey, of course he'll call. Let's go shopping!"), but we say them anyway. So I ask this question: why do guys dig crazy chicks?"Nice guys finish last"? Please. Nothing compared to "Girls without a pair of neuroses bites the dust." Perhaps it's the same reason why lots of girls dig bad boys: they're unpredictable, and we can't understand their state of mind. So do guys like crazy chicks because they can't understand them, and therefore feel like they don't need to try? Angelina Jolie played a total psycho chick in "Girl, Interrupted," and now she's the hottest chick in America. This leads to question number 2: could this be a reason why the depression rate for women has gone up so drastically over the years?Is depression the new "cool" disease? Instead of cutting their wrists, are girls now finding a new way out of normality? If you thought PMS was an excuse to be a bitch, imagine having a doctor's note explaining why everyone should love you anyway. Don't get me wrong, I totally understand how many women are actually depressed and do need help. I'm just pointing out that there are a bunch of charlatans out there as well, but we can't point fingers because depression is so hard to diagnose. And who am I to say anything? My psychology professor basically told our class that all poets are depressed, and can only write in a state of depression. How nice.Honestly, I didn't expect this entry to take this weird turn. My psych course just happened to focus a lot on depression, and this is perhaps my brain's way of compensating for the time I wasted not studying.So, Christmas. I was totally surprised this year with my gifts. My sister got me the pair of Juicy Couture pants that I wanted. My parents already gave me my gift a while ago when I blew a shitload of money on a shopping spree. Karl got me a box of G Collection Godiva chocolates, but they're so beautiful I can't bring myself to eat them. Seriously, they look plastic and gorgeous and way too expensive. I also got a pair of snowboarding goggles from Karl's parents, which I totally did not expect. Still, it didn't really seem like Christmas at all today. All rainy and whatnot. Seemed like a regular day in October, and I can't complain because I actually enjoy having unseasonably warm weather once in a while.
tristan & isolde
Merry Christmas everyone!! Hope everyone's got their Santa radar on. Last I checked NORAD, Santa was in Florida. How exciting! He goes for the old people first, apparently.I woke up this morning past noon and found out that my parents had gone to a Japanese supermarket far, far away. So Jen and I decide to watch "Love Actually," and it turns out that the cute little kid in it plays little Tristan in "Tristan and Isolde." I'm really excited about that movie, and I'm not quite sure why. I think it's because I'm sick of complicated plot twists and profound character insights. Traditional stories stick with the love and greed, right and wrong, and all the black and whites that we lack nowadays. Modern-day stories always need that extra something. Show me more, screams the public, and the movie moguls stick in the visual effects and extra sentimental drama.Speaking of showing more, I've decided that I have nothing more to show, and that workshopping is turning me into nothing but a performing monkey. With that said, I've decided to drop creative writing and stick with reading 6 thousand-page Chinese novels. It's academic suicide, but I think I'll have fun doing it. Ed said it was already closed up, so I'll have to try my luck with it once the semester begins.Now that it's Christmas, it's time to start thinking about New Year's Resolutions. I've come up with a few:1. Get coked-out skinny like Nicole Ritchie. 2. Think of a better bridal march than the "Darth Vader theme" or "Past the Point of No Return" from Phantom of the Opera.3. Become a world-class pickpocket.4. Go blonde.5. Solve all of Puzzle Donkey.And a final wedding-related note (I promise I won't talk about weddings for a whole month): Jennifer, "Someday my prince will come" is TOO a great song for the bridesmaids. And, no, the implication is NOT that heavy. It's hopeful.
mission accomplished
After fighting through crowds at the Short Hills mall, I have returned victorious: I am now a Lexus, car commercial deal, and another Fendi bag away from being Regina from "Mean Girls." If you know what that means, then you know what I finally bought. Samantha from "Sex and the City" was right--handbags really are to women what balls are to men. After realizing how easy it was to buy one (a quick swipe of the debit card), I suddenly had a rush and felt like I had to clear out my account for handbags and shoes. I went to Tiffany's actually planning on buying something, then moved onto Neiman Marcus. So many designers. Sooo...can't afford it.New rule: only go to Short Hills every 6 months so my checking account can heal.
To be honest, the bag is more like a replacement for the puppy I can't have. I even chose a bag the same color as the puppy: a deep chocolate brown. Of course, the dachshund didn't have F's all over it, though I'm sure some posh anal-retentive 5th avenue socialite has had that done to her poor dog. Even so, I was 10 times happier during those 20 minutes with the puppy than I am with the bag I've always wanted. This is why I'm majoring in English: no matter how much I try to convince myself I'm materialistic and cold, something always comes along and bashes it. I can't keep up the image for long.
In other news, my sister came home from school today carrying the Christmas gifts her friends had bought her. Most of them were body products. Now here's the thing: why is it that even when we know we have enough shower gels and lotions to moisturize a thousand camels, that we still think it's a good idea to buy these things for other people? Why do we continue buying them for ourselves and get all excited when we receive them? Why do I keep collecting them? I think this is the biggest unsolved mystery ever.Oh, and in addition to the body stuff, I saw a scroll at the bottom of her bag tied with ribbon and a candy cane. At first I thought it was a love letter, so of course I decided to open it up and snoop before Jen got a chance to see what I was doing. As I slowly unraveled it, I saw a word flashing up at me in bold print:Christianity (followed by passages starting from Exodus)How disappointing. Imagine if you found that in your stocking after being hyped up about gifts for weeks. On one hand, it's true that Christmas is probably the best time for evangelism, but on the other hand, come on nowww.... At least there was a candy cane.I saw "Memoirs of a Geisha" today, and I have to say, it would've been a lot better directed by Ang Lee. Then again, I'm a sucker for visual effects and good coloring. The accents were not a problem, surprisingly. And I love Gong Li--bitchiness and all. If you read the book, you might be a little disappointed because the author did a great job detailing some brilliant imagery, and the movie kinda diminishes that. One good thing was that the director followed the book very closely, and there aren't any scenes that make you wonder where they came from.
allergy cured
So in an attempt to regain my gusto for shopping, I went to Snoble (oh come on, you know its easier to say than Barnes and such and such) and picked up a copy of Shopaholic Takes Manhattan. It's definitely put me in the shopping spirit now, and I am more than ready to drop half a grand on a Fendi purse. After all, I do deserve it, yes? Or would I rather spend that money on a pleasure item, say, a few extra nights in Europe over the summer?This is actually getting kinda hard. See, I already have a wedding booked for either June or July (probably a bad sign that I forgot). That's what Laura's for; after all, shes so organized I think she'd be excellent at running her own business. I think she gets it from her mom. Anyway, I really need to figure out what I'm doing this summer before I start taking on too much and having to cancel it all, then feel like a bad person. So...weddings. After witnessing so many wedding disasters firsthand, I've started planning mine years in advance. Nothing serious, just the typical color of bridesmaid dresses, time of year, time of day, song choices, flower arrangements, wedding invites, bridegroom ties, budgeting...oh god, budgeting. Me: So how much did you guys spend on your wedding?M&D: Nothing! We made money. See, when the guests walked through the door, they were immediately greeted with the gifts table. Most people brought money, and the people at the table would open up the envelopes on the spot and register it along with the person's name. Actually, I don't think they were allowed in until they'd given the check or gifts...What a brilliant idea!!! Unfortunately, this doesn't fly so well in America. People register for gifts at places like Bloomingdale's or Barney's, which makes it a lot easier for the guests to find the perfect present. So how improper would it be to include in the invite, "Gifts: cash or check only"? Or having a credit car machine at the gifts table in case people "forgot"? Dad: But you see, it's not really making money. After all, when your friends have weddings, you wind up spending that amount of money back anyway. Think of it as layaway.This got me thinking: so is it a bad idea to get married straight out of college? At that point, none of your friends really are making any money yet. The wedding will be small and quaint, a corny dj, a few crabcakes. You'll get a blender and a few toasters. But wait!--if you wait 6-7 years, a few of your friends could be head honchos, and you yourself might have a few Jaguars in the garage. You might actually have a chance of breaking even.To tell you the truth, thinking about money hurts my head more than balancing chemistry equations. So let's move on to the girly stuff: I want a night wedding filled with jazz. I want to walk down the aisle to a saxophone playing "What a wonderful world" and finish the ceremoney with "This will be (an everlasting love)" instead of the typical bridal marches. They're so boring, I could die listening to them. There will be an equal number of Bible passages read as poetry exerpts. Cocktail hour will have sushi and, of course, an open bar. There will be walkie-talkies everywhere, and the wedding planner will know the location of every waiter at every moment. There will be no flower girl/ring bearer because from what I've seen, they rarely ever make it down the aisle without crying or toppling over. Anyway, back to Shopaholic because you're probably all doing the "isn't it too early to think about this?" in your heads. I always feel so guilty finishing a book in a day because you figure, the author's probably spent years writing the bloody book, and I'm finishing it in 2 hours?? So disrespectful. Also, the book cost $12. I could've seen a movie for cheaper with the amount of time I spent reading.
strange allergies
So I have this dilemma: I'm really lazy when it comes to picture-taking, and I'm actually worried now that I won't have enough pictures of myself to look back on when I'm old. I'm serious, guys--this is a HUGE problem.
When I went back to Taiwan in middle school, I visited my mom's family. Next to the tv in the living room were stacks and stacks of the biggest albums I've ever seen in my life. Like, tomes.
Me: Wow. You guys must take a lot of pictures!
Grandma: No, those are ALL of your mother. Those are HERS.
I didn't really believe her at first, but as I flipped through each one, I realized it was true. The albums spanned only about 5-10 years, from college to her working days. And she looked good. So I'm thinking: hmm...I look pretty good too now (don't laugh), so should I put more effort into self-absorption? It just takes so much trouble though; in fact, even though I spend a lot of time with Karl, I rarely ask him to pause in the middle of a great moment just to take a picture. We've been to a lot of great places too, but we don't really have any pictures to look back on.
Theory: this will not be a huge problem so long as I keep a circle of close friends. Milan Kundera said in, I think, Identity that friends are like mirrors that constantly refresh your memories. You keep memories alive through conversation and reliving those moments. My dad doesn't really have any pictures of himself as a boy, but he seems perfectly content. I know looks are deceiving, but I'd love to grow up and not need pictures to comfort myself, you know? I doubt that'll happen, and maybe I'll end up with a collection that's larger than my mother's. Not likely, but certainly possible.
Oh! and I almost forgot about explaining the title of the entry. I think I'm allergic to shopping now. The last two times I was at the mall, I literally fleed from it. There's definitely something wrong with me. What's it called?--anhedonistic? Something like that. But it's not like I don't get pleasure from anything in life, just the thing that used to calm and comfort me through tough times.
I am also allergic to revising poetry. It's the most godawful thing ever. EVER. Basically, it's admitting that the poem you originally loved is actually a piece of shit that needs to be torn to pieces. Then round 2: admit it's shit, revise. Round 3: you get the point. I don't know why I'm still in the creative writing department since I'm already pretty drained of ideas. I guess it's because I'm afraid I'll leave and never have the desire to come back. I'm like that with a lot of things, so I shouldn't ever say that I like change because it's not true.
external locus
A few unrelated things on my mind:Point 1: There's so much plastic surgery going on nowadays; in fact, the most obvious case is through Korean series in which the actors and actresses look strikingly different from one drama to the next. The most common surgery is done with the eyes: more defined double-lid, even a type that increases the puffiness under the eye (why? I have no idea). This leads me to question number 1: if athletes suffer criticism for taking steroids, should models receive the same treatment for plastic surgery? In both cases, the individual takes on some form of artificial enhancement that gives him/her an edge above the competition. It's no secret that Heidi Klum has implants, and don't get me wrong, I think she looks great with them. But how fair is it? I used to think that Victoria's Secret models deserved all the fame because they had naturally curvy bods...which leads to question number 2: how important is the "natural" anyway? Most people walk around with fixed teeth or dyed hair, and what about makeup? They're all totally unnatural, and yet they don't receive the same type of attention as plastic surgery. Is it because plastic surgery is less affordable? Imagine a free clinic that performed plastic surgery as quickly as flu shots. I can guarentee that some of the biggest critics of plastic surgery would be waiting in line for a nose job.And finally, question 3: should people who have had plastic surgery be legally obligated to inform their spouses of the surgery? I don't mean after they've been married, but while they're still weighing each others' pros and cons. I mean, how pissed would you be if you married a gorgeous girl, and your kids look like a cross between an orangutan and Joan Rivers? Exactly how does the legal system deal with this anyway?***************Point 2:There's an Olympics mascot that's named Nini!!! Personally, I think she's the cutest one out of the 5. 4 of the mascots are Chinese animals (Nini is a swallow), and the 5th represents the Olympic flame. Their names are Beibei, Jinjin, Huanhuan, Yingying, Nini--and read in order (Bei jin huan ying ni) means "Beijing welcomes you." How hot is that??****************Points 3-?:I need to routinely update this thing. I am a born optimist--I always bounce back.I recently discovered Gaston Street Bakery and French Thai.I bought my sister an ipod nano for xmas.I got Karl the Star Destroyer legos set.I need to unpack and figure out when I'm going back to school.I saw a couple at the mall kissing with their eyes open.
little manolo
I never used to believe in love at first sight. This was before I met Manolo and he pissed on my butt. He's already marked me as his--who can tear us apart now?
I tried so hard to look at the other puppies, but all I could think about was the little reddish-brown Dachshund who was only 2 months old and clinging to the glass window. Karl and Jen felt the same way. We took it into the playroom and watched it dance around for half an hour. At one point, Jen massaged its ear, and it felt so comfortable that it topped over!
I'm in love. So in love. I bawled for days because my parents still haven't caved to let us have a dog yet. It's so elementary school, but it's the first time I've felt this way. He's so tiny. He looked so tiny trying to jump onto the bench and bumping its nose. All I can hope for is that everything works out because I am THIS close to going back to the store and bringing him home. I miss him so much. He looked so sad when the lady put him back in his cage. I wonder if he's thinking about where we've gone and why we haven't come back to play with him.
countdown begins
This kind of weather makes me want to eat Jello jigglers.
One mistake that I learned from last year is to not skimp around this time of year, even though money does get kinda tight. I returned this really gorgeous pink coat because I thought I couldn't afford it, but it turns out that I could've. I was just stupid. My bank account will bounce back, my wallet will refill...because honestly, what other month requires such large spendings? I've been pretty good all year, so I should allow myself to finally splurge, yes?
I'm going snowboarding for the first time on Saturday. It's been years since I've been on the slopes, and even then, it was on skis. I've heard too many rumors about people busting their asses on a snowboard, so I've already given Karl decent warning about me potentially hating it. But seriously, ski lifts scare the crap out of me. Hopefully the gondola is open, and I can get off the lift with at least a shred of dignity.
I registered for classes this week, but I'm thinking about taking on a 5th course. I think I'm hanging out with the wrong crowd; my friends are all overachievers, or I'm just a slacker. But still, it's kinda hard explaining why 2 out of 4 of my classes are PDF:
CWR 302 (Advanced Poetry): so far, there are only 3 people registered for my class. I don't know why, but they only took 11 people for advanced poetry this year, but like a bazillion for introductory.
EAS 208 (Some Asian History): totally a requirement class. I can't hold off taking history any longer because it'll create too huge of a workload come junior year.
ENG 205 (Prereq for ENG department): oh joy. Old English. Dense readings. Why am I an English major again?
PSY 257 (Personality): another requirement class. It counts for the equivalent of middle school "social studies."
I was planning on taking an Astrophysics class, but I forgot that it conflicted with creative writing. Boo. Maybe I'll take something like Calc or another English course. Not sure yet. Oh! I finished my kooky "Alice in Wonderland" poem, and it turned out to be 5 pages. 5 very dense, very disturbing pages. I also did my laundry, but one of the washers was broken, so my clothes wound up all foamy. I was pretty pissed, and by the time I was done, it was already 11 at night.
Note: 11 = ONE hour before bedtime.
I mean, come on, most of the commercials you see on tv for anti-wrinkle cream talks about stress and how people wish they treated their skin better in their youth. I'm just getting a head start so I don't look like a pickled plum before I'm 40. This means sleeping early, no sunbathing, and keeping my workload easy enough that a 3rd grader could handle it.
piece of advice
Girls, whenever you go to a public restroom, almost always go to the first stall that you come to.
Here's the reason: most women have a tendency of passing over the first stall because they figure a better one will be up ahead. As a result, the first stall is almost always the cleanest one.
The same can be said about women's attitudes towards men. Why does it seem like the first one can't be the perfect one? Does there always need to be some sort of basis for comparison? We go through our lives looking for the perfect person to spend our lives with, then almost half of our lives wondering if we'd passed up Mr/Ms Perfect years ago.
Nice guys = first stalls
Not so nice guys = other stalls
It's no surprise that the not so nice guys are the ones getting dirtied up, and the nice ones wondering--in their loneliness--why no one has come to visit.
back pains
Reasons why I'm a mess right now:
1. I can't bring myself to do laundry. It's a cycle: I don't want to do it because the basket is too heavy. The more I hold off, the heavier the basket gets.
2. I REALLY wanted to take this course called "The Chinese Novel," but it's at the same time as Creative Writing. There's like no one in the 300 level class this year, but the 200 level list was like 4 times as long. So weird. But yeah, this is one thing that I'm genuinely upset about.
3. I don't feel inspired or crazy enough to finish the Sexton assignment. Two pages so far, and I'm trying to hit 5. Who the hell writes 5 page poems nowadays anyway?
4. I'm using my blog as a vent. Oh lowest of low, hello.
5. Turns out my Psych exam is CUMULATIVE. Holy shit, just shoot me now.
Still, there are things to look forward to. I'm going snowboarding for the first time this Saturday, and let's hope it's something I'll look back on fondly. I expect my ass to hurt to the point of being embarassing, but this I can handle. No broken bones, that's all I ask. My parents are all worried about me, but I'm sure Karl will be there if I faint (again).
I don't like how it's dark so early now; totally throws off my sense of time. Makes me sleepy...and hungry. I actually stuck to my diet last week and lost 5 pounds. I think I gained it all back this weekend with pudding, cake, chips, chocolate, etc.
I was thinking lately about permanent procrastination (which I like to call "hibernation" when I want to make myself feel better). What if it never ends? Could I glorify it Walden-style? Pretend I don't want the things that I most certainly think I want? There's not enough time for everything. I need to prioritize, but first I need to find the time to prioritize.
