spiritedgeisha

misnomers

2007-01-19T01:44:00.000-05:00

After several failed attempts to log into this account, I realized that maybe I've been away from this little pet of mine too long. Oh, I can make excuses about schoolwork and my boring life and yet, somehow, being too busy...but you know that's all bull.

But the real reason I wanted to come back today is to talk about Samantha Thavasa, a Japanese designer company (not person) that is soon taking the US by storm. Guest designers include Paris&Nicky Hilton, Posh Spice, Tinsley Mortimer, Beyonce, Maria Sharapova--though I'm not too sure whether or not some of them are just spokesmodels and not really designers.

I'd known about ST a few years ago when I first started reading the Japanese magazine Ef. After doing some research online, I discovered that ST's handbags/accessories/jewelry was limited to Japan, and was not available anywhere else despite using both American and British celebrities in their advertisements. My mom started asking friends and relatives in Taiwan about it, but alas...Japanese Limited was Japanese Limited.

In November 2006, Samantha Thavasa opened up a store in NYC. When I saw this in an issue of Vogue, I had Karl take me into the city the very next day; and as a supportive and wise boyfriend, he willing took me (as long as we got to watch Pan's Labyrinth). At first, I wasn't 100% certain that the store even existed. The number on Google addresses turned out to be the fax, and the store was so new it didn't even have its own website yet. Nevertheless, I was willing to take the chance and walked my ass down Madison Ave.

The store was small, and the selection even smaller than I'd expected. To my dismay, they didn't carry any jewelry from the Samantha Tiara collection, and most of the bags were "Americanized" and thus stripped of its original girly cuteness. But man!--the service there was amazing. I knocked over one handbag after another in my excited frenzy, and this really polite saleslady just cleaned up behind me while apologizing profusely.

Finally, I settled on a pink and gray bag with a metal and leather chain and tweed/plaid bottom. I should probably post a picture of it at some point, since it's really hard to describe. For now, just think Japanese/British fusion. The only reservation I had against buying it was that the top is almost completely open. As the saleslady explained, in Japan, people don't really pickpocket, so having a bag with an open top isn't a big deal. However, as someone who grew up in less courteous districts, I immediately began thinking of ways to justify this blatant lack of security. The Tinsley Mortimer collection, however, offers bags with good, sturdy zippers because Tinsley herself is a well-known New York socialite and understands how to protect valuables on a busy street.

(Wow, I just wrote a lot about one bag. This will be the only time I do this, promise. Next post will be about something really really profound, seriously.)

So, to summarize...if you're one of those people who are sick of LV or Dior or Coach, and don't want to drop a few grand on a MiuMiu/Prada or Chanel--go for Samantha Thavasa, especially while the prices are still reasonable. ST is a lot like Juicy Couture in the sense that it's ultra-girlyand no one really carries it above the age of 25. The store seems to only carry a few items of each product; as it turns out, I had bought the last one in my style, which is NY Limited. So if you like novelty, and not carrying the same bag as everyone else, take a trip to NY while the trains are free (22nd-28th) and treat yourself to something that only select American celebrities and handbag junkies covet and adore.

its a froggy world

2006-10-01T22:30:00.000-04:00

So my mom calls me today all excited, and she asks me one question:

Imagine a cup. What adjective to you use to describe that cup? (As in, My cup is ____).

I have no idea what's going on, but I answer her, and she tells me what it meant. As to not give it away, put in your own adjective and tell me.

My dad also has a favorite one (you have to answer instinctively, so don't think too hard):

1. You walk into a jungle/forest. What is the first animal you see?
2. As you walk out of the jungle/forest, you see a castle. There are two keys: one old, one new. Which do you take?
3. There are three cups: one empty, one half full, one full. Which do you take?
4. Outside, you see a beautiful lake. How many swans are in the lake?
5. As you leave the castle, you realize there's one animal you wanted to see but haven't seen yet. What is it?

I don't know if you guys have done this yet, or if this is a common test, but I thought it was pretty cool. When I answered "frog" for the last question, my parents and my sister immediately started dying, and I couldn't tell why. Now I know. (Thanks a lot, guys). It's such a shame I can't go home as often as I did the last two years because my family's great, and we always have a good time together. October's a pretty crazy month--essays always around the corner, then midterms. All I want is a few days to completely relax because I get stressed out easily, which is why I always try to mellow out and forget the world.

in defense of austen

2006-09-25T14:53:00.000-04:00

Allow me for a moment to connect two of my favorite things at the moment: Pride and Prejudice and "Veronica Mars."

I'm not talking about the obvious Cinderella plotline; the wealthy marries the dowry-less girl, the non-09er dates more than one heir to family fortune. They're both pretty fantastical, and if you think about it, not quite what you'd get walking around your average high school, college, or English countryside. In this sense, Emma, though arguably formulaic, packs a more realistic punch (leading, heaven forbid, to a defense of "Clueless" and "Mean Girls"). But a girl can dream of her knight in shining Lexus, right?

Not quite. Charlotte Bronte famously accused Austen of writing works void of passion. To be sure, Austen's novels are highly conscious of manners and codes of conduct: so and so with this fortune, the threat of gossip, etc etc. If we get beyond the social yeah-rights of both P&P and "Mars," though significant, what makes me giggle in private is that they both have everything to do with passion, but in an unconventional way. Sorry Romeo, but in this case...here's much to do with love but more with hate.

The moment we see Logan Echolls and Veronica fight, we know they're going to get together. The minute we read how horribly Lizzie rejects Darcy, we're already mentally walking them down the aisle. But how realistic is this really? "Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" asks Lizzie to her aunt, and she has a point. In a world in which we learn to question everything around us, especially those relating to affection, isn't it also in our nature to question hatred itself as something artificial?

But back on the issue of passion. I just don't buy Bronte's "Jane!" "Rochester!" psychic-across time and place-totally supernatural form of "passion." It's true: passion itself is something that's hard to explain, but taking the psychic medium just seems like a complete cop-out. What I love about Austen is that she makes passion accessible: you try and you try and you try to not like the person, and you fail. You're not waiting for your prince to come, you're hoping the guy who's totally wrong for you isn't "the one."

That's passion. You don't ask for it. You don't expect it. It just happens, and it's completely unrealistic and perhaps not as sparkling fireworks as you might've expected out of passion, but it's there. As arrogant and cocky Darcy's first proposal was to Lizzie, I still get chills watching Colin Firth struggle to get his words out. And as borderline gay and pretentious Logan acts, I still wait for those episodes when he finally caves and there's a "moment" with V. It's romance between intellectuals who realize the obvious flaws in their relationship, try to suppress their feelings, and finally burst into emotional epiphany.

My question for today is: does the passion argument work when the gender roles are reversed? For instance, "Titanic" or "The Notebook" in which the rich girl caves and marries the more romantic, less wealthy guy. I should imagine that the heroines would go through the same turmoil in defying reason and social conventions, yet I can't pin that feeling of passion on either of those movies (perhaps bad examples).

But seriously, guys, I really do love "Veronica Mars," and if cable weren't so expensive, I'd totally get it just to watch the show every Tuesday. Maybe if I can get enough people to chip in, I can get cable before the season premier Oct 3rd.

the cocoon

2006-08-31T23:48:00.000-04:00

On the way to Florida, I made a very important discovery--the articles in Elle magazine are surprisingly beautiful, even poetic at times. Compared to Vogue, which I find often esoteric and often intimidating, the writers in Elle draw upon a lot of real life moments to capture the art of fashion. Still, Elle sits between In Style and Vogue on two counts: it's not as accessible as In Style, but it's not nearly as much fun to flip through as Vogue.

I'm sure it will take me years to become as articulate as professional fashion writers, but here's my take on this fall's trends:
1. Skinny jeans: I will NEVER, EVER own a pair of these. I tried on a pair of skinny black 7s, and they made me look so lopsided that I almost ripped them during my frantic attempt to peel the denim off. They may work for Sienna Miller, but for the average person, they'll most likely look ridiculous (of course, I may just be saying that because I'm bitter, and so I'll assume everyone's as fatassed as I am).
2. Leggings: to be honest, it'll be really nice to have some extra covering during the winter when I'm feeling brave enough to wear miniskirts. It seems like this trend is practically over though, but I'm sure we'll be seeing plenty of it for at least a few more months, or at least until people figure out that frilly necklaces, corset belts, and beads are no longer "in."
3. Metal jewelry: here's the problem--how do you keep these things from rusting? As much as I love wearing sterling silver and 18-24 carat gold, I want somethign that looks a little more vintage and affordable for the average college student. I have a feeling this is just something I have to collect slowly, perhaps when I go to NY on saturday. Hit up a few antique shops, etc.
4. Tunics: again, will probably be out with the leggings, but I do love the whole layering thing. It's nice knowing that instead of "hiding extra fat with clothing," it's now called "going chic with layers" or "the seduction of not seeing." After eating so much during vacation, I think it's best if I left more to the imagination...na mean?

I'm pretty sure I'm obligated to write at least one entry on my vacation, but it's always harder to narrate than to wax philosophical on plain matters, like clothing. I could say something like, "We are all pieces of artwork and should behave as such" or "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's Marc Jacobs," but in the end it's all about surrounding yourself with things that make you feel more comfortable. It's not good to become a fashion slave and follow every trend indiscriminately, even if it's totally wrong for you, but it's even worse to become fashionally apathetic and give up and use the "inner beauty" argument. Trust me, none of us are really that beautiful on the inside, so we should at least dress up our outsides a little better. Or so I tell myself whenever I pull out that little piece of plastic, swipe it fast with my eyes closed, and tell myself that money's nothing but a number in my bank account.

the japanese are weird

2006-08-09T23:39:00.000-04:00

"Tenrankai no E": if anyone just happens to have a copy of this, please let me know. I've been looking everywhere for a place that sells it, but it's kinda obscure and from the 60's (don't know if that has anything to do with me not finding it). I have the movie on VHS, but it's starting to age and play static at inappropriate times.

The movie is like, my childhood. It's a cartoon sequence of a Japanese studio's take on Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition," and it's soooooooo trippy. Seriously, some of the sequences involve a plastic surgeous putting a woman's thighs in a pencil sharpener to make them thinner; a "beatnik" version of the "Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks" with a chick smoking a cigarette; and zen priest who does nothing but sit still the entire song, then breaks out into a yawn.

Actually, I can think of one more movie that I've watched more times than "Tenrankai no E," and that was "Allegro non troppo." It's like a European version of "Fantasia" but far more sexual and weird. For instance, Ravel's "Bolero" is portrayed as the beginning of existence, starting with a slimy worm thing evolving into the species we see and know now. One of my favorite sequences is a really kooky interpretation of Adam and Eve in which the snake eats the apple and learns about sex and how to dress appropriately. He gets eaten by this weird monster figure and comes out in a suit and tie and actually kinda cute.

When I watched these two films for the first time, I was still in elementary school. Even though I was probably still taping "Power Rangers" and "Ninja Turtles," I was somehow aware that the two movies were important in some way or another. So I watched them--over and over and over and over such that if I think hard enough, I'm pretty sure I can replay the entire movie in my head.

I'm also pretty sure "Allegro non troppo" is the reason why I never understood why kids cried over Bambi's mom or Mufasa's death. For the Sibelius piece, we see a particularly heartwrenching sequence of a starving cat who wistfully haunts an abandoned building in search of company and food. I think that was the first time I became aware of the concept of "loneliness," which is so hard to describe when you're a kid. And for some reason, the ups and downs in the piece--paired with the cat's ghostly fantasies of family and acceptance--made me realize that compared to loneliness, maybe death really isn't so bad.

So again, if anyone happens to have the DVD of either movie (or knows where to buy it), please let me know, and I'll be eternally grateful.

manly bonding

2006-08-01T14:33:00.000-04:00

So I watched The Wedding Planner for the third or fourth time, and it was the first time that I noticed that the guy who plays the Italian dumb guy is actually Alex Karev from Grey's Anatomy!! Who'd have thought?

I want to start interning for a wedding planning place starting next summer. I think I fantasize more about walking around with a wireless walkie-talkie in my ear whisper-shouting at the caterers than I do about actually walking down the aisle. Maybe I haven't mellowed out quite as much as I've convinced myself.

Speaking of which, I'm still going to keep the promise I made to myself a few years ago: never do anything unless it's truly what I want. Now that I've significantly slowed my life down, I can clearly see what it is I want to do as opposed to what I think would be good for me.

So far, I've figured out three important things:
1. Poetry makes me fucking depressed, and I don't want to spend my life picking at my old wounds just to come up with something to publish. Even so, it's still something I like, so I'll continue taking classes for fun.
2. Law school is still an option as long as I keep my GPA exactly where it is right now. Plus, you get to wear really cute suits and briefcases (huge plus).
3. I'm a confident yet non-competitive person. In other words, I know I have the ability to do anything I put my mind to, but I never feel the need to compete to get what I want. I just work my hardest, and if that leads to somewhere good (whether I plan it or not), then I'm cool with it.

I've also figured out some "housewife" themes for the tea parties:
1. Trailer park housewife: short shorts, bad bleaches, and frito pie.
2. Gothic housewife: harajuku style dresses with blue lipstick and jugs of sangria.
3. Metrosexual "housewife": because there's nothing sexier than a man who can serve a good cucumber sandwich. I'm sure we can bribe a few guys to do this.
4. Golddigger housewife: bring your own Anna Nicole Smith costumes (and keep all speech at an exaggerated slurring).

im sore and achey

2006-07-25T23:08:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I played in my first softball game...and scored! Except now, my body's completely sore because I'm completely out of shape. I played with Karl and his co-workers, so I'm glad I didn't embarrass him too badly.

It's been so hard for me to read a book this summer. The only things I've read so far are these: two issues of eF, two issues of In Style, half of Shopaholic and Sister, and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. The last two are books, but I would hardly call them great works of literature. I love Victorian novels to death, but trying to get through Mansfield Park while it's bright and gorgeous outside is about as impossible as walking to and from class in 4-inch heels (I've tried and had to make a pit stop back at the dorm because the campus is uneven and stoney).

Oh! I also took the practice GRE test and got an 800 both times on the math portion. I'm a bit ashamed of my verbal score, but there are just too many vocabulary words to memorize. I keep getting "pernicious," "impecunious," and "penurious" mixed up. I've even started making retarded sentences: Sally the student was solicitous in science class.

I think part of me wouldn't mind going into education, but just after a summer of nonstop teaching, I've realized that I'd get bored of it eventually. Sure, the kids are great, but I always feel so limited. There's a set amount of material that needs to be taught, and I don't have a choice but to teach it. I suppose it's the same way with any job, but I'd like at least a little more creativity.

I need to make a resume at some point, but I have no idea how to get started. There also isn't very much for me to put on there because I'm too lazy to go out and intern. Instead, I do what I like: teach, make money, splurge. I know I can't live my entire life this way, but I still feel like it's too early to get myself caught up in a "real job." That'll mean I've grown up, and that's completely unacceptable.

more new finds

2006-07-22T23:33:00.000-04:00

1. Grey's Anatomy CLOTHING:
Plain, yes, but still really cool how you can buy what they wear online. Weird how Alex wears a lot of Juicy Couture considering he's supposed to be the "bad boy." You can't be bad in Juicy. Still no luck in finding the rose-colored dress Izzie wore to prom though.

2. Betsey Johnson:
Seriously makes the cutest things in the world. I'm planninng on stocking up on their accessories. I mean, I love their dresses, but it's too hard to find a chance to wear them on campus. Today, I bought a denim tote with a sequined rose, lace and metal bordering, and soft brown leather straps.

3. Ice cream sundaes:
Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream; marshmallows; gummy bears; chopped up strawberries; and chocolate syrup. It's just another thing that's worth being fat for.

4. Accessories from Nordstroms:
If you go to the teen's section of Nordstroms, you'll realize that there's an entire accessories corner with reasonably priced belts and necklaces and such. They're not quality materials, but accessories aren't meant to last that long unless you're planning on vintage-ing. My eF magazine came today, and there was a piece on "Belts: Before and After." It's almost shocking how much they can pull together than outfit, but I can still never find exactly the kinds I'm looking for.

I promise I'll say something a bit more meaningful for the next entry. It's just I've been really busy, and the only spare time I've had, I've been using on shopping and studying for GREs. I've also been reading more magazines than books, which is sooooooo bad for the coming semester when I'm swamped with a million and a half books per week. I'm looking forward to being on campus again...been craving those Olive's almond cookies =D

something something...dead door?

2006-07-14T23:24:00.000-04:00

There're only two real things to do during the summer: work, then shop. In fact, I'm pretty much convinced that I only work to shop.

New things I love:

1. HOT ROLLERS: omg...why did I never try these before? After Karl bought them for me (because he's the best), I tried them out and they're so easy to use. It's like...curling for dummies. Wait, no. That's the sport.

2. Belts: see, I'm trying to "accessorize" more instead of focusing on the basic items. A few days ago, I was so tempted to burn every polo I own because I feel I'm getting too preppy. And that's unacceptable. Unacceptable! Belts make outfits look really "put together" and it really does slim down the waist.

3. Eyelash curlers: which I finally learned how to use. Apparently, you're supposed to curl it at the very base of the eyelash, not in the middle. I'm still wondering whether it's worth it to get a Shu Uemura one or to stick with the one I have. Theoretically, they should work the same.

4. Blue liquid eyeliner: sooooooooooo cool. Seriously, go out and try it for yourselves. Instead of using eyeshadow, use just a colored eyeliner. It brightens the eye without looking too heavy like shadows sometimes do (Pat: the green-eyed monster).

5. Breakfast: and I mean the whole deal--eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns w/ ketchup, etc. Thing is, I can never eat breakfast in the morning and always feel silly eating it for lunch or dinner. But speaking of food...

6. Makedas: for all you Jerseyans...venture to downtown New Brunswick and get yourself some bangin' Ethiopian food. I always get the vegetarian dishes because they prepare their veggies really really well. My fave: pureed yellow beans and spiced mixed vegetables. Thing is, I don't think their food would taste half as good if we were forced to use utensils. There's just something really yummy about eating with your hands. Try it, if you don't believe me.

good to be a gangsta

2006-07-07T23:11:00.000-04:00

"The student has surpassed the teacher."

Okay, so I thought that responding "hell, no" to being asked out was cold. Apparently, my sister reached pure freezing.

Guy: confesses love etc etc
Jen: ...
Jen: yeah, let's forget this ever happened. k? ::leaves::

My proudest moment. EVER.

Oh, and...they're still friends. How cool is that?

something-aholic

2006-07-06T22:15:00.000-04:00

My new addictions:

1. John Frieda hair glaze--it's surprisingly easy to use (just apply after conditioning and let sit for 3 minutes), and it leaves your hair really shiny and silky. Today, I learned that lighter hair appears duller than darker hair because it reflects less light. Makes me want to go dark brown again.

2. MAC fluidline in Haunting--supposed to be a eyeliner, but I found that it works even better as a cream eyeshadow. It has more shimmer than most eyeshadows and doesn't crease like most creams. It also works as a nice liner under the eyes.

3. BCBG--in general, probably one of my favorite designers recently. Supposedly, it's supposed to be some kind of France-in-America type of thing, which is nice and all; still, the reason why I like it is because it's not really preppy or business-y or boho chic. It's just pretty, that's all.

4. Free underwear!!--so after receiving a VS Pink coupon for free panties in the mail, I opened up the newest issue of In Style and found that they had another one! I'm tempted to go back to the store and rip out all of them, go up to the register, and come back with a case. Wish me luck!

5. Finding out different ways to go blonde--supposedly, the most commonly used way for natural blondeness is to slowly increase the number of blonde highlights in your hair. I think dark hair looks nicer long, and blonde nicer short. I think it's because after dyeing, hair gets to be a bit dry, and it's more noticeable if its below shoulder-length.

6. My adorable adorable students who write stories in which almost every character is named "Bob," "King Bob," "Elephant Bob," and "Paris Hilton Bob."

the fig tree

2006-07-04T23:54:00.000-04:00

For writing class, I teach my kids that essays and stories aren't the same as pictures. If you see something beautiful, you can pull out a snazzy new digital camera and take the picture. Then, you can post it online so that everyone can see. As always, they nod their heads politely and wait for me to tell them something they don't already know (my kids are smart, you see).

Then, I tell them that sometimes adjectives aren't enough. Is the blue dress just blue, light blue, dark blue, or is it blue as ink or sapphires or the faded sweatshirt you used to love? Would the words "white," "cold," and "round," be enough to describe a snowman to a martian? Don't think so. I think the best I got was "like three asteroids piled on top of each other, then covered with white stardust." This is how they learn about similes and metaphors.

The lesson always ends the same way: I give them a piece of paper and ask them to draw the image I tell them. I say, "Draw me a tree, one with nice broad leaves. It's next to a house that's not too big, just a regular house that's snug and comfortable. In the tree, there's an owl" (which elicits the usual response: "how do you draw an owl?").

Just for a second, imagine that big tree with the owl, next to the not-too-large cozy house.

While they're drawing away, I'm making my own version of the picture to see how close ours turn out in the end. They always draw the same picture: an abstract house with a triangle for the roof, a few windows, door. There'd be some cat or rat-looking bird animal perched on a branch. The tree almost always looks like a cream puff standing on stilts meant to represent the trunk. Sometimes the tree would be to the left of the house, or to the right, some trees bigger than others, and some houses with a garden out front. But in the end, it's all the same.

There's a second half to this lesson, but it's not my place to teach it. Sometimes, I feel so tempted to blurt out that this activity has nothing to do with writing at all--it's things we say to each other. The everyday things: "I love you"...those three words are the owl, the tree, and the house. When I say those words, or when he says them to me, I imagine that we are seeing the same trees and gardens and cars out in the driveway, morning kisses and late-night movies. And our pictures would match, like the curtain panels some kids manage to add.

Still, in the end, the assignment is just three items. Though I've collected more than a dozen of these pictures, and each unique and dear to my heart, they all turn out looking the same. So when I take out my drawing, and I show them to the kids, some laugh with surprise, others squint and stare, but it always manages to catch them offguard.

And I say, "Well, what's the difference between what I see and what you see?"

"You're already inside, looking out at the owl and the tree."

And that would be the end of the lesson, preceded by some comment about the importance of explanation. Still, as most people know, there are some things that go beyond words, where pictures and explanations fall pale and linger awkwardly on the balls of their heels. It's what makes me clutch at the edge of my pathetic little drawing till the edges form grooves against my fingertips.

I want him inside with me. Sometimes, I imagine that lonely little figure that must be in that house I've drawn, looking out and wondering where the owl will fly to next, or how it must sound when the leaves crinkle to the ground. I don't know if we're seeing the same things, or if the word "love" means the same, because there aren't enough adjectives or similes to express what they really mean. I don't know if he can love me the way I want to be loved, but I need to keep on hoping and staring out through those crooked felt-marker windows, and maybe one day I'll feel that familiar palm on my shoulder, and some new bird will have begun to perch.

wine tasting

2006-06-26T17:28:00.000-04:00

Damn...I make good sangria. It was an accident actually; I left a bowl of fruit sitting in concentrated sugar water overnight, and when I used it, the sugar water tasted fruity, so I put it into the sangria. Very yummy.

My sister's really smart. She got an 800 on the first SATII she's ever taken. As a result, she's taking my other Fendi. We're still waiting for her PSAT scores, but Pway's kinda stupid, so we're not even sure if the PSAT they took was legit or not.

I actually feel kinda bad for her. I'm putting her on a really hard schedule of vocab, writing, and research projects. It's only because I'm around to monitor every minute of spare time she has, but it's for her own good. She says I have to buy her a pair of Manolos if she gets a 2400, and like an idiot, I agreed.

We made cake and jello today, and the jello was the only one that came out good...oh! and sangria! That was good..mm..

up the mountain

2006-06-23T20:30:00.000-04:00

I just came back from 6 straight hours of tutoring. I'm really tired, but these kids are wonderful, so it's not like I had to keep repeating the same things over and over to get them to understand.

I have 24 hours of tutoring lined for next week. This is the most I've had...EVER. Hope I can get through it alive. However, because it's still the beginning of summer (most kids got out this week), there's still a chance that more students will enroll, but the spots are limited. I don't like working on the weekends, but I will allow either early Saturday or Sunday mornings.

I really need to start writing down the interesting things that happen in class. Can't write them here, unfortunately, because kids these days have an uncanny way of navigating through blogs and finding exactly what they need. So yeah, no embarassing anyone.

You know....even after two years, I still have no idea why Princeton accepted me. In my essay, I stated very clearly that I didn't want to do anything exceptional or world-changing with my life. I told them I wanted to be a soccer mom/housewife and live a quiet, normal life. Maybe they'd hoped I'd change my mind, or they wanted to use me to balance out all the hard-core students out there. I dunno. When parents ask me about how I got into college, I really have no idea what to tell them.

I really want to go to Woodbury Commons, but I need to resist the urge to spend money. But they have EVERYTHING!!! Gucci, Pucci, Burberry, Fendi, Chanel.......AND ALL ON SALE!!! sigh...we'll see...

scared of clowns?

2006-06-18T17:51:00.000-04:00

I just bought Karl's birthday present even though his birthday isn't till August:

Cirque du Soleil tickets. 2nd row. Dead center.

I'm so excited! But knowing that there're still two months until we go see them, I'm probably going to end up buying a secondary (or ternary) gift. Same goes for my sister, but at least that's acceptable because it's her sweet 16. I offered to take her to Wicked, but she declined.

My dad liked his gifts, which was surprising considering the first thing he said before he opened them was: "Did you keep the receipts?" He's really picky. I got him a Burberry polo, Jen got him a box of Godiva biscuits, and my mom bought him a Ralph Lauren shirt.

The Yanks game today was a real heartbreaker. I don't know why they kept Wang pitching for so long. Soccer today was also pretty insane; the Koreans kept getting injured. I love watching the Brazilian team play, even though people say they're a real disappointment this year. I don't know much about soccer, but I think they're really good.

NEW LINK

2006-06-18T00:25:00.000-04:00

Okay, see that link that says "Matt's comics" on the right hand side? Click on it and enjoy.

medias res

2006-06-18T00:07:00.000-04:00

For the first time in more than 2 years, I am experiencing that horrible little thing called PMS.

I don't like it. It makes me feel ugly, but luckily, not fat. I mean--c'mon now--I'm hormonal, not blind. That came off totally conceited, didn't it? I'm just a horrible person right now, but I want actual written documentation because it's kinda a monumental thing for me: this laughing to crying to being confused...thing.

So is this how most girls feel every month? It's absolutely unbearable. Seriously, it hits you out of nowhere, and you have to rethink your life and disassociate these nasty little feelings from everything else. I think the first important step to getting through PMS is to recognize that it is PMS, and not something that's actually serious.

And how did I know? I turned down a trip to Short Hills mall.

Now, I know: inner beauty is more important than outer beauty. I should be focusing more on my attitude and life perspectives than the latest sale at Burberry. Inner beauty is important--and I totally agree! But you see, I don't think of my exterior as being prettier than my interior. I'm a good person. Plus, my favorite color is pink, and I'm all pink inside (ha!). Oh geez, I'm totally retarded right now.

I should stop writing, but this is like one of those slip-ups you make during a conversation that you just dig deeper and deeper into. Please don't lose too much respect for me. Okay, now that just sounded needy. Wait, is this why a lot of girls get accused of being too needy? Cuz if so, then I scream injustice. Hormones are the real bitches.

I ate with my hands today at Makeda's. Mmmm....k bye.

penniless and broke

2006-06-12T23:17:00.000-04:00

I don't know about you, but I love reading books such as Shopaholic, Nanny Diaries, and Bridget Jones's Diary. It's the classic girl-next-door turned career gal, with the usual confusion and anxieties most women have about both their work and personal lives.

That said, I should totally write a book on tutoring because there're just so many hilarious things I can come up with that actually happened. I'm trying to convince Jenny to collaborate on it with me, and together maybe we'll write a bestseller. Unfortunately, neither of us feel like we have enough "life experience" to write a novel, and my attention span doesn't exactly allow me to write more than a page at a time.

Also, I've decided on my signature look: jeans with a black top.

Two reasons: 1. I feel most confident in a nice pair of flattering denim, and a top that doesn't scream out for attention.

2. Most of my tops ARE black, and if I can convince myself this is really "my thing," I won't be as tempted to go shopping.

I really can't afford to go shopping anymore. It just isn't working out. I completely violated my Short Hills every 6 months deal to go shopping for father's day, but I have to say--I picked out a damn good gift.

"Cars" was a good movie, but only if you don't compare it to "The Incredibles." It's not the typical DisneyPixar comedy cartoon, but the characters were developed well, and the story's not bad either. Karl and I went on opening day, and I realized how much I enjoyed watching kids' movies with a bunch of giggling children sitting all around us. It's comforting to know that I haven't really outgrown myself yet.

The summer's going by too quickly; I can feel it already, even though I'm not really doing anything. I bought The Bell Jar, and once I finish it, I'll have completed my goal for the summer.

don't nobody not like costco

2006-06-08T00:47:00.000-04:00

First of all, people need to stop hatin' on Paris Hilton's new single. She doesn't really sing, so she doesn't even have a chance to mess it up. Also, the song totally sounds like No Doubt back in the 90s, so it's all good with me.

In Costco, they have those vacuum tubes: you put a document in a canister, slide it in, and whooosh! It's sucked in and going up and through the pipes to who-knows-where.

Speaking to Asian women is a lot like those tubes. Even the tiniest thing can get sucked up and passed around, but you never really know where it's going to go. What you do know, is that eventually, and sometimes in a shorter time span than others, the information will get across. Somehow.

I know these women. They watch Korean dramas all day, and they complain about their children over lunch. I have nothing personal against them, but you always have to watch what you say when they're around. If anything has taught me how to stay under the radar, it's these women and all the idle chatter. It's never anything serious, and they don't mean any harm, but it's just an annoyance that makes me want to wring off their heads--bobs, perms, highlighted hair, and all.

I'm also close to paying off my vacation, which is a relief considering I've only really been working for a few days. And it's not an easy job! Some of my kids, I swear, have ADD, and it's impossible to keep them focused on their work. Still, they're all amazingly bright and willing to learn and I love them to death. I've been sending them emails too, and I frequently feel the urge to send them random ones out of pure love and absolute boredom.

But the most important things in my life right now are these:
1. My mother's sick right now, so I'm going to try my best to keep her happy and non-stressed. She's not allowed to have any alcohol with her meds, so I'm going to have to personally "get rid" of all the liqs in the house. Asian people don't like to waste, so the drain's the last place it's going.
2. Father's day is coming up, so I'll have to find the almost non-existent designer polo shirt with a front pocket. My dad uses it to hold like...a wallet or something--just a little quirk of his. I'm also thinking about getting him a bottle of Hennessy XO, which is somehwere between $100-200. Not sure. Also, because Father's day is so close to his birthday, I might just splurge and get him that nice Burberry watch I've been checking out.
3. I lost 4 pounds!!! I lost 4 pounds!!! I'm not exactly concave around the belly, but it's progress! And do you know what that means? No more gym! No more shameful fainting and puking!

My new goal is to resist the Gucci sale even though I don't own a single pair of designer shoes. I hate shoe shopping. I love having comfortable feet, and all the pretty shoes are like half a foot tall. I mean, c'mon now. If I was meant to be that tall, God wouldn't have made me Asian.

oh so laughable

2006-06-04T23:29:00.000-04:00

So, the contract didn't last long. I bought stuff, as to be expected, but at least I haven't really been eating ice cream. Costco sells huge bags of frozen fruits, and I've been using them to make smoothies.

I did, however, go to the gym. I also, laughably, puked and blacked out after going on the ellipticals.

It reminded me that no matter how smart I try to be, it doesn't really matter if my body decides to break down. Stay healthy, stay healthy, stay healthy.

Oh, and after bruising my pride, I still haven't been back to the gym. But I will! I promise!

Lately, I've been busy doing my whole tutoring thaaang. There's a constant stream of worksheets and quizzes to make, as well as papers to grade. I'm teaching my kids "close reading" to see if it's possible to master it at a middle/high school level. So far, they're doing surprisingly well, and they seem very proud of themselves for what they could accomplish. I'm doing a kinda Gothic theme summer reading, but we'll see how long that lasts. I think I still have to hit up the old Lord of the Flies and Brave New World and other "society gone wrong" books.

My new haircut makes me look too nice and peppy. It's so...bouncy. And way too short for my taste. Maybe I'll let it grow long and go for the dark, mysterious look which I know I can't pull off for my life. I guess peppy is okay for the summer, and it does look nice with the two new bathing suits I got (one red, one pink). I hate swimming, and I doubt I'll have that much time to go to the beach, but I love buying bathing suits, especially when they're only $15 each (Marshalls).

I really need to start doing some summer reading of my own, but I find myself reading the stuff I'm giving the kids rather than the books I need for school. I'm really glad I took Nunokawa's 19th century lit course, because I'm totally in love with both Dickens' Our Mutual Friend and Eliot's Middlemarch. I'd love to do my JP on either of those books, or maybe on Sexton or Bishop.

summer resolutions

2006-05-29T22:48:00.000-04:00

I hereby announce a contract...with myself.

Starting from this very minute, I am no longer allowed to buy myself anything* for 30 days. I may resume shopping if I continue to:
a.) go to the gym at least twice a week**
b.) restrict myself to one ice cream item per week***
c.) not buy myself things*

Should I violate either a, b, or c, the shopping restriction will hereby extend a total number of 7 days per violation.

(to myself) This is good for you. I'm doing this because I love you, and I care about your well-being. You dont' want to become one of those brokeass fat ladies that you have to make an extra lap around just to get past.

***The size of the ice cream item is suggested, but not required, to remain under 2 scoops.
**Should extenuating circumstances happen (i.e. sore feet, bad weather, chronic fatigue), gym requirements can be reduced to once a week, with an added 200 crunches
*This offer does not pertain to sale items, specials, necessities, sunscreen, shorts, underwear, makeup, and sparkly things

Signed,
Tiffany

but ohhh-oh, those summer nights

2006-05-28T18:45:00.000-04:00

This summer, I'm not going to be so dumb as to plan on losing weight (if it didn't work last year, or the year before, probably not going to work now). Instead, I'll just try to not gain anymore weight.

But here's the problem. My parents LOVE Haagan Daz ice cream bars. They buy them in bulk from Costco, and when there's nothing to do, I just go into the fridge and stuff them into my face. Also, to avoid picking up my sister late from school, my mother also goes to Bally way early in the morning. Personally, I like sleeping more than running on the treadmill, and I'm sure most people can relate.

It's just...goddamn. I bought a pair of 7s yesterday, and I'm totally not the size I expected to be. It's kinda depressing, and it's depressing that I'd get all tangled inside because of this. My life's trivial, I know.

But at least I'm going to DISNEY!!!! I'm way excited. Karl booked our vacation for August, and we're spending 6 days there. It's our first time going to Disney World, so I don't think we'll be able to sleep the night before. We got a really good deal, so if any of you are planning on a trip to Florida, just let me know. Basically, these are the things included:
1. roundtrip airfare
2. 5 nights at Disney resort
3. all meals included (inc. full-course restaurant meals)
4. transportation to/from airport/hotel/parks
5. insurance, fees, etc

Altogether...a little over $600, which I think is an excellent deal. Before, we were looking at cruises, but that would've been over a thousand bucks per person, and there's a huge chance that I'll get seasick. I'm just glad we made reservations for August, because then I'll have something to look forward to the entire summer.

But again, the PROBLEM. I need to keep weight OFF my butt. I need to look good in a swimsuit and shorts. I can't have my butt devouring everything I wear because that's inappropriate in front of children.

the obvious for the (visually) oblivious

2006-05-25T01:07:00.000-04:00

"The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,
White as a knuckle and terribly upset"
--Sylvia Plath

It's lines like these that tempt me into pretending I'm blind. I'd take the hand of a 4-year old girl, and she'd lead me around, describing everything she sees in the commonest of languages. It's so simple: white as a knuckle. And yet I never would've thought of that, and if I did, I would've used it wrong and made it seem trite.

I like that I have a lot of time for thinking now, and also for making significantly harder quizzes for my students. No matter, because I have to read every book that each student decides to do for "free reading." To avoid having to scramble and fly through book after book, I've been convincing them to choose between Count of Monte Cristo (a favorite amongst the boys), Dracula, or anything Austen (for the girls).

At noon tomorrow, I'll be doing hair and makeup for one of my students for her 8th grade prom. It makes me feel kinda warm inside, knowing that not only do I help her in writing, but I also can help her feel good about herself all prettied up. Maybe one day I'll take formal classes and be a salon-person on the side. Which would be on the side of being a pastry chef. Which is on the side of being a superhero by night.

Anyway, hooray for the end of the schoolyear!! Two more to go, and the real challenges are right around the corner. I really wish I didn't care so much about grades, but at the same time, I know that this anxiety is what's keeping my grades afloat. It's just...sometimes I really hate myself. Like serious hate, not just staring into the mirror and being annoyed at a bad hair day. I mean...can't live with myself hate. And these are the moments when I realize I'm stressing over something entirely insignificant, and I should be spending that time thanking God for everything He's blessed me with. I'm the luckiest girl alive, and a part of me truly believes that.

I went to Sally's Beauty Supplies today and bought darker hair dye. It didn't really work; my hair's still just as light, but less orange/red. It's more a cool brown now, maybe a bit auburn. My sister's planning on cutting her hair short and dyeing it blue, and my mom isn't against it!! I remember when I wanted dramatic changes like these back in high school...answer was always no. I think my mom realizes that because I turned out ok, and Jen is a lot more studious than I'll ever be, that she'll be better than fine in the end.

There's so much food at home, and in a few days, I'll probably gain back all that weight I lost from 2 weeks of starvation. Time to go to Bally's with my mom and work off that gut. If I want to go to Florida this summer, I'll have to be able to walk around in the bathing suit without people shuddering and pointing at my badonkadonk.

feelin' good

2006-05-22T15:12:00.000-04:00

For those of you who haven't figured it out yet, I am a HUGE "Sex and the City" fan. I don't think there's a single TV series that I've watched, literally, every episode of. So exactly what is it that makes the show so damn appealing? (Other than the obvious focus on sexual issues, hot men, and designer clothing)

I've narrowed it down to a few points. First of all, it's a classic "Beauty and the Beast" story. We have Belle (Carrie) who is well-educated, spunky, and has her own views and opinions about everything. Now, Belle's name means Beauty, but her looks aren't her main "thing" as is with, say, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, or Cinderella--each of whom doesn't really have much else going for her (sorry, girls). Carrie also isn't ever really described as being beautiful for, well, kinda obvious reasons; instead, the word used is "fabulous."

***The word "fabulous" not to be confused with "nice," "sweet," "cool," etc---phrases used to describe less-than-pretty girls who aren't complete bitches or psychos. "Fabulous" is a more ambiguous term that describes more personality and fashion sense than physical beauty. Which is probably what makes it the best term for Carrie***

There's also the fantasy of the perfect guy "coming around," like the Prince Charming who must be turned into a Beast to learn his lesson. There's nothing really wrong with Mr. Big (as Matthew McConaughey's character points out), but he's an ingeniously flawed character. Now, this plays into every woman's ego: it's not that I'm not good enough...he's just too dumb to see it. Mix it in with pride and vanity, and voila...the BEAST. Also, he leaves his beautiful wife to be with Carrie, who, like the average woman, isn't really known for having goddess-level looks. Let the trumpets sound! Victory for the common woman! There's hope after all!

I think another major point that makes "Sex and the City" so appealing for me is the concept of "rational irrationality" or "sympathetic irrationality." We don't like Carrie because she's rational, despite her insightful column, but because we can relate to her episodes of irrationality. For someone who has all the answers and can pick the issues to the bare bones, even Carrie has difficulties sorting out the parts of her life that don't really make sense. It doesn't make sense that she gets together with Big time after time; it doesn't make sense that she has $40 thousand dollars in shoes but no money to pay the rent; and most importantly, it doesn't make sense that she frequently sabotages her relationships, say, with Aiden. But we get it. She gets herself into situations that we can relate to--even though we also don't understand why--and through that, our lives seem a little more rational because there's someone who also gets it.

I think watching "Sex and the City" should be a prerequisite for every guy who wants to enter into a meaningful relationship and doesn't want to be surprised by episodes of "psycho irrationality." I think most women are perfectly aware of when they're being irrational, but relationships aren't built on logic anyway (see the trained justification of irrationality? Guys, you'll have to break past this, so beware).

Still, the main reason I think "Sex and the City" speaks out to me is how even though Carrie raises important questions every episode, she never answers them. At least, not in the way that guys would expect. When woman ask questions, we dont' really want answers, we want sympathy. Which is what "Sex and the City" gives us. After every question, we see scenarios in which other women grapple with the same problems, but it's never really solved (and if it is, there's really no concrete reason why). It's not like a home improvement show: leaky faucet? Here're the tools and instructions.

But don't get me wrong. I'm not delighting in the female "human condition," nor am I saying that it's something we can't help. Sometimes I wish I could be more rational and calm and do things by the rules, but it's just not going to happen anytime soon. I need the drama. But I also need the sympathy after I start shit. Does that make sense? Probably not, but for those of you who do get it, I'm betting you can't tell me why; you just relate, and that's more than enough for me.

blogger's block

2006-05-18T00:25:00.000-04:00

Mucho apologies for the lack of blogging. A few times I actually opened up the "compose" window and just sat there thinking of all the banal things going on right now: exams, papers, more exams. Can't even say I really "survived" my first exam (history), because it was PDF, and thus doesn't really count as a "real exam." Some people would argue that today's exam (music) isn't a "real exam" either, but it is to me, dammit. I actually had a lot of fun in that class, probably because all my life I've been playing music but never really got a chance to know the history behind it. The professor's also an amazing lecturer, and I dont' think I've missed a single lecture since that week of being sick beginning of the semester. And that says a lot.

I need to start budgeting again if I want to go on vacation this summer. In high school, at least I got a chance to go away every other year thanks to orchestra trips, but I haven't really gone anywhere since graduation. It's actually kinda ironic considering how I now have more resources and freedom; I should be able to plan a trip somewhere. Goal: a week in Florida. Maybe not even a week...five days even. I just need to get out of Jersey before I go absolutely insane. I'm not a big fan of tans nowadays though--could be because of all those Asian fashion magazines I've been reading with all those bleach-faced women. Totally scary, but the Malibu Barbie look just doesn't do it for me.

I want to write something insightful again. I really do. Something about relationships or life or something bordering on emo, but without the angst. It's just not the right time though, so while you're sitting there bored, go to break.com and check out dane cook's first time. I think he's slowly becoming my favorite comedian because he's funny AND good-looking. Which makes him hotter than Wentworth Miller and Sawyer from "Lost." By the way, don't you think Patrick Dempsey's kinda douche-looking? I totally don't understand the buzz thats being generated by him. He's not that good-looking, and the vibe he gives off is just....douche-y.

Anyway, about how "Grey's Anatomy" is slowly changing my life. Well, not directly...but get this: after watching a season and a half of the show, Karl's decided to change his career goals. That's right--he's preparing to be a doctor. Not even like..."oh I'll think about it"...but actually talking to people in charge of courses and getting ready for it. It's crazy! Changing your major within two days of thinking...Who the hell does that??? Thing is, he actually doesn't need that many more courses on top of what he's got already because MechE and PreMed have a lot of overlaps. That Goldwater scholarship he got should also come in handy for applying to med school too. Still, I have a feeling I'm going to have a tough time keeping up with him and his passions for this and that. At the same time, it's pretty inspiring too considering I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do with my life.

I'm just not that career-driven. I've been studying my ass off recently, and I have no clue for what. I figure if I decide I want to go to law school, at least I'll have the GPA there and ready for me. So maybe all I'm doing nowadays is backup for if/when my writing falls through and I'm starving on the streets. Note to self: keep a tight grip on that newly med-driven boyfriend.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JENNY!!! You're a total doll...

well, you will be when you're drunk enough to let me put makeup on you. I'm talking smoldering seductress doll in furs: angora, cat, monkey...

wheel of adjectives

2006-05-07T22:43:00.000-04:00

This weekend was houseparties, and today was me and Karl's 2-year anniversary.

The Terrace party was pirate themed, so Karl has his hair pulled back, and the dress I'm wearing is actually jagged on the bottom. So after two days of partying, I got really worn out and stayed in today instead of going to lawn parties. I kinda woke up and thought, "I really don't want to get all prettied up again," so I stayed in my PJs. I'm in my PJs now, actually. It's very relaxing.

So far, I have 2 papers to do and 3 exams to study for. I promised myself to work extra hard this week, so hopefully that'll help...maybe. I probably won't be posting till summer starts because my life's about to be really really boring soon.

There was a spider in the shower today. I kept getting freaked out and splashing pathetic little drops of water at it. If I was at home, I would've grabbed the hairspray and made sure it couldn't move. And yes, I was one of those kids who poured glue over anthills. Horrible, I know.

I'm so broke right now. I'm missing out on 2 weeks of work; this week because of houseparties, and next week because of mindnumbing cramps and finals and papers. What really sucks is that during reading period, I really really really like ordering food so that I can just stay in and keep working. Really, when I get on a roll with my papers, I hate stopping because it takes a long time to get warmed up again.

Why is Law and Order SVU so much better than the other ones?

bloomingdale's

2006-04-27T19:07:00.000-04:00

Umm....I kinda sorta...bought another Fendi.

I didn't mean to!! Honest!! I was at Bloomingdale's with my mom searching for her bag, and we saw this Fendi that was really really adorable. We wound up getting her this gold straw Burberry instead, but I just couldn't put the Fendi back in the cabinet!

I also bought a pair of shoes to go with my houseparties dress.

But just a tip: until Sunday, if you apply for a credit card at Bloomingdales, you will have an extra 20% off ON TOP of the 15% you get for opening an account. This applies to everything from Burberry to Fendi to Sevens.

But ooohhhh I'm totally in love with my new bag. It's got this really nice green leather trim and a long-ish strap. We like totally made the saleslady's day (think commission + whatever extra for customer credit card). I'm just really happy to have found my mom a bag that she actually loves. We usually hate Burberry, but the bag she got doesn't have that retarded check design.

On a less happy note, I have a shitload of work to do this weekend. I don't know how I'm going to survive next semester with 3 English classes and JPs and all, but it's just me being masochistic. So far I'm taking 5 courses with just CWR as PDF. It's academic suicide, maybe not for a lot of people, but certainly for me.

Allergies have also been kicking my ass lately, especially since I left my window open while someone was mowing the lawn right underneath. I think my room still smells like grass, which is why I'm at home right now to get away from it all. My throat started hurting last night, and it's still been hard to swallow. Maybe I'll use this to stop smoking for a while, not that I do it that much to begin with, but it's still bad, I know.

Can't wait for summer can't wait can't wait can't wait

vanilla cherry cloves

2006-04-23T20:12:00.000-04:00

I went to see "Romeo and Juliet" last night (the first time I bought tickets!!), and it was fabulous. I don't know a damn thing about theater, so I can't exactly comment much about it other than I really enjoyed watching.

I'm neck deep in work right now. Serves me right for going home Thursday night, not bringing any work, then finally getting to it a few hours ago. I don't know why I do this to myself. It's so irresponsible, yet there's a certain high in knowing that a deadline's fast at my heels.

It's taking me forever to get through Middlemarch because I always stop and underline lines that are especially beautiful and moving and real. The plot's totally boring, but the delivery's superb (what a pretentious word: superb).

I hate how I don't want to go to house parties anymore. It always happens: I get excited about something, then as the day draws near, the only thing I want to do is stay in. It's like I'm playing a game of hide and seek with the world (oh god that was angsty). Why am I commenting on my own post? I think I'm delirious. Maybe the entire thing should be parenthetical so it doesn't count

(something about how buying Sexton's complete poems is a bad bad idea, or that even my Swatchs are getting on my nerves because they tick too loudly, or that there're random bottles of harmless pills on my desk and a dirty blue glass of orange juice)

but it does, doesn't it? Maybe so much that it becomes e.e.cummings, who I used to hate, or something else which dictates that the things we mutter under our breaths mean more than those we say out loud (I still puke a little when I read my writing, sometimes).

conversation with a recluse

2006-04-18T01:00:00.000-04:00

Ever wonder how you'll be if you continue making the same mistakes over and over again?

I'm so awkward around people. I don't maintain the right eye contact, always say the wrong thing, and never EVER initiate conversations with strangers. If things progress as I think they will, I'm going to be a seriously recluse. Like Sean Connery in Finding Forrester recluse.

And this REALLY bothered me. So I decided to tackle prose and hypothesize how I'll be waking up one day as a full-blown recluse:

Bed. Ticking. Paralysis. Sticky heat from under the shade. Today my life begins, for no reason other than I do not know if any other days have existed. It’s not love, I swear to you; no little fairies lifting me by the balls of my heel through the berry fields. A girl wearing impractical shoes is carrying groceries up the steps, and it’s the first time in a few months I’ve seen oranges toted in brown paper. I need sunglasses. If the phone rings, I will assume it’s someone I don’t want to talk to and come up with a good reason I don’t want to talk to this person I obviously, by now because of all this trouble, really don’t want to talk to. I hate cold floors almost as much as the allergies I get for trying to carpet them. Allegra, check. Radio, check. There’s only cereal dust left in the bottom of the box, and I’m pretending someone else left it there. Automatically get mad. Mad is good. It shows I’m still living and caring enough to spend I don’t know how many calories to rouse myself emotionally. Am I being witty again? This isn’t working. The newspaper is wet and makes the pictures all splotchy, and I really don’t understand some peoples’ fascination with obituaries. For once, I’d like to see a posting: Mary-Ann, great mother, won first place at county fair for Best Squash, biggest pretentious bitch alive—now dead. Today is Tuesday. Tuesday is laundry day, and Jimmy will come at 2 to pick up the dry cleaning. Sometimes I want him to stay here a little longer, just to get away from that father of his. But no judgment. Everything looks different on the surface, and it isn’t until you get those looks at dinner that you know people are judging you too. Did you know people actually questioned Marie Curie’s scientific abilities just because she slept with a married man? I can’t believe that family. What was it—three Nobel Prize winners? Yes, three: her, her daughter, and her husband, who died. I think they all died from some form of cancer, and that’s just too bad because they probably knew they would too. It’s 1 o’clock now—geez! Can it really be 1 already? It must be a cloudy day out. That leaves an hour to fix up and get everything together so Jimmy can just grab and go. I love this song. Still, it’s really sad when the songs you listened to as a teenager are now classified as oldies. Summer. ’98. I’m going to go with the beach because that’s the memory that’ll take the least effort. Sun everywhere, naked bodies basted and cooking, volleyball and Frisbee on the sand. Doesn’t everyone have memories like these? Maybe I’m mainly borrowing from TV, but it’s believable isn’t it? I wore an orange bikini and a pink coverup, kept my hair in a loose braid so it wouldn’t tangle. There was no boy that year; I was still too young for them. What would go better with ham: American or Swiss? He likes them cut up in triangles. Says he can eat them faster that way, and that’s a good thing. I’ve never seen such a busy boy in my life. Sometimes I look at him and can’t tell whether he’s living or dead. What’s he working towards? I ask myself. It’s not like his parents don’t have enough money for whatever he needs, and I know personally his mother would cave to anything. I pay him good money for errands too, which is why he keeps coming.

magnolia

2006-04-16T20:17:00.000-04:00

Okay, I would've posted earlier, but blogger is kinda stupid when it comes to multiple pictures. So my sister stayed over Thursday night, and we watched tv and ate cookies from Olives (which I'm addicted to now, seriously, I have another dozen sitting in my room). Then on Friday, my mom picked us up, got Karl, and went to the station.

We first went to Macy's to check out the flower show, but it kinda sucked this year. Whereas they had displays on the upper levels in previous years, this year the arrangements were primarily on the main floor. The theme was bugs, and I think I actually liked the window displays better than what was inside.

After that, we went to the Museum of Natural History and roamed around for a few hours. Unfortunately, the Darwin exhibit was sold out, but we still got to see the Galapagos tortoises. The last time Jen went was when she was really young, so she took lots of pictures (so excited). I'm glad she went along because I'm always too lazy to take pictures.

Believe it or not, it's actually pretty hard to navigate around the museum because a lot of exhibits look the same. Some are "Asian birds" versus "American birds," then lots and lots of elephants. I think the most recognizable exhibits are those with a definite theme...like "Primates" or "Central America." I think I started to like this museum a whole lot more after reading Catcher in the Rye, though I don't remember if its that book that referred to the museum as filled with "stuffed animals."

My favorite exhibit is the precious gems collection, though the reptile exhibit is slowly growing on me; it could just be because they have a freakin' komodo dragon eating a boar. The picture's a little blurry, and I recommend going to break.com and checking out the komodo dragon eating a cat/goat/lamb. Jenny and I are definitely having a komodo dragon theme for our rooms, so be sure to check that out.

Walking around got tiring, so we left the museum and headed off to the Korean street cafe. I'm starting to get a lot better with reading subway maps, so I won't be too hesitant to go to the city next time. We shared some shaved ice and fruit and headed over to Rockefeller Center to meet Jenny, Pat, and Ed.

Because the line for MoMA was too long, we went back to Korean street to eat dinner. The food at the restaurant wasn't spectacular, but the kimchi most definitely was. Thinking back, it probably would've been better if we all shared food so that Pat wouldn't be stuck eating a whole platter of cow knee gelatin.

Then...the best part of the trip: Magnolia Bakery! The place was smaller than I'd expected, and there was even someone at the door directing "traffic." The cupcakes weren't as sweet as most people complain about, but it could just be because I got chocolate icing instead of the regular. When we finished the cupcakes, we went to Urban Outfitters where I bought myself a tote bag and my sister a hat. I don't understand why people would pay 3x the price at Anthropologie when you can get the same thing at Urban Outfitters.

I have more pictures in my facebook album, so you can go and check that out (but only if you're listed as a friend). Oh! And happy Easter! I'm still waiting to chomp on those chocolate Easter bunny ears.

quiz!

2006-04-12T22:33:00.000-04:00

Justine sent me this link yesterday AND correctly picked out my favorite. See if you can do the same: click me

So far, Jen's gotten it right...and Karl's gotten it wrong (but he has a reason, which I won't disclose).

My diet isn't working. The more I try, the more I eat. I spent the entire day craving cookies from Olive's, and I finally broke down and bought two slices of pizza from Frist.

Easter's coming up! My favorite part of the chocolate Easter bunny is the ears. Marshmallow Peeps also expand hugely in the microwave, but become more inedible than they already were.

And explain to me how my sister already made me buy her birthday present. Her birthday's in August. I think it's just so she can ask for another present once the time comes. She is turning 16 though, so I guess it might be just a little bit acceptable.

Shit. I have to watch "Grave of the Fireflies" again for history. First time I watched it, it felt like a part of me imploded, and I walked around depressed for a week.

short breather

2006-04-10T23:40:00.000-04:00

I like smoking cloves at 11 by the woody woo fountain. It's a really great end to a weekend, usually uneventful, yet rushed because of all the work. I don't usually smoke, but I make an exception for cloves because they're my favorite. And no, I don't do it alone; it's with my closest friends (and we welcome whomever wishes to join us).

I have this obsession of collecting things, and the object changes by the week. This week, I really want to buy French poetry books. Translated, of course. It probably won't happen because I rarely have the motivation to walk to Nassau, much less navigate my way around Micawber. Did you know I've only been inside Firestone like....3 times? I hate libraries. I always feel so suffocated.

Side note:
jen: lol mom wrote down these locations in the city on an index card
jen: and she wrote
jen: "saks 5th avenue" - 5th avenue (location)

Isn't my mom just adorable?? My sister is sleeping over on Thursday night, and we're heading to the city on Friday. Miraculously, it's not supposed to rain; instead, it's going to be about 65 degrees...perfect! I can't believe my dad carted around all that food for me on Sunday. It must've been really heavy--all those pastries and rice balls--lugging them from Flushing then around Manhattan. Friday's going to be a little lighter: maybe a quick lunch on Korean street, hit up Macy's flower show, Whitney, Moma, then random places for shopping (shhh don't tell Karl).

One of my fondest memories of NY is when I snuck onto a science trip sophomore year of high school. It was headed off to the Museum of Natural History, and even to this day I have no idea how I'd pulled it off. My friends and I ditched it, of course, and for the first time ever, I was allowed to wander around NY without parental supervision. Now, as a 15-year old, that's HUGE. We got lost in Central Park on our way back from FAO Schwarz, but made it back in time for the bus.

It's funny, though, how I feel as if I need supervision now more than ever. I don't know how to navigate the subways and I know it. I could potentially get mugged and I know it. Sometimes I wish I could be reckless again and do all those things I said I'd do. My high school self would be so disappointed of what she turned into. But life for me now is just so smooth, and it's weird! I mean, don't we always question perfection? Or anything close to perfection? I'm healthy and happy and doing well in school and maintaining a good relationship with my friends and family. I'm blessed beyond belief, and I have no idea why.

Still, there are still a few things I need to admit to myself:

1. I'm scared of travelling. It's a security issue.
2. I won't be happier with short hair. It always flips out and I know it.
3. I get bored too easily. When I'm bored, I tend to spend money. Which leads to materialism, but in all honesty, I'm totally aware that money can't buy happiness.

What money does, is it buys time. If time equals money, then it works the other way around too. Money can't make a couple stop fighting, but a nice gift could give them a chance to cool off and forgive. Money can't secure loyalty, but it can make your friends remember your generosity and lead to reciprocation. It's not a solution, but it's an important element, like a time-out or distraction. For me, money is a reminder that I need to work harder, to temporarily replace abstract goals with concrete and, yes, materialistic ones. I'm not saying it works for everyone, but it's what keeps me going. It's why Samantha bought a Birkin to prove that she's "made it" (even though Lucy Liu took it in the end). Birkins aren't even that pretty, but I don't think they were ever meant to be.

awesome moms

2006-04-06T00:15:00.000-04:00

Today, my mom pulled a major awesomeness:

1. She drove to Princeton in the wind and snow to bring me my allergy meds
2. She woke up early to make me food (note: NOT leftovers, actually cooking on the stove)
3. She brought me my new Swatch watch

Unfortunately, the DSW at Mercer didn't have any shoes she liked. But really, it's so hard to appreciate your parents for what they do until you're out of the house. I think we're a lot better friends now because they no longer need to keep me in line, and I no longer have to step outside those lines.

Moment of genius: if I get to do a creative thesis (20+ poems), I'm going to base each of them on an episode of "Sex and the City." Then, buying Manolos, touring NY, and watching hour upon hour of television could only be seen as research. That would make for such a sweet senior year. I'm going to ask Professor Smith to see what she says. She's so trendy; maybe she'll understand.

I'm addicted to Swatch. It's so unhealthy, but I think this watch may be the cutest thing ever invented. So colorful and cheery; it actually helped classes go by faster.

springtime sinuses

2006-04-04T18:55:00.000-04:00

I knew it was springtime because I saw squirrels chasing each other.

Recently, it's been hard for me to do two things. One is sleep; the other is concentrate. I have a nauseating headache that I can only attribute to allergies. And springtime. And the squirrels.

Having problems concentrating just means I give disproportionate time allotments to each task. Like today, spending more than 2 hours on a poem due next week. 2 minutes on "Paradise Lost." Another 2 minutes lying to myself about the amount of work I have. And later tonight, 1 hour for "American Idol."

My head feels warm. I wonder if anyone from Pway got into Princeton. I can't wait for summer. I really do like teaching. I know I'm not supposed to write such simple sentences in succession. I went to the bank today.

game of life

2006-04-04T00:15:00.000-04:00

I suddenly had this revelation about what the perfect job for me would be. Can you guess? I'll tell you anyway: a Korean drama writer!

Note: NOT like an American soap opera writer. Korean series are more time-definitive, as in they'll end after a certain number of episodes, so you can actually have a real story without everyone sleeping with everyone else.

The heroine, of course, would be a type of anti-heroine. In Korean series, the bad girls always have the prettier clothes (well, not just clothes, they're usually prettier in general). Why is that? Is it some sort of Cinderella-complex? What is with the obsession with the plain Jane getting the Prince Charming? I think it just sets unrealistic expectations for ugly girls. As if it wasn't hard enough just being ugly; now Korean dramas are telling them "You too have a chance to find Mr. Right. Take a look at these ugly girls! The guys could see their inner beauty."

Or reworded: "If you don't get a guy, it isn't just because you're ugly. It's because you just suck overall."

But I guess hope is a good thing, and beauty really is subjective. That's why I love tabloids and those "STARS WITHOUT MAKEUP" articles. It's amazing what good hair/makeup/clothes can get you. I know a lot of people stick to the maxim that external beauty can't buy happiness, but I beg to differ. Maybe people would be a lot nicer if they felt better about themselves. I happen to know quite a few vindictive little bitches who are butt ugly (once again, subjective. I'm sure their mothers think they're adorable).

There's a million and one things I could get "done" on the surgeon's table. This is too bumpy or that is too fat or this isn't symmetrical with that. I've never had braces, and I don't think I ever will. Not to be sappy, but I like having an original smile, not a generic one. I didn't wear shorts all through high school because I didn't like my legs, and now I don't know what the big deal was.

And it's not because I lost weight, and it's not because I gained some new outlook. It's all about knowing what to wear. I don't wear 7s because they make my ass look too big. I don't wear miniskirts because my thighs look too bulky. I stick to what I know will look good on me, and not on the girl or mannequin I see in the store.

It's also another reason why I've started reading Asian fashion magazines as opposed to American ones. Obviously, I'm not going to look the same in a top that a 34DD model is wearing. But in Asian magazines, I at least get to see modest 32B's in blouses who play up other parts of their body. Mainly hair, actually. If only I knew how to do hair like they do (there're instructions in the back, but they're in Chinese, and I'm illiterate).

So in THIS sense, I guess beauty does come from within. It's not just genetics, or diet, or outlook; it's about knowing what's right and wrong for you and what you feel comfortable looking like. But this leads me to another point: personally, I like having short hair. It makes me look more mature, and it's a lot easier to take care of. However, my family and my boyfriend prefer seeing me with long hair because it's better for my face shape. Now, they have to look at me more than I do. So I keep my hair long, even when I prefer to have it short. So does that really count as betraying my own interests? Or is it just a matter of subjective beauty?

I know I've been sounding a bit trite in my entries lately. The only justification I have is that I spend most of my time with the profound: close-reading, comparing, finding the meaning of this behind the meaning of that. I don't want to analyze my life the way I analyze the books I read for English. So in a way, I guess I'm an "untrustworthy narrator" in the sense that I'm only revealing the side of me that's least tiring for me to talk about. But to have a moment of pure honesty, sometimes I get scared right before I look in the mirror.

expensive taste

2006-03-30T23:22:00.000-05:00

I finally got my Tiffany's necklace today, and it's absolutely adorable. And surprisingly shiny. A uh...very early anniversary gift. In return, I got Karl the snowboarding boots he wanted, and we're still waiting on the Bluetooth headset.

So do any of you know the Korean series "Winter Sonata"? Today, I wore this necklace I'd bought from a department store in Taipei like...8 years ago. It's white gold, with stars trailing down. I really didn't believe Patrick when he said it was the Polaris necklace from "Winter Sonata" until I saw it myself online at yesasia.com. I'm still in shock. Who would've thought my silly little 12-year old self would've picked up on such great memorabilia? It just feels good to have the original, not just a replica from a Korean drama.

My mom would be proud. My dad already thought it was funny. But the weird thing is, this isn't the first time this has happened. In "Miss Mermaid" (another Kdrama), this girl was wearing the same top that my sister had bought from Taipei two years earlier. It wasn't even like a generic top thing--it had a really intricate pattern, with layers of lace and mesh and print and glitter. It was from some European designer, I think French, and cost my relatives way too much money. But it's funny because the episode the girl was wearing it, she was bragging about how her mother was a fashion designer and how she always got the trendiest clothes to wear.

Oh! And recently we found a pair of earrings my sister had bought in NY in "eF" (Japanese equivalent of "Vogue"). She'd bought it for like...$5, so it wasn't the exact ones, but you really can't tell.

You know, for an English major who emphasizes on writing poetry, I am really superficial. I really don't know how I get myself to work sometimes, just being pulled in these two extremes. I love stuff. Ever since I was little, my favorite exhibit in the museums has always been the precious gemstone collection. And once, when I was like 6, I was complimented by a salesclerk in Taipei for picking out the most expensive watch out of the collection (to the chagrin of my parents, whose friend had just offered to buy me any watch I'd wanted). It's all about having a good eye, and people who love you enough to indulge you.

But seriously, shopping is cheaper than therapy. I know this makes me happy, so why deprive myself? What if I become depressed? Depression medication is expensive, you know. Hiring a psychiatrist is even more so. So call these indulgences psychosis prevantatives, if you will.

new guy in town

2006-03-29T21:21:00.000-05:00

HUGE announcement: I have just decided that Sawyer from "Lost" exceeds Wentworth Miller in hotness. This is probably because I think "Prison Break" sucks serious ass right now. Sawyer's just got so much swagger and attitude.

And is it so unfair that I think almost every hot actor looks like my boyfriend? No, but seriously, over the last few years, I've heard people relate him to so many different people. Top 2: Matt Damon and Jared Padalecki (from Supernatural/Dean from Gilmore Girls).

My sister thinks he looks like Adam Brody, and other ones I've heard are Shane West and Heath Ledger. I guess that's what you get for being a good looking white guy. Or just white. Ha!.....Oh come on. Being Asian, I've heard people relate me to everyone from Zhang Ziyi to Michelle Kwan. Just because those are probably the two most famous Asian actresses. And I look nothing like them.

I'm in love with Yusef Komunyakaa now. He gave THE MOST INTENSE poetry reading today. I was shocked. No wonder he emphasizes the sounds of words so much. Louise Gluck was also really good, but I was a bit disappointed that she didn't read any of her older stuff that I love so much. Not that her new work isn't good; I'm just not used to it yet. The poems are very mellow, but they still have that same rage.

I want to travel. I want to want to travel enough that I do travel. Does that make sense? It's very hard to move me, but I know I have to keep myself from progressing to agoraphobia.

the unbearable lightness

2006-03-20T23:56:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've been able to write an earnest entry without distractions. This is probably why I can never live in California or any other sunny place: I can't seem to write unless the room's dark and everyone else is asleep. A kind of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde thing. In the daylight, I'm stuffing my feet into 80% off shoes and wondering how to better contour my eyes. Then now, I'm completely collapsed within myself and grappling with how to better express myself. Ah, the duende.

I haven't been to church in almost a decade (and this was from going every week since I was little), yet I find myself growing more and more spiritual every day. I'm determined to finish reading the Bible and also to find a church that I feel comfortable going to. I don't know why this change is occuring--I just know that it is. I wouldn't say I've lived a very Christian lifestyle, but over the last year, I've cleaned up quite a bit. I've never done drugs (not even weed), quit smoking, and haven't been drunk since Halloween. Part of me wonders if the lifestyle changes are spiritually based, or if I'm just getting older.

But to tell you the truth, Christianity scares me. Maybe not the religion, but definitely the people. Yesterday, I surfed through some televangelism shows, and I couldn't help holding back laughter. The sermon was just so dumbed down so that the average American could understand it, and it was simplified to the point that it became unbelievable. Then I watched a Catholic mass with all of the chanting and kissing and making symbols, and I don't buy that either.

One thing I've always wondered is this: exactly how educated is the average pastor or priest in America? Would an atheist English major understand the Bible than someone raised Christian? I don't want to start a debate or anything; it's just something I think about, and perhaps why I don't really trust churches and spiritual leaders. I don't really plan on getting baptized either, though that may well change in the future.

So, that's all I'm going to say about religion.

It may seem like I'm only trying to lighten the mood, but I'm being completely serious. I've found a new love: DSW. You can find such great deals there, and you don't even need to ask some bitchy salesclerk for your size. I've finally broken my curse with shoe-buying and am starting to appreciate what other women around the world have already discovered. Shoes can be cute without being expensive.

I really wish I could get started on my essay. The topics are just so way over my head, and the last thing I want to do is analyze Spenser to death. Fortunately, essay-writing's gotten a lot easier after being forced to write paper after paper without so much as a week's break. AND....I still have my students' papers to revise and quizzes to make and homework to assign.

OBJECTIVE: LOSE 5 POUNDS FOR SWIMSUIT TRYING-ON SEASON

APPARATUS: A KIND YET STERN INDIVIDUAL TO DRAG MY FAT ASS TO THE GYM

PROCEDURE: WILL AWARD $10 FOR SUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT

DIFFICULTY LEVEL: BITES AND KICKS

fucking (flying) high

2006-03-18T22:57:00.000-05:00

Umm...guess who just won $15,000?

That's right. MY BOYFRIEND. For being a 2006 Goldwater Scholar and the biggest nerd I know. I'm so so proud =D. It's really hard to get the award, especially as a sophomore, so I guess it pays to have a 4.0 and lots of ambition. See, I can't brag about myself, but I have no qualms bragging about Karl because he deserves the recognition. He's also a hottie, knows Chinese, cooks, bakes, and gives great foot rubs.

...ANNNNNND...yesterday, he bought me the Tiffany's necklace I've been dying for!!! See, he got it for me BEFORE he found out he won all that money, so it means even more to me. It's a double heart pendant shaped like the infinity sign, so it's classy and meaningful. Sigh. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

I'm also lucky because ever since I've been home, my mom's cooked up a storm. My family's great, and I didn't realize how much I'd missed them until I came back. I don't know what I'd do if I wound up on the west coast for grad school/law school/work. Probably convince them to move there too. I'm also really thankful that they get along so well with Karl, and they frequently take his side when I'm misbehaving or something.

Mom: Karl! No more buy Tiffy gifts! So greedy...
Dad: Tiffany! Stop bothering Karl! He needs to work so that if you get married, he'll have a good job! So annoying...

My parents are convinced that I'm the worst girlfriend in the world. I'm basically the person they'd been afraid I'd date: unproductive, high-maintenance, and annoying. But at the same time, I think they're also grateful that I found someone who forces me to work hard. I wonder what his parents really think of me. I can be really stupid around adults.

By the way, finding out the uncensored version of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" really changes the whole meaning of the song. Oh! And "V for Vendetta" was worth seeing, though a little disappointing because it lacked adequate plot twists.

mo' cowbell

2006-03-13T01:15:00.000-05:00

I was on Facebook and saw an ad for a shirt that said "More cowbell." I couldn't help but think back to 5th grade, when I actually played a cowbell for the entire length of a song. That makes me cooler than you are. I couldn't feel my arm for hours afterwards though. God, I love Will Ferrell.

I should sleep. It's just so hard during midterms week because I could be using that time to study. Instead, I just surf facebook and come up with haikus to post on Karl's wall. It's actually a good one, and 100% true. He's not too happy about it, but I've convinced him to keep it up there.

I'm really hungry, but I have to walk over to Lourie to heat up some Easy Mac, and that's just not worth it. While I was walking by Spelman today, I smelled ramen and have been craving it ever since. I love the kind that's cooked on the stove and so spicy that it creates this inch-thick layer of oil on the top. Sometimes I add an egg to make sure it soaks up all of that oily goodness. Then lick the bowl clean.

I wonder how "Naruto"s going; ever since DC++ stopped at McCormick, I haven't been able to watch any. Naruto makes me think of ramen too, and now I'm just super hungry. I think I'll hibernate and hold off the hungriness for tomorrow morning.

the carver

2006-03-11T18:56:00.000-05:00

For a while, I had this irrational fear that the Carver would just pop up behind me when I open the bathroom door (or any door), and it made me want to learn kungfu. But seriously, the Carver creeps me out, and until I get up to the episode where he gets caught, I'm not going to feel safe.

So I got my lobster. Then threw up. Apparently I'm allergic. Funny how these things work out. You look forward to something, then it just kicks you in the cooch.

I ordered Teriyaki Boy and am looking forward to it getting here. They have a tendency for losing orders though, so I'm a little on edge. Mmmmm scallops...Hopefully I'm not allergic to scallops too. I think I'd cry. There's nothing worse than your body telling you what you can or cannot eat.

Okay, why are jeans so fucking expensive?? I remember when they sold 7s at Express, and they were all like under 100 bucks. I mean, for $180, I can get:

A. 3 pairs of decent jeans and not worry about them getting ruined.
B. The double heart Tiffany's necklace I want, but haven't ordered yet.
C. 2 Swatch watches (check out their spring line, seriously, they're awesome)
D. 2 dinners at Frog and Peach
E. 1 pair of Fendi sunglasses
F. 2 pairs of Juicy Couture pants
G. Dior eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, lipliner, lipgloss

I'd rather have any of those than just another pair of jeans with "special stitching." And yet, strangely, I don't know if this is just peer pressure, but I'm very very tempted to just throw in the towel and get a pair of 7s just to see what all the fuss is about. Almost. Not quite yet.

narcissa

2006-03-07T20:21:00.000-05:00

That was my nickname in middle school. I don't know what my nickname in high school was because people probably used it out of earshot.

But anyway, that's just a preface for what's to come. I really need to figure out if I should change my hair. This is crisis, people. Hair can make or break a person. This is why it's really unnecessary to spend a lot of money on clothes, especially if your hair looks like crap.

And here's another thing: I'm going to try an at-home dye. Maybe. I never really trust those things, and it's harder to lighten your hair with at-home kits than to darken it. So I really don't know. It'll save me a lot of money though considering I need to get my hair redyed every month just to keep the roots from showing.

Proud moment of the week: I have managed to restore my account to pre-snowboard/handbag levels. I didn't think I'd be able to do it so soon, but I have, and it makes me very very happy.

I also need a pair of black sneakers considering I ruined mine at Terrace during pick-ups. To be honest, they were already falling apart, but you can barely notice unless you're right up on my feet. But I have a SERIOUS DISORDER. I absolutely HATE shoe-shopping. Once, Karl tried to make me finally go into a store and buy sneakers, and I started freaking out and screaming. Honestly, it's that bad. Carrie Bradshaw would be shocked.

I also need to buy more panties and socks so I can do laundry less often. Like, maybe so I can do them once a month (at most). And I've been dying for lobster. I must have lobster soon, or else. Lobster, with lemon and melted butter....mmmmm....

after love

2006-02-28T23:53:00.000-05:00

I want to be able to write a great love poem without being cliche. I also know it will be impossible, utterly impossible, and I also know why it will be impossible.

See, in those tiresome hours when I'm trying to get a poem ready for workshop, I allow myself to care about everything in the world, or as much as I know about it. I allow the most unthinkable thoughts and the most disassociative images, then filter them down. Sometimes it's so overwhelming that I huddle scared in front of my computer because the filter isn't working as well, and my thoughts exceed my emotional capacity.

I don't like opening the door to love because it's just asking for trouble. Because love isn't the last stop to the ride, I would have to allow myself to feel all of the inner rage and angst and sorrows that also come with being in a relationship. And it gets ugly. And sometimes I don't know how to stop it, and my boyfriend's wondering why the hell I'm so psycho all of a sudden. At that point, I don't really know how to explain myself. Wouldn't it be nice to write a nice little sonnet proclaiming pure love and nothing but?

To me, that's just a form of dishonesty. To boil everything down to a single-word emotion is like whittling a redwood down to a redneck's toothpick. And especially when things I'd be boiling down are things like...the way I sweep away the clumps of hair and dust after he leaves, or how he smells like grapefruit, the number of tampons I have left at his place, the unwashed spoons at mine, the Skittles that I was sure were going to fall out of the freezer, how tired I get of just wondering if I'm doing something wrong, how tired he gets at asserting me it's nothing, the way we get so mad at each other, and then getting upset for us getting mad at each other...

It's just such a pain that I usually don't bother. And I also don't believe in a relationship "getting better" or "getting worse," because shit can always happen, but so can great surprises. I think a relationship is less an image of Sisyphus rolling a boulder uphill, but two people keeping a beach ball aloft.

I think the biggest thing that scares me about writing about love is how I allow myself to love the things and people that I don't normally allow myself to. And sometimes I think about how great it would be if for a day, I could just freely love. Not in a physical way, of course. But just to remove those emotional bounderies that could be tricky. Even thinking about this possibility makes me feel guilty, and that's exactly the thing I'm talking about.

But I can't help but love him, and it's the most tiring thing. So sometimes I pull up a new document on Word and sit there willing myself to write a love poem, like as if I had something to prove. And he's so good and so stable, and I'm so not. I don't know how he deals with me, especially when I get really sad for no reason and start lashing out at him so I wouldn't seem weak. It's pathetic, I'm aware. And I work so hard to be good, I really do--but sometimes it feels like I'm sabotaging my own efforts by questioning and prodding and bitching. I really can't help it, and I wish I could, you know?

And it's just so easy to sabotage your own relationship. It really is. Especially when it's so great that you don't even have a basis for comparison, because then how do you know when something is right or wrong? What's "normal" for a relationship? A lot of the time, we teeter at the edge of a break-up because things aren't going so well and we want to "preserve what we have." And that's just a silly idea. I think on some level, because we love each other, we have the obligation to make things work. I think it would be unfair to our future partners, having someone who's "preserving" a love with someone else, because preservation equal potential return, yes?

I'm getting completely off-topic, but at the time I'm just really happy to have the time to blog and be silly and abstract. And to be honest, I'm glad that my relationship has flaws; otherwise, I'd just be deathly suspicious of it. All women would be, because that's just the way we were trained. If a designer bag is too cheap, it's probably fake. If things are going too well, something's bad's going to happen right around the corner.

ch-ch changes

2006-02-27T17:15:00.000-05:00

I really don't mean to leave this in a state of unbloggedness, but this is honestly the first time in a long time that I either have not been a.) sick, b.) home, c.) working.

Nothing's really new, except that I can actually see the layer of dust accumulating on my dresser and feel the grit underneath my feet. Last semester, I dusted and Swiffer-ed every week, but now I'm lucky if I get to it at all.

But really, it's tiring to stay on top of things. So far, I've succeeded in not being behind in a single class (though I think it's slowly giving me an ulcer). I'm such a nerd, and I have no reason to be cuz I don't like academia that much.

Anyway, Karl got me the Nini swallow doll! You know, the 2008 Olympics mascot? Well, one of the five mascots. She's so adorable, though there's this weird embroidered mole on her head that we still can't figure out.

I think this weekend may be one of the firsts in which I'm actually going to be on campus the entire time. I may even go to an event, who knows? But really, who am I kidding? On Saturday, even Karl went to a Princeton show while I stayed in and read Vanity Fair. The book, not the magazine.

Oh my god, this post is so boring. Am I getting boring? This is really bad. I can't even think of one witty thing to say.

alternative to liposuction, or not

2006-02-21T16:56:00.000-05:00

First, look up "corset piercings" under Google or Yahoo images.

Then, stare and be amazed at how incredibly awesome they are.

No, really. They're just that cool, though I don't know if I would get them myself. Though if you think about it, piercings on your back will hurt a lot less than other areas considering how few nerves are back there.

For instance, try the finger test (we learned this in psych). Close your eyes and make a friend either put one or two fingertips on your palm. Guess how many. Then, keep your eyes closed and have your friend put one or two fingertips on your back. You'll get a lot more wrong this time.

My mother's probably flipping out right now, thinking I'm going to go off and get 20 piercings done at a time. No worries, I'm too indecisive for that.

donde esta mi..umm..braino?

2006-02-18T23:55:00.000-05:00

It's strange how I actually find not having time to do anything kinda...refreshing. I don't think there's been a single night in which I've actually gotten my work done before 8 (which was pretty characteristic of last semester). And even so, it's given me a sense of purpose. But who am I kidding? I went home Thursday night so I could go on a date Friday and go snowboarding today. Work hard, play harder.

The Frog and the Peach was amazing. The hostess took us into a private room with only a few tables--very intimate, very quiet. There was candlelight and everything, but the most important part was that Karl and I could actually talk without having to raise our voices above the chatter. The food and service was also excellent. I highly recommend the chocolate tasting for dessert.

Snowboarding today was really disappointing. We thought there would be a lot of people there because it's President's Day weekend, but apparently we forgot to check the weather. When we got there, the snowmakers were at full blast, it was impossible to see, and the slopes were so icy that I would've been better off on skates. So we got to the bottom and tried to see if they'd turn the snowmakers off. Before we knew it, the snow started coming down by the shovelfuls, so we got our asses out of there and back to Pway, where there was barely any snow at all.

There's apparently some kind of cold/flu going around, and I definitely have it, so I won't be offended if you make obvious attempts to stay the hell away from me. My voice is gone and husky like a phone sex operator's, and whenever I get sick, my voice is always the first to go. I'm really glad I go to school in NJ, because it's always nice to have parents who care about you and make sure you have everything you could possibly need. I'm drinking the soup that my mom made for me, and it's still surprisingly hot. Almost scalding, which means the thermos is actually working better than I'd expected.

Is it bad that the class I'm working hardest for is PDF? Am I really that bad at history? It's actually kinda pathetic how many times I have to read the same passage just to get a basic idea of what's going on. It's always so-and-so did such-and-such on such-and-such date. I can finish Canterbury in no time, but one chapter of Japanese turmoil takes me forever.

I have money again =D......to pay off what I'd already spent =(

B-Z B, C?

2006-02-12T13:15:00.000-05:00

Did you know that's the only book in English that can't be translated to another language? It's not actually called "B-Z B, C?" but it contains a lot of things like that. I forget the name of the book, but once I remember it, I'll post it, and you guys can go check it out.

But yes, I've been very very B-Z. The stomach virus has been kicking me around like a total S-O, but it's finally stopped. Maybe it wasn't really a stomach virus, but just my body thinking that the antibiotics were the N-M-E. It made me too C-P to do any real work, and I'm actually behind on my first week of readings.

I really want to watch "Clueless" now that I've finished Emma. It actually started speeding up considerably towards the last third of the book.

There's a lot of snow outside. I wish I could eat it. But that would make me sick.

I also wish I had more juice. To drink my juice, I have to add half a can of soda. So, instead of the cheap Asian way of diluting it with water, I use the fat American way of adding more sugar.

I also shouldn't be updating now considering exactly how much work I have left to do. But I missed you, you silent and mysterious readers out there.

hangman's toenail

2006-02-07T17:08:00.000-05:00

My first day of classes started off pretty bad. I'd woken up with a bit of a headache, and during breakfast, I felt nauseous and felt like puking. I went back to my room and went over the pros and cons of skipping the first day (3 classes total), and finally decided to drag my ass to class anyway.

Music class was refreshing on many levels; on one hand, I've always felt guilty about quitting violin, so the class kinda fools me into believing that I'm back, and on the other, the professor was articulate and funny. I sat towards the front in case I needed to make a mad dash to stick my head in the toilet.

History was pretty boring, but I'm PDFing it so whatever.

But the class I really loved was ENG 331, taught by Nunokawa. He's everything Jenny said he was--funny, flamboyant, and modern. He's basically the opposite of everything we're reading in class (Austen, Bronte, Dickens, etc.).

So after dry heaving the entire afternoon, I finally managed to puke it all up intermittently between 1-10 am. Was it a stomach virus, food poisoning, or reaction to antibiotics? I really had no idea. The most obvious choice would to blame it on the alcohol at Terrace, but I didn't really drink during pickups (minus the champagne that was poured over my head once I opened the door). Luckily, even though I still felt like shit, I managed to carry all my beer-drenched clothing to the washers so that my room didn't have to smell like shit too. That would've just made me feel even more nauseous and shittier.

After not getting much sleep last night, I decided to skip my ENG 205 lecture and sleep in. Because creative writing classes flunk you if you miss more than 2 classes, I figured I might as well go if I felt even the smallest bit better. I really like the professor, but her class seems to require more work than the other workshops. And even though there are only 5 people in the class, I think she's goign to try to fill up the 2 hours anyway. She's really pretty, and her voice matches her face well.

I don't know why I'm taking 5 courses. Even I'm PDFing History, I know I'll still wind up spending just as much time on the readings and whatnot. So now I have to go read Emma, which puts me to sleep after just 2 pages. Which means it'll put me to sleep 226 times.

work of art

2006-02-01T00:33:00.000-05:00

I drove Karl to the dentist to have his wisdom teeth removed, and as I sat in the waiting room reading The Kite Runner, I wondered what really made a good book a good book.

In truth, a book like Shopaholic affects me more than Catcher in the Rye. However, it's always hard to admit that you like a fluffy book more than one of the great American classics. No offense to J.D. Salinger, but to me (not the wannabe literati me), Shopaholic is the better book. There, I said it. It just relates to me more, and the other one feels like vicarious living.

And often, when people ask you what your favorite book is, how often do we really choose one that's truly our favorite? How often do we drill the possibilities and wonder what other people would think about our choice? Sometimes, I opt for Salinger or Kerouac when I want to seem less uptight. Sometimes I choose a really obscure book so that the other person wouldn't know what to think. And other times, when I'm lazy, I'll just say 1984, and the other person will nod and say, "good book," and I'm off the hook.

So are we really a reflection of what we read? Or more specificially, what we like reading? See, I don't even like novels in general because I have the attention span of an ADHD 2 yr old on speed. I prefer short stories like What we talk about when we talk about love or books of modern American poetry. I also don't like anything heavy or obviously set out to make a statement (like "Garden State," even though thats a movie).

Whenever I go over to someone's house for a party, I always notice the books kept on the coffee table in the living room. Sometimes I see James Joyce and Dickens; now, I know these busy people don't use for light reading. What I love even more than that are those people who keep self-help and motivational books out for their guests (message: we're sorry your life is crappier than ours, but we'll let you skim through these as long as you don't bend the edges). Other people strive for more casual things: a Vanity Fair, Times magazine, Us Weekly. As I'm flipping through the books or magazines to avoid awkward conversation, I'd catch their eye, and for a second, I feel like I'm 10 and trying to get into the Adults Only section of a movie rental place. Is this two-way judgment? Them fearing what I think about their choice of reading, me fearing what they think about my choice out of their choices?

I know the three things I'll keep on my coffee table:

1. Latest copy of EF magazine: it's not even written in English. The message I want to send out is: "Oooh...look at the pretty pictures. OMG, is that the newest Cartier watch??"

2. Da Vinci Code: a mere distraction to throw people off-scent. I want my guests to think: "Ooh, she's just like the rest of us. We can relax now. But geez, how cliche."

3. Anne Sexton's "Transformations": everyone likes a good fairy tale and some healthy psychosis. Messageto guests: "If you overstay your welcome, I'll have to bake you."

**Oh, and just as an afterthought, Wasim's comment about my high school is actually true. I've been seeing a lot more girls from our high school carrying around their babies in the mall and at ShopRite. I bet they'd make Bush proud.

bruise count

2006-01-30T00:35:00.000-05:00

My digital camera is gathering dust, literally. I just thought about that after I realized I can post pictures of my own life on here instead of relying on google.

Some pictures I could post:

1. My snowboard: first time taking it down yesterday, I realized it was way too fast for me to handle. Baby's out of my league, unfortunately. So we took it slow for a while, got used to the feeling, then took a few turns that sent me flying onto my face. The board's excellent though: responsive and only takes me a second to get back onto my feet. Did I mention it's also gorgeous?

2. Second-day bruises (minus one): I think I'll spare everyone having to look at the bruises on my ass, even though that's the place I fall on most of the time. There's also this weird bruise behind my leg (note: I had to look up the name of this area because I thought there was a special name for the part of your leg between your knee and your ankle, but Wikipedia just says "leg") that I have no idea how I got. I seriously found it as I was putting on my jeans, and it was all scary and black. But not as scary as gangrene, which is caused by phosopholipases (ooooo, what now?! ha!).

*Which reminds me...I finished my 3 hour Bio exam in approximately 1 hour because I gave up. Seriously. There were like 3 pages that I didn't know how to do. So instead of sitting there pretending I had the answers, I just picked my ass off the seat and went home to sleep. As for my Psych final, the professor accidentally gave us the answer to like 60 questions, no lie. If I'm lucky, he'll give us the points for them anyway.

3. My high school: see, I don't think many of my friends now can quite grasp the concept of exactly how ghetto PHS was. Really, I'm sure the picture will contain a few elements--a.)guy in a doo rag/comb in afro, b.)geese poop lining the entire sidewalk, c.)nerdy kids huddling in fear, d.) "Happy Abortion" balloons.

4. Me: shit-faced, shakin my money-maker, taking shots of e-clear while participating in a wet t-shirt contest, holding onto two girls who I think are my friends, smiling with eyes closed, all while reciting K-fed's "Popozao"...po...po...po...POPOZAO!

bedtime story no.1

2006-01-27T00:11:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I have trouble falling asleep. Other times, I pretend to have trouble falling asleep just so Karl can tell me a bedtime story...

Once upon a time, there was a zebra. What was his name? His name was Bob, and he wasn't like other zebras. This was a special zebra. Bob had red and white stripes. How did he get the stripes? It was a genetic mutation. All the other zebras made fun of him--and wouldn't let him join in their zebra games?--yes, and didn't let him join in their zebra games.

Whenever they saw him, they would yell out: "Hooray! For Red Stripe Bob!" But they didn't really mean it. They just wanted to hurt poor Bob's feelings because he was different. More importantly, he stood out in the savannah, and no one wanted to hang out with him because they were afraid Bob would get them killed. This made Bob very sad.

But one day, when all the animals were sleeping under rocks and trees and caves, an airplane flew overhead. Was it a good or bad airplane? This airplane was carrying a load of red paint to China. The pilot accidentally opened the cargo bay, and red paint spilled all over the savannah, covering everything.

When the animals woke up the next day, the big bad lion was very happy. He no longer had to search for his food; they were right in front of him. This made all the animals very scared, especially the zebras because they were white and black, not even a little bit red. And they didn't want to get eaten.

After a while, they started to get worried about Bob. They didn't know where he was! They couldn't find him anywhere. But little did they know, Bob was sneaking up on Mr. Lion. Now Bob was the predator, and the big bad lion was the prey. Bob creeped up slowly to Mr. Lion, paused, then kicked him in the head. BAM! Mr. Lion fell fast asleep and never woke up. Did he have narcolepsy? No, he just never woke up.

Now the zebras were all very happy, and they yelled: "Hooray! For Red Stripe Bob!" But this time they meant it.

Moral of the story is: even though something you have may seem like a curse, you never know when it could come in handy.

The End.

shes so lucky, shes a star

2006-01-26T01:02:00.000-05:00

WARNING: LONG ENTRY IN WHICH EACH PARAGRAPH FEEDS INTO THE NEXT. SKIMMING WILL DO NO GOOD. THERE'S NOTHING FUNNY. AND THERE ARE NO SHOUTOUTS. DON'T LOOK FOR YOUR NAME. IT'S NOT THERE.

The first computer/video game I played wasn't pong--it was snake. You know, the Basic game with the squiggly line that eats up numbers, and the walls kill it? Then there was that gorilla game in which you controlled the trajectory of the banana-bomb. Oh! And Sega Genesis with the Sonic games! And Keen...does anyone know what I'm talking about? Or how about an even more obscure one...Treehouse? It has two monkeys in a treehouse full of different games (i.e. firetruck counting game, theater game, music game). I once had a really disturbing nightmare where the theater game played pornos, and I was one of the monkeys in the game struggling to get out.

So anyway, though video games have gotten more advanced over the years, one thing has stayed the same. Whenever a game starts off badly, I will almost always hit the "start over" button and get a fresh start. Of course, when I do hang in there and try to finish the game with 4 lives instead of 5, things don't go as badly as I expect. But still, why not use the "start over" button when it's so easily accessed?

I think this is one of the reasons why I have such trouble coping with the stressors in my life. There's no "start over" option, so I'm forced to stick with the 1 flawed life I have. I missed all the bonus points, forgot the cheat codes, and wound up dueling the boss over and over with no sign of eventually beating him. I'm constantly going through and reevaluating all the wrong steps I made in my life, yet still maintaining the position that there's nothing I can do about it. After all, when your damage level is above 100% in SmashBros, no matter how hard you try to hang in there, a simple kick will send you flying off the platform. That's how I feel. 110%.

My biggest reevaluation lately has been the transformation I underwent after starting college. You know, going from well-rounded academic to a reclusive nerd-type. It's like in Pokemon: you don't always want to evolve your pokemon because although they get stronger, they lose out on critical skills. So after my Princetonian evolution, my confidence and security have been, well...Iceberg, straight ahead. It could just be that I went from being one of the biggest fish in the tank to becoming a splotch of algae in the Princeton pond. There's no point in doing something if you know there's someone who can do it 10 times better than you can. And recently, I've been getting so hyped up about doing new things; however, after thinking about it for a day or two, I just shrug and say "eh, nevermind. It's not going to change anything."

But not everything has been a bad change. My grades have never been better in my life. I've actually been doing real studying because academics are one of the last things I have to cling onto. I can't get by on looks anymore (but this is another story). Actually, I have time. Might as well tell the story now:

So exactly what does a girl do when she feels less attractive to her boyfriend? Note: not the same thing as actually being unattractive. This is a type of neuroses, but almost a meta-neuroses, because I'm completely conscious that I'm freaking out over nothing. It makes me think of this episode of "Reba" (please don't laugh, I'm fragile right now) when Cheyenne got upset at her husband for not peeking when she asked him to turn away while she was in the shower. I'd always taken a guy's perspective before: she's being silly, what's the big deal about peeking anyway if that's what she asked for in the first place?

Ohhh ho ho. Guys, this is very very important. A girl's strongest weapon is her intuition, and it almost never fails. We can just sense when something's wrong, and when you give us actual proof...well, everything just goes down from there. It's not always about verbal communication ("Oh baby, you're so sexy"), it's about those soft touches now and then, and a stolen peek just to show we're still desired.

Once again, another Pokemon evolution. While evolving to a long-term relationship does provide emotional and psychological comforts, it also zaps away the passion every time you're not looking. The "How to respark your romance" articles aren't just talking to imaginary people; they're talking about everyday couples who have just sank into a level of comfort, good ones even.

But, oh man, I got so mad this one time Karl and I were at the park. We were just sitting in his car, talking about how far our relationship has gone, and I ask him whether or not he still wanted me.

Karl: I don't want you because I already have you.

What?!?!?! Immediately, my self-defense ego retorted with the mental response of: well, if you don't want me, I'll just have to find someone else who does. But after thinking about it--teeth clenched, stomach acids boiling--I realized that it's just another biological rule. Is it possible to desire something you already have? Habituation and sensitization. We've become habituated to each other after going out for almost two years, and in return for a starvation for desire, we've found someone who will do sudokus, watch marathon television, and shop for dishes with us.

Still, I couldn't help thinking whether or not it was possible to continue the way we are, comfortable, happy, yet completely reminiscent of those beginning stages when everything was exciting. There's no "start over" button either, no way to go back and recreate all those feelings of not knowing how the other person will react. It's all just maintenance: going on a date every other week, trying a new position, inventing another baby language.

But then there're those times when I'm smiling so hard it hurts, or when I find that perfect spot in the crook of his arms, and I realize that even if there was a "start over" button, I would never want to press it. After all, with desire comes a certain amount of illusion. The Tiffany the he desired probably wore thongs all the time and never let her eyeliner smear at the end of the day. But nowadays, he's seen me at my worst: no makeup, ass-scratching, even the occasional granny-panty during period week. Who could really desire that? If anything, he's saving me the trouble by being okay with the after-hours me that's as plain and fragile as a paper screen. I should probably stop complaining because I know he's doing the best he can to keep up with my daily neuroticisms. He works so hard to cheer me up. And though what he does is really sweet, he'll probably be too embarassed if I write about it. That's just how sweet it is. Even sweeter than when he gives me foot rubs and flowers, or when he gives me piggyback rides when I'm being lazy.

I apologize for being sappy, again. It's just that, for me, writing is a kind of self-administered therapy. I was actually pretty upset when I started writing this entry, but it somehow worked out in the end. Either that, or I'm just ridiculously in love, and I apologize for all the people who I just made barf with that one comment.

favorite body parts

2006-01-25T01:41:00.000-05:00

Yes, I have a final in less than 12 hours. No, I can't fall asleep.

I even tried the usual strategies:

1. Counting by 8's. This is very difficult for me beyond 80. Okay, maybe 88. When I do mental math, I also count with mental fingers. Really--I visualize fingers and then count with them. Sometimes it tires me out, but today it just plain annoyed me.

2. Tensing and relaxing each individual muscle. Result: it made me want to pee.

3. Blogging. Please let this work. Oh please. Oh please.

Actually, I am getting pretty tired. Ha! Go figure. I was about to do some profound thinking about body parts, but I think I'll give sleeping another shot. If you'd like, you can share what your favorite body parts are. I'm sure we have a few ankle fetishists out there.

honey wheat

2006-01-23T17:18:00.000-05:00

I went to the dentist on Saturday to get my toothache checked out. The dentist checked out my gums, asked me if I'd had physical trauma, then took an X-ray because he couldn't find anything wrong. X-ray comes out..."Oh. You have an abscess. That needs a root canal."

So now I'm on Penicillin, every 6 hours, meaning I have to set my alarm for 5 each morning just to take a pill. I'm achey, and I have a splitting headache from cramming, and my fingers hurt from punching into my calculator all the possible grades I could get and still maintain my GPA. It's pretty depressing, but at least my English grade came out satisfactory. I just need to work at the two science courses I stupidly took without PDFing. I swear I'm the world's biggest science idiot. I'm also a stubborn science idiot who still believes 3 days of cramming will compensate for an entire semester of dozing off.

On the bright side, during my debilitating episodes of brain pain, I can think about my beautiful purple snowboard that's just waiting for its first chance on the slopes. I'm also thinking about the trips to New York using NJTransit's students-ride-free week. I still have a chocolate muffin from Wegman's that I'll use as a caffeine substute at around 11, then two bags of honey wheat pretzels that'll hold me over at--god forbid-- 1 am.

toothache

2006-01-19T18:13:00.000-05:00

I grossly overestimated the amount of time I had to study for finals. As a result, I've been freaking out and having manic periods of studying (w/ equally slothful periods of complete inactivity). To top it off, my snowboard is MIA and my tooth hurts like hell. I suppose it's not exactly the time issue that's keeping me from finishing my work, but the fact that I'm consistently hitting my head and going: "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

I watched this Russell Peters standup last night (use google video to watch), and today I couldn't stop thinking about something he noted. He said that comedians differ from average people in that they don't filter what they think about, no matter how fucked up it is. So today, just by observing people, I thought of some pretty fucked up stuff. No, really. So fucked up that I can't even blog about it, sorry. It's pretty fun for a while, but after a certain amount of time, I started feeling morally...bad? I can't even think of the word; my mind is completely filled with words like hypothalamus, polymerase, and angina.

In fact, I'm feeling morally bad about blogging, but I've already Swiffered my room, which is what I usually do to procrastinate and clear my mind. It's my mom's birthday on Saturday, and I'm looking forward to teasing her about her age and eating the cheesecake from Gaston Ave. I'm also looking forward to registering on SCORE and getting my schedule finalized once and for all. Speaking of finalizing things, I need to let my parents know I've decided to do an eating club because I'm finally admitting to myself that I'll be too lazy to cook every day. And I'm also getting extra stressed because this year I've learned exactly what stress does to the human body, so I'm stressed about preventing stress. The word "stress" is also kinda hard to say too.

shameless moment

2006-01-15T00:21:00.000-05:00

Yup, that's me. Fourth from the top. And I'm shamelessly posting how Asian I truly am and how I play games on orisinal.com because they're so darn cute. The name says "Tifflovekarl" because she love Karl long time. But really, there's something addicting about stacking pigs on top of each other and watching them bounce around on bubbles. Did I mention I should be working on my paper and studying for exams?

I have to wake up "early" tomorrow to play violin for two couples getting married in July and October. I haven't touched my violin (whose name is Sinclair, don't ask) for a really long time, and I don't think we're on speaking terms anymore.

Hey! Why don't I Asian-fy my blog for a while? You know, take a bunch of pictures with my eyes bugging out...lighten them till you can't see any discernable facial features, then put a cheezy quote under it like "Dreams will happen, follow the stars." Your mouse will miraculously turn into a pink magic wand with stars trailing after it, and the entire window will glow. After the J-pop music suddenly scares the shit out of you, a unicorn will pop out of your screen and carry you away to a world of rainbows and Lisa Frank and bubble tea. (But seriously, you know the pictures I'm talking about, right? The ones that make barf-ugly people only spit-up-in-your-mouth-a-little-ugly? The ones where it's impossible to tell if you have a nose?)

I honestly want to get some classy pictures taken, like, 1930's Vogue style. And tasteful half-nudes. Black and white preferably. Sienna Miller had a few nice ones taken in preparation for a new movie. Vogue ones, not half-nudes. I'm always so awkward in pictures, either smiling too broad and showing my gums, or trying a half-smile and just wind up glaring instead. I had a phase when I would always have my body or head crooked because it was just too weird to stand up straight for a picture. And I really don't know what my "good" or "bad" sides are. Then there were the pictures back when I went through a red lipstick and pale makeup stage (disaster, pure disaster). That was also around the same time as wearing black to look cool and skinny phase. But I have to say, the worst phase I've ever gone through would have to be the velvet and velour stage...compliments of NY&Co and my attempt to dress like a 40 yr. old at 14.

And yes, I am also guilty of the overly-airbrushed pictures that I posted on my xanga in high school. It kills me to admit it now, but it's just something I'll have to live with.

weather forecast

2006-01-14T01:50:00.000-05:00

It's a shame

even if I make a facebook group called "Sam Champion makes babies cry"

not enough people know who he is

and why he's the scariest man in the world

tufts syndrome

2006-01-13T00:18:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to my little sister who just got the highest grade on some nerd test and beat out the nerdiest kids around. She's such a nerd, really. I don't ever remember studying that much in my life. She's also very pretty, so I don't know how she manages to balance the two so well. And, of course, because she's the younger brat, she'll never tell. Maybe now she will because I just complimented her for everyone to see.

But honestly, it makes me kinda worried. How she's so smart, that is. I'm constantly hearing about these really genius kids getting rejected from the top universities for no good reason. Of course, I can't just advise her to sabotage her grades and go apeshit on extracurriculars like I did, but still, it just worries me. I don't want her to ever have to experience any kind of pain or rejection ever in her life, is that too much to ask? At least she's pretty. Pretty girls always get by.

So I'm back at home for the weekend, just to work off the money I spent this month so far. Only two exams to study for, so it shouldn't be that bad. Weather's been pretty unpredictable; it's supposed to go back to the 30's on Sunday. I need a tan because every time I look in the mirror I think I'm seeing Gwyneth Paltrow. Not a good sign.

I think I need to see a therapist at some point in my life. You know, like a routine checkup. Make sure everything's working the way it should be. Or maybe ill just take a bunch of psychology classes and go for a self-diagnosis ("Yes...guilty of projection. Oral fixation. Drools everytime she hears a bell").

It's so exciting to find a new bakery you like, even better than finding a 20 dollar bill in your jean pocket. For all you Jersey-ites, go to the Gaston Ave Bakery in Somerville. But before you do that, look up Origins French Thai. Both are to die for, trust me. You may have a bit of trouble finding parking for the Thai place though because it's always packed at lunchtime.

As for my shopaholic tendencies, I'm gonna try for a revision of the "something old, something new..." wedding myth:

Something Fendi, something Pucci, something Prada, something Gucci.

Actually, I don't even really like Pucci or Prada. Not a big fan of geometric designs or easily bootlegged nylon. I'm actually in the process of commiting myself to one piece of Tiffany's jewelry. Something classic that I can wear for years and match with most outfits. But really, commitment to material things scares me shitless. I think I'd rather get a tattoo than commit to a nice pair of Manolos. Sigh, little Manolo. At least he has a home now.

the REAL nip tuck

2006-01-11T23:21:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I kinda titled the last entry and then forgot to address the main point.

All sadists: present arms.

I was thinking that little whip-bearing demon inside of me that doesn't just come out two days before my period. I'm talking about why it's sometimes feels so good to inflict pain upon others, not on a physical level, but through manipulation and hurtful remarks. (Don't get me wrong. I'm not always evil, just when the stars are aligned just right.)

But most of all, I was thinking about masochism. Put away the chains and harnesses--I'm talking about things that we do on a daily basis for no other reason than to make us hurt a little more. I used to be addicted to shows like "The Swan" or "Extreme Makeover" just to see how people can become gorgeous after a visit to the surgeon. Now, watching "Nip/Tuck" brings back all these old emotions.

You know, there's a study that shows how women actually do feel uglier after seeing attractive women. Here's the scary thing: they found that the husbands of these women also found their wives uglier after viewing pictures of beautiful models. It's logical and probably doesn't come as a surprise to any of us, but think about it: how many gorgeous people are you surrounded by? If that doesn't make you a bit self-conscious, I don't know what will. (For all you perfect 10s out there, now would be a good time to stay silent.)

I don't think it's a bad thing to be self-conscious at times; it just depends on how you react to it. Some people tip the scales at an unhealthy number, and yet they still convince themselves they're gorgeous and that everyone should just suck it up. Others wonder why they never get the job they want, even though their closest friends have been telling them they need to toss the holey suit and start chewing more Trident.

I was talking to a friend the other day who made a really good point (one that I never really wanted to admit to myself). She said that eventually, our significant other will be attracted to someone else. The temptation will be there, and there's nothing we can do about it.

Well...damn. Sure, I've read about that in just about every Cosmo ever written. But for some reason, must be my particular mood for the day...it really got to me this time.

I realized one thing: being in a relationship doesn't make you immune to attraction; on the contrary, it acts as an accelerator because you're suddenly surrounded by forbidden fruit. Some people get so freaked out by the idea of their loved ones cheating on them that they purposely have an affair so they don't have to be the victims (source: freshman ethics article). Others, like me, strive for impossible standards of beauty that costs a.) a lot of money on clothes, makeup, hair, b.) time, and c.) mental well-being.

And all over something we can't help. Now, brace yourselves because it just gets even worse. Ever hear of the saying "For every beautiful woman is a guy who's tired of having sex with her"? So we make ourselves all pretty in order to compete, then realize that no matter how much work we do on ourselves, that we're still at square one. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Now, before we all just toss on potato sacks and throw out our makeup brushes, we also have to recognize another thing: beautiful people have personalities too. Beautiful people can also be smart. So it would be kinda dumb to fool ourselves into thinking "Oh, I don't have to dress up. He'll like me for my personality anyway." It's just as easy to fall in love with a rich man than a poor man, but it's a lot easier to fall in love with a hot chick than an ugly one.

So back to the sadism. As you can see, girls just don't have a choice but to be mean to each other. If a guy's going to be tempted no matter how funny you are or how good you look, then the only thing left to do is to unsheath those claws, pull out the whips and chains, and let the match begin.

nip tuck

2006-01-10T20:45:00.000-05:00

Most of the time, I'm not really bothered by the fact that guys and girls get treated differently.

Like at hibachi houses, the chef usually gives the excess food to the men, even though the ladies' portions cost the same amount. Fine by me.

Or after the food's eaten and the waiter/waitress directly hands the guy the check. Also fine. Most of the time, it IS the guy that pays. Don't deny it, ladies.

But today, it really got me. Karl and I decided to eat at Applebees tonight, which was good, because I'd really been craving a juicy fat barbeque hamburger. After we asked for the check, Karl went off to the bathroom and left me munching on my fries alone.

1. Waiter comes over, places the check in front of Karl's empty space, and sees me reach over his arm to grab it.

2. Waiter comes back. I reach into wallet hand him the money. Waiter leaves.

3. Waiter returns with money. Gives change directly to Karl.

Come ONNNNNNNNN. Is it so hard to remember that the girl paid for the food? Is it really that surprising and out of the ordinary? There should be a middle-of-the-table rule from now on. I mean, sure, I love it when my boyfriend offers to wine and dine me. But when I want to treat him, don't I deserve a little bit more recognition and respect from these people?

Still, I'll give the guy the benefit of a doubt. Maybe he had a long day and can't remember who paid. Maybe he thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Still, it makes me wonder where the line between romance and equality is really drawn nowadays. Are we abdicating our position as equals in society by allowing ourselves to be treated to a nice meal once in a while? And honestly, exactly why is it considered romantic for a guy to pay in situations when we're perfectly capable of paying ourselves? Perhaps women nowadays still haven't evolved beyond needing that little boost from a white knight or kindly benefactor.

Strangely enough, one of the things that makes me miss Princeton the most are the guys that open doors for you as if it was one of the most natural things in the world. What gentlemanly behavior. What chivalry. But then I ask myself: I'm not handicapped, why do I need them to open the doors anyway?

It's hard to be a woman in 2006. If we submit ourselves to traditional romance, our feminist side starts bra-burning bonfires and screams how we're digging our own graves. If we stubbornly fight for equality, our romantic side yearns even more for Prince Charming, and we wind up watching chick flicks for no reason.

It's even harder to be a man in 2006. You never know what kind of chick that new girl you're dating is. If you open a door for her, she could a.) smile from ear to ear, or b.) give you an ear-aching lecture on women's rights. If you pay for her meal, she could a.) give a sheepish half-smile, b.) offer to pay half, c.) attempt to rip you in half.

dirty laundry

2006-01-09T00:19:00.000-05:00

Just as I study hard as to not waste Pepsi caffeine, so I try to be sentimental as to not waste a perfectly good glass of wine. I hate correct grammar--I mean, honestly, it's really awkward.

So as I'm sitting here digging my thumbnail into the space between my teeth, I'm wondering why I went through the old books I lent him, looking for a love note or a scribble. I've lent out so many books, and I've written more than a few letters. I don't know if anyone's kept any (well, I think I know where a few might be lying around), but are they like mine--facedown, hidden under a napkin or a book, just waiting to be thrown out by a significant other doing "spring cleaning"?

But really, is cleaning out your lover's dirty laundry neurotic? And is keeping it a sign of sentimentality we wish to deny? I've thrown out so much stuff, and I've cleared out so much of his; still, I know I'll come across an old trinket stuffed in a drawer corner. And I'll pick it up, smile a little, try to remember how young and foolish I had once been. Then this sudden jerk forces the memories away, and I freeze up like a Weight Watcher's member caught with a donut. At that moment, I really don't know what to do. Do I throw it away and feel guilty for having shared a happy moment with someone else? Or do I stay and hope he doesn't mistaken that I still have leftover feelings?

In Eternal Sunshine, the program required that the patients throw out all belongings that had anything to do with their significant others. I don't dispute the logic in their method; after all, certain objects do invoke certain emotions that go beyond our own cognitive appraisal levels. Still, the question remains: how much can we keep? And which objects are "keep-able"? Do I need to physically lay out items A, B, and C on the table and let him choose which ones are acceptable?

I think there's always going to be a little green elf with a broom that just wants to clean out more and more of his things until nothing can prove someone was there before me. We don't always say what we feel, even if we convince ourselves we're a.)different from other couples, b.)grown-up, c.)talently communicative, there's always something more the other person can do that we keep to ourselves.

So I tried again, flipping through the books I lent him, but still no note. I can remember the cards he wrote me, but I can't remember where I put them. How strange. I can remember the exact location of the other sparse trinkets, but I can't remember where a single card is.

This is how I know this time it's for real. There's no sense in keeping something safe if you believe you will have the same thing, again and again, till your closets burst with love notes and cards and other memorabilia. His notes are easily lost because there are too many to keep track of, and even if I lost one, it can always be replaced. I held onto those other items because I know I've reached the end in every one of those paths, and I also have no desire to go back and renew what was already lost. But his notes, beautiful as they are, will never be more than strings of ink on paper. I would rather he say them to me in a whisper, as he always manages to do and remember. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can ever compare.

team sienna

2006-01-08T16:23:00.000-05:00

...though she's constantly telling the press how strong she how, how much she's getting over it, and how she's really not like Jennifer Aniston.

But on the subject of nannies, my parents told me about a new trend they read about in the paper. Apparently, because people are finally recognizing China as a future super-duper-power, rich parents are now seeking Chinese-speaking nannies to look after their kids.

Average salary: $100,000/year.

Hey! I can live with that. Perhaps now would be a good time to get back in the cycle of masochism a.k.a 300-level Chinese. I already work closely with kids and can speak Chinese fluently. I (now) know how to do laundry, and I'm usually pretty organized and enjoy cleanliness.

Oh, but can you imagine the drama?? Nanny Diaries already alerted me to all the bullshit that nannies have to go through for their blue-blood, coke-sniffing, female employers. When dragged to family/social function plainly underdressed, I doubt people will even believe I speak a word of English ("Hey, dishes! Diiiii-shhhhhhes. Comprende? DISHES").

So how much am I willing to prostitute myself for money? No matter how many Ivy league degrees I obtain or how successfully I am able to raise the child, on a social level, I'd still be just another minority working for the even more successful white woman. Is being a nanny the only occupation in which this happens? Of course not. But it's very apparent.

I can see it now: I'm sitting on a park bench with my hair up Jane Eyre style. The little brats are yelling for me to wipe off their noses. The blonde lady in the white Donna Karen suit twitters to her friends about how good I am and how hard I work and how much English I seem to have picked up recently.

So it doesn't matter how I convince myself the money would be good, how I wouldn't encounter these racial offenses, or how I'm exagerrating the plight of the Chinese American...I know that it's neither fiction nor myth, and to think so would be awfully naive. But *groan* I need that money.

whatever lola wants...

2006-01-06T23:34:00.000-05:00

After dreading going back to school for reading period, I started wondering: is there such a thing as a "sexy major"? Are we attracted more to someone because of their field of study?

I always wonder what people think after they find out that I'm majoring in English. Mostly, I get the "Gasp! But you're Asian! What do your parents say? Do they know?" But say I told them I was majoring in some type of science or engineering. Result: immediate grouping of poor little Asian girl pushed into non-humanities path by imposing parents. Alternate result: mistakenly think I'm as smart as the other engineering/pre-med/science girls.

No, please don't think I'm smart. That's so unattractive.

Now that I think about it, exactly how important is it for a girl to be smart now anyway? My mom's always telling me about her friends' opinions of their sons' girlfriends. They mumble a bit about the girl's personality, but it seems that the only priority they have is how attractive she is. Personality and intelligence come WAYY later. Usual response: "Eh, she's a nice girl. But have you seen her face???"

The way I see it, no matter how empowered women are, or how much we try to advance ourselves, it's not going to do as much good as advertised because our society hasn't quite evolved past its need for "geisha-types":

1. Intelligence, yes, but just to the point where the woman can hold a decent conversation. Decent conversation, of course, meaning that she can make her man feel good about himself while gently teasing at all times. A woman that's more intelligent than her man will make him feel threatened and less manly.

2. Willing to have sex. Anywhere. Anytime. Will be completely professional and suit his every need.

3. Be more talented than smart. Know how to create some form of art that can mystify him. "Art" preferably meaning culinary arts. You know the old saying: "Way to a man's heart..."

So hear hear all future trophy wives and husbands. You're not going with the flow or letting people take advantage of you. You've just found a loophole and plan on exploiting the crap out of it. So who's playing who? And who's the smarter one after all?

poor financing

2006-01-05T19:13:00.000-05:00

Once again, I've broken my record for spontaneous decisions.

Behold, the girl who bought a Burton Feelgood after snowboarding only twice. It's amazing how I can always find a new definition of "broke" week after week. I saw it in Dick's yesterday for $500, then found it on ebay for half the price. Now I have to buy bindings and boots. Nice boots. A girl's gotta have nice shoes.

Here's my reasoning: I can spend all the money I want now because I don't plan on going to grad school directly after college. So even if I save the little pocket money I have, by the time I'm working, I'm just going to blow it on excess Chanel.

So why deprive myself? Still, let's just hope this isn't a modern-day reencatment of "The Ant and the Grasshopper."

brown bag

2006-01-04T22:50:00.000-05:00

So I found out today that Dooney and Bourke makes lunchbags

Me: Hey, do you want one? I'll get it for you since it's kinda cute.
Jen: No, I'll be throwing out the trash, and when I get back, it'll be gone.
Me: Hmm...then I'll have to get it for you so once it's gone, you can stand up on the lunch table and scream, "All right. Which one of yo' ghetto asses stole my lunch bag. Ma lunch bag. C'mon y'all."
Jen: Haha. Ghetto asses.

Sigh, good old Pway. Another big culture shock about being in Princeton is how people trustingly leave their stuff around. As I walk around in Frist, I see ipods and laptops on tables all alone. People leave their backpacks outside the dining hall. And once, as I was entering CJL (note: cannot bring bookbags inside), I clutched so hard to my bookbag that the lunchlady gave me a knowing "mmmmhmmm." She knows the deal.

Though I wouldn't exactly consider this a type of "street smart," I can't help but laugh every time I hear a popped-collar rich kid whining about his stuff getting stolen. I honestly can't imagine what high school would've been like without weekly fights in the hallway, bomb threats, lockdowns, and freaky people stroking your hair. So, forget "Beauty and the Geek" as a social experiment. What I'd like to see is how a preppy kid from Exetor would survive in the Camden public school system.

yeahhhh boyeee!!

2006-01-02T22:36:00.000-05:00

I'm officially on my way to becoming a hardcore snowboarder. To be honest, I expected today's trial to be like my first, but suddenly I found myself coasting effortlessly down the mountain (heelside, of course). No bruises, no cuts, but still the same obsession. I'm planning on setting aside a decent amount of money for next year's season pass, board, bindings, boots, but most importantly...real snow pants. No more dorky suspenders for me, whoo hoo. I mean, it beats buying another handbag, yes?

So Flavor Flav has a "Bachelor"-type show on VH1 now.

I swear Chewbacca was in "Narnia." Seriously, the trilling growl and everything. Chewbacca versus Oompa Loompa from "Willy Wonka"...made my day.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't really the Oompa Loompa. It was still entertaining.

stock market

2006-01-01T23:02:00.000-05:00

In high school, it was so easy to examine relationships under a microscope. Type Overachiever male goes out with Type Flighty female. Type Insecure female makes out with Type Loves-His-Mama before homeroom at the lockers. Type Closet-Freak female sits with other Type Closet-Freak females at lunch and discuss the Type Tool guys they're into.

But going above the Mean Girl-esque stereotypes, there's one thing we can't avoid being associated with: stock.

Let me explain: I don't like admitting it, but in high school, I did have female role models (no, I will not name names). I'd observe their maneurisms from afar, check their hairstyles, and admired their social grace. I'd act super nice to them but churn with mild jealousy after passing. But here's where the trouble comes in.

No matter how hard I tried to rationalize it, I would almost always be mildly attracted to their boyfriends. No, they weren't particularly handsome. No, their grades kinda sucked. And no, most of them didn't seem to have any redeeming qualities. But just as a merger with a larger corporation boosts stocks to constellational heights...these guys were boosted simply because of who they went out with.

So just how strange is that? I'm sure there are plenty of exceptions (and it may not even be the same case for guys) but from a general outlook, I've come up with a few basic rules:

1. Pair Girl A (respected) with Boy B (not-so-repulsive). Stocks will rise for Boy B. Girl A stocks remain constant.
2. Pair Girl A (respected) with Boy C (repulsive). Girl A stocks drop for female stockholders (lose respect), but simultaneously rise for male stockholders (chance to steal her from loser Boy C). Boy C stocks rise a little out of general confusion.
3. Pair Girl A (respected) with Boy A (desired). Both stocks bust through the ceiling.

Note, in scenario 3, we reach the typical celebrity/fairy-tale couple. We want to see drama. We want to see them last forever and get married OR we want to see a horrible, horrible breakup. In both cases, they're very visible in the public eye, so their stock rises. Comprende?

Still, I can't help but wonder: where do I fit in these scenarios? Am I boosting up Karl's stock? Is he boosting up mine? Do I have anything to worry about?

Perhaps this is all too general. But seriously, think about how your opinions have changed about people once they dive into a relationship. We associate people's characteristics with those they hang out with or find most attractive. If you want to know how you are, or how people look at you, perhaps you don't need to look further than the people you spend the most time with.

Oh, and my real New Year's resolution is to stop being so darned cute. Give other people a chance.

v-e-r-n, v-e-r-n

2005-12-29T23:20:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-27T23:33:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-26T00:46:00.001-05:00

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

2005-12-25T00:39:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-23T23:03:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-22T00:04:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-21T00:26:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-20T00:03:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-12T10:47:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-08T12:17:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-06T18:28:00.000-05:00

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

2005-12-05T16:47:00.000-05:00

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.

sophomore 15

2005-11-28T16:48:00.000-05:00

Just when I thought I'd escaped freshman fifteen....boom! Gosh, why can't I manage to get myself to a gym?

I was sooooooo close to getting my psychology work done today. I had pink and orange highlighters out, a post-it note diligently tabbed onto the page I needed to start on,...and then I started to wander. First to the window (picked up Anne Sexton's "Transformations"), then to the fridge (munchies), then to the computer.

On the bright side, I've officially started my English assignment. Isn't it great? I get to write a poem (2-3 pgs) plus an explanation of why the poem is awesome (3 pgs). Just when I thought my poems couldn't get any trippier, I decided to imitate Sexton's style in writing about Alice in Wonderland, which is ALREADY really really trippy. If I become really neurotic after this semester, you all know what to blame it on.

Then after I started my English, I decided to write a random-ass poem about nothing. But the good thing about writing about nothing is that it's at least something that I haven't written about yet. After taking creative writing for 3 semesters straight, I've realized that I'm completely burnt out and probably shouldn't take it next semester. Still, I'm afraid that if I'm not required to knock out a piece every week that I just won't make time to write. And even if I do write, who will read it?

One last thought: comfort vs. pleasure items? What would make me happier: a night out on the town including a great dinner and Broadway show, or a piece of jewelry? There was this article that I read which basically told guys that they should only give their girlfriends pleasure items. Reason: they can't be pawned. In addition, they're usually more eventful and allow the couple to spend time together. Anyway, since Xmas is coming up (everyone knows it's a month-long holiday), here's to wishing you all find the perfect gifts for your family and significant others.

QUICK NOTICE

2005-11-25T10:53:00.000-05:00

1. I have enabled comments. Before, I hadn't realized that the default setting to the blog was that only users registered could comment. So rave and bash away dearies.

2. I have survived Thanksgiving. Two full plates of food afterwards, I decided that my sophomore 15 wasn't going to go anywhere so I might as well enjoy it. ("It's all in your ass" --Jen, while making explosion sounds to indicate the massive growth)

3. I love scarves. But not scratchy scarves--good scarves. Like, really really soft ones that you can press against your cheek and not wince.

4. I'm in a rush right now, so a more insightful posting to come later.

wonderland

2005-11-21T23:42:00.000-05:00

English precept got me thinking about how much I disliked adults as a child. For one, they didn't speak my language--how else would we communicate about things like the edges of fall-papered leaves and why I bother to bring them home? Or how about why it's so exciting to build a new variation of a Legos house that you'd never thought of before?

Sometimes I wonder exactly where my childhood ended and the mess began. So far, I've narrowed it down to a few possible points. Complicated, oh-so-traumatic points that only a therapist would bother figuring out after I paid the bill. Let's not get into this.

Luckily, I've had the chance to vicariously stay connected to my inner child. Every week, I assign the kids I tutor some writing prompt that helps them think and write without restrictions. No, you don't have to show them to me. Yes, it can be completely made up. But that's the thing about kids--they do want to share, and even get mad when I forget to set aside a 10 minute slot for them to read their journal entries to the class (this was over the summer, I only tutor privately now = 3 students a time or less). They come up with the most creative things for writing prompts though; some create new technology and use fancy lingo that even I don't understand, some tap into a sad childish emotion that wrenches my heart and makes me want to curl into a corner, and others don't mean to be funny but leave me clutching my gut and going "ha! if only he knew what this could really mean..."

Still, childhood isn't all it's made out to be. There's this movie called "After Life" that Jenny brought over (we watched a few minutes then tossed it) which had the premise of "if you could take only one memory with you and relive it forever in the afterlife, which would it be?" Some of them chose childhood, and it's understandable, because of the innocence and the curiosity and unaccountability for everything.

Even so, I can't remember truly being happy as a child. But does that mean that happiness is something that you can only recall before a certain age? Exactly how strongly can we remember emotions?

When was the last time I felt happier than I am now?

loser anthem

2005-11-20T23:07:00.000-05:00

Anthem of the week: "Foxey Lady" - Hendrix

Can you really tell what a person's like by the music they listen to? Here, give it a shot. The last few songs I listened to were:

1. "Brick House" - The Commodores: I like me a little funk. I let my inner dork hang allllll out.

2. "The World is Not Enough" - Garbage: where do I begin with this song? It's sexy, it's crooning-ish, it's totally Bond.

3. "What is Love" - Haddaway: one of the first times Karl has ever seen me dance was when I was dragged onto the dance floor at a birthday party and forced to show off my disco moves. That's right--this girl can disco.

4. "Jesus Walks" - Kanye West: it makes me think of "Jarhead," which in turn makes me think of Jake Gyllenhall (mmm....). Oh, and it's a good song.

5. "Broadway" - Goo Goo Dolls: God, I love 90's music. Seriously, I'd listen to some of these songs and find myself knowing most of the words. Amazes me every time.

I'm really glad I got an Ipod for my birthday. I didn't really know what I was missing out on. It's kinda sad though; most of the songs I like I have to turn to an oldies radio station to hear...

snow white vs. stepmother: who's it better to be?

2005-11-19T13:02:00.000-05:00

With the birth of teenage classics such as "Clueless" and the more recent "Mean Girls," has the storytale moral message been changed from one of virtue and endurance to one of survival? Does Darwin truly rule over teenage society?

As a teen on the verge of 20's-dom, I've seen and participated in a fair amount of battles: weak vs. strong, passive vs. bitchy, passive-aggressive vs. all out hair-pulling. But who truly wins in the end? It's been said that nice guys finish last--but this I can understand. In evolutionary terms, the more aggressive, jerky guys simply send out signals of testosterone: "Pick me! I have the strength and energy to protect your young from harm! Don't choose him! He's too nice! He'll just cower in the corner when the tigers come!"

From a more personal perspective, I picked someone so annoyingly self-assured that I hated him for a good part of my life. After all, I couldn't help but bench all the "nice guys" in my life simply because I thought they wouldn't perform as well in the game. Karl was more than a surprise though; instead of maintaining the narcissistic attitude I'd associated with him since forever, he proved that he kept a store of affection reserved for one person, and one person only. A true Beauty and the Beast story.

So if nice guys get benched, do nice girls finish last as well? Let's turn to my parents for a while:

Dad: If you ever get into a fight, don't lose. Don't walk away, either.
Mom: Someone you don't like? Here! I have a suggestion: (insert well-concocted evil plan here)...oh. but you should really try to be nicer. Oh! I have another idea!

In my family, it's all about survival of the fittest. Manipulation is simply a weapon that needs to be ground sharp every once in a while. For that matter, I always found a victim whenever my sword needed to be sharpened. There are 3 key elements in helping you get what you want: confidence, brains, and beauty. If you're missing one of the three elements, don't even try. Of course, the definition of brains and beauty aren't what you may think. If you're confident enough to believe you're the hottest piece of ass around, eventually you'll convince others too. As for brains, there's a difference between intelligence and wisdom (Mom pg.415). It doesn't matter whether or not you can spout mathematical equations on cue if you can't manage to say exactly what someone needs to hear.

My favorite Disney character of all time (ever since I was a little girl!) has been the stepmother from "Snow White." Now this is a woman to be admired. She knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to get it. She knew that Snow White would go for the pretty laces; she knew that she would buy a poisoned comb; she knew that she would be enough of a fatass to go for a poisoned apple. In our day, she'd rule supreme. It was only a stroke of bad luck that landed her into the jaws of (insert horny prince/wolves/etc depending on edition). See, I don't blame the queen at all for what she tried to do to Snow White: that bitch was obviously on her turf and there's only enough room for one pretty face in the kingdom.

potato chips/ harry potter

2005-11-18T22:38:00.000-05:00

Potato? Potatoe? Pop quiz: who was the politician who misspelled "potato"?

If you have absolutely zero interest on this delightful spud product, please close the window now. Last warning. As of right now, my favorite flavors are as follows:

1. Lays lightly salted: for the afficionados who love the taste of the potato and not be overwhelmed by sodium overdose. Karl and I found this obscure flavor one day, and then without warning, it disappeared off the shelves for months. Months! So at first, we thought we'd only imagined it. After all, it took a while for him to believe that square granola cereal with holes in the middle existed. We even went to health food stores looking for them (result: weird looks from the way too peppy store clerk). Another thing about these chips is that they're not greasy, which is always a plus. You can eat a lot of them without feeling sick...not sure if that's good or bad.

2. Munchos: very reminiscent of middle school. Back then, a lunch consisted of a bag of munchos and a green slurpee (this was before they pulled the plug on what was one of the only bright ideas the school had). In high school, lunch was a cup of french fries and a lemon snapple. For those of you who like Munchos, you know how hard it is to overeat these, reason being--they're simply too salty. Light, yes. Delicate, definitely. But it's like biting your front teeth into an animal salt lick. Use sparingly.

3. Sour cream and cheddar: without a doubt, an acquired taste. I started liking these after a session of brief starvation and scrambling around to find edibles that weren't either stale or moldy. A bag later, I was hooked. I learned something about this in psych class, like how our bodies naturally reject something that made us sick the last time we ate it. I guess it also applies to things we like--even if we hated a food before, if at least one session we like it, we like it for real afterwards. May not be the first thing we reach for, but no gag reflex either. (oo! gag reflex, next entry..ha! sike!)

******************

What time is the right time to go watch the new "Harry Potter"?

First of all, definitely not the midnight showing. I cannot stand cosplay or people who think that just because they have a bunch of "homies" with them, that it gives them the right to blab on and on throughout the movie. My neck starts to tense up, and I imagine a million ways to exterminate them (not exactly in this order): a shoe up the ass, a straw through the brain, strapped down forced to listen to "Crazy Frog" on end without stopping...

Second, not during the day. Old people are the worst. It's easy to tell high school kids to shut the fuck up, but I just never picture myself saying that to an old woman fiddling around with her hearing aid.

Me: Ma'am, can you please stop talking?
Her: ....eh?
Me: MA'AM, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING?
Her (& co.): SHHH!! stop talking so loudly, I'm trying to pay attention to the movie!

It's just not right.

Third, not during Thanksgiving weekend. It's the only time anyone has to see a movie nowadays. Unfortunately, it's also the only time I have to go watch a movie. Whoever would've thought planning a movie trip would be so stressful? Maybe I'll just wait till the buzz is over.

food: how much is too much?

2005-11-15T16:42:00.000-05:00

Part 1: Guilty Delights

With Thanksgiving around the corner and X-mas even closer behind, I started thinking about the different food items I've been craving:

1. Peppermint Bark from Williams Sonoma: regular chocolate bark has nuts in it, but peppermint bark has pieces of candy canes. One side is white chocolate, the other is dark chocolate. It's a bit pricey for how little there actually is per box, but it's worth nibbling on. In fact, because it's costly, it'll make it seem more like childhood--when you save and savor every little piece of candy one at a time. Ok, fine. I lied. I crammed my mouth with it like the rest of us.

2. G collection from Godiva: these chocolates go for about $3 a piece and come in boxes of 15, 30, and 45. You do the math. This is something I'd like to try (at least) once, because quite frankly, I can't take the guilt. There's already enough going towards my stomach, I don't need my wallet whining.

3. Pumpkin anything: pumpkin muffins from Dunkin Donuts, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin...

4. Egg: for those of you that don't know, I am a huge fan of the egg. I will eat eggs in almost any form--devilled, scrambled, poached, steamed (mm...steamed egg), and especially the Japanese style eggs that they stick on top of rice and call sushi. It has a sweeter taste and is a bit more moist than most types of eggs. My mother used to have this seasoning that she would put in it, but then we found out it was actually just pure MSG.

5. Hot chocolate: I can never make hot chocolate the right way. Usually, the only times I'll drink it is if it's at Barnes & Noble and need to buy something in order to sit on at the cafe tables. I recommend the Godiva hot chocolate because it's super-rich. I tried buying the Godiva hot chocolate mix for myself, but something's still missing. I guess that's how they can keep charging you exorbitant prices at their cafes.

**********************************

Part 2: The Hunger Banquet

In honor of hunger awareness week, Butler dining hall had a hunger banquet aimed at starving...me. I went through those doors expecting the same dried up chicken/wet pasta/dirty salad, and instead was ushered down the hall, card swiped, ribbon handed, colored paper picked...and suddently, I found myself sitting at a crowded table with nothing more than white rice on my plate. I wasted a meal on this?? How much do these meals go for now? $8? $9?

So I was pretty pissed off. To add to that, the colored paper kindly told me that my new name was Luftar, and that all my belongings had been destroyed by the hurricane. Ok, fine, sympathy. But I'm still hungry. And as I stared at the plate and avoided the random camcorders going around, I tried SO SO hard to think "So this is how most of the world lives, huh?"

Didn't work. See, these hunger banquets or fasts or whatever charity programs you can think of just don't work on people like me. I'm Cruella deVille; I wear fur, ignore beggars, hoard my money, etc awful things etc. Yes, it's not these peoples' faults that they weren't born into a richer country. But you know what? That money that I could've used to donate to a charity just went towards a lobster dinner to make up for one night of starvation.

But as I walked out of the dining hall, I felt something move inside me--a feeling so fleeting that I could not distinguish it from sympathy or hunger. Maybe I do have a heart after all. Maybe the hunger banquet did succeed in raising a little bit of awareness in me. I didn't wait to figure it out, just climbed the steps to my room and ravaged the last bits of pad thai left in my fridge.

The End.

fixed schedules

2005-11-10T17:03:00.000-05:00

A brief glimpse of how I spend my days in college:

I get up about an hour before my alarm rings to adjust the shade (location: next to bed). Pull it down, block heat and incoming unlight. On Thursdays, this is about the time I ask myself "Should I go to Psych lecture when I know for certain I'm not going to be learning anything new? Or at least, be awake enough to learn anything new?" Recently, the answer has been: no. Hell no.

I set my Ipod to some walking music: "Golddigger," Spice Girls (a recent guilty pleasure!), Gwen Stefani, Ciara. One look at the mirror, and I'm out the door and trekking towards whatever faraway building du jour. Breakfast is optional, usually a banana or yogurt. These days it's been nothing; after all, I just get hungrier during class when I eat breakfast. Isn't that unusual?

I got out of class at 2:30 today and told myself I'd spend the rest of the day studying for my bio exam (time: Monday 11:00). From the moment I got back till right now, and possibly a little later on, I have been watching old episodes of "Sex and the City." To be honest, I did open my bio notes, but they scared the bejeezus out of me (question: what exactly is a bejeezus?). I know meiosis is NOT a difficult subject, but why can't I get it to work in my head? Am I just reproductively stupid?

So I'm in my jammies right now thinking about studying. Thinking very very hard about studying. I figure: okay, 3 days left to sift through everything from bacterial signaling to gay genes. Not too bad.

Oh! And I broke a sacred rule this week. I studied till 12! (Note: I have a rule about schoolwork. There is absolutely no watching of tv till after 8. Similarly, there is no doing of homework after 8. It works surprisingly well, but takes a while to get used to).

kooky ones

2005-11-09T16:14:00.000-05:00

Another entry on squirrels:

Seriously, they're really starting to freak me out. Today, another squirrel literally stopped in its tracks just to stare at me. It wasn't until I was about an inch away that it calmly stepped to the side to let me pass. And as I looked into its little brown eyes, I believed they said:

"Oh join me fellow brethren 'mongst the trees
and with each other quickly conjugate.
Those passer-bys that carry no cookies,
we shall, from branches, freely defecate.

For how shall we, when wintry boughs do shake,
preserve our brown (and often black) physique
to march and find the yonder chocolate cake
in halls of dining whence the food doth reek?

"What, corpulent? No sir, not I," we sound
"just more endowed in width than those who waste
fair summer piling nuts beneath the ground."
What need have we for stupid summer haste

when bakery goods invade all garbage dumps,
when richness coils thrice-thick around our rumps?"

Iambic pentameter, poorly done, but I swear that's what he said. Sick little bastard. Oh, and I'm submitting it to Nasslit

call me daddy

2005-11-08T11:18:00.000-05:00

If you don't know what I'm referencing, you're missing out. Big time. Now, after you finish reading this post, go to your handy search engine and type in: "Kevin Federline rap." I'd put in a few lines from there, but I don't want to ruin the surprise. Just don't die laughing or get your jaw stuck wide open.

But seriously, how does that guy manage to always look like a douche?

Today, I listened to "Milkshake" while reading Alice in Wonderland. It was pretty awesome. I think "Milkshake" should definitely be on its soundtrack, along with "My Humps."

So walking back from class, I realized how incredibly warm it is today. As I'm taking off my jacket and folding it against my arm, I tripped over a squirrel. Seriously, a black one. What a dumb--wait, no no. I have nothing against black squirrels, really. They're my homies. We cool?

drool, think, calculate, cry

2005-11-01T22:14:00.000-05:00

Here're the reasons why I should never be bored:

1. I tend to cause trouble for myself and (mostly) for other people.
2. I get frisky/borderline violent, which leads to reason number 1, and the biting and slapping...just ask those closest to me. I'm like a puppy dog.
3. I do online window shopping.

Nowadays, we live in a society in which everything can be found on the Internet. The Web's even managed to create pseudo-holidays.

Let me explain. First, you see something you really like online. You whip out your credit card, type in the number, decipher those contorted letter thingies on the confirmation site, and voila! You've paid for it. Now, when the package actually gets to your door, you've completely forgotten about paying for it, say, two weeks ago. It's like Christmas all over again: the gift, the mad tearing of the box, and instant gratification. So much better than buying things in person and actually seeing the exchange of cash.

Really, it's no wonder why people are constantly going into debt. I was watching "King of Queens" today, and Carrie had come up with the idea of buying then returning really expensive designer clothes and shoes. Tuck in the tags, try not to get it dirty, return it the next day and say it doesn't fit. It's not a bad idea, but I wouldn't say it's something I'd dare to do. Plus, I'd feel pretty pathetic, which leads me to the question:

So why am I putting myself through this?

Why do I order magazines all the way from Japan to drool over things I know I can't have? Or could have, but just know better than to splurge?

See, things are different from high school now. Before, even if I wanted a $500 Gucci bag, I wouldn't have the money to begin with--move on, find something cheaper. But now, I'm saving up money faster than I know what to do with, and the strangest thing is that I'm spending less than I used to. So what's changed?

Let me name a few: wedding, down payment on a house, domestics.

It's never too early, kids.

trash tv

2005-10-26T12:12:00.000-04:00

So over the summer, while my dad's at work and my sister's off volunteering or taking some kind of lesson, my mom and I would watch the trashiest tv we could find. She doesn't understand why I watch "Passions" ("No one wears ballgowns in their own home"...."No mom...that's 'Days of Our Lives'"), and yet she watches "Maury" more than I do.

Mom: I don't think it's real. Look! She's about to tell her husband she cheated on her, and she's only pretending to cry. No tears.
Me: Well,...oh wait! Look! That might be a tear.
Mom: No, that's just the lighting. And I could've sworn I've seen her from a previous episode. I think they recycle these people. How else do you find so many people with these problems?
Me: Are you kidding? Do you know how many people want to get paternity tests but just can't afford them? That's why they come on here.
Mom: Yeah well, there was this lady on here yesterday. Brought the 20th guy she's dragged on here, and he's still not the baby's father. I don't know if she's just stupid or a just a whore.

Then Jen comes home and gives me weird looks for watching "Pokemon" or "Yugioh." They're good shows, ok?? Anyway, I watched "The Biggest Loser" yesterday, and it's actually not that bad. It's like "The Swan" but without cosmetic surgery. There's just something about shows with before/after shots thats so....witching. Like, really. It's like magic. Where'd all those pounds go, fatty?

Last, but not least, shows I'm watching now:
1. Prison Break--I follow this show religiously...highly recommend watching it. It's smart, it's exciting, and the guy has amazing ice blue eyes.
2. My Name is Earl--Nothing like watching white trash testing out karma. And plus, Jason Lee is fabulous.
3. Alias--Don't know why I didn't start watching this show until recently. I want to get the old seasons and start from the very beginning.
4. Lost--Another show that I've only recently started watching.
5. SVU--I like this one best out of all the crime shows. I don't really know why...I guess it's because I've watched it more than the other ones so the characters grow on me.

garbage bags

2005-10-25T16:28:00.000-04:00

Okay, if you really hate rainy days, and they really get you down...here's something to try.

Step 1: focus on a random object (the weirder the better)
Step 2: convince yourself that you're in love with it. No, seriously. Think of yourself as a camera focusing in on the one thing that you find significant.
Step 3: own it. Say, "That's my soggy branch, and no one else is going to appreciate but me."
Step 4: find another object and fall in love with it too.

After all, it's so easy getting hooked on the average rose or pretty cloud...but these commonplace items need love too. It's a lot harder when you're focusing on people though--to really fall in love with an ordinary person's ordinary quality. I'm pretty sure that people who love everything about everybody are experts at self-hypnosis because I just can't manage to do it.

One more thing about the rain. Back in high school, the guys freaked out about downpours more than the girls did. Why? "Yo man, I just got these new Tiiiiiiiiims." Result: plenty of douchebags walking around with garbage bags tied around their feet. Don't even try to justify it, please. Ever hear of spray-on rainguard? Believe it or not, it works--even on suede. That's how I wear my Tims in the rain, y'hear?

Identity theft

2005-10-24T18:15:00.000-04:00

There are a few things you should know if you're planning on stealing my identity:

1. TV is more regenerative than sleep. Watch it, like, all the time.

2. Whenever you buy something, make sure guilt immediately follows. Don't worry, it doesn't last long. Then buy again, rinse, and repeat.

3. Never leave your room unless absolutely necessary. No study breaks, no extracurriculars, nada. Know Maslow's hierarchy of needs? Yeah. Not on top yet. Don't liberally leave your room till you actually do reach self-actualization.

4. Learn how to cry on cue.

5. Think sour grapes. Now get really really good at convincing yourself about things that just aren't true.

6. Start a million books and finish only those that will be on an exam.

7. Make resolutions based off of "Mean Girls," like only wearing a ponytail once a week (same with jeans). See how long your lazy ass tosses that fresh idea in the pooper.

8. Attempt at decorating. And embroidering, and painting, knitting, cooking, baking....

9. Realize it's futile. You don't have the attention span to produce anything from scratch.

10. Feel really really dorkish about writing in a blog. Convince yourself it's because you lack love and need attention.

But really, the main thing is to act like nobody knows.
Knows what?
I don't know. Do you know?