So because I had to endure 4 incredibly long plane rides to and from the east coast, I bought some reading material. I also read my friend's magazines since they seemed interesting (Cosmopolitan is as interesting as you think it'd be, maybe even more). Aside from the "What he does when you're not around", and other articles, one thing that really caught my interest was a statistic: "85% of 18-25 year olds say their goal is to become rich." Granted, everyone wants to be rich, but how come it wasn't, "Their goal is to become rich doing something they LIKE?" For awhile now, I've struggled with what exactly equates to success. Most people, especially at Punahou, associate success with getting into a good college so that one can get a good job that will rake in the benjamins. Those who don't have that in mind- I take that back, everybody has money in mind whether they'd like to admit it or not. It may just be an awareness, a lust, or an indifferent attitude, but at one point, everyone has thought about how much $$ their job can offer. Let me rephrase that. Those who don't openly express wanting to be rich, as in the other 15% according to that survey, probably think success is "being happy". That term bothers me just because it's so vague. Practically everything makes at least one person out there happy. Being a hobo? Hey, some people like the fact that they don't have to worry with a job, no corruption & issue that naturally follow money. They like living off the aina. Though it could only be one person who feels this way, it's still someone. THey could feel "happy"/successful being a hobo!
This may seem really farfetched, so I guess I should also support my statement with a more feasible and believable example. The most common example of something that doesn't always make people "happy" is probably all those people who dedicate their lives to "making the world a better place". This could include saving homeless people (even the hobos who like being hobos), working with children in 3rd world countries, running various organizations/charities, etc. The pay is all what I call spiritual gratification- feeling good about what you're doing. You don't make a lot of money but you love what you do and feel rewarded anyway. This is being "happy". So when the 85% of 18-25 year olds say that they want to be rich, I feel sad. They need money to feel successful or "happy", whatever you want to call it. It's not really all that surprising, however, it's kind of pitiful that our generation loves $$$ more than helping others. This is the world we live in, and that's realism for you.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
Georgetown
So, I got lost on the Georgetown campus.
Our tour guide dropped us off at the bookstore. What a relief to get out of the cold into the toasty store. I absolutely have to buy this sweater. On the front it reads, "HOYAS. Georgetown University" And on the back, in huge letters, "G-TOWN." It screams at me to buy it. Our chaperone tells us to hurry because a Hawaii student is going to show us the inside of a dorm. Our chaperone is pretty pushy, I decide. I'm the last one at the checkout line and I want to bust out my traveler's checks since all college bookstores take them. Save my cash for the food. Lauren and Jennie are waiting for me, but then our chaperone shoos them outside, telling them to join the others and that she'll wait for me. $44.42, the cashier tells me. So I use two $20 traveler's checks and then pay the difference in cash. The cashier wishes me to have a nice day. And so far, it's been nice. I walk outside with my sweater in hand to find the lobby area empty. Where is the group? I reach into my pocket for my cellphone and realize that I forgot my phone on the damn bus. What a day to forget my phone, considering that I rarely go anywhere without it. I wonder how I'll ever be rescued. I ask the girl sitting under a "Georgetown Luau" banner if she knew where the group just standing out here went. She's from Hawaii. She tells me that they just left like a minute ago. I ask her in what direction, they were going to see some dorms I think. She says the dorms are scattered all over, but she instructs me to go outside (in the cold :() and go right. If I run, I can probably catch them since they just left. I do what she says, but instead of finding the 15 other students, 3 chaperones and 1 tour guide, I see lots of unfriendly faces. Well duh, I am in D.C. not exactly the same as Hawaii. I run quite far but I still don't see anybody. I think about asking some random, albeit unfriendly person to use their cell phone but then I find out, to my horror, that I don't have anyone's # memorized. My moms? What would that do, she'd freak out. My dad's? Same thing. Boyfriend? What could he do about it? How fast is my tourgroup walking?!?!? They must be practically running. But then again, everything is fast paced on the east coast. I stay on Hawaiian time. Confused and on the verge of panicing I return to the place I came from, the bookstore, in case someone should come back looking for me. That wasn't the case. The Hawaii girl is still there typing away on her laptop. I am sorry to bother her, but I am getting a little worked up. "Sorry, but I didn't find them. What do I do? Do you know the dorm they went to?"
She looks at me with eyes that show pity. "Oh, no. I tried calling Angela (the tour guide) but she didn't answer. I'll try again." I was now getting mad. Why weren't the "responsible" chaperones looking for me. Don't they care that one of their students, one of the ones they were responsible for and could get sued if something bad happened, is missing? The poor Hawaii Georgetown girl reassures me that they wouldn't leave without me. I know it's true, but they're really starting to cut it close. She directs me to go to the admissions building, I forgot what it was called, but I know I had a hard time hearing what it was. So I go to the admissions building, a gigantic old work that I had been taking pictures in front of an hour earlier. I walk inside and ask a very pale, vampire-esq lady if anyone from the Hawaii tour group had come in. She tells me no, but if I would like to use the phone to call someone, I could, in a blunt manner. "Wonderful." I think. "JUst grand, too bad I don't know anyone's #."Still no sign of a chaperone. Students were casually parading across the field/quad, bundled up but happy. I am not. I pace and walk around in circles thinking that they had left me for sure. I decide that I really should just stay in one place, so I plop myself down on the steps of the admissions building and wait, wondering what the chaperone will say to me... if she even comes, that is.
So then out of the corner of my eye, I see her, nonchalantly talking story with some student that I assume is the tour guide who took everyone to her dorm. Were they worried? I think not. No matter, I am saved! I am slightly salty after this whole ordeal, but it doesn't matter because I learned 2 very important things. DON'T EVER FORGET YOUR CELLPHONE (I already knew that though) and DON'T PANIC cause I probably looked ridiculous, frantically wandering around like a lost little baby. After this, I always made sure I had my cellphone wherever we went. And despite this whole incident, the east coast college tour was excellent, and something I'd recommend.
Our tour guide dropped us off at the bookstore. What a relief to get out of the cold into the toasty store. I absolutely have to buy this sweater. On the front it reads, "HOYAS. Georgetown University" And on the back, in huge letters, "G-TOWN." It screams at me to buy it. Our chaperone tells us to hurry because a Hawaii student is going to show us the inside of a dorm. Our chaperone is pretty pushy, I decide. I'm the last one at the checkout line and I want to bust out my traveler's checks since all college bookstores take them. Save my cash for the food. Lauren and Jennie are waiting for me, but then our chaperone shoos them outside, telling them to join the others and that she'll wait for me. $44.42, the cashier tells me. So I use two $20 traveler's checks and then pay the difference in cash. The cashier wishes me to have a nice day. And so far, it's been nice. I walk outside with my sweater in hand to find the lobby area empty. Where is the group? I reach into my pocket for my cellphone and realize that I forgot my phone on the damn bus. What a day to forget my phone, considering that I rarely go anywhere without it. I wonder how I'll ever be rescued. I ask the girl sitting under a "Georgetown Luau" banner if she knew where the group just standing out here went. She's from Hawaii. She tells me that they just left like a minute ago. I ask her in what direction, they were going to see some dorms I think. She says the dorms are scattered all over, but she instructs me to go outside (in the cold :() and go right. If I run, I can probably catch them since they just left. I do what she says, but instead of finding the 15 other students, 3 chaperones and 1 tour guide, I see lots of unfriendly faces. Well duh, I am in D.C. not exactly the same as Hawaii. I run quite far but I still don't see anybody. I think about asking some random, albeit unfriendly person to use their cell phone but then I find out, to my horror, that I don't have anyone's # memorized. My moms? What would that do, she'd freak out. My dad's? Same thing. Boyfriend? What could he do about it? How fast is my tourgroup walking?!?!? They must be practically running. But then again, everything is fast paced on the east coast. I stay on Hawaiian time. Confused and on the verge of panicing I return to the place I came from, the bookstore, in case someone should come back looking for me. That wasn't the case. The Hawaii girl is still there typing away on her laptop. I am sorry to bother her, but I am getting a little worked up. "Sorry, but I didn't find them. What do I do? Do you know the dorm they went to?"
She looks at me with eyes that show pity. "Oh, no. I tried calling Angela (the tour guide) but she didn't answer. I'll try again." I was now getting mad. Why weren't the "responsible" chaperones looking for me. Don't they care that one of their students, one of the ones they were responsible for and could get sued if something bad happened, is missing? The poor Hawaii Georgetown girl reassures me that they wouldn't leave without me. I know it's true, but they're really starting to cut it close. She directs me to go to the admissions building, I forgot what it was called, but I know I had a hard time hearing what it was. So I go to the admissions building, a gigantic old work that I had been taking pictures in front of an hour earlier. I walk inside and ask a very pale, vampire-esq lady if anyone from the Hawaii tour group had come in. She tells me no, but if I would like to use the phone to call someone, I could, in a blunt manner. "Wonderful." I think. "JUst grand, too bad I don't know anyone's #."Still no sign of a chaperone. Students were casually parading across the field/quad, bundled up but happy. I am not. I pace and walk around in circles thinking that they had left me for sure. I decide that I really should just stay in one place, so I plop myself down on the steps of the admissions building and wait, wondering what the chaperone will say to me... if she even comes, that is.
So then out of the corner of my eye, I see her, nonchalantly talking story with some student that I assume is the tour guide who took everyone to her dorm. Were they worried? I think not. No matter, I am saved! I am slightly salty after this whole ordeal, but it doesn't matter because I learned 2 very important things. DON'T EVER FORGET YOUR CELLPHONE (I already knew that though) and DON'T PANIC cause I probably looked ridiculous, frantically wandering around like a lost little baby. After this, I always made sure I had my cellphone wherever we went. And despite this whole incident, the east coast college tour was excellent, and something I'd recommend.
changing impressions
I just returned from the east coast college tour, and it really changed my initial impressions about some of the colleges we saw. I also discovered what really appeals to ME in a college, not something influenced by what I had heard was good, or what some of my friends looked for. I was very surprised to learn that my "requirements" for a college weren't what I had initially thought.
Prior to this trip, I had my stereotypes about each school, as I'm sure almost everybody has experienced... "All the Ivy's are amazing, and I should devote my high school career to build my transcript and extra-curriculars so I could go to an Ivy. Ivy, Ivy, Ivy, blah..." Sound familiar? Or how about this one: "Rural colleges suck, there's nothing to do. Urban is the way to go." I have been surrounded by these two stereotypes in particular, and after this trip, I now can say that I totally disagree with these statements. I went to 28 east coast colleges, ranging from the prestigeous Ivys to those super small, relatively unknown, liberal art colleges, and found out how opinions are really just... opinions.
Well, first, to tackle to most common misconception, I'll start off by saying that all the Ivy's are NOT amazing. Sure, it'd be absolutely fantabulous to get in an Ivy, but I wasn't exactly impressed with all of them. I found out that my favorite college was Boston College. Not an Ivy at all. Don't get my wrong, I liked a lot of them, but they weren't my favorites. Boston College had a superb campus, friendly people, excellent location, strong academics and athletics, and well, it's not in the real "reach" category that the Ivys are.
The only Ivy I was particularly fond of was UPenn, which is funny because I had initially liked it anyway, and then I was put down by my family because they were concerned about my safety, and well, Philly probably isn't the safest place at night, yes? But when I went there, I loved the campus, the curriculum, the people, the city, and obviously, the school had lots of security and saftey measures like the blue emergency light box to protect the students. And now to break the news about the Ivys I didn't exactly care for. I'll wait for the shock to subside... Harvard didn't really impress me. I couldn't see myself going there. And of course, I felt really bad for all the hobos outside on the Cambridge sidewalks. Yale, Princeton, Darthmouth? I liked them more than Harvard, but they weren't my top picks. Columbia? Twas OKAY... I wouldn't mind it I guess. Georgetown... I have a story about Georgetown, but I'll save that for my next blog. Yes, I'm sorry to say, that I am not super excited about the Ivys. I will not gush about the exquisite campuses and tell stories about how I loved them and how I really want to go to one so now I have to join x# more clubs and boost my GPA .x etc etc etc. But then again, it's just MY opinion.
So, prior to this trip, I had sort of ruled out going to rural colleges just because I thought I wanted the hustle and bustle of the exciting city life. However, I have discovered that I really don't like urban urban colleges like NYU or Boston University. NYU was okay, but because it is in New York, I saw myself getting lost in the crowds. But, I'll admit, I wouldn't ever get bored. As we were touring these campuses, I found that I was missing the whole quad thing, or "QUADRANGLE" as we found out the full name for it. BU? It was miles of sidewalk with the campus buildings on the side. Not my idea of a college, probably because I love Punahou's atmosphere. This whole swing of opinion really surprised me because I was practically sure that I wanted to be as far away from what is deemed a "rural" or "college town" campus. When we were driving to Dartmouth, all I saw were trees, snow, and quaint little houses and I thought to myself, "Oh man, where are the buildings? Malls? Movie theaters? WHAT IS THERE TO DO HERE?". But I actually liked Dartmouth a whole lot more than Harvard. Since it is smaller, the students include everybody in their parties, and there is a plethora of clubs and student groups so noone would find themselves stuck in their room on a Saturday night. It was peaceful and I felt like I'd actually have a place there; I wouldn't get lost in the masses and fast-paced city life. Don't get me wrong, Johns Hopkins was my second favorite following BC, and that's in Baltimore, but it did have a real campus, and it made me feel like I wasn't about to get run over by a stampede of people or meet hobos while walking to class.
I also learned that a "name" is nothing. Like brand name clothing, you can probably find something almost exactly the same for half the cost from an unknown brand. Many people probably never heard of Amherst College, like me, or Wesleyan (we learned that Mr. Dyke is an alumn) but I actually really enjoyed them. Tufts? Tufts had always been one of the colleges I was more interested in, but do most people know about it? Probably not. These colleges had what I was looking for, and this also led me to find that I might actually like small, liberal arts colleges better. The community is closer and you'll frequently interact with professors, which is what I wanted... but yeah, sure, it would give me personal satisfaction to attend some prestigious college that will leave people in awe when I tell them that I am indeed a student of said college. However, it's really not as cool as everyone makes it out to be.
The most important thing I've learned from this whole trip is to find out what you want in a college. Though I heard it all before in College guide, and my college conference, it didn't really hit me until now, when I actually experienced it firsthand. After all, it is your own college experience, not your friend who couldn't stop praising Yale, or your parents who tell you that Johns Hopkins is in a semi-ghetto. Cliche as it is, I found out a lot about myself. woohoo!
Prior to this trip, I had my stereotypes about each school, as I'm sure almost everybody has experienced... "All the Ivy's are amazing, and I should devote my high school career to build my transcript and extra-curriculars so I could go to an Ivy. Ivy, Ivy, Ivy, blah..." Sound familiar? Or how about this one: "Rural colleges suck, there's nothing to do. Urban is the way to go." I have been surrounded by these two stereotypes in particular, and after this trip, I now can say that I totally disagree with these statements. I went to 28 east coast colleges, ranging from the prestigeous Ivys to those super small, relatively unknown, liberal art colleges, and found out how opinions are really just... opinions.
Well, first, to tackle to most common misconception, I'll start off by saying that all the Ivy's are NOT amazing. Sure, it'd be absolutely fantabulous to get in an Ivy, but I wasn't exactly impressed with all of them. I found out that my favorite college was Boston College. Not an Ivy at all. Don't get my wrong, I liked a lot of them, but they weren't my favorites. Boston College had a superb campus, friendly people, excellent location, strong academics and athletics, and well, it's not in the real "reach" category that the Ivys are.
The only Ivy I was particularly fond of was UPenn, which is funny because I had initially liked it anyway, and then I was put down by my family because they were concerned about my safety, and well, Philly probably isn't the safest place at night, yes? But when I went there, I loved the campus, the curriculum, the people, the city, and obviously, the school had lots of security and saftey measures like the blue emergency light box to protect the students. And now to break the news about the Ivys I didn't exactly care for. I'll wait for the shock to subside... Harvard didn't really impress me. I couldn't see myself going there. And of course, I felt really bad for all the hobos outside on the Cambridge sidewalks. Yale, Princeton, Darthmouth? I liked them more than Harvard, but they weren't my top picks. Columbia? Twas OKAY... I wouldn't mind it I guess. Georgetown... I have a story about Georgetown, but I'll save that for my next blog. Yes, I'm sorry to say, that I am not super excited about the Ivys. I will not gush about the exquisite campuses and tell stories about how I loved them and how I really want to go to one so now I have to join x# more clubs and boost my GPA .x etc etc etc. But then again, it's just MY opinion.
So, prior to this trip, I had sort of ruled out going to rural colleges just because I thought I wanted the hustle and bustle of the exciting city life. However, I have discovered that I really don't like urban urban colleges like NYU or Boston University. NYU was okay, but because it is in New York, I saw myself getting lost in the crowds. But, I'll admit, I wouldn't ever get bored. As we were touring these campuses, I found that I was missing the whole quad thing, or "QUADRANGLE" as we found out the full name for it. BU? It was miles of sidewalk with the campus buildings on the side. Not my idea of a college, probably because I love Punahou's atmosphere. This whole swing of opinion really surprised me because I was practically sure that I wanted to be as far away from what is deemed a "rural" or "college town" campus. When we were driving to Dartmouth, all I saw were trees, snow, and quaint little houses and I thought to myself, "Oh man, where are the buildings? Malls? Movie theaters? WHAT IS THERE TO DO HERE?". But I actually liked Dartmouth a whole lot more than Harvard. Since it is smaller, the students include everybody in their parties, and there is a plethora of clubs and student groups so noone would find themselves stuck in their room on a Saturday night. It was peaceful and I felt like I'd actually have a place there; I wouldn't get lost in the masses and fast-paced city life. Don't get me wrong, Johns Hopkins was my second favorite following BC, and that's in Baltimore, but it did have a real campus, and it made me feel like I wasn't about to get run over by a stampede of people or meet hobos while walking to class.
I also learned that a "name" is nothing. Like brand name clothing, you can probably find something almost exactly the same for half the cost from an unknown brand. Many people probably never heard of Amherst College, like me, or Wesleyan (we learned that Mr. Dyke is an alumn) but I actually really enjoyed them. Tufts? Tufts had always been one of the colleges I was more interested in, but do most people know about it? Probably not. These colleges had what I was looking for, and this also led me to find that I might actually like small, liberal arts colleges better. The community is closer and you'll frequently interact with professors, which is what I wanted... but yeah, sure, it would give me personal satisfaction to attend some prestigious college that will leave people in awe when I tell them that I am indeed a student of said college. However, it's really not as cool as everyone makes it out to be.
The most important thing I've learned from this whole trip is to find out what you want in a college. Though I heard it all before in College guide, and my college conference, it didn't really hit me until now, when I actually experienced it firsthand. After all, it is your own college experience, not your friend who couldn't stop praising Yale, or your parents who tell you that Johns Hopkins is in a semi-ghetto. Cliche as it is, I found out a lot about myself. woohoo!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
This is Why I'm Not Hot
I despise the song "This is why I'm Hot" by an artist who has cleverly named himself "Mims" because he wants his audience to wonder what the heck Mims means. I guess if you like shallow lyrics with pre-school wording, as many of the mainstream hip-hop songs do these days, then this song will be perfect for you. This is what I would tell Mims.
Dear Mims,
I don't like your song, "This is why I'm Hot". I'm sick of hearing it on the radio. Hearing this song makes me cringe and want to plug my ears with many wads of cotton or put on those lovely sound blocking headphones from Bose. You have truly outdone "It's Going Down" by Yung Joc, which was previously on the top of my "Most Hated Songs That Make Me Want to Bang my Head on a Wall to Get Rid of the Noise" list. Do you call this music? I'm not a hip-hop mogul or anything, but this seriously is giving hip-hop a bad name. First of all, your lyrics give me the impression that you have only completed primary schooling, maybe up to 6th grade. That's not good, my friend. Your chorus, supposedly the most "catchy" part of the song goes like "I'm hot cause I'm fly, you ain't cause you not. This is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot." Not to mention the fact that you repeat "This is why I'm hot" for over half the song. I don't get it. Looking at the rest of the lyrics, I can only conclude that the sole reason you are "hot" is that you are "fly". Fly, being "pimping" and sleeping with many women, dressing stylishly, and basically having other fellow gangsters covet your possessions and again, women. And apparently, everyone else isn't hot cause they aren't fly. There's a lack of creativity going on here that also goes beyond poor lyrics. I noticed that you used clips of Kanye's "Jesus Walks" E40's "Tell Me When to Go" and Dr. Dre's "Like This and Like That". What happend to your OWN beat. Granted, it sounds like some weird techno beat, punctuated by high pitched, echoey "woos". But, at least it was your own, right? Although I have to say, the parts where you use the other artist's songs are the best of the entire song.
I'd like to give you an example of DECENT lyrics in the current hip-hop world. This is from Outkast's "PJ & Rooster". "Nobody wanted to dance when I had a lot of time on my hands. Now i got a lot of hands on my time and everybody want to be a friend of mine." That is clever rhyming. There's a play on words right there. I applaud Outkast for their wit, and though some of their songs have conformed, a lot of them are original and unique. "I'm hot cause I'm fly, you ain't cause you not" is just ridiculously bad. Wow. Thanks for pointing that out, Mims. I'm not hot cause I'm not fly. Or at least that's what I'm assuming that you're saying since you don't even specificy WHAT I ain't or WHAT I'm not. I'm not fly cause I'm not hot? WHATEVER. I'm confusing myself now. Thank your fans for supporting your "music" because if they were all like me, you might be in trouble like K. Federline. Okay well thanks for your time Mims. I hope you take what I said to heart and search deep inside that little brain of yours for some good ideas for a new song.
Sorry, I just couldn't stand this song after I heard it on the radio approximately 15 minutes ago. I immediately switched the station praying that I wouldn't be greeted by it on another station (which isn't uncommon these days). Seriously, I think a lot of the music on the radio these days (at least a lot of hip-hop songs) are terrible. Trash. Thankfully I can turn to my iPod that has the songs I DO like, but this makes me wonder who actually listens to these songs and ENJOYS them? There obviously must be a lot of fans if songs of such low quality can recieve some radio time. What is this world coming to?
Dear Mims,
I don't like your song, "This is why I'm Hot". I'm sick of hearing it on the radio. Hearing this song makes me cringe and want to plug my ears with many wads of cotton or put on those lovely sound blocking headphones from Bose. You have truly outdone "It's Going Down" by Yung Joc, which was previously on the top of my "Most Hated Songs That Make Me Want to Bang my Head on a Wall to Get Rid of the Noise" list. Do you call this music? I'm not a hip-hop mogul or anything, but this seriously is giving hip-hop a bad name. First of all, your lyrics give me the impression that you have only completed primary schooling, maybe up to 6th grade. That's not good, my friend. Your chorus, supposedly the most "catchy" part of the song goes like "I'm hot cause I'm fly, you ain't cause you not. This is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot." Not to mention the fact that you repeat "This is why I'm hot" for over half the song. I don't get it. Looking at the rest of the lyrics, I can only conclude that the sole reason you are "hot" is that you are "fly". Fly, being "pimping" and sleeping with many women, dressing stylishly, and basically having other fellow gangsters covet your possessions and again, women. And apparently, everyone else isn't hot cause they aren't fly. There's a lack of creativity going on here that also goes beyond poor lyrics. I noticed that you used clips of Kanye's "Jesus Walks" E40's "Tell Me When to Go" and Dr. Dre's "Like This and Like That". What happend to your OWN beat. Granted, it sounds like some weird techno beat, punctuated by high pitched, echoey "woos". But, at least it was your own, right? Although I have to say, the parts where you use the other artist's songs are the best of the entire song.
I'd like to give you an example of DECENT lyrics in the current hip-hop world. This is from Outkast's "PJ & Rooster". "Nobody wanted to dance when I had a lot of time on my hands. Now i got a lot of hands on my time and everybody want to be a friend of mine." That is clever rhyming. There's a play on words right there. I applaud Outkast for their wit, and though some of their songs have conformed, a lot of them are original and unique. "I'm hot cause I'm fly, you ain't cause you not" is just ridiculously bad. Wow. Thanks for pointing that out, Mims. I'm not hot cause I'm not fly. Or at least that's what I'm assuming that you're saying since you don't even specificy WHAT I ain't or WHAT I'm not. I'm not fly cause I'm not hot? WHATEVER. I'm confusing myself now. Thank your fans for supporting your "music" because if they were all like me, you might be in trouble like K. Federline. Okay well thanks for your time Mims. I hope you take what I said to heart and search deep inside that little brain of yours for some good ideas for a new song.
Sorry, I just couldn't stand this song after I heard it on the radio approximately 15 minutes ago. I immediately switched the station praying that I wouldn't be greeted by it on another station (which isn't uncommon these days). Seriously, I think a lot of the music on the radio these days (at least a lot of hip-hop songs) are terrible. Trash. Thankfully I can turn to my iPod that has the songs I DO like, but this makes me wonder who actually listens to these songs and ENJOYS them? There obviously must be a lot of fans if songs of such low quality can recieve some radio time. What is this world coming to?
My Unbreakable Habit
When I think about my habit, I always ask myself, why couldn't I be like those people who are blessed with GOOD habits, like cleaning my room (not obessive compulsively though), always putting things back where I got them, etc? Sadly, I got the short end of the stick, stuck with the bad habits that just end up screwing me over. I've been plagued with my disgusting habit ever since Kindergarden. 12 years later, You would think I'd have quit biting my nails since it's such an unsightly habit, especially for girls, but much to the dismay of my parents and myself, it has oh-so kindly stuck around.
Nail-biting, also called "onychophagia" in medical speak is commonly associated with boredom, nervousness and excitement. I pretty much do it all the time, though I think it's mainly when I'm bored. When I was really young, I used to suck my blanket. When I entered Kindergarden, many of my peers were biting their nails. I also couldn't have my blanket. I'm pretty sure this is one of the earliest examples of peer pressure's horrible effects because I started biting my nails then. While everyone else did too.
My mom always yells at me, nagging to stop since it's gross and unsanitary. You think I don't know that mom? I HATE it. I've tried everything in the book, but one, by one, they have all failed. Nail polish? It keeps the nail biting at bay for about half the day before I peel the polish off and resume nibbling. My mom took action and bought me the "real stuff" that's supposed to help kids wean off nail biting. This mirachle worker is a bottle of a non-toxic chemical that has a horrible, intense bitter taste. It's supposed to discourage anyone from putting their fingers in their mouth because of the association (finger in mouth=bad taste so stop kind of natural adaptation thing we learned about in bio). Well, I guess I'm not "anyone" because it didn't work. Although it was a little more effective, all I did was wash it off, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not like after the bathroom, and it was gone. I then went back to nibbling and the tips and picking at the cuticles. Something that sort of worked was giving up my biting my nails for Lent. It was a pretty stupid thing to give up, but I knew it was really hard so it would be a REAL sacrifice. It held up until Easter, of course. After Easter came it was back to the same old same old.
My nail biting didn't always seem that bad to me. As a little kid, it's something many people thnk of as a phase, and that their child will grow out of it in no time. I have some statistics here:
About 50% of children between the ages of 10 and 18 bite their nails at one time or another.
Great. I'm not in the minority. I was amazed at this since I don't really know that many other people who bite their nails now. I've discovered that it's quite embarassing. It's certainly not 50% around here.
About 23% of young adults, ages 18 to 22 years, bite their nails.
Excellent, I have 1 year until I'm one of the 23% of young adults. I hope I stop and join the other 77%.
Boys bite their nails more often than girls after age 10.
Yes, now here comes the whole boys vs. girls issue. I remember my softball coach once told me to stop biting my nails because of the whole playing softball in a DIRT field thing. Completely unsanitary and distracting. I pointed out that he bit his nails too. He replied that he was a boy and it was okay for boys but not for girls. I was a bit insulted, but I realized he was right. It makes me want to sit on my hands forever when I see girls with long, finely manicured fingernails, sporting a french manicure or "silver palm trees". I must say, I get extremely jealous and motivated. This motivation seems like it could propel me over this large barracade that has blocked me over all these years, but, alas, it never has come close enough. Trips to the manicurist are even more embarassing. When I went to Junior Function and Senior Prom, the lady looked at my nails and demanded, "Why so short?" in her distinct Vietnamese accent. "Not good for manicure" she told me. I smiled sheepishly and replied "I know," which has developed into my typical response to a comment about how short my nails are and how I should stop biting. I've had to use it many times.
The few manicures I've had gotten (putting on acrylic nails on my stubs of course) have actually proven to be the most effective treatement for my nail biting. The fake nails usually last for a couple weeks/month and since they cover my nails, I can no longer bite them. THey are also very difficult to remove since they are firmly attached, and trying to pull/peel them off is painful. Whenever these savior nails fall off, my own ugly ones look a tad longer and for those brief moments I am proud. It seems, however, that I have bcome so accustomed to short nails that I can't imagine life with long ones. For example. the fake nials made it extremely difficult for me to put my contacts on. I felt like I was going to stab my eye. Typing took two times slower. Everything felt so foreign. It made me realize how long nail biting has been impacting my life. I have incorporated short nails into my daily activities.
Despite these difficulties, I know that I must STOP before I end up ingesting some kind of gross tapeworm, or live my life trying to cover my fingertips. So now, a final statistic that made me smile after I read it: Only a small number of other adults bite their nails. Most people stop biting their nails on their own by age 30.
This gives me hope. It might take until I am 30, but oh well. At least I'll stop. For now, I just gotta keep on trying.
Nail-biting, also called "onychophagia" in medical speak is commonly associated with boredom, nervousness and excitement. I pretty much do it all the time, though I think it's mainly when I'm bored. When I was really young, I used to suck my blanket. When I entered Kindergarden, many of my peers were biting their nails. I also couldn't have my blanket. I'm pretty sure this is one of the earliest examples of peer pressure's horrible effects because I started biting my nails then. While everyone else did too.
My mom always yells at me, nagging to stop since it's gross and unsanitary. You think I don't know that mom? I HATE it. I've tried everything in the book, but one, by one, they have all failed. Nail polish? It keeps the nail biting at bay for about half the day before I peel the polish off and resume nibbling. My mom took action and bought me the "real stuff" that's supposed to help kids wean off nail biting. This mirachle worker is a bottle of a non-toxic chemical that has a horrible, intense bitter taste. It's supposed to discourage anyone from putting their fingers in their mouth because of the association (finger in mouth=bad taste so stop kind of natural adaptation thing we learned about in bio). Well, I guess I'm not "anyone" because it didn't work. Although it was a little more effective, all I did was wash it off, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not like after the bathroom, and it was gone. I then went back to nibbling and the tips and picking at the cuticles. Something that sort of worked was giving up my biting my nails for Lent. It was a pretty stupid thing to give up, but I knew it was really hard so it would be a REAL sacrifice. It held up until Easter, of course. After Easter came it was back to the same old same old.
My nail biting didn't always seem that bad to me. As a little kid, it's something many people thnk of as a phase, and that their child will grow out of it in no time. I have some statistics here:
About 50% of children between the ages of 10 and 18 bite their nails at one time or another.
Great. I'm not in the minority. I was amazed at this since I don't really know that many other people who bite their nails now. I've discovered that it's quite embarassing. It's certainly not 50% around here.
About 23% of young adults, ages 18 to 22 years, bite their nails.
Excellent, I have 1 year until I'm one of the 23% of young adults. I hope I stop and join the other 77%.
Boys bite their nails more often than girls after age 10.
Yes, now here comes the whole boys vs. girls issue. I remember my softball coach once told me to stop biting my nails because of the whole playing softball in a DIRT field thing. Completely unsanitary and distracting. I pointed out that he bit his nails too. He replied that he was a boy and it was okay for boys but not for girls. I was a bit insulted, but I realized he was right. It makes me want to sit on my hands forever when I see girls with long, finely manicured fingernails, sporting a french manicure or "silver palm trees". I must say, I get extremely jealous and motivated. This motivation seems like it could propel me over this large barracade that has blocked me over all these years, but, alas, it never has come close enough. Trips to the manicurist are even more embarassing. When I went to Junior Function and Senior Prom, the lady looked at my nails and demanded, "Why so short?" in her distinct Vietnamese accent. "Not good for manicure" she told me. I smiled sheepishly and replied "I know," which has developed into my typical response to a comment about how short my nails are and how I should stop biting. I've had to use it many times.
The few manicures I've had gotten (putting on acrylic nails on my stubs of course) have actually proven to be the most effective treatement for my nail biting. The fake nails usually last for a couple weeks/month and since they cover my nails, I can no longer bite them. THey are also very difficult to remove since they are firmly attached, and trying to pull/peel them off is painful. Whenever these savior nails fall off, my own ugly ones look a tad longer and for those brief moments I am proud. It seems, however, that I have bcome so accustomed to short nails that I can't imagine life with long ones. For example. the fake nials made it extremely difficult for me to put my contacts on. I felt like I was going to stab my eye. Typing took two times slower. Everything felt so foreign. It made me realize how long nail biting has been impacting my life. I have incorporated short nails into my daily activities.
Despite these difficulties, I know that I must STOP before I end up ingesting some kind of gross tapeworm, or live my life trying to cover my fingertips. So now, a final statistic that made me smile after I read it: Only a small number of other adults bite their nails. Most people stop biting their nails on their own by age 30.
This gives me hope. It might take until I am 30, but oh well. At least I'll stop. For now, I just gotta keep on trying.
Monday, March 12, 2007
The Excess Accumulation of Statements
Have you ever tried to lengthen a paper because the requirement was 3-4 pages and you said what you needed to in 2? Did you use longer ways of saying a certain sentence, or did you add extra "reinforcement" sentences that basically say what you already did, creating irrelevant and repetitive nonsense? I myself haven't really had a problem with making my papers longer, however, I believe that creating a paper "length" requirement can sometimes reduce the quality of the assignment. I was taking notes for AP biology on the chapter talking about the structure of a plant. In the definition of an axillary bud, it talked about a "lateral shoot" and then added on, "commonly refered to as a branch". I thought that was funny because I could picture people calling branches "lateral shoots" in an effort to sound more intelligent, and used in a paper if there was length involved. QUANTITY DOESN'T ALWAYS MEAN QUALITY, PEOPLE. I get so annoyed when people ask, "How long is your paper? Mine is about 5." I'm just like, "Okay that's great. So you wrote 2 more pages than the required. It could all be a bunch of *insert inappropriate word here*. If anything, I would focus on cutting down excess pages to see if there are more concise and clear means of saying what I have written.
Because students may feel pressured to have the paper be x length long, or x number of words, they may find themselves stretching out their sentences instead of efficiently creating sentences with concise words. They might even turn to being "Thesaurus happy" and using the thesaurus to look for a new "bigger" word in place of almost everything. For example, take the sentence "I used a pen to write my paper." In "this essay needs to be 4 pages" mode, the sentence could be "I grasped the ink spewing thin, cylindrical writing implement lightly and began to scribble the roman alphabet into organized rows on my thin wooden sheet." No no no that is bad. I know this is a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm pretty sure almost any student can relate/knows someone guilty of this. Teachers should not find that QUANTITY is what matters, quality is much better. I know a lot of teachers have already discoved this, but it should be reinforced. I would personally rather read a paper that may be a little short rather than a paper that is long and begins to sound like blah blah blah.It's falling on deaf ears.
Because students may feel pressured to have the paper be x length long, or x number of words, they may find themselves stretching out their sentences instead of efficiently creating sentences with concise words. They might even turn to being "Thesaurus happy" and using the thesaurus to look for a new "bigger" word in place of almost everything. For example, take the sentence "I used a pen to write my paper." In "this essay needs to be 4 pages" mode, the sentence could be "I grasped the ink spewing thin, cylindrical writing implement lightly and began to scribble the roman alphabet into organized rows on my thin wooden sheet." No no no that is bad. I know this is a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm pretty sure almost any student can relate/knows someone guilty of this. Teachers should not find that QUANTITY is what matters, quality is much better. I know a lot of teachers have already discoved this, but it should be reinforced. I would personally rather read a paper that may be a little short rather than a paper that is long and begins to sound like blah blah blah.It's falling on deaf ears.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
my ridiculous sweet 16
So I pretty much hate MTV's "My Super Sweet 16", or as I like to call it, "My Airtime On TV Where I Look Like a Spoiled Brat and Throw An Uneccessarily Huge Party". Or something to that effect. You may ask why I watch stuff like that if I hate it so much. I often find myself wondering the same question, but I have to admit, as much as I want to scream and slap the spoilt insanely rich featured kids, and ask their parents what is going through their minds, I watch bits and pieces just to see the extravagance. How much will this kids parent's spend on the entire thing (one.whole.night.)? What kind of car will this girl beg and plead for? Are there going to be any "bitches" who could potentially ruin the party? Why do I watch this thing? Maybe it's because stupid people interest me. Their ridiculous antiques are certainly entertaining. One thing is for sure, I definitely know I don't watch the show because I want to be like them. Their behavior appalls me. I'm dumbfounded when I see these kids complaining and acting downright hysterical when they get a mitsubishi instead of a mercedes, or they don't get the mainstream artist/band of their choice. Oh no, they're not going to be cool enough! And I'm sorry, just getting your own car isn't acceptable. It has to be one at least over $50,000 and "pretty". One particular episode really pissed me off because the girl didn't even pass her PERMIT test (we all know it's super easy), and she shook off studying because she thought she could ace it. AND to make it worse, she cried and made a show and her dad ended up getting her a car anyway. are you kidding me? It's infuriating and frustrating, especially this one time where I changed the channel because I couldn't take it and I caught the end of a commerical about some kind of save children in Africa organization. I couldn't believe the nerve of the people on the show. How can you be whining about a "party crasher" or an ugly dress when there are millions of starving, sick children whose families probably make as much as the price of your hairdo. I'm not saying I hate all riches. I mean, I like shopping and buying things as much as the next girl, and I've always dreamed about what it would be like to live in one of those huge 20 roomed mansions with 10 cars and a waterfall/pool. But, what I really hate is how every single party thrower is arrogant, lazy, and obviously spoiled. They haven't and probably won't work for their money. I'm guessing they won't ever know what it's like to experience triumph and personal satisfaction with recieving a first paycheck because they'll continue to get money from daddy's wallet... forever! They always compliment themselves and state how "hot" they are and how no one will come close to topping their party, like it's a well-known fact. Please, you're on national TV and you look like an idiot. I'll spend my time somewhere else. There are more important things in my life.
I blame our society, but I can't say that I am a perfect saint and non-conformist, as hard as I try to deviate from the "norm". I will say that our society puts luxury and extravagance on a pedestal, as if there is a gigantic neon arrow that reads "YOU WANT TO BE LIKE THIS" pointing to it. There's too much pressure to be accepted and respected, and people tend to think the process of achieving such a state must involve cha-ching and bling-bling. Don't even get me started on society's view of apperances. I'll save that for another blog. Don't get me wrong. I like shiny things and one day I hope to have a job that rakes in a substantial income, but no matter what, I'd like to keep my dignity, thank you very much.
I blame our society, but I can't say that I am a perfect saint and non-conformist, as hard as I try to deviate from the "norm". I will say that our society puts luxury and extravagance on a pedestal, as if there is a gigantic neon arrow that reads "YOU WANT TO BE LIKE THIS" pointing to it. There's too much pressure to be accepted and respected, and people tend to think the process of achieving such a state must involve cha-ching and bling-bling. Don't even get me started on society's view of apperances. I'll save that for another blog. Don't get me wrong. I like shiny things and one day I hope to have a job that rakes in a substantial income, but no matter what, I'd like to keep my dignity, thank you very much.
Monday, March 5, 2007
mustard
Okay, so I've realized that I actually have to be kind of serious on this thing. My last few posts were pretty much jokes. Although, I have come to realize that my "voice" works best in humorous pieces, or something not as structured, etc. But for the purpose of this class, I shall try to write things of substance, or actual intellect... Or ...something, not just random things that don't have any meaning and just flow out of my head.
As time whittles away, my words are
Stubbornly blocked
Damn you.
Free the words from their
Jambs.
Kicking away but
Lodged in the folds and wrinkles of my brain
; asdfjkl; asdfljk;
okay, that was a warm-up! Now time for the REAL blog.
This is messed up. I can't write anything. I'm guessing it's because I feel like I have to be "serious" now. Therefore, I actually have to THINK of a topic to write about so it'll be "appropriate". I can't write as I please. Is there such a thing as writer's block? I've heard that there is no such thing. The brain is just being lazy, and it's just an excuse. OKAY I've got a topic now. FOR REAL KINE. I remembered reading this prompt before in an example of a college essay question for U of Chicago.
"If you had to purchase a Costco size jar of mustard, what would you do with it?" or something like that, I can't remember the exact wording.
This question bewilders me. Of course, for the sake of a college admissions essay I wouldn't dare say "I have no idea." But that'd be the real truth. I always eat my hotdogs with ketchup, and only ketchup. No relish, and absolutely no mustard. There is no sign of the trademark yellow stain on my shirt, similar to the ones my father gets when he bites into his juicy dog and bun. The only condiment smears on my napkin are red or mayonaise white. I prefer my sandwiches naked and dry if need be, thank you. Grey Popon or Djon? I've never had to make the desicion.
With that being said, I don't really know what I'd do with such an excess amount of mustard. I could take the saintly route and give it to needy people or some sort of organization that supports starving, underpriviledged children, but I don't think it would do any good. It seems obvious to me that being a condiment, mustard doesn't have any nutritional value. It's nothing close to being actual sustanance, but I guess if they got some hot dogs or ham sandwiches, they could always use it as a sort of extra luxury. Ah, the luxury of adding a condiment so the sandwich will taste a little better. I won't strike that off the list. I've thought of the idea of making art with the mustard. Mustard is a root right?I'm sure cave people used dirt, roots and plants to make their paints. Cave drawings were innovative considering their time period. Why not relive the whole process? No, that wouldn't work because I can't stand the smell of mustard. It's too tangy and sharp. Inhaling just a whiff makes my eyes water. I can't imagine what a whole Costco sized jar would smell like, though I did see the Jackass episode where Steve-O snorted wasabi. You can probably picture the effects...what a pretty sight that made. ridiculous. This pretty much eliminates using the mustard for any interactive activities, such as mustard fights (in bottles.. think about the squeezing capabilities of a fully loaded mustard bottle. FUN) & mustard colored clothes (not really all that fashionable anyway& I don't care for the color it seems pukey and dull).
This question is a real stumper. What would I do with all this mustard? So far, I'd opt to donate it to the mustard-loving needy, since it's probably the most beneficial and spiritually gratifying (HA) but that's such a predictable answer. It seems like the better question is what wouldn't I do with all this mustard? That's probably easier for me to answer. If I were given a lot of something else, like a cartful of tangerines or 1000 boxes of jello, I could immediately conjure a few plans to use these items that I would actually carry out. But alas, I am stuck with mustard. I'll just find a few friends who are really fond of mustard and give it to them. I can't think of any now, but I do know people who really love ketchup. They blindly grab way too many packets from the cafeteria, but instead of saying, "Damn, I took too many packets of ketchup", they excitedly exclaim "yes! I got some extra ketchup! You can always use more." And if there's people who care that much about one condiment, I'm sure there are plenty who love the others. Mustard needs lovin too... just not from me.
As time whittles away, my words are
Stubbornly blocked
Damn you.
Free the words from their
Jambs.
Kicking away but
Lodged in the folds and wrinkles of my brain
; asdfjkl; asdfljk;
okay, that was a warm-up! Now time for the REAL blog.
This is messed up. I can't write anything. I'm guessing it's because I feel like I have to be "serious" now. Therefore, I actually have to THINK of a topic to write about so it'll be "appropriate". I can't write as I please. Is there such a thing as writer's block? I've heard that there is no such thing. The brain is just being lazy, and it's just an excuse. OKAY I've got a topic now. FOR REAL KINE. I remembered reading this prompt before in an example of a college essay question for U of Chicago.
"If you had to purchase a Costco size jar of mustard, what would you do with it?" or something like that, I can't remember the exact wording.
This question bewilders me. Of course, for the sake of a college admissions essay I wouldn't dare say "I have no idea." But that'd be the real truth. I always eat my hotdogs with ketchup, and only ketchup. No relish, and absolutely no mustard. There is no sign of the trademark yellow stain on my shirt, similar to the ones my father gets when he bites into his juicy dog and bun. The only condiment smears on my napkin are red or mayonaise white. I prefer my sandwiches naked and dry if need be, thank you. Grey Popon or Djon? I've never had to make the desicion.
With that being said, I don't really know what I'd do with such an excess amount of mustard. I could take the saintly route and give it to needy people or some sort of organization that supports starving, underpriviledged children, but I don't think it would do any good. It seems obvious to me that being a condiment, mustard doesn't have any nutritional value. It's nothing close to being actual sustanance, but I guess if they got some hot dogs or ham sandwiches, they could always use it as a sort of extra luxury. Ah, the luxury of adding a condiment so the sandwich will taste a little better. I won't strike that off the list. I've thought of the idea of making art with the mustard. Mustard is a root right?I'm sure cave people used dirt, roots and plants to make their paints. Cave drawings were innovative considering their time period. Why not relive the whole process? No, that wouldn't work because I can't stand the smell of mustard. It's too tangy and sharp. Inhaling just a whiff makes my eyes water. I can't imagine what a whole Costco sized jar would smell like, though I did see the Jackass episode where Steve-O snorted wasabi. You can probably picture the effects...what a pretty sight that made. ridiculous. This pretty much eliminates using the mustard for any interactive activities, such as mustard fights (in bottles.. think about the squeezing capabilities of a fully loaded mustard bottle. FUN) & mustard colored clothes (not really all that fashionable anyway& I don't care for the color it seems pukey and dull).
This question is a real stumper. What would I do with all this mustard? So far, I'd opt to donate it to the mustard-loving needy, since it's probably the most beneficial and spiritually gratifying (HA) but that's such a predictable answer. It seems like the better question is what wouldn't I do with all this mustard? That's probably easier for me to answer. If I were given a lot of something else, like a cartful of tangerines or 1000 boxes of jello, I could immediately conjure a few plans to use these items that I would actually carry out. But alas, I am stuck with mustard. I'll just find a few friends who are really fond of mustard and give it to them. I can't think of any now, but I do know people who really love ketchup. They blindly grab way too many packets from the cafeteria, but instead of saying, "Damn, I took too many packets of ketchup", they excitedly exclaim "yes! I got some extra ketchup! You can always use more." And if there's people who care that much about one condiment, I'm sure there are plenty who love the others. Mustard needs lovin too... just not from me.
Friday, March 2, 2007
asianess at its finest
i'm pretty sure i'm one of the best representatives of what it means to be asian. not quite an epitome, but pretty darn close. i was inspired to write something after i took a quiz on "how asian are you?" so here are 10 reasons why i'm really, really asian, using the most common stereotypes.
1. i'm under 5'4". i guess this is one my weaker asian qualities, simply because if i was an EXTREME asian, i'd probably be under 5'1" or something. thank goodness (no offense to short people), although i've heard shorter girls are more approachable and attractive. is this true?
2. my eyes are extremely squinty, and even more squinty when i take a picture. enough said. friend: hey sara, you closed your eyes. me: THEY'RE OPEN! yeah and stuff like that etc. after hearing that too much, i now try to open my eyes as wide as possible when i take a picture, but not so much that i look like a bug-eyed creep who stares all the time.
3. i'd die without rice. yeah... when i go to the mainland and they don't have rice, it's like WTF MATE? or they have this really, hard, grainy, dry stuff that i just look at with disgust. but i'm not that picky! just going into withdrawals here. pasta and potatoes don't cut it. and where is my shoyu?
4. i freak out about school. the end.
5. i have parents that freak out about school, probably even more than i do.
6. i surround myself with asian people. it's definitely influenced by punahou, hawaii, and whatnot, but yeah. and i don't have anything against non-asian people either. in fact, i LOVE non-asian people. except i kind of feel awkward on the mainland when i'm like the ONLY asian person. for example, our softball team went to south dakota for nationals and we were kind of out of place. hah... it was fun hanging out in the cornfields though... yup and chilling with one of our new local friends' pet racoon and go-karts. haha again. ANYWAY, that's not the point. the point is, i tend to have more asian friends than non-asian friends. i mean, i hang out at a place nicknamed the "boat", simply because most of its hangout-ees are asian. approximately 97%. idk this isn't a very good reason. i think i'm stretching it.
7. i dye my hair. my most recent hair color started out a redish brown but somehow turned into a light brown kind of blondeish in some places. stupid sun.
8. i play a musical instrument. and yes, i started out on piano at age 10 (that's kind of late for most asian kids :) ) and then now, i play the viola. in orchestra. woooo.
9. i love asian food, and i'm not restricted to only one kind. japanese, KOREAN, thai, indian (is that considered asian?, cambodian, and of course, chinese... but not like chicken feet, cow tongue, intestine or anything. i do like 1000 year old egg though. that's the chinese in me. and bubble teas are the most awesomest drink ever. sushi. udon. MEAT JUN. mandoo. kalbi. mandoo kook su. ooooo salivating here.
10.
1. i'm under 5'4". i guess this is one my weaker asian qualities, simply because if i was an EXTREME asian, i'd probably be under 5'1" or something. thank goodness (no offense to short people), although i've heard shorter girls are more approachable and attractive. is this true?
2. my eyes are extremely squinty, and even more squinty when i take a picture. enough said. friend: hey sara, you closed your eyes. me: THEY'RE OPEN! yeah and stuff like that etc. after hearing that too much, i now try to open my eyes as wide as possible when i take a picture, but not so much that i look like a bug-eyed creep who stares all the time.
3. i'd die without rice. yeah... when i go to the mainland and they don't have rice, it's like WTF MATE? or they have this really, hard, grainy, dry stuff that i just look at with disgust. but i'm not that picky! just going into withdrawals here. pasta and potatoes don't cut it. and where is my shoyu?
4. i freak out about school. the end.
5. i have parents that freak out about school, probably even more than i do.
6. i surround myself with asian people. it's definitely influenced by punahou, hawaii, and whatnot, but yeah. and i don't have anything against non-asian people either. in fact, i LOVE non-asian people. except i kind of feel awkward on the mainland when i'm like the ONLY asian person. for example, our softball team went to south dakota for nationals and we were kind of out of place. hah... it was fun hanging out in the cornfields though... yup and chilling with one of our new local friends' pet racoon and go-karts. haha again. ANYWAY, that's not the point. the point is, i tend to have more asian friends than non-asian friends. i mean, i hang out at a place nicknamed the "boat", simply because most of its hangout-ees are asian. approximately 97%. idk this isn't a very good reason. i think i'm stretching it.
7. i dye my hair. my most recent hair color started out a redish brown but somehow turned into a light brown kind of blondeish in some places. stupid sun.
8. i play a musical instrument. and yes, i started out on piano at age 10 (that's kind of late for most asian kids :) ) and then now, i play the viola. in orchestra. woooo.
9. i love asian food, and i'm not restricted to only one kind. japanese, KOREAN, thai, indian (is that considered asian?, cambodian, and of course, chinese... but not like chicken feet, cow tongue, intestine or anything. i do like 1000 year old egg though. that's the chinese in me. and bubble teas are the most awesomest drink ever. sushi. udon. MEAT JUN. mandoo. kalbi. mandoo kook su. ooooo salivating here.
10.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)