theladyrose: (Default)
If you were interested in that article about how women supposedly think about shopping as much as men do about sex, there's an interesting complementary article about how sexual arousal can lead to more impulse spending, at least for men. I'm curious as to why women weren't included in the study, as theoretically the study implies that neural mechanisms for rewarding behaviors driven by the biological imperative for reproduction or novelty should be roughly the same. I'm sure the psych geeks among you have much more insightful comments about the matter.

petty grad school angst )
theladyrose: (Default)
I caught frostbite in my feet yesterday because I felt guilty about leaving the kickoff event for APA (Asian Pacific American) heritage month early when so many people had gone already. I couldn't get myself to go because I felt sorry for the performers (the Ken Oak Band and Rhythm Natives, both of which really were a joy to hear) whose crowd was steadily dwindling. Support your starving artists, right?

Serves me right to wear thin shoes and no socks for three hours in the surprisingly wet grass. I wish I had the time between class and the event to go home and change into warmer shoes, but unfortunately I didn't. I don't think I've ever sworn so much in the 8 minute walk (hobble?) back to my apartment. It took me a good 20 minutes before I regained feeling in my feet.

I live in the middle of Los Angeles for Chrissakes. Who in their right minds gets FROSTBITE in JANUARY in SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA?!

Apparently I do.
theladyrose: (Default)
For the past few days I have been staring at my screen, wondering what I can possibly write that will give my neighbor the justice that he deserves for a crime that I in my infinite vanity find myself complicit.

I wish I weren't exaggerating about how many days it's been, but the guilt's been corroding my conscience like battery acid. There's this unconscious echo in my head that if I hadn't handed back his guns that his parents gave to us in safekeeping, Sargent wouldn't have committed armed robbery.

I could rail about about the injustice of receiving two different sentences for the same crime, about the need for rehabilitation rather than incarceration for a PTSD-suffering veteran who risked his life to save others and yet never could receive the treatment he needed for his physical and mental illnesses (and not for lack of effort), the sheer bloody wankishness of "blame the victim" and "liberal media pandering to sob stories," but I'm frankly exhausted from an anger I haven't felt in years.

I'll be honest - if you don't sympathize with this man, I don't want to hear about it. If you want to actually help bring justice to Sargent Binkeley , please read this and check out a sample letter that you can send to the Santa Clara County DA.

I haven't written here in ages; sorry. I've been meaning to respond to comments (I know, I've been saying that for longer than I'd care to admit), but CIRCLE (more info at [ profile] circleusc) has been taking up my life. Hope that all's been well with everyone.
theladyrose: (Default)
Do not be fooled by the simplicity of this short story. If you are not careful it may suck your brains out in trying to come up with a close reading that has relevance without being too general. It is a disillusioning story about Christmas and the selfishness of people and the ambiguity of women's labor and...

I have no idea what I'm saying anymore, really.

Basically if my brain doesn't self destruct by noon tomorrow I should theoretically be in good shape. Maybe.
theladyrose: (Default)
So I could tell you all about being in the flipped raft by Fowler's Rock (south bend of the American River near the start of the Class III rapids).

Except I'll have to get around to that tomorrow when I have the time.

All I can say in the meantime is thank God [ profile] eyepiece_simile and Patricia pulled me out when they did. I'd rather not drown to death after my 18th birthday, thanks.

déjà vu

Apr. 6th, 2006 12:18 am
theladyrose: (Default)
Don't you hate it when no matter how much or how little sleep you get you feel perpetually exhausted?

That pretty much sums up the past two weeks or so. It explains a lot, at least in my mind.

The idea of Spring Break is starting to scare me. All that free time-I can't figure out how I'm going to fill up all of those hours. I really need to start preparing for AP exams or else I'll fail and screw up the rest of my life.

The weather bears a freaky influence over my emotions.
theladyrose: (Default)
I've been rejected by Harvard and Columbia; I'll hear back from Stanford tomorrow afternoon but I'm not hopeful at all.

Edit: I've also been rejected by Brown. Ah well.

Another edit: Make that four rejections; Stanford rejected me, too.

So much for trying not to disappoint my family. But I really shouldn't be complaining as I do have some nice choices as is. Really, there are many many many worse things that could be going on, and there's no point in wasting my time over things that I can't control anymore. I should stop making such a fuss about this.

Last edit: So overall, I'm deciding amongst Wellesley, USC and Scripps.

P.S. Sophia, thanks for the Victoria Holt novel; I could really use it. Hopefully I'll start it this weekend.
theladyrose: (Default)
My grandmother had a minor stroke yesterday, but my parents are already planning what to do for a future funeral. I want to believe that they're being overly pessimistic.

Movement has been feeling surprisingly heavy.
theladyrose: (Default)
The funeral was this Saturday. I have no idea what to say.

Ellie has gone off to HK to renew her passport and deal with some of the aftermath, so I now have the slightly depressing distinction of being the only able-bodied person (and only driver) in the house.

What continues to surprise me about grief is its continued ability to suffocate all emotions with it. Somehow you manage to function perfectly while your emotions slip into a coma. The day's experiences slide off like beads of water on wax; no mood lingers and merely mirrors those of the people around you.

If I haven't said so already, Joan Didion's essay on grief published in the New York Times magazine two Sundays ago is possibly the most brilliant thing I've read in weeks.

Somehow by the end of tonight I'm going to finish my French absurdist play for my French seminar. That requires me to figure out what the hell I am going to write in English, and then afterwards translate my ideas. Err, right.

Somehow that's going to happen. And somehow tomorrow I'll find the time to do that Italian project Powerpoint that I should've turned in last Friday except that my computer account will neither let me save nor print anything. And then I need to study for my AP Euro test.

Luckily I didn't screw up my Columbia interview today; actually, I'm surprised that he said that I did a reasonably decent job and that I will probably get in (although I don't believe that last part at all). My interviewer was...interesting, possibly what one might call a reverse racist? He puzzles me.
theladyrose: (Default)
I always assumed that I'd be better at writing as I grew older and stayed in school. You know, write one of those magically insightful essays that would demonstrate my profound knowledge of some literary masterpiece.

HAHAHAHA. Doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon. I think my Mrs. Dalloway essay ought to go get run over by the next incoming train because my attempts at analysis and eloquence are total tripe.

The longer I remain in IHL literature classes, the more I can feel my love for literature curl up into a ball and hide somwhere in the basement. Then again, I don't have a basement.

Erm, yes, I'm not exactly done yet...
theladyrose: (Default)
For the record, I forgot to mention this before but my advisor is the APUSH teacher. Yay, my first choice!

One of the things that I've grown to appreciate about Harvard is that I don't feel any need to disguise my stupidity with my usual pretentious rationalizations. There will always be people much more brilliant than you (the majority of those I know) and people much dumber than you. I've been amazed by the sheer number of idiots I've come across who have managed to get in some how who manage to screw themselves over with smoking and drugs and other crap and still do fine. This isn't to imply that I except myself from the idiot category, but some of the other Harvard students have gone amazingly wild. I don't exactly plan on going on a self-destructive streak anytime soon, but if these people can turn out relatively fine then I should, too. Right? I've only begun to realize that I can actually have an active social life and still do reasonably well. And here, there aren't any more self-placed censors. I don't think I've quite realized in how much of a bubble I've been for so long.

Going back to high school: what really pisses me off about my schedule is that I have very few classes with anyone. This will probably mean I'll spend lots of time with people who are in some ways still strangers to me. This is senior year, and I'm practically estranged from all of my friends. This is going to be the last time we're seeing everyone together; I've known you guys for at least four years or more. What I'm most afraid of is leaving high school and thinking, "I don't really miss anyone because I never really got the chance to know them/we drifted apart." I want something better than this. I've only just begun to realize how much I've lost out on working so much. It's not that I don't like learning; it's that I'm tired of having to place personal relations outside of family as a secondary priority. My friends deserve better than this; I deserve better than this. Yay for my weak attempts at self-actualization!

People really need to hear this really nifty French song to which [ profile] gandydancer introduced me even though you all don't know French. If you go to this awesome French group's website, click on Albums, and then on the album cover fourth from the top or bottom, you'll see "C'est Plus Pareil." I have to go find this album to actually buy now.


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