theladyrose: (Default)
First of all, many happy returns to [ profile] st_crispins on her rather belated birthday! I suspect I've missed a number of other birthdays, too, since I last posted a few months ago - hope they were all good ones :) Thanks to [ profile] eldritchhobbit and [ profile] agentxpndble

I do feel somewhat guilty about not posting in months - I've been wrangling with writing an entry for weeks but keep being tied up with more pressing matters with eminent deadlines. I've been keeping up with reading entries but rather lax in commenting :( It's strange to realize that in approximately a month's time I'll be a grad student, working on my master's in gerontology. Unlike many of my friends of a similar age, I have a year before I'm confronted with the financial realities of being an adult. In other news, it's been six years and nine days since my friend Cathy passed away, and it's the first time when I can honestly say I'm at peace with what happened to her.

Sometimes I wonder what her life would've been like if she had lived past her teens, but I recognize the futility of immersing myself in the potential energy left of a live left behind. All too often we mourn those who die young for who they could have become (or rather, who we wanted them to become), less so for who they actually were. Reminiscing about my friend is a shadow exercise in assessing my own life. Lately I've been wondering about all those other lives I've could've inhabited but have willingly relinquished to the tail ends of the probability curve. Back in high school, I was expected to go to Stanford, maybe an Ivy, and then go to law school because that's what relatively enculturated Asian/immigrant parents "strongly" recommend, outside of med school and engineering. Needless to say, I ended up at a university that used to be known for its football team but has the most badass gerontology department in the nation. (I can't believe I just juxtaposed "badass" and "gerontology" in all due seriousness.) Thankfully, my parents have been really supportive in letting me figure out my career. That, and they probably got tired of me babbling about constitutional issues at the dinner table when I was taking AP US History, in that pseudo precocious way that ambitious but not really brilliant high school students tend to talk.

More youthfully self-centered ramblings about my future )

In other news, my "gentleman caller" as my mother refers to him, will be meeting my godparents over dinner in two weeks :) I suspect that extremely nerdy conversations will be taking place, given that Weird Al's "White and Nerdy" might as well have been written the gentleman caller, and my godfather (dad's old roommate) is rumored to have been complicit in some wicked MIT pranks back in his college days. The fiery readhead (FR for short), as [ profile] dragonfly66 has nicknamed him, will be joining me the first few days of winter break after we're done with finals next Thursday. If any folks from the Bay Area are around the 17th to the 20th want to meet up with both of us, that'd be tremendously exciting!
theladyrose: (Default)
I keep randomly seeing strangers who resembled people that I know. I still remember the last time I went out with [ profile] dragonfly66 to lunch I spotted a Paly student who might have been Cathy without the magenta highlights. I could've sworn that I saw Mekkie at the drugstore the other day but that's impossible. There was a guy at the supermarket who looked rather like [ profile] eyepiece_simile's brother, albeit somewhat older, and it suddenly struck me that [ profile] shakeitdown's significant other reminds me in appearance of an elementary school classmate of mine named Evan. Is there some kind of weird convention of genetic doubles (Project Helix participants?) going on that nobody's bothered to tell me about?

Oh, by the way-f you ever happen to see the rather melodramatically entitled docudrama "Murder at Harvard"-the actor playing the part of John Webster bears a really freaky resemblence to my behaviorism classmate, Bow Tie Man, down to the sideburns and glasses. I don't think that John Webster is good at disco dancing, though.

(I think that if you mentioned "bow tie man" to anyone at Harvard this past summer, they'd know to whom you're referring. I was sort of freaked out on the day of my final when he wasn't wearing his Harvard "veritas" logo bow tie and had ominous notions of flunking in my head just because something felt wrong with the universe.)

I've finally decided on a few New Year's resolutions. As I feel a bit idiotic for coming up with them so late, let's just claim that I prepared them in advance for the lunar new year at the end of this month. They are:

1) Say more nice things about people that I'm normally too shy to say.
2) Meditate more often; I haven't really since December 1, 2004. I could really stop doing the angsty freak-out all the time.
3) Go running around the neighborhood more often to exercise and meet some of my new neighbors.
4) Stop hitting the snooze button so much, i.e. fewer than 23 times (my all-time record).

On the trend of never quite knowing the time, I've been listening to a lot of seasonally inappropriate music lately, songs with words like "spring" or "summer" in them. And people keep giving me strange looks whenever I hum Christmas carols. I'll probably stop sometime in April, but I give no guarantees.

To my fellow classmates and IHL-ers: dear fluffy eena-chan will be visiting after school on Friday, so if you want to hang out with her this is your chance.
theladyrose: (Default)
Today was better than I thought it would be. It helps to focus on other things, intentionally distract oneself. I'm moving back into crisis coping mode although there really isn't any sort of ongoing crisis at the present.

Strangely enough, studying for AP Euro can do amazing things for my mood.
theladyrose: (Default)
I actually drove in a relatively sane manner today. I ended up listening to my Secret Agent Man Meets the Saint album. It's tremendously fun driving music, especially when you're driving on the highway. Coming back home today I accidentally went the wrong way while on Alpine Road, but I then I found the 280 on-ramp, so it was all good. It's nice being able to find your way around when driving by yourself.

I managed to find a parking lot about seven minutes away from Green so Thea and Laurel took about twice as long to reach the library. Near the end of the day we wandered into the Education Building for a look around. Many memories for me there-I used to have some of my writing classes from that Bohemian summer writing camp. Thea, Laurel, and I ended up having lunch at 4 o'clock because we were so busy microfiching, and if we left our machine we would never be able to get any work done because the other schools were monopolizing the rest of the materials.

I wandered around the South Stacks for the first time and had much fun randomly running around in boots. There's this long straight corridor that you take, and once you start running through it you feel like you're in some sort of suspended time corridor, and you can hear the air whooshing past your face. It sort of reminded me of when I used to run track when I was a lot younger. I always ran the last leg ("anchor") in relay races, and I remember having a really great time with my teammates.

I guess the weirdest part about this weekend at Green is how at home I feel on the campus. I still remember where everything is after living at Grove Lasuen for two weeks, and everything just feels so familiar to me. Heck, a student actually asked me for directions to some dorm. I guess it's all those fond memories from camp that make me so enamored of that place. I'd like to spend more time on the weekends there if I could, if it didn't sound like such a crazy idea.

I want to go watch some Prisoner or SA/Danger Man right now, but I unfortunately don't have either DVD collection. I would go watch this week's BBC America Avengers except that my dad's watching the Super Bowl right now. Gah!
theladyrose: (Default)
FOMF was fairly productive today; we found a bunch of useful print sources and had much frustration with microfiching machines. The Brit lit teacher ended up giving us a tour and hung around for a bit before leaving. His daughters are adorable. The Green group slowly dwindled down as we went for lunch, and Chrissie, Rachel, Thea and I ended up being the only ones to stay behind. Still, we had a good time just talking. I met Chrissie's sister's roommate, which was kind of interesting.

I ended up walking to Tressidor Union after the majority of the group left to go research at the home base because I was feeling bored and unsettled. I kept staring over at the old complex where we had our meals during that bohemian writing camp and thinking about what if Cathy were still alive. And then it suddenly popped into my head that I ought to go get a strawberry milkshake for old times sake as a sort of tribute, so I marched over to the place that serves the best milkshakes I've ever had. And wouldn't you know, but the place had been replaced by Peet's Coffee. Can you believe it? I swear I'm never stepping into one of those places ever again. I ended up getting a smoothie which was the next best thing and felt vaguely ironic for a few minutes. Things just change, and it struck me to stop being so damned nostalgic. Thea, Rachel, and I ended up having a nice little chat afterwards.

I'm a semi-lousy driver when I'm driving by myself. If it's late at night/in the afternoon and I'm in the downtown Palo Alto, I'm absolutely terrible. I drove down two streets in the wrong direction twice. Oy, was I lucky not to collide into anyone! And I tried trailing Chrissie and Thea back to school from Green, but I ended up tailing some other random couple into downtown PA. Thankfully I've got a pretty good sense of direction so I found my way back. I ended up leaving FOMF at around 5:30 just because I didn't want to try my luck with driving.

I got in the rest of my soundtrack shipments today! Joyous joy! Now I have the Prisoner Files Volumes 1-3, Get Carter, Eternal Echoes, the Phantom of the Opera, and Vertigo (remastered version conducted by Joel McNeely). Actually, Eternal Echoes is only a freelance orchestral album of John Barry's, the followup to the Beyondness of Things which rumor has it contains parts of his rejected score to the Horse Whisperer. Needless to say I am very happy with new musical material to attempt to analyze. Out of everything that I've gotten this week, Phantom of the Opera is the weakest album; oy, my opinion of Gerald Butler's vocal ability has dropped upon repeated listenings. The Appointment and Get Carter are the most memorable of the bunch; I have a growing appreciation of electronica and 60's instruments like the harpsicord and the vibraphone (it's mostly the novel usage of these instruments that's intriguing), though the retro kind is more of my preference. I haven't heard Vertigo, parts of the Prisoner Files Volume 3, or Eternal Echoes yet, so I'll try to review them later. If I wasn't doing FOMF this weekend I'd have time to review them properly, but I don't have to get to the home base until 11:30 tomorrow morning. More reviewing goodness later!

May I say for the record, Patrick McGoohan saying "I like my dream" is probably the sexiest line in the Prisoner. Not that you probably care :P
theladyrose: (Default)
You know what was weird? During dinner tonight I blinked once and for a few moments I looked at my parents and thought, "Who are these people? Am I related to them? Why am I here with them? Do we know each other?" It was more a weird sense of unfamiliarity than anything else. It was almost as if I was somebody else for a moment. Crazy thoughts, huh?

My brain's been fixated with Phillip Glass's the Hours, Yann Tiersen's Goodbye, Lenin!, and Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" from Bridge Over Troubled Water. For some reason the following words seem to be imprinted on my brain:

In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
But the fighter still remains...

And for your enjoyment, the complete lyrics of "The Boxer" (because it is such an awesome song, even though I have no idea what that gunshot sound thing is in the background):
Read more... )
theladyrose: (Default)
Tomorrow my 5 page paper on Ten Little Indians is due and I still haven't started. But I have two free periods, so it is all good. Right?

Thirty minutes later after the previous remark was written: I still haven't even picked a topic during this free period as I just went down to the bookstore with Sophia and waited for it to open up for about twenty minutes. Sophia is back, which is incredibly froody, but my paper still isn't really progressing.

A year and a day ago Cathy died. It's strange to think how short of a time it feels, but at the moment I'm in a state of relative neutrality. I'm getting on with my life, I guess.

But while crossing the street to get to the T&C yesterday night I kept thinking that I would get run over, but then I didn't. I don't know why exactly I expected to get run over. I was tempted to get a strawberry milkshake as a token of remebrance, but it was too far away to go to the place where she loved the milkshakes. I vaguely contemplated strangling myself with Pat's scarf yesterday at the winter concert, but I didn't for three reasons.

1. It wouldn't be very nice for Pat to find that her scarf was used to strangle someone.
2. What would my fellow Electic Penguin Anarchists do during "Ode to Joy" without me playing my two notes (believe me, it sounds weird when just one person is missing)?
3. I have no clue why exactly I wanted to strangle myself with her scarf in particular. It struck me as being a vaguely amusing notion at the time.

I'm strange that way.

The Electric Penguin Anarchist Bell Choir gave what was a reasonably marvellous performance last night. We stayed until at least 4:30 yesterday afternoon as an entire group and during break earlier in the morning to practice. And then the remaining five of us (the Cookie Monster, a.k.a. Becca, had to go home) practiced "Ode to Joy" madly and managed to memorize all of it by 7:30 that evening. Chelsea had to go pick up her sister at 4:30, and the remaining four of us practiced until 5:15 when Rachel complained about not getting any homework done. We ended up going to the silent study room conference room on the third floor to work. Jessa and Caitlin C's brother, Alan, were up there. Needless to say nothing got done. Alan was quite amusing; he was looking at the cover of my French book that I was reading, Molière's L'Ecole des Femmes, translated the title out loud, and then asked me if it was porn and tried to grab and read it. Hehehehe. The scary thing is that I haven't actually had any sort of conversation with a guy since the summer before freshman year, and at the bohemian writing camp at Stanford, even that was quite limited ("Can you please stop playing pool for a moment so you can open the window for me so I can get in?"). Apparently he's an Ultimate Frisbee player, which is why the others knew him. Poor Jessa tried to politely ignore us so she could work on her paper. Alan looks nothing like Caitlin.

But anyway, I had a wonderfully amusing time with my fellow EPAers. Rachel forgot her high A6 on "Ode" so she kept shaking this bag of cookies in her hand instead. Unfortunately I found this absolutely hilarious and couldn't stop laughing whenever she shook them. I can't even start talking about her shaking those cookies without laughing a little. Eventually she resorted to tapping a pencil instead. And there were also lots of other little things-well, it's hard to explain. Everyone but Rebecca went to the T&C to get a pizza dinner, and Rachel and I swapped mushrooms and olives on our pizza. Yes, I had a great time last night. Our "Still, Still, Still" performance wasn't nearly as good as our normal practices, but our "Ode" was quite lovely considering we had just mastered it a few minutes before. Before we started playing "Ode" I told people that we were going to sound fabulous, and we rather did if I may say so myself. I almost never say anything like that, but I figured that I should stop being annoying worried Rabbit-from-Winnie-the-Pooh on everyone, and that seemed to work.

According to the iTunes music store, Henry Mancini's works fall under the easy listening category. And to add to the insult, it is being imported at x 2.2 though all of my other CDs were at approximately x 10.7. The shame, the shame!

This is why I infinitely prefer Windows Media Player, that and being able to choose which songs on a CD I want to import (is it possible to selectively import on iTunes? I have no clue how).

Does anyone want to take over my TA session today? Actually, it's Sara's, but she's sick and needs me to take over, and I have to get to bell choir. Erp.

one of us

Aug. 9th, 2004 10:55 pm
theladyrose: (Default)
I discovered my old CD's and played them while working on stuff and cleaning up my room for my grand uncle and grand aunt from New Jersey who are coming on Wednesday. They'll be taking over my room, and I'll be relegated to sleeping on the floor again. I managed to finish The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (the original one, not the entire series) in about two hours and some odd minutes, and I just finished filling out the TA form. It's kind of a retro afternoon for me, and I'm afraid that I'm going to become terribly sentimental. Strange to hear what I used to love--this time, I actually understand why. And I do still like it. It's catchy and rather Euro techno club scene in terms of the background stuff, though some of the female vocals could definitely use some work. It's scary to think that the group members were all fifteen or sixteen when their album. They have a lot of potential in the catchy bubblegum Europop techno, but come to think of it, their next album was a little disappointing. I still can't tell Sara from Marie, but I'm randomly guessing that Marie is the one doing the main vocals. It's kind've (how does one spell that, anyway?) hard to tell. Eck, but why didn't they put "Knowing You, Knowing Me" on there? Or "Waterloo"? How very annoying.

My grandmother does not like Weird Al, needless to say. But he's bloody brilliant with his song parodies. Adore "Polka Power" from the "Running with Scissors" album. And I know exactly what they're talking about in "It's All About the Pentiums." Now all I have to do is find that Arrogant Worms song, "Horizon." It's damnably funny. But you really can't beat "Twenty Naked Pentcoastals in a Pontiac." Car Talk, how I adore thee.

You know, I used to really believe that the only thing I had good taste in was music. Sadly enough, I still think that's true.

I keep searching for things and finding them, things that I wasn't necessarily looking for in the first place but have found anyway. I'm starting to throw a lot more of my stuff out, thanks to mum. It's good for me, getting rid of junk, but it's always struck me that mum must throw away more things than most people or donate them. Then there's the problem of looking for things that aren't there anymore, like everything that I had from elementary school that wasn't a stuffed animal. Never mind; all of my stuffed animals besides my teddy bear were given away willingly, and all of them are from middle school and up. Change is good because it keeps us from getting into ruts, I suppose. I want to be young and act like a teenager but I also want to see what university is like. I still don't know what I'm doing in my future, and I feel terribly unprepared for it. Nobody is really big on my going to Quebec, which is sad because I really would like to go there. Britain is a lot more acceptable, but I'm sure once that possibility is out long enough everyone will try to steer me away from it. This is also assuming that I actually end up getting into any university at all other than DeVry. And I'm probably too stupid to go there anyway, and I'm sure that the tuition will be bloody hell. It has occured to me that nobody really wants me to be happy at university, just go there, dowell, and get a diploma + job. Maybe that's why I'm expected to go to Berkley. Take a chance on me. If you change your mind, I'm the first in line...

I'll stop sticking lyrics in the middle of my entry. Nobody ever really takes a chance on me though, unless they aren't American and are male. Erp, that sounds rather weird. My secret double lives are starting to catch up to me.

I was looking over my old camp address/e-mail/phone number roster, and I can't really let myself let go from it metaphorically. Interestingly enough David actually lives somewhat close. Funny to mention him; other than Esther, he was closest to Cathy at camp. He won't remember me, I'm sure. Some of the others might, and I still talk to some of them including Ann, my first real roommate. And then it struck me that I still really miss Cathy. I keep thinking that someday she's going to come back from Hong Kong and visit soon. She would've been a senior this year, and I just know that she would've come out here to visit Stanford and maybe even go to university there. She's never going to come back, but I can't repress what I want. After so many months it really should've gotten firmly imprinted into my brain that she's dead, but it hasn't exactly. Dormant thoughts ought to stay repressed, but unfortunately my brain tends to unrepress things pretty quickly. But I'll stop talking like I know about Freud.

It has occured to me that I still haven't told my parents anything about this, and at this rate I'm not sure if I ever will.

Where is Elena when I need her?
theladyrose: (Default)
I'm back again.

It feels so good to feel alive.  Somehow everything seems right again.  The blood blister on my right second finger fell off this morning when I was eating breakfast.  And it was the strangest thing that I saw from the kitchen window.  The sun was starting to rise and it was the most peculiar shade of pink; the exact same shade of magenta/hot pink of Cathy's hair when I last saw her.  Slowly the color diffused further and further out, slowly reaching and enveloping the clouds in a warm glow.  Magical doesn't even begin to describe it.  And I felt good again.  I could start the morning without feeling guilty.  She's happier now.  She can't be haunted anymore.  Nothing can chase or haunt or scare or hurt her now. Everything's all right.  Her parents will always be guilty, but I think (hope?) they realize the extent of their actions.  They understand her now more than they ever did when she was alive.  I think she would've wanted that.  People will finally understand that you can't just ignore mental illness and hope that it will go away.  I think they'll try to do something about it now.  Her father is a very wealthy and influential man.  I hope that he will do something to remember and honor her.  I think that he and her mother were just lost people who were too caught up in their own lives to even begin to peer into their daughter's.  I hope that changed.

I don't feel sad so much anymore when remembering her.  I don't think she would've wanted anyone to be sad.  I'll always remember how happy she was at camp, the first few days and even near the ending nights.  I think we could all understand her.  I'm wondering if I should tell Brittany about Cathy because I just got an e-mail from her.  I don't know if I should or not.  I won't mention anything just yet.

The picture on my compter background is this gorgeous sunset that's the same color has her hair.  It's damnably gorgeous; I love it.

I'm here.  Can't you see me?  I've returned.

I'll be able to really sleep for the first time in who knows how long. I love my life; I really do. I wonder if this is what reincarnation feels like; becoming a whole new person again. Being so alive that all you want to do is laugh for the purest joy.
theladyrose: (Default)
Screaming is absolutely lovely. Somehow it's very theraputic to attempt to murder one's vocal cords and make the loudest noise possible. It's even more satisfying when you're in a basement locked in a small stuffy office that has a stupidly placed window on the inside. Of course, there are people making arts and crafts and assembling puzzles in the basement as well. Jolly fun.

So after having a really lovely time TAing the seventh grade French class (and I'm not being sarcastic) I decided to take a quick peek at the War Office. Officially it's called the Counterpoint office. The Clam had managed to do some work during the free period: she edited and placed an entire article and did the community service calendar (pasting is so much work). Thing seemed to be going pretty well as all she told me to do was the world news column, which is pretty much copying good headlines off BBC and Yahoo!News. Then I had to go to class, and everything was just fine. Sophia and I met with the paper's faculty advisors to discuss the Clam situation. Alas, Caitlin wasn't able to come since she was sick at home with a fever of 103. Oy vey, I hope she feels better soon. Anyway, I'm supposed to schedule a meeting w/ the Clam to discuss the newspaper next Tuesday with the faculty advisors questioning us. Joy. At least they now know that we're being subjugated as slave labor without pay or even the possibility of becoming next year's editors. I know that Caitlin has been dreaming about her resignation for weeks, and I've been mentally drafting my resignation letter for at least two months now. Now that our imaginary budget has suddenly become real, distribution should be easier because we can finally print from our own stupid printer. It took the Dean of Students that long. Well, at least it's something.

I had a nasty surprise after school when I left my last class of the day to realize that Caitlin hadn't done her section because she was sick. My first instinct was to start screaming in the hallway, but I didn't want to disturb the 6th grade Spanish class which is quite close by. So I somewhat calmly packed up, ranted to Kerstin, Sophia, Julie, and Becca because they were near by, and Kerstin and I decided to have a merry screaming fest in the War Office just for fun. For some reason we kept on hysterically laughing uncontrollably while walking down to the basement in anticipation of the scream fest.

Upon entering the office, I felt like shredding up something because I saw two post it notes left on the computer that had to be written in the Clam's handwriting. She had to leave because she had a bad headache as a result of reading a truly horrendous article to be published this week and told me to finish up the rest of the paper. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about the front page photo. Not like that helped very much anyway. Kerstin and I screamed for about five seconds and couldn't stop laughing for the next five minutes. And no one outside seemed to notice. So a few minutes after we managed to regain our breath we screamed for ten seconds. Two people immediately stared at the office through the window, one of them being Joyce, a staff writer. We laughed even harder. Somehow everything felt absolutely hysterically my-stomach-is-aching kind of funny, even more so than a Pink Panther movie. Kerstin was very nice and stayed with me in the office until we both had to leave and did Caitlin's quiz thing on British history dates as we brainstormed together as I attempted to edit the "crappy" article that gave Canny a headache. It was bloody hell trying to keep all of the relevent stuff while not being hyperbolically cheerful. Then I had to do some minor reformatting of articles and captions and finding a word of the week and put in Kerstin's quiz, which had some lovely formatting issues. Sterling came down to see if I was done and hung around for a little bit before Seana came down. Argh. I feel bad about keeping them waiting for fifteen minutes.

So now I'm still sort of screwed because we need to do something with Caitlin's movie review space. Luckily I thought of what seems like a vaguely brilliant idea (thank god it's not another disgusting, horrific, pathetic attempt at a political satire) and hopefully will have about half an hour to do that tomorrow. Oish. I feel vaguely like murdering the Clam (just mentally, though; I'm not really the killing type) except the only reason why I'm feeling forgiving at the moment is because she looks somewhat like Cathy. It's strange that way. And her voice is rather similar to Cathy's. God forbid I begin mixing the two up.

Part of me still thinks that I'm making up her death.


theladyrose: (Default)

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