Sometimes I honestly do believe that people, in general, are beyond me.
My mother rinses off the shovel after I dig in the yard. It's a SHOVEL. You dig with it. It will get dirt on it. Yet she rinses it off each time, even after I tell her that I'll probably be using it again the next day. She also put the plants on polystyrene plates, which she put on newspaper, to keep the floor clean. Sometimes think my choice in plants might not be such a good idea after all since plants tend to need dirt and dirt is...well...dirty.
List of eye color on the N-400 USA Naturalization Form (I kid you not):
Brown, Blue, Green, Hazel, Gray, Black, Pink, Maroon, Other
Has anyone ever seen MAROON colored eyes? Is it me or does that seem a bit...creepy?
Then of course, there's always Mr. President's increase of interest in Iran. Hello?
20061226
20061221
42 degrees starboard!
It went finals, home, LA, and home again, in that order. Another Winter Solstice's coming up (tomorrow, I believe), and there is of course Christmas, New Years, and the new year.
I am at home and it has been raining on and off since nine this morning. My parents are telling me that I've missed the two coldest days while I was at LA (lucky me), but unfortunately it is still cold enough today that I was shivering even while wearing my black jacket and I couldn't feel my fingers. Then I remembered that my parents left the heater in my room and that made it all better. I think I might've been colder than necessary, though, because I've been sitting in one position for some hours reading a book (YES!), having gone and raided the library this morning. I've looked at my reading list yesterday and have formed the brilliant conclusion that I'll never completely catch up to it, but oh well, good books never get old, anyway. Now that I finished book number one out of the list of a hundred and something I suppose I ought to take go and take a break. Maybe I'll work on the Lunatics story, as that it's clearly too wet to be working in the garden. Mud is fun in moderation and only when it's not also freezing outside. The cucumbers are done for the season, and I've missed the seed-gathering because now everything'll be wet for the next three days.
Thoughts about the new year make me twitch, which is why this post isn't really about a resolution or reflections at all, in case you're wondering.
I am at home and it has been raining on and off since nine this morning. My parents are telling me that I've missed the two coldest days while I was at LA (lucky me), but unfortunately it is still cold enough today that I was shivering even while wearing my black jacket and I couldn't feel my fingers. Then I remembered that my parents left the heater in my room and that made it all better. I think I might've been colder than necessary, though, because I've been sitting in one position for some hours reading a book (YES!), having gone and raided the library this morning. I've looked at my reading list yesterday and have formed the brilliant conclusion that I'll never completely catch up to it, but oh well, good books never get old, anyway. Now that I finished book number one out of the list of a hundred and something I suppose I ought to take go and take a break. Maybe I'll work on the Lunatics story, as that it's clearly too wet to be working in the garden. Mud is fun in moderation and only when it's not also freezing outside. The cucumbers are done for the season, and I've missed the seed-gathering because now everything'll be wet for the next three days.
Thoughts about the new year make me twitch, which is why this post isn't really about a resolution or reflections at all, in case you're wondering.
20061215
The Cats are taking over our lives.
Called Cory to schedule cat-sitting yesterday, she didn't pick up the phone, left a message. Got a call from Charleen yesterday informing us that some people are interested in adopting Rushmore and will we be able to take him to the taxi-drop-off for the adoption fair this Saturday, at 9am, please. (My chem final starts at 8am on Saturday.) Some arrangemenet with Annie later it's discussed that someone may be able to come over to our place and pick up Rushmore. Sigh of relief. Discovery that Cory had called while was on the phone with Charleen. Called Cory back. Made appointment in 15 minutes. Showed Cory around when she came over and left her apartment key (mine. Note to self-- make SURE Kate's back before attempting to come back self as will not be able to unlock door otherwise). Sooth agitated kitty who's still not used to strangers. Crammed for chem. Panicked slightly about Latin as have forgotten the type of adjective "nullus" is. Checked adjective. Rechecked. Shooed Rose away from Rushmore's food. Shooed Rushmore away from Rose's food. Checked email obsessively but still no sign of paper even though deadline is once again looming in the horizon. Made note to self that may need to bring laptop on trip as otherwise will have no time to finish editing the ridiculous thing before Sun. midnight. Remembered that the said ridiculous things is 18 pages. Petitioned for the use of Kate's laptop during bus trip if own laptop runs out of battery and paper still not done. Made note to self to bring USB stick. Listened to Annie attempting to keep order in her room with two cats in it. Agreed with Annie that we should get The Cats (now denoted with capital letters because they can behave in quite unholy fashions when together)used to being locked out together, in the living room. Bribe and coaxed Rose out of my room. Close door. Sigh of relief. Help Annie get Rushmore out of the room, held the bathroom door open so he can debate whether or not to come out, eventually shooed cat out. Close door, sigh of relief. Check around for cats, quickly open door and step in. Close door. Relax slightly and stubbornly ignore any noises that might or might not be occuring outside the door.
Cat scratching door at 1am. Not fun. Ignore all noises outside of door, verse, chorus, repeat.
Then it's morning again. Got up, dressed. Open door. Rose dashes in and make pitiful noises until petted and soothed. Made bed. Looked for Rushmore. Drag Rushmore out of kitchen cabinet, got hissed at, but gave him the Stare of Determination until he exits the kitchen. Fed Rose. Shooed Rushmore away from Rose's food. Shooed Rushmore away from Rose's food again a minute later. Reasoned should feed Rushmore as well to stop the shooing process and therefore save time. Knocked on Annie's door to get food. Annie asleep. Eventually gave up and goes to brush teeth. Stop in the middle of tooth-brushing to drag Rushmore out of cabinet. Was hissed at. Squirted him with water pistol when he tried to enter again. Rushmore Is Learning. Rushmore is Not Happy about having to Learn, but he shall deal with it. Placed loaded bag of canned goods in front of cabinet to speed up Learning. Went to wash face. Shooed Rose away from Rushmore's litterbox. Moved Rose's litterbox (now officially in the bathroom, horray) and led her there to show her that see, this is where it is now.
Eat breakfast. Stop in the middle to chase Rushmore out of the kitchen. Then chase Rose out of the kitchen. The Cats are not allowed in the kitchen. Ever. (We had to draw a line somewhere.) Fish Rose's toy out of the corner of kitchen, where she has carried it. Finished breakfast.
Lost Rushmore. Checked all cabinets. Checked all corners. Called. Rechecked all cabinets. No cat. Slight panic until noticed lump moving on bed. There are two cats both in my bed. Why do I have two cats in my bed? Remove Rushmore. Remove Rose. Stopped Rushmore from entering bathroom cabinet (he does love his cabinets). Two cats in my room, lots of noises behind me, wha--
Rose dashes to my feet. Rushmore hids under my blanket. Must check to see what The Cats have done now. Latin final at 4 pm. Cheers!
[edit 12:55] Because I can. Culprit #2:
Meet Rushmore.
Cat scratching door at 1am. Not fun. Ignore all noises outside of door, verse, chorus, repeat.
Then it's morning again. Got up, dressed. Open door. Rose dashes in and make pitiful noises until petted and soothed. Made bed. Looked for Rushmore. Drag Rushmore out of kitchen cabinet, got hissed at, but gave him the Stare of Determination until he exits the kitchen. Fed Rose. Shooed Rushmore away from Rose's food. Shooed Rushmore away from Rose's food again a minute later. Reasoned should feed Rushmore as well to stop the shooing process and therefore save time. Knocked on Annie's door to get food. Annie asleep. Eventually gave up and goes to brush teeth. Stop in the middle of tooth-brushing to drag Rushmore out of cabinet. Was hissed at. Squirted him with water pistol when he tried to enter again. Rushmore Is Learning. Rushmore is Not Happy about having to Learn, but he shall deal with it. Placed loaded bag of canned goods in front of cabinet to speed up Learning. Went to wash face. Shooed Rose away from Rushmore's litterbox. Moved Rose's litterbox (now officially in the bathroom, horray) and led her there to show her that see, this is where it is now.
Eat breakfast. Stop in the middle to chase Rushmore out of the kitchen. Then chase Rose out of the kitchen. The Cats are not allowed in the kitchen. Ever. (We had to draw a line somewhere.) Fish Rose's toy out of the corner of kitchen, where she has carried it. Finished breakfast.
Lost Rushmore. Checked all cabinets. Checked all corners. Called. Rechecked all cabinets. No cat. Slight panic until noticed lump moving on bed. There are two cats both in my bed. Why do I have two cats in my bed? Remove Rushmore. Remove Rose. Stopped Rushmore from entering bathroom cabinet (he does love his cabinets). Two cats in my room, lots of noises behind me, wha--
Rose dashes to my feet. Rushmore hids under my blanket. Must check to see what The Cats have done now. Latin final at 4 pm. Cheers!
[edit 12:55] Because I can. Culprit #2:
Meet Rushmore.
20061214
It's the cat
Took final, got out early, decided to walk home. Got home, checked email, checked email again, and again, and again until finally received something from the professor informing us that his laptop had been stolen and his backup computer crashed the next day and therefore our rewrite deadline was switched to Sunday midnight.
Heaved a sigh of relief, showered, went to bed.
Got up, retrieved cat out of the box she had gotten herself into, placed baggage over box to prevent future retrievals, returned to bed.
Got up, stared around in the dark but could see nothing to explain the strange noises and pouncing that I've been experiencing, returned to bed.
Got up, dressed, made bed, fed cat, and discovered that cat has carried the one of the cat toys that I've tossed into the living room back into my room. Cute, but signifying that weaning the cat of my room had not gone well.
...
On the other hand look, blog has post tags now. This calls for a celebration (and possibly a new format). Now the only thing lj has over it is the little mood-icon thing but you know what? Being able to edit html is a thousand times worth it.
Heaved a sigh of relief, showered, went to bed.
Got up, retrieved cat out of the box she had gotten herself into, placed baggage over box to prevent future retrievals, returned to bed.
Got up, stared around in the dark but could see nothing to explain the strange noises and pouncing that I've been experiencing, returned to bed.
Got up, dressed, made bed, fed cat, and discovered that cat has carried the one of the cat toys that I've tossed into the living room back into my room. Cute, but signifying that weaning the cat of my room had not gone well.
...
On the other hand look, blog has post tags now. This calls for a celebration (and possibly a new format). Now the only thing lj has over it is the little mood-icon thing but you know what? Being able to edit html is a thousand times worth it.
20061213
Random: Stress-induced nostalgia
I think: 100 questioned bio final at 7pm tonight. I think: 18 pages to rewrite by midnight tomorrow and no one has send me the papers yet. I think: I have six different conjugations to review (not counting the imperative or the irregulars), five different declensions to go over (not counting the adjectives or the irregulars), and five sections of a play to memorize, on top of reviewing the sections on organic chemistry and nuclear chemistry (which, for some reason, also included the string theory, which is nice but utterly inexplicable).
I ended up making hot chocolate because clearly this much stress requires as much sugar to repair it as possible, even at a time as early as eight in the morning. But hey, I'm an adult, and I can have hot chocolate for breakfast if I want to. And then, after the first sip and the first glance at the grey-grey-grey sky my mind hesitates for a moment before wandering off by itself, vaguely in the "why-am-I-here" direction before heading purposefully toward the nostalgia department. Toward Beijing.
I haven't thought about Beijing for a while, mostly after I discovered thinking about it is no longer--if not strictly unpleasant, but not pleasant either. Recently, however (possibly because of the circumstances), I find myself thinking about it more often than I want to. It's almost like a frostbite: it used to hurt in the beginning, now all you can see are the white spots, but you can't feel anything, yet. You know that sometime later it will hurt but currently it's just a strange numbness that makes you curious, touching it again and again like a compulsion.
It is a little like that, but mostly not, because I know the city that I grew up in, that I have called home all the way up to my eighth grade year doesn't exist outside of my head anymore.
That is what I always admired about Europe and despised about America. Americans aren't comfortable with the concept of past. Old things are ignored, often torn down, and they stress NEW and BIG and FLASHY, building on top of the ruins of their history. Not that those things are bad, necessarily, but I have a strong preference for places where the past can exist with the present. I like cities (most of which I have only seen in pictures), where even the ruins are left standing, but there are clearly present day things there too, like electricity, internet, and cars (see, I can follow priorities).
Beijing used to be a little like that, but mostly not.
The capital of China used to be in southern China, before they moved it to Beijing. It was after the nine provinces were finally united and things have settled down a little. Beijing was picked for it's location: it's located in an area where there will never be an earthquake, tornado, or hurricane, where there are (or at least, used to be), plenty of natural springs, where it's fertile and at the center of the easiet pathway of commerce between northern and southern China.
It used to be beautiful and, growing up, I could still see the faint traces of beauty left: the yellow-gold tiered roofs downtown, the red walls and lattice-worked windows. I could see the huge trunks left on the side of street, where a row of old weeping willows used to stand, besides the--DRY creek bed? When I go through one of the parks--Summer Palace, Bei-Hai, I can imagine what the place must've been like before the Palace walls were first destroyed and Beijing because THE place to be in China. Before the first flood of people came.
I place no blames. My grandparents came from North of the Canton mountains, West of it, and of the vaguely-south-ish place near the bulge of where the rooster's stomach begins, if you imagined the map of China as that bird.
I have memories of wandering through a small path of wood with my cousin of my grandma when I was four. It was gone by the time I entered elementary school. I have memories of the small village and farm lands across the road. A shopping center now stands there, with an Ikea painted in hideous bright yellow and purple (I have nothing against Ikea. I like Ikea. I just don't approve of THAT particular color combination). I remember the small stream turning into a sewage ditch, and then later a last ditched (no pun intended, ha ha) attempt to clean it up. It was good, the attempt, but it will never be what it was before. I hear my parents tell me about the peach trees that used to grow all along this street near my grandparent's place, and how it would bloom every year, or this hill covered with date trees before they built stuff on it. I try to picture what that was like-- a Beijing with trees, flowers, and tiled roofs instead of the cement, brick, and people, but I can't. I can't picture the peach trees. I can't imagine them blooming. In my mind, my memory, the place where the trees stood are filled with people. They are not really people either, but a boiling, almost-but-not-faceless crowd that was such a common sight growing up.
Then the roads disappeared. Redrawn, rebuilt, remodeled.
I still go to Bei-Hai when I visit China, but the crowd of tourists there, the utter lack of peace sometimes makes it unbearable. (Which is a laugh, because peace in Beijing is at best an oxymoron and at the worst a cry of despair.) At other times I'm simply glad to blend in, wondering if it is as easy for the others, as it is for me, to see how I don't belong there. Not anymore. Because that was when I realized that that is all it will ever be now, with the last of the tiered roof going and all of the old trees gone, buildings and sick-looking little seedling plants in their place: it will--it can--never be more than a visit. Still, I smile a little to myself. I go to an American University, where I'm working toward a BS. I'm fluent in English and Chinese. I'm where so many would've done anything to get to and if I ever plan on going back to China I know, between a perverted urge to Americanize and corruption, that I'll never have to worry about a job.
So many want my place, yet all I can do at the present moment, it seems, is to procrastinate from studying, sip hot chocolate, and feel nostalgic for something that I sometimes think never existed outside of my head. Certainly there're almost no evidences left when I was last there. There could hardly be more if I visited now.
Maybe I'm too idealistic. Maybe I'm too masochistic. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But at least the girl who can't let go of the past is unlikely to become a woman who will repeat it.
The tiered roofs are gone, the current architecture is hideous, but at least the lights are pretty.
...
In case you are still wondering, Lucy, my previous comment about taking responsibility for the past stems a little from this.
China doesn't allow people to hold duo citizenships but nevertheless I have decided (less than week ago, actually) to apply for US citizenship anyway, and I don't think a person should claim a country without also claiming the country's history. It's like claiming the success and saying that the 101 failures of the experiment, before, belonged to someone else. It's just not right, you know?
I ended up making hot chocolate because clearly this much stress requires as much sugar to repair it as possible, even at a time as early as eight in the morning. But hey, I'm an adult, and I can have hot chocolate for breakfast if I want to. And then, after the first sip and the first glance at the grey-grey-grey sky my mind hesitates for a moment before wandering off by itself, vaguely in the "why-am-I-here" direction before heading purposefully toward the nostalgia department. Toward Beijing.
I haven't thought about Beijing for a while, mostly after I discovered thinking about it is no longer--if not strictly unpleasant, but not pleasant either. Recently, however (possibly because of the circumstances), I find myself thinking about it more often than I want to. It's almost like a frostbite: it used to hurt in the beginning, now all you can see are the white spots, but you can't feel anything, yet. You know that sometime later it will hurt but currently it's just a strange numbness that makes you curious, touching it again and again like a compulsion.
It is a little like that, but mostly not, because I know the city that I grew up in, that I have called home all the way up to my eighth grade year doesn't exist outside of my head anymore.
That is what I always admired about Europe and despised about America. Americans aren't comfortable with the concept of past. Old things are ignored, often torn down, and they stress NEW and BIG and FLASHY, building on top of the ruins of their history. Not that those things are bad, necessarily, but I have a strong preference for places where the past can exist with the present. I like cities (most of which I have only seen in pictures), where even the ruins are left standing, but there are clearly present day things there too, like electricity, internet, and cars (see, I can follow priorities).
Beijing used to be a little like that, but mostly not.
The capital of China used to be in southern China, before they moved it to Beijing. It was after the nine provinces were finally united and things have settled down a little. Beijing was picked for it's location: it's located in an area where there will never be an earthquake, tornado, or hurricane, where there are (or at least, used to be), plenty of natural springs, where it's fertile and at the center of the easiet pathway of commerce between northern and southern China.
It used to be beautiful and, growing up, I could still see the faint traces of beauty left: the yellow-gold tiered roofs downtown, the red walls and lattice-worked windows. I could see the huge trunks left on the side of street, where a row of old weeping willows used to stand, besides the--DRY creek bed? When I go through one of the parks--Summer Palace, Bei-Hai, I can imagine what the place must've been like before the Palace walls were first destroyed and Beijing because THE place to be in China. Before the first flood of people came.
I place no blames. My grandparents came from North of the Canton mountains, West of it, and of the vaguely-south-ish place near the bulge of where the rooster's stomach begins, if you imagined the map of China as that bird.
I have memories of wandering through a small path of wood with my cousin of my grandma when I was four. It was gone by the time I entered elementary school. I have memories of the small village and farm lands across the road. A shopping center now stands there, with an Ikea painted in hideous bright yellow and purple (I have nothing against Ikea. I like Ikea. I just don't approve of THAT particular color combination). I remember the small stream turning into a sewage ditch, and then later a last ditched (no pun intended, ha ha) attempt to clean it up. It was good, the attempt, but it will never be what it was before. I hear my parents tell me about the peach trees that used to grow all along this street near my grandparent's place, and how it would bloom every year, or this hill covered with date trees before they built stuff on it. I try to picture what that was like-- a Beijing with trees, flowers, and tiled roofs instead of the cement, brick, and people, but I can't. I can't picture the peach trees. I can't imagine them blooming. In my mind, my memory, the place where the trees stood are filled with people. They are not really people either, but a boiling, almost-but-not-faceless crowd that was such a common sight growing up.
Then the roads disappeared. Redrawn, rebuilt, remodeled.
I still go to Bei-Hai when I visit China, but the crowd of tourists there, the utter lack of peace sometimes makes it unbearable. (Which is a laugh, because peace in Beijing is at best an oxymoron and at the worst a cry of despair.) At other times I'm simply glad to blend in, wondering if it is as easy for the others, as it is for me, to see how I don't belong there. Not anymore. Because that was when I realized that that is all it will ever be now, with the last of the tiered roof going and all of the old trees gone, buildings and sick-looking little seedling plants in their place: it will--it can--never be more than a visit. Still, I smile a little to myself. I go to an American University, where I'm working toward a BS. I'm fluent in English and Chinese. I'm where so many would've done anything to get to and if I ever plan on going back to China I know, between a perverted urge to Americanize and corruption, that I'll never have to worry about a job.
So many want my place, yet all I can do at the present moment, it seems, is to procrastinate from studying, sip hot chocolate, and feel nostalgic for something that I sometimes think never existed outside of my head. Certainly there're almost no evidences left when I was last there. There could hardly be more if I visited now.
Maybe I'm too idealistic. Maybe I'm too masochistic. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But at least the girl who can't let go of the past is unlikely to become a woman who will repeat it.
The tiered roofs are gone, the current architecture is hideous, but at least the lights are pretty.
...
In case you are still wondering, Lucy, my previous comment about taking responsibility for the past stems a little from this.
China doesn't allow people to hold duo citizenships but nevertheless I have decided (less than week ago, actually) to apply for US citizenship anyway, and I don't think a person should claim a country without also claiming the country's history. It's like claiming the success and saying that the 101 failures of the experiment, before, belonged to someone else. It's just not right, you know?
20061212
Recap: 4 days
A few events today, one of which being that despite of this being my last payroll week, I was asked to switch to the UCD online payroll/timesheet system, which has, thus far, caused me no end of grief. This is only a slight exaggeration considering the online system is new and doesn't allow things such as editing, cancellation, and only let you submit the forms in chronological order (meaning you can't fill out the recent form until the system thinks you've got all your old forms done already). This is the problem part for me since, apparently, my last two payroll was in paper form and the data wasn't entered into the system, thereby causing the system to demand "late timesheet, submit today, please!" and much phone-calling and head-banging resulted.
I have proven, once again, that "c" is apparently the last letter in the alphabet, not "z". This is after I repeated the "z-as in the last letter in the alphabets" phrase twice, at the person's request, and still ended up with the person spelling back "c-h-... right?".
We got our temporary foster, Rushmore, last night. Rushmore is a great deal bigger and older than Rose and is currently on a diet. Appearance-wise he's orange-ish and white, short-haired, with a very blunt looking face (I have no better word to describe it). He had spend most of today under Annie's bed, since Annie's room is where his current quarter is until a permanent foster home can be found for him. Rose is not too thrilled about him, nor is he too thrilled about Rose, but so far everything's been limited to hissing and growling. Mostly though, it's Rushmore ignoring Rose who follows (actually, STALK will be more accurate) him around and hisses whenever he turns around to look at her. He growls in return. She hisses some more. They engage in an epic staring contest until one of them gets distracted and wanders off. Five minutes passes. Repeat the process. Ad infinium.
Both of them are technically allowed the run of the house, but you ought to have seen Rose's hissing fit when Rushmore tried to step in my, i.e., Rose's room. Keep in mind, please, that Rushmore is a full grown male who's about half again Rose's size.
The stare-hiss-growl repetition got a little distracting this morning while I had to watch both of them by myself, so I ended up first shutting Rose in my room, then shutting Rushmore in Annie's room, just so I can study.
Meanwhile? The staring contest continues.
I have proven, once again, that "c" is apparently the last letter in the alphabet, not "z". This is after I repeated the "z-as in the last letter in the alphabets" phrase twice, at the person's request, and still ended up with the person spelling back "c-h-... right?".
We got our temporary foster, Rushmore, last night. Rushmore is a great deal bigger and older than Rose and is currently on a diet. Appearance-wise he's orange-ish and white, short-haired, with a very blunt looking face (I have no better word to describe it). He had spend most of today under Annie's bed, since Annie's room is where his current quarter is until a permanent foster home can be found for him. Rose is not too thrilled about him, nor is he too thrilled about Rose, but so far everything's been limited to hissing and growling. Mostly though, it's Rushmore ignoring Rose who follows (actually, STALK will be more accurate) him around and hisses whenever he turns around to look at her. He growls in return. She hisses some more. They engage in an epic staring contest until one of them gets distracted and wanders off. Five minutes passes. Repeat the process. Ad infinium.
Both of them are technically allowed the run of the house, but you ought to have seen Rose's hissing fit when Rushmore tried to step in my, i.e., Rose's room. Keep in mind, please, that Rushmore is a full grown male who's about half again Rose's size.
The stare-hiss-growl repetition got a little distracting this morning while I had to watch both of them by myself, so I ended up first shutting Rose in my room, then shutting Rushmore in Annie's room, just so I can study.
Meanwhile? The staring contest continues.
20061211
Recap: Untitled
Three hours of editing. It still sounds awful. I have typed "povery" instead of "poverty" and spent an absurdly long time staring at it, wondering why it looked so odd.
At this point I think I'm willing to give up on all writing for the next month, having exceeded my monthly quota already of the ridiculous rules of this inane language.
Finals: day 1. Happy Monday to you too.
At this point I think I'm willing to give up on all writing for the next month, having exceeded my monthly quota already of the ridiculous rules of this inane language.
Finals: day 1. Happy Monday to you too.
20061210
Recap: Grumbling about schoolwork
It has been raining for a while now and, according to the forecast, there will be more rain tomorrow. Biking would be interesting, but not impossible. I'm mostly worried about my laptop which I'll need to bring to school with me because I have to write yet something else for my comp lit class (the final). I foresee plastic bags. Lots of them. And an extremely high chance of being soaked from waist-down. But hey the library has centralized heating so it shouldn't be too bad.
On the bright side, I did finish editing the ten-paged paper. Both of them. The correct term would then be "papers", I suppose. However, the glow of accomplishment faded in about five second after I started looking over my bio notes. After two hours of staring at words like "herkogamy" and "compound umbrel" I ended up puttering around the kitchen, trying to euthanise the potatoes and not think about dehiscent fruits ("dry fruits" like peas, milkweek, etc where the pod split open at maturity--see, now you've learned something to impress your friends with). What I actually did was throw away two potatoes, one of which probably would've have flowered in our cabinet if the rain kept up, and thinking obsessively about dehiscent fruits because there are all these WORDS (ohgodohgod) that I haven't memorized yet. At least, according to an recent email from the professor, I won't have to worry about the spelling. Hopefully.
My physics reader/text for next quarter is so TINY. I'm slightly worried. Isn't the seven series suppose to be harder than the one series, therefore implying possibly an actually book-sized...book?
Will finish going through bio notes today, and then the practice problems and the practice final. The practice final is worth 96 points and if I score over 86 I may work on the Lunatics story.
Oh yes, bonam fortunam to me.
[edit 14:10]
90/96, feel slightly calmer now but will amp caffeine level with another cup of tea.
On the bright side, I did finish editing the ten-paged paper. Both of them. The correct term would then be "papers", I suppose. However, the glow of accomplishment faded in about five second after I started looking over my bio notes. After two hours of staring at words like "herkogamy" and "compound umbrel" I ended up puttering around the kitchen, trying to euthanise the potatoes and not think about dehiscent fruits ("dry fruits" like peas, milkweek, etc where the pod split open at maturity--see, now you've learned something to impress your friends with). What I actually did was throw away two potatoes, one of which probably would've have flowered in our cabinet if the rain kept up, and thinking obsessively about dehiscent fruits because there are all these WORDS (ohgodohgod) that I haven't memorized yet. At least, according to an recent email from the professor, I won't have to worry about the spelling. Hopefully.
My physics reader/text for next quarter is so TINY. I'm slightly worried. Isn't the seven series suppose to be harder than the one series, therefore implying possibly an actually book-sized...book?
Will finish going through bio notes today, and then the practice problems and the practice final. The practice final is worth 96 points and if I score over 86 I may work on the Lunatics story.
Oh yes, bonam fortunam to me.
[edit 14:10]
90/96, feel slightly calmer now but will amp caffeine level with another cup of tea.
20061209
Recap: Furry alarmclocks are the best ones
Rose woke me up at around six this morning by poking me in the face with her paw, repeatedly and with her claws out. After fifteen minutes of alternating between shooing her off (which meant a return of the pointy-toed kitty in less than a minute) and ignoring her (which meant continue to suffer through the poking) I got up and fed her. Which temporarily took care of the problem. Note the word "temporarily." By seven thirty I've given up on sleeping completely and who knows, Rose might force me into scheduling my days yet.
It's getting very Christmasy around here. It's also getting very final-y, but we're not going to talk about that. There're enough people wailing about it that instead I'll talk about the Christmas tree in downtown Davis and the lights draped over the bushes. I'll talk about the group of carolers--a group of five guys all dressed in white shirts and black slacks, that I saw next to the town's tree last weekend, and the gingerbread-house-building workshops that're happening both last and this Saturday at Safeway. I'll mention the lights in the windo of the little shop called Aesop's Story House and the star-shaped lights that have been in the sushi shop two blocks down from us ever since September. I'll admit to sitting in the semi-dark for half an hour with a cup of hot chocolate and a purring cat, staring at the lighted Christmas tree until I nearly fell asleep.
And if I talk about it enough, think about it enough, maybe these will be the things I'll remember for the last two weeks of fall quarter. Maybe I'll remember the way the lights gleamed off of the ornaments instead of Ciudad Juarez in Mexico and the story behind its nickname as the City of Lost Girls. Maybe I'll remember the way Rose runs up to me each night when I come home instead of the desk in the library where I sat down one day to discover "fuck Asians" inscribed on the tabletop, and remember the professor's lectures on modern day racial discrimination and how it's repeated all over the world. If I tried hard enough maybe I will think of the smell of cinnamon and the sound of Christmas songs in the stores and not think too much about the Salvation Army volunteers standing in front of each store. And if I tried really, really hard maybe I'll think "holidays are here" instead of "holidays are here and America's still at war" or "there's still a hushed up genocide occuring at Darfur."
I can. And maybe I will, even.
At least for the holidays.
But don't worry, I'll take responsibilities for the past and the present. I'll probably have to, within a year, I expect.
It's getting very Christmasy around here. It's also getting very final-y, but we're not going to talk about that. There're enough people wailing about it that instead I'll talk about the Christmas tree in downtown Davis and the lights draped over the bushes. I'll talk about the group of carolers--a group of five guys all dressed in white shirts and black slacks, that I saw next to the town's tree last weekend, and the gingerbread-house-building workshops that're happening both last and this Saturday at Safeway. I'll mention the lights in the windo of the little shop called Aesop's Story House and the star-shaped lights that have been in the sushi shop two blocks down from us ever since September. I'll admit to sitting in the semi-dark for half an hour with a cup of hot chocolate and a purring cat, staring at the lighted Christmas tree until I nearly fell asleep.
And if I talk about it enough, think about it enough, maybe these will be the things I'll remember for the last two weeks of fall quarter. Maybe I'll remember the way the lights gleamed off of the ornaments instead of Ciudad Juarez in Mexico and the story behind its nickname as the City of Lost Girls. Maybe I'll remember the way Rose runs up to me each night when I come home instead of the desk in the library where I sat down one day to discover "fuck Asians" inscribed on the tabletop, and remember the professor's lectures on modern day racial discrimination and how it's repeated all over the world. If I tried hard enough maybe I will think of the smell of cinnamon and the sound of Christmas songs in the stores and not think too much about the Salvation Army volunteers standing in front of each store. And if I tried really, really hard maybe I'll think "holidays are here" instead of "holidays are here and America's still at war" or "there's still a hushed up genocide occuring at Darfur."
I can. And maybe I will, even.
At least for the holidays.
But don't worry, I'll take responsibilities for the past and the present. I'll probably have to, within a year, I expect.
20061208
Recap: Stress, de-stress
Blogger got a new beta out now and it's working in tandem with google. It's nice in the sense that they kept the old formats so you can still easily access the html/css codes if you need to (unlike MS, which upgrades the user interface so that the newer the version you own, the harder it is to change the basic functions such as finding the idiotic Win Messenger Function and turning it on for the duration of one week), and there're nifty new options. It's also a little scary considering that this is yet another example of how far Google can reach.
It's a little like the cyberspace version of WalMart, and though I say this jokingly if I find out that somehow they DO use certain unethical practices (which I have a nagging feeling about, anyway) I'll...oh I don't know...start writing email protests and sending them to random congress members or something. (In Gmail, now wouldn't that be ironic?)
Last chem lecture this morning. Our professor, during the last few minutes, showed us a clip he made with a student a few years back when he dressed up "incognito" (i.e. looking like a somewhat shabby college student) and went around downtown Davis to interview/ask people random questions about chemistry. My favorite conversation went something like this:
Prof. E.: Do you or your parents own a car?
Guy (possibly a random highschooler): Yeah?
Prof: So, have you ever taken the car to the mechanics?
Guy: Uh. Yeah?
Prof: Different mechanics?
Guy (gives professor a weird look): Yeah.
Prof: So, which do you like better: regular mechanics or quantum mechanics?
Guy: I...uh...sorry, what's the second one?
Prof (straight-faced): We have: the regular mechanics and the quantum mechanics.
Guy: ...I guess the quantum mechanics....
Prof: Why?
Guy: Dunno...Guess they're better or something.
And then while the TAs are passing out the course evaluations he told us what he did last weekend, which involved his wife getting and decorating a tree while he took all the old test tube cleaners (by old I mean the ones with wooden handles)that the chem department threw away and was tossing them into the fireplace to watch them burn. He told us how they light up like fireworks because the students had to use them for all these labs and they got all these ions on them.
This is one chem professor that I will miss.
Also, Lucy, the sad thing is, the email is actually not written to be complicated on purpose. Though I have no idea why she'd ask the undergrads since it's usually the grad students with the treated genetic material. We (undergrads) tend to get more lecture/fieldtrip emails.
Yes, I'm at that stage again where the amount of drawing and writing I churn out per two day period actually goes up despite of the decrease in available time. It's how I deal with stress--by working more (which, come to think of it, is probably hellishly unhealthy on the long run). Did an inventory yesterday and discovered that I'm down to my last working black ballpoint pen (I waste ink, esp. when drawing) and that I need a sharpie. Well, things to petition for over the winter break. Along with a new pair of gloves since I lost one of mine this Monday and am only still in possession of all my fingers only because Annie has been kind enough to loan me a pair of hers. The mornings are freezing.
Okay, this is as long as I can put off a ten-paged incoherency. Time to go essay-editing.
It's a little like the cyberspace version of WalMart, and though I say this jokingly if I find out that somehow they DO use certain unethical practices (which I have a nagging feeling about, anyway) I'll...oh I don't know...start writing email protests and sending them to random congress members or something. (In Gmail, now wouldn't that be ironic?)
Last chem lecture this morning. Our professor, during the last few minutes, showed us a clip he made with a student a few years back when he dressed up "incognito" (i.e. looking like a somewhat shabby college student) and went around downtown Davis to interview/ask people random questions about chemistry. My favorite conversation went something like this:
Prof. E.: Do you or your parents own a car?
Guy (possibly a random highschooler): Yeah?
Prof: So, have you ever taken the car to the mechanics?
Guy: Uh. Yeah?
Prof: Different mechanics?
Guy (gives professor a weird look): Yeah.
Prof: So, which do you like better: regular mechanics or quantum mechanics?
Guy: I...uh...sorry, what's the second one?
Prof (straight-faced): We have: the regular mechanics and the quantum mechanics.
Guy: ...I guess the quantum mechanics....
Prof: Why?
Guy: Dunno...Guess they're better or something.
And then while the TAs are passing out the course evaluations he told us what he did last weekend, which involved his wife getting and decorating a tree while he took all the old test tube cleaners (by old I mean the ones with wooden handles)that the chem department threw away and was tossing them into the fireplace to watch them burn. He told us how they light up like fireworks because the students had to use them for all these labs and they got all these ions on them.
This is one chem professor that I will miss.
Also, Lucy, the sad thing is, the email is actually not written to be complicated on purpose. Though I have no idea why she'd ask the undergrads since it's usually the grad students with the treated genetic material. We (undergrads) tend to get more lecture/fieldtrip emails.
Yes, I'm at that stage again where the amount of drawing and writing I churn out per two day period actually goes up despite of the decrease in available time. It's how I deal with stress--by working more (which, come to think of it, is probably hellishly unhealthy on the long run). Did an inventory yesterday and discovered that I'm down to my last working black ballpoint pen (I waste ink, esp. when drawing) and that I need a sharpie. Well, things to petition for over the winter break. Along with a new pair of gloves since I lost one of mine this Monday and am only still in possession of all my fingers only because Annie has been kind enough to loan me a pair of hers. The mornings are freezing.
Okay, this is as long as I can put off a ten-paged incoherency. Time to go essay-editing.
20061207
Recap: More Untitled
Because I'm not up to coming up with a title, and it's unlikely that I'll say something here, in this post, that's worthy of a title anyway.
And yeah, Lucy, sorry about the extremely mangled post. That was me trying to type something in two minutes while thinking "ohgodohgod I SO did not leave enough time for this." But then again, you've dealt with my story updates during the finals, only those had MS Word as the first line of defense, so perhaps you had to suffer (slightly) less.
As you can see by the decreased updating frequency in this blog, things are really beginning to get interesting here. (I have a group paper due on Friday. It is Thursday, and my group member still hasn't sent me her part yet. I think I'll start panicking now.)On one hand, there will be a whole lot less stuff to do for each class. On the other hand, however, there will be SO much more cramming and exam-related stuff. I'm not sure if they will balance out at the end. Actually, I know they won't.
During my last two days of work I have planted carmines, tore up what could've been periwinkles but also could have been just some random groundcover with light-violet five-petaled flowers; tore up marigolds (actually Donald did that...and hypothesized whether going over the dirt with a flame torch will eliminate the weeds for once and for all), and in the process of all this accidentally dug up some left-over daffodil bulbs (or possibly some other daffodil-type plants). And by digging up I mean "nearly chopped them all into halves with a hoe." We (my coworkers and I) were suppose to throw those away but being me, I took a few home and stuck them in a pot (two pots, in fact) and wondered if they'd grow. They should; now's the right season to plant bulbs.
The mysterious vine that I've accidentally clipped while swabbing the greenhouse have rooted. I wonder where I'll stick them. I also own Kate a succulent plant, having killed hers.
Have successfully weaned Rose of her cage, am now attempting to migrate her litter box to the bathroom. Half a meter at a time. Meanwhile she continues to pounce on the one poor paper crane that I've left out. It's starting to resemble...nothing like a paper crane.
[Edit 19:38]
Oh the emails you get for being a registered plant-bio major:
Hello everyone,
I was wondering if someone had Cesium Chloride-purified Arabidopsis
genomic DNA and would be willing to share half a microgram with me?
Thanks in advance,
Julie
In case you're wondering, this is what Arabidopsis looks like. And that email cracked me up because mainly, I think, it makes me think of those emails I got last year from my dormmates where girls typed things such as "does anyone have a gold-colored handbag that I can borrow for one evening" etc.
This year I get emails asking for plant gene materials.
I must be moving up in the world.
And yeah, Lucy, sorry about the extremely mangled post. That was me trying to type something in two minutes while thinking "ohgodohgod I SO did not leave enough time for this." But then again, you've dealt with my story updates during the finals, only those had MS Word as the first line of defense, so perhaps you had to suffer (slightly) less.
As you can see by the decreased updating frequency in this blog, things are really beginning to get interesting here. (I have a group paper due on Friday. It is Thursday, and my group member still hasn't sent me her part yet. I think I'll start panicking now.)On one hand, there will be a whole lot less stuff to do for each class. On the other hand, however, there will be SO much more cramming and exam-related stuff. I'm not sure if they will balance out at the end. Actually, I know they won't.
During my last two days of work I have planted carmines, tore up what could've been periwinkles but also could have been just some random groundcover with light-violet five-petaled flowers; tore up marigolds (actually Donald did that...and hypothesized whether going over the dirt with a flame torch will eliminate the weeds for once and for all), and in the process of all this accidentally dug up some left-over daffodil bulbs (or possibly some other daffodil-type plants). And by digging up I mean "nearly chopped them all into halves with a hoe." We (my coworkers and I) were suppose to throw those away but being me, I took a few home and stuck them in a pot (two pots, in fact) and wondered if they'd grow. They should; now's the right season to plant bulbs.
The mysterious vine that I've accidentally clipped while swabbing the greenhouse have rooted. I wonder where I'll stick them. I also own Kate a succulent plant, having killed hers.
Have successfully weaned Rose of her cage, am now attempting to migrate her litter box to the bathroom. Half a meter at a time. Meanwhile she continues to pounce on the one poor paper crane that I've left out. It's starting to resemble...nothing like a paper crane.
[Edit 19:38]
Oh the emails you get for being a registered plant-bio major:
Hello everyone,
I was wondering if someone had Cesium Chloride-purified Arabidopsis
genomic DNA and would be willing to share half a microgram with me?
Thanks in advance,
Julie
In case you're wondering, this is what Arabidopsis looks like. And that email cracked me up because mainly, I think, it makes me think of those emails I got last year from my dormmates where girls typed things such as "does anyone have a gold-colored handbag that I can borrow for one evening" etc.
This year I get emails asking for plant gene materials.
I must be moving up in the world.
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