Entertainment for the uber-bored...
“It never rains, but it pours.” So I’ve had an itch to update for a while, just haven’t gotten to it until now. Basically life’s just been swamping me, the college life that is; five midterms in five weeks really takes it out of you. Yet the emotions continue to build up on the inside, a catharsis waiting to happen. Normally I try to release my emotions through music, both in piano and cello when I used to play them, now only on cello, pretty much. But this is different. Perhaps music is therapy for the short-term build up; the long term is best saved for words.
You might say that the buildup from the wear and tear of academia contributes to more than a general sense of exhaustion. I suppose it’s taken a perpetual toll on my immune system as well, and, as such, the immune systems of others (aiya). I caught this cough a few weeks ago, then the past two days I picked up the fever and all the usual flu symptoms. Seems more like the respiratory infection type though, weird happenings in my body lately. As such, now it’s spring break, I should be in Lake Tahoe getting ready for the next day’s ski at Heavenly, but I’m stuck at home in front of a TV with a thermometer pointing out of my mouth. Sad life, perhaps?
You might say it has been so since the beginning of this month (i.e. since I turned 18), but it would be ridiculously unfair to blame it all on that. I mean, there is really so much to be thankful for yet; I am in no position to place blame on anyone or anything. Let’s start with this set of good stuff; I don’t know, it just makes things seem right for a while?
So my 18th birthday. My style is to not really make anything a profoundly momentous occasion, but this time it was made so, muchas gracias to Miss Mary Full. I was surprised to see like 20+ people turn up for this dinner thing; I’m really nothing special. But I was touched. And I am grateful that so many good friends are a part of my Cal experience. That is truly something to be remembered. Oh! Besides, now I’m 18. I can totally go clubbing (need to take advantage of that, huh?), don’t have to sneak porn around (j/k), and smoke! (I mean - vote).
Just this past Saturday I performed in this music recital that Heghine, a violin teacher from OYO, organized. Basically, she wanted to give her students the opportunity to solo in front of an orchestra, knowing how insanely high-level competitions for such opportunities are these days. So she put together this orchestra, asked me to be a cellist, and that’s how it all worked out. Talk about nerve-wracking, however, when I wake up on performance day and find myself unable to walk straight with a 102o fever burning through my brain. I hadn’t practiced in a week because of midterms and … such. Great.
Yet you would be surprised at the level of music that can be produced under the influence of Advil, Pseudaphed, and various other Chinese herbal thingamajiggies. I played quite well, given the circumstances. Perhaps it was the added “zonal” influence of having to sit principal and play with a professional cellist directly behind me, basically keeping me in line. She saved me too, I totally blanked out on a rest count once, and she was the one who filled me in. Hmph, I’ll never be a leader, unless I’m the soloist, which is even less probable than being a leader, which is more probable than both combined. Yea, no professional musician on my list of potential careers. (But say I get hit by lightning, and get bitten by a shark…)
Point is, I miss performing. I was surprised how natural I felt on stage, in front of parents who had never seen me before (except this one mother, whose two kids have the same piano teacher as I did). Perhaps I was too sick to be nervous, too drugged up to think of anything other than surviving through the music without coughing like a mad hacker. (Sorry, my vocabulary is basically as bad as, like, whatever). But I wish I still took regular lessons; staying motivated to practice amidst the daily possibilities of college life, midterms, people, Call of Duty, really just does not happen, especially when my RA comes to my room every time I try to practice between 10 and 11pm before quiet hours, reprimanding that I ought to NOT because people are studying for midterms. Golly. I get home at like 9pm sometimes; how is it always my fault that I just want to squeeze in some time for music. And I don’t sound THAT bad. They’ll survive…maybe.
So if I had been trying, however so mildly, to actually create good-sounding prose in this entry of mine, I now know I have reached the point of impossibility. Good grammar, stimulating sentences - ain’t gonna happen no mo. That is actually pretty funny: I joined this Facebook group called, “I will judge you by your gramma” or something, but I must have misread because I swear they almost kicked me out the minute I said, “Yo’ grandma, of who I speak, is so fat…that when she jump fo’ joy, she got stuck.” No, really, not funny. Thanks though.
Enough with that mild intermission right there. I picked up the absolute coolest song from my sister Jen the other day: Jason Mraz - Geek in the Pink. I am really not sure what image I give off when I wear pink, though I certainly hope it is a decent one. I would probably hate to be seen as an absolute fob - c’mon, my friends back home are like, white preppy, and by diffusion, so am I. Preppy, that is. White’s still a stretch, sorry. I mean, I am pretty ghetto, too; as such they do not mix all that well. Want lessons? I can introduce you to my guru (DD). But I am a geek (I go to Berkeley, they’re equivalent) and I tend to dress in colors of the pinkish variety. What can I say? Catchy song. It’s a keeper.
So let’s talk about...(the s word!) Okay not quite. This one dude told me that you’re supposed to (i.e. there is a larger-than-not probability that you will) meet the person you marry within the next four years! Wow. So I’ve given her a hard time about it for about 3 weeks now; it has almost gotten old. Show of hands, who’s worried? Figured…sorries! But seriously now, since when did it also become an issue for the elders as well? My uncles ask, my older cousins ask, my piano teacher and her husband asked, even my bloody PHYSICIAN asked today whether or not I had a girlfriend. Actually I think my physician wanted to marry his daughter to me, so I promptly reminded him of how old I was, and he promptly finished writing me the prescription (that’s right, Kid’s Antibiotics…). The question of matrimony remains, but because of my apparent immaturity, terrible inability to instigate things, general awkwardness, and kissing ability resembling that of a horse, or maybe a pony, I figure I’ll have plenty of time to think about it in a half a decade or so.
Boy I hope you are entertained reading this entry; I am having so much fun, I hardly want to get to the emo side of me and pour out the bad stuff. So maybe I won’t. No one really cares about stupid midterms, bad weather, annoying people, bad grades, malo healtho, anyway. I suppose I could recap the semester so far, but in truth it really is not that memorable.
Okay, I identify a lot with my physics professor. He is a true theoretical physicist; answering the question “So who cares?” is totally scripted in his lectures. A lot of times it involves, “Okay, my derivation is off by a factor of -3. Who cares?” And I often agree - I really don’t care! But other times he asks the question to bring in the application of such physics in his career, and that is often quite enlightening, except for when I am asleep, but sleep = -3 * (always good), ohhh crap - whatever. Anyway, aside from his ridiculous “show me what physics you know even though I know you know none” exams, I like this guy. Too bad I’m on verge of failing…gah.
What else this semester? My math professor is not all that special. He writes big, messy and fast, then wipes all excess chalk on his jeans that do not quite cover his ankles. He fancies dimensions 97 and, just recently, 37. Lecturing without a microphone, he totally sports glasses with the neck cord running down his back. His midterms are pretty simple and straightforward; that being said, I’m so pathetic I do not even have an A…argh.
Hey guys, it’s just about spring. Does that remind you of anything? (Love in the air!) Not quite, but certain sensations apply. (Anniversary with your mom!) Okay, some things you do not tell people - and that wasn’t even funny man. (College admissions?) Ohhh, ding ding ding ding Winner! (Wait, that’s so high school!) Meh, it happens. So how about it, yea? A quick congrats to all the schools people have gotten into, a big F-that to the schools that weren’t good enough for respective persons anyway, and a total fingers-crossed slash I-have-faith-in-you attitude to the upcoming decisions.
Oh, and if I’ve said that you are coming to Cal. You are, else I have your head. =)
Hokai, that’s a wrap for today. Feel free to rate the funniness of this post from 1 (not funny) to 97 (peed my pants laughing). Hey, don’t be embarrassed; I expect a lot of 97s.
And so, before I get too over the top…
-Not quite such an emo-Stepho no mo.
You might say that the buildup from the wear and tear of academia contributes to more than a general sense of exhaustion. I suppose it’s taken a perpetual toll on my immune system as well, and, as such, the immune systems of others (aiya). I caught this cough a few weeks ago, then the past two days I picked up the fever and all the usual flu symptoms. Seems more like the respiratory infection type though, weird happenings in my body lately. As such, now it’s spring break, I should be in Lake Tahoe getting ready for the next day’s ski at Heavenly, but I’m stuck at home in front of a TV with a thermometer pointing out of my mouth. Sad life, perhaps?
You might say it has been so since the beginning of this month (i.e. since I turned 18), but it would be ridiculously unfair to blame it all on that. I mean, there is really so much to be thankful for yet; I am in no position to place blame on anyone or anything. Let’s start with this set of good stuff; I don’t know, it just makes things seem right for a while?
So my 18th birthday. My style is to not really make anything a profoundly momentous occasion, but this time it was made so, muchas gracias to Miss Mary Full. I was surprised to see like 20+ people turn up for this dinner thing; I’m really nothing special. But I was touched. And I am grateful that so many good friends are a part of my Cal experience. That is truly something to be remembered. Oh! Besides, now I’m 18. I can totally go clubbing (need to take advantage of that, huh?), don’t have to sneak porn around (j/k), and smoke! (I mean - vote).
Just this past Saturday I performed in this music recital that Heghine, a violin teacher from OYO, organized. Basically, she wanted to give her students the opportunity to solo in front of an orchestra, knowing how insanely high-level competitions for such opportunities are these days. So she put together this orchestra, asked me to be a cellist, and that’s how it all worked out. Talk about nerve-wracking, however, when I wake up on performance day and find myself unable to walk straight with a 102o fever burning through my brain. I hadn’t practiced in a week because of midterms and … such. Great.
Yet you would be surprised at the level of music that can be produced under the influence of Advil, Pseudaphed, and various other Chinese herbal thingamajiggies. I played quite well, given the circumstances. Perhaps it was the added “zonal” influence of having to sit principal and play with a professional cellist directly behind me, basically keeping me in line. She saved me too, I totally blanked out on a rest count once, and she was the one who filled me in. Hmph, I’ll never be a leader, unless I’m the soloist, which is even less probable than being a leader, which is more probable than both combined. Yea, no professional musician on my list of potential careers. (But say I get hit by lightning, and get bitten by a shark…)
Point is, I miss performing. I was surprised how natural I felt on stage, in front of parents who had never seen me before (except this one mother, whose two kids have the same piano teacher as I did). Perhaps I was too sick to be nervous, too drugged up to think of anything other than surviving through the music without coughing like a mad hacker. (Sorry, my vocabulary is basically as bad as, like, whatever). But I wish I still took regular lessons; staying motivated to practice amidst the daily possibilities of college life, midterms, people, Call of Duty, really just does not happen, especially when my RA comes to my room every time I try to practice between 10 and 11pm before quiet hours, reprimanding that I ought to NOT because people are studying for midterms. Golly. I get home at like 9pm sometimes; how is it always my fault that I just want to squeeze in some time for music. And I don’t sound THAT bad. They’ll survive…maybe.
So if I had been trying, however so mildly, to actually create good-sounding prose in this entry of mine, I now know I have reached the point of impossibility. Good grammar, stimulating sentences - ain’t gonna happen no mo. That is actually pretty funny: I joined this Facebook group called, “I will judge you by your gramma” or something, but I must have misread because I swear they almost kicked me out the minute I said, “Yo’ grandma, of who I speak, is so fat…that when she jump fo’ joy, she got stuck.” No, really, not funny. Thanks though.
Enough with that mild intermission right there. I picked up the absolute coolest song from my sister Jen the other day: Jason Mraz - Geek in the Pink. I am really not sure what image I give off when I wear pink, though I certainly hope it is a decent one. I would probably hate to be seen as an absolute fob - c’mon, my friends back home are like, white preppy, and by diffusion, so am I. Preppy, that is. White’s still a stretch, sorry. I mean, I am pretty ghetto, too; as such they do not mix all that well. Want lessons? I can introduce you to my guru (DD). But I am a geek (I go to Berkeley, they’re equivalent) and I tend to dress in colors of the pinkish variety. What can I say? Catchy song. It’s a keeper.
So let’s talk about...(the s word!) Okay not quite. This one dude told me that you’re supposed to (i.e. there is a larger-than-not probability that you will) meet the person you marry within the next four years! Wow. So I’ve given her a hard time about it for about 3 weeks now; it has almost gotten old. Show of hands, who’s worried? Figured…sorries! But seriously now, since when did it also become an issue for the elders as well? My uncles ask, my older cousins ask, my piano teacher and her husband asked, even my bloody PHYSICIAN asked today whether or not I had a girlfriend. Actually I think my physician wanted to marry his daughter to me, so I promptly reminded him of how old I was, and he promptly finished writing me the prescription (that’s right, Kid’s Antibiotics…). The question of matrimony remains, but because of my apparent immaturity, terrible inability to instigate things, general awkwardness, and kissing ability resembling that of a horse, or maybe a pony, I figure I’ll have plenty of time to think about it in a half a decade or so.
Boy I hope you are entertained reading this entry; I am having so much fun, I hardly want to get to the emo side of me and pour out the bad stuff. So maybe I won’t. No one really cares about stupid midterms, bad weather, annoying people, bad grades, malo healtho, anyway. I suppose I could recap the semester so far, but in truth it really is not that memorable.
Okay, I identify a lot with my physics professor. He is a true theoretical physicist; answering the question “So who cares?” is totally scripted in his lectures. A lot of times it involves, “Okay, my derivation is off by a factor of -3. Who cares?” And I often agree - I really don’t care! But other times he asks the question to bring in the application of such physics in his career, and that is often quite enlightening, except for when I am asleep, but sleep = -3 * (always good), ohhh crap - whatever. Anyway, aside from his ridiculous “show me what physics you know even though I know you know none” exams, I like this guy. Too bad I’m on verge of failing…gah.
What else this semester? My math professor is not all that special. He writes big, messy and fast, then wipes all excess chalk on his jeans that do not quite cover his ankles. He fancies dimensions 97 and, just recently, 37. Lecturing without a microphone, he totally sports glasses with the neck cord running down his back. His midterms are pretty simple and straightforward; that being said, I’m so pathetic I do not even have an A…argh.
Hey guys, it’s just about spring. Does that remind you of anything? (Love in the air!) Not quite, but certain sensations apply. (Anniversary with your mom!) Okay, some things you do not tell people - and that wasn’t even funny man. (College admissions?) Ohhh, ding ding ding ding Winner! (Wait, that’s so high school!) Meh, it happens. So how about it, yea? A quick congrats to all the schools people have gotten into, a big F-that to the schools that weren’t good enough for respective persons anyway, and a total fingers-crossed slash I-have-faith-in-you attitude to the upcoming decisions.
Oh, and if I’ve said that you are coming to Cal. You are, else I have your head. =)
Hokai, that’s a wrap for today. Feel free to rate the funniness of this post from 1 (not funny) to 97 (peed my pants laughing). Hey, don’t be embarrassed; I expect a lot of 97s.
And so, before I get too over the top…
-Not quite such an emo-Stepho no mo.