(no subject)
Monday, July 3, 2006 1:47 p.m.
Dear Diary, I woke up approximately 8:35 a.m. I wasn’t planning on getting up, but I wanted to mail Shachi’s present before the postman would come to collect all the mail.
When I heard Mom’s footsteps in the kitchen and then as she walked up the stairs, I realized she was home. I was rinsing out my teeth when she came up. I forgot she foes to work late on Mondays. I didn’t notice until she came to me (after I went into my room). She asked how come I got up so early.
When she told me Panda wouldn’t come into the house, I went to fetch him at the front porch. I meant to surprise him, but he noticed me already. So I hid behind the door and pretended not to be there. But he was whimpering and jumping at the outer door to be let in, so I did.
I helped Mom pick seeds from the thin pea pod plant again. I wasn’t sure which ones to pick and open to spill the seeds out into the pot. I didn’t figure it out until there and then that it was the really yellow ones that were ripe enough to be picked. What is the real name of this plant?
The flies have become quite troublesome. They like to land on Birdie’s cage because they know I can’t hit them there. I wait for the them to stop moving when they land on the ground or on plants away from the garage so I can smack them dead. But I kept missing some of them. They move too quickly.
In the large garage bag on the floor next to the garage cans, I looked in and saw these black dots that looked liquidy. I thought they were flies’ eggs that they had laid. ‘Hmm, no wonder they keep landing on this bag,’ I said to myself. Some of them ended up on the floor and the ants were quite glad to get it. But I used the fly swatter to smack it until the circular little things burst open. When I asked my mom about it, she said they are papaya seeds. It was mortifying to think they were flies’ eggs I know what papaya seeds look like, but I’ve never closely examined them. They were the seeds of the papayas I had yesterday night. Stupid me. >_<
I was still in the backyard when Mom went inside. Later she called to me and I saw her through the back gate. She was on the street and obviously leaving for work as she waved to me.
I got major cramps while I sat in the shade. I was waiting for Birdie to go back in his cage, but also watching for any flies I could swat. It hurt like a killer that I was yelling, “Shit Shit ” for two seconds.
I don’t know when Birdie went back into his cage, but it was probably when I was busily writhing in my stomach pain. I was thankful I could go into the house now. Do birds feel heat like people do? I talk to Birdie all the time. I told him [as I closed his cage] that the cramps feel like the greatest pain when it hurts really badly, but in fact it isn’t the greatest pain.
It’s just like feeling like the most miserable person in the whole world. You think you’ve suffered the most and you pity yourself over and over and just can’t seem to focus. I’m like that sometimes too. I need to get some tough skin.
The cramps still hurt when I got upstairs to my room. They didn’t subside much, but reduced gradually. The internet connection wouldn’t work. Now that I have my Mom’s approval, I could register for the Family Tree Maker one year subscription.
Frustrated, I checked the plug to my computer for the internet. Nothing happened after I unplugged and plugged it in. I went off to see Panda since I couldn’t do anything else.
I decided I’d better mail out the present before it’s too late; though I knew the post man already collected the mail for today at 9 a.m. and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow at the same time. I thought people might look at me weird if I was seen on the streets carrying the box with Happy Birthday wrapper on the it, so I took a bag to put it in.
Uncle Frank was in the kitchen, but I felt so weird just to go in and say Good morning to him and come back out to the living room. So I played it off and stood in front of the mirror adjusting my hair clip on my bangs. I was waiting for him to go somewhere else so it wouldn’t be strange if I suddenly up and left to go out to mail it. But he came out to give his morning greetings to me. He asked if I wanted him to make fried eggs for him or fried rice. I couldn’t answer properly since it would be awkward if he cooked for me. In other words, he shouldn’t cook for me since he’s a guest in the house.
So I declined to that. I nodded at him when he said if I would do it myself. But if I had said yes to his offer to cook fried eggs for me, he wouldn’t be able to anyway since the cooking pan is currently missing. I have no clue where it could be.
I didn’t eat until much later. I was busy brushing out Panda’s loose hairs of fur, which was a lot. I don’t brush him for a few days and he is shedding much more. I also fed him. Usually I put the bowl in front of him and he eats, but other times he refuses like a pouting child and wants me to feed him. Sometimes I give in and other times I refuse until he eats on his own.
I let Panda out on the front porch. I made it look like I was just going outside to sit on the bench, but actually I went to mail the present. Panda poked his head out at the bottom of the gate when he saw me go and continued to stare until I was too far away. I was only gone for about a minute.
An old man was at the mailbox putting something in when I was in a close distance to it. He walked away slowly soon after. Then a woman came out of a car to slip something in too before getting back in her seat in the vehicle. I walked straight up to the mailbox. Secretively, I glanced around to see if anyone was in sight to see me pulling the present out of the bag. The box I wrapped the present in was almost the exact size of the opening where I deposited it in. I heard a heavy “thunk” when it fell into the whole pile of mail.
Uncle Frank was still in the kitchen when I got back inside the house. I played with Panda for a while until he was done. I heard him washing the plate he just ate from and then he went back downstairs. I went to get the broom to sweep up the living room floors. There was a big clump of Panda’s fur all bunched up together.
My brother jumped out of bed [as I heard] when I was done sweeping half of the living room. Uncle Frank greeted him when he came to the living room, then asked about the internet connection since it wasn’t working. My brother said it hadn’t been working since last night. Well, then I suppose the internet stopped working very early in the morning. Uncle Frank mentioned it to be about 5:30 a.m. Was he already awake at that time?
Uncle Frank got out clothes from the basement laundry room to hang outside while I ate breakfast; a sweet bread bun. I washed and cut a piece of an apple later. I had to take the skin of the apple off of the piece I cut since Birdie doesn’t like the skin. He only ate some of it when I gave it to him. I threw it into the garbage when it started to spoil. Apples and bananas spoil so easily. Just leave them out for like a half hour and they’ll turn brownish in a short amount of time.
I was in a rush to swat all the flies coming into my backyard. I hit a lot of them that’s for sure. It took about three to four swats to kill each one. The first blow I would hit them with was to make them immobilized temporarily on the ground. But because I didn’t hit them hard enough, they’d not be very injured that they could move. The blows after that are to force them to immediately stop all movements and execute the ideal plan: to kill the darn flies already. Sometimes I got to kill a fly in one hit. After that, I would sweep them up to depose of it in the garbage. It was kind of eerie looking at all the fly corpses in there. Well, is it really my fault? Flies are pests. What I’m most afraid of is they’re going to lay their eggs in my birds’ food. That would be disgusting.
Uncle Frank left to go to New Jersey when I was preparing to eat lunch (a zongzi). He thanked me for helping him, but I don’t think I was of much help at all. Maybe I will be better next time.
4:25 p.m.
Later:
I had dinner. Dad asked me if I would eat duck meat, but I declined. I felt somewhat guilty saying no to it. I know Dad works hard and because I’m semi-vegetarian, it makes it more difficult to find what I would eat. I still eat some beef, but not much. But not a piece of duck meat have I consumed since I gave it up. I don’t want to be a burden to my parents because I don’t eat duck anymore, but what am I supposed to do? I feel like I am being selfish here. I could gladly stomach eating duck and pork again and obey my parents’ wishes and be a good daughter and stop causing trouble for them, but not having to eat duck and pork makes me feel so liberated, you know? I didn’t want to keep eating it for the sole purpose of freeing my own guilt in eating meat, and this is the part where I am only thinking of my own self. This isn’t a political statement or some sort of thing I am doing all to be rebellious.
I had rice with vegetables and fish and beef. I finished everything on my plate fine. My brother was sleeping, but Dad called him down to eat too. While my brother and I ate, my Dad sat next to me. He didn’t seem to be watching us, but thinking. He has always said [in mandarin], “Why are you eating so slow? Is it not good?” And when I say it is good, he replies [in mandarin], “Then if it’s good, why don’t you eat faster.” In his opinion of the food he cooks, people who enjoy it should eat it up quicker.
I think there was too much rice on my plate, but I made myself eat bigger pieces of it so it would take less time to finish. My brother didn’t finish all of his rice. Dad kept telling him to eat the duck meat, which I think he half heartedly did.
I walked with Dad to the train station to pick up Mom from work, but she was already on the streets. We all went to Eckerd. Dad suggested milk should be bought, but I didn’t want it. I always drink milk on the last few days when it’s going to be expired soon and then I’ll never finish the entire gallon that way. So yeah ..
Mom and I went to the back of the Eckerd store to try out this heart rate/pressure testing machine. I had to put my left arm into this cylinder hole. When the start button is pushed, the cushions in the inside of the cylinder inflate and push against my arm. I must say this definitely sped up the rate of the flow of my blood not to mention my heart rate. It seemed to be doing it all on its own all because of the pressure being put on my arm. Perhaps it was to reveal the true rate my heart pumps at. There were two measurements of pressure and one of heart rate. The first tested ____ pressure. I forgot the name of it, but I was at 87. The second one tested my diabatic pressure, which was at 62. And as for my heart rate, it was a soaring 94. Since I was above the normal heart rate, I was listed as prehyper. I was at the normal rate on the pressure measurements though. Both were below the minimum highest rate of normal pressures.
Mom tested herself out too. Her pressure levels were higher, but probably because she was walking home from the train station when my Dad and I walked with her to Eckerd. Her heart rate was at 64. Wow. What a difference from mine. “How come your heart rate is so high?” she asked me when we left to find my Dad in the store. “Because I get nervous easily.” True, true. My heart jumps too fast since I am too sensitive. It’s difficult to make myself calm or at ease most of the time. I think the only moment when my heart beats its’ slowest rate is when I’m sleeping. Whenever I’m awake, I always have something to worry about and it makes me nervous. Very commonly I exaggerate the problem and it makes me too aware and even more anxious.
When she told my Dad later after we rejoined with him, he said to me [in mandarin], “It must be nervousness.”
I finally registered for the one year subscription to Family Tree Maker 2006. But I never knew I would be so disappointed by what I found. Nothing but dead ends with lists and lists of names and online views of birth dates and residence addresses. I found the least bit of information. I found nothing on most of the members of the family on my mother’s side, and nothing about my own grandmother (my Dad’s mother). It feels so depressingly hopeless. What did I register this subscription for if I can’t even find anything on my relatives in the U.S.? I’m sure other people have felt this type of longing too; wanting so badly it hurts to know about your relatives and history and ancestors, yet you don’t know them. But I hope. I hope so much and I don’t know what to do now.
11:19 a.m. July 4th of 2006
Dear Diary, I woke up approximately 8:35 a.m. I wasn’t planning on getting up, but I wanted to mail Shachi’s present before the postman would come to collect all the mail.
When I heard Mom’s footsteps in the kitchen and then as she walked up the stairs, I realized she was home. I was rinsing out my teeth when she came up. I forgot she foes to work late on Mondays. I didn’t notice until she came to me (after I went into my room). She asked how come I got up so early.
When she told me Panda wouldn’t come into the house, I went to fetch him at the front porch. I meant to surprise him, but he noticed me already. So I hid behind the door and pretended not to be there. But he was whimpering and jumping at the outer door to be let in, so I did.
I helped Mom pick seeds from the thin pea pod plant again. I wasn’t sure which ones to pick and open to spill the seeds out into the pot. I didn’t figure it out until there and then that it was the really yellow ones that were ripe enough to be picked. What is the real name of this plant?
The flies have become quite troublesome. They like to land on Birdie’s cage because they know I can’t hit them there. I wait for the them to stop moving when they land on the ground or on plants away from the garage so I can smack them dead. But I kept missing some of them. They move too quickly.
In the large garage bag on the floor next to the garage cans, I looked in and saw these black dots that looked liquidy. I thought they were flies’ eggs that they had laid. ‘Hmm, no wonder they keep landing on this bag,’ I said to myself. Some of them ended up on the floor and the ants were quite glad to get it. But I used the fly swatter to smack it until the circular little things burst open. When I asked my mom about it, she said they are papaya seeds. It was mortifying to think they were flies’ eggs I know what papaya seeds look like, but I’ve never closely examined them. They were the seeds of the papayas I had yesterday night. Stupid me. >_<
I was still in the backyard when Mom went inside. Later she called to me and I saw her through the back gate. She was on the street and obviously leaving for work as she waved to me.
I got major cramps while I sat in the shade. I was waiting for Birdie to go back in his cage, but also watching for any flies I could swat. It hurt like a killer that I was yelling, “Shit Shit ” for two seconds.
I don’t know when Birdie went back into his cage, but it was probably when I was busily writhing in my stomach pain. I was thankful I could go into the house now. Do birds feel heat like people do? I talk to Birdie all the time. I told him [as I closed his cage] that the cramps feel like the greatest pain when it hurts really badly, but in fact it isn’t the greatest pain.
It’s just like feeling like the most miserable person in the whole world. You think you’ve suffered the most and you pity yourself over and over and just can’t seem to focus. I’m like that sometimes too. I need to get some tough skin.
The cramps still hurt when I got upstairs to my room. They didn’t subside much, but reduced gradually. The internet connection wouldn’t work. Now that I have my Mom’s approval, I could register for the Family Tree Maker one year subscription.
Frustrated, I checked the plug to my computer for the internet. Nothing happened after I unplugged and plugged it in. I went off to see Panda since I couldn’t do anything else.
I decided I’d better mail out the present before it’s too late; though I knew the post man already collected the mail for today at 9 a.m. and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow at the same time. I thought people might look at me weird if I was seen on the streets carrying the box with Happy Birthday wrapper on the it, so I took a bag to put it in.
Uncle Frank was in the kitchen, but I felt so weird just to go in and say Good morning to him and come back out to the living room. So I played it off and stood in front of the mirror adjusting my hair clip on my bangs. I was waiting for him to go somewhere else so it wouldn’t be strange if I suddenly up and left to go out to mail it. But he came out to give his morning greetings to me. He asked if I wanted him to make fried eggs for him or fried rice. I couldn’t answer properly since it would be awkward if he cooked for me. In other words, he shouldn’t cook for me since he’s a guest in the house.
So I declined to that. I nodded at him when he said if I would do it myself. But if I had said yes to his offer to cook fried eggs for me, he wouldn’t be able to anyway since the cooking pan is currently missing. I have no clue where it could be.
I didn’t eat until much later. I was busy brushing out Panda’s loose hairs of fur, which was a lot. I don’t brush him for a few days and he is shedding much more. I also fed him. Usually I put the bowl in front of him and he eats, but other times he refuses like a pouting child and wants me to feed him. Sometimes I give in and other times I refuse until he eats on his own.
I let Panda out on the front porch. I made it look like I was just going outside to sit on the bench, but actually I went to mail the present. Panda poked his head out at the bottom of the gate when he saw me go and continued to stare until I was too far away. I was only gone for about a minute.
An old man was at the mailbox putting something in when I was in a close distance to it. He walked away slowly soon after. Then a woman came out of a car to slip something in too before getting back in her seat in the vehicle. I walked straight up to the mailbox. Secretively, I glanced around to see if anyone was in sight to see me pulling the present out of the bag. The box I wrapped the present in was almost the exact size of the opening where I deposited it in. I heard a heavy “thunk” when it fell into the whole pile of mail.
Uncle Frank was still in the kitchen when I got back inside the house. I played with Panda for a while until he was done. I heard him washing the plate he just ate from and then he went back downstairs. I went to get the broom to sweep up the living room floors. There was a big clump of Panda’s fur all bunched up together.
My brother jumped out of bed [as I heard] when I was done sweeping half of the living room. Uncle Frank greeted him when he came to the living room, then asked about the internet connection since it wasn’t working. My brother said it hadn’t been working since last night. Well, then I suppose the internet stopped working very early in the morning. Uncle Frank mentioned it to be about 5:30 a.m. Was he already awake at that time?
Uncle Frank got out clothes from the basement laundry room to hang outside while I ate breakfast; a sweet bread bun. I washed and cut a piece of an apple later. I had to take the skin of the apple off of the piece I cut since Birdie doesn’t like the skin. He only ate some of it when I gave it to him. I threw it into the garbage when it started to spoil. Apples and bananas spoil so easily. Just leave them out for like a half hour and they’ll turn brownish in a short amount of time.
I was in a rush to swat all the flies coming into my backyard. I hit a lot of them that’s for sure. It took about three to four swats to kill each one. The first blow I would hit them with was to make them immobilized temporarily on the ground. But because I didn’t hit them hard enough, they’d not be very injured that they could move. The blows after that are to force them to immediately stop all movements and execute the ideal plan: to kill the darn flies already. Sometimes I got to kill a fly in one hit. After that, I would sweep them up to depose of it in the garbage. It was kind of eerie looking at all the fly corpses in there. Well, is it really my fault? Flies are pests. What I’m most afraid of is they’re going to lay their eggs in my birds’ food. That would be disgusting.
Uncle Frank left to go to New Jersey when I was preparing to eat lunch (a zongzi). He thanked me for helping him, but I don’t think I was of much help at all. Maybe I will be better next time.
4:25 p.m.
Later:
I had dinner. Dad asked me if I would eat duck meat, but I declined. I felt somewhat guilty saying no to it. I know Dad works hard and because I’m semi-vegetarian, it makes it more difficult to find what I would eat. I still eat some beef, but not much. But not a piece of duck meat have I consumed since I gave it up. I don’t want to be a burden to my parents because I don’t eat duck anymore, but what am I supposed to do? I feel like I am being selfish here. I could gladly stomach eating duck and pork again and obey my parents’ wishes and be a good daughter and stop causing trouble for them, but not having to eat duck and pork makes me feel so liberated, you know? I didn’t want to keep eating it for the sole purpose of freeing my own guilt in eating meat, and this is the part where I am only thinking of my own self. This isn’t a political statement or some sort of thing I am doing all to be rebellious.
I had rice with vegetables and fish and beef. I finished everything on my plate fine. My brother was sleeping, but Dad called him down to eat too. While my brother and I ate, my Dad sat next to me. He didn’t seem to be watching us, but thinking. He has always said [in mandarin], “Why are you eating so slow? Is it not good?” And when I say it is good, he replies [in mandarin], “Then if it’s good, why don’t you eat faster.” In his opinion of the food he cooks, people who enjoy it should eat it up quicker.
I think there was too much rice on my plate, but I made myself eat bigger pieces of it so it would take less time to finish. My brother didn’t finish all of his rice. Dad kept telling him to eat the duck meat, which I think he half heartedly did.
I walked with Dad to the train station to pick up Mom from work, but she was already on the streets. We all went to Eckerd. Dad suggested milk should be bought, but I didn’t want it. I always drink milk on the last few days when it’s going to be expired soon and then I’ll never finish the entire gallon that way. So yeah ..
Mom and I went to the back of the Eckerd store to try out this heart rate/pressure testing machine. I had to put my left arm into this cylinder hole. When the start button is pushed, the cushions in the inside of the cylinder inflate and push against my arm. I must say this definitely sped up the rate of the flow of my blood not to mention my heart rate. It seemed to be doing it all on its own all because of the pressure being put on my arm. Perhaps it was to reveal the true rate my heart pumps at. There were two measurements of pressure and one of heart rate. The first tested ____ pressure. I forgot the name of it, but I was at 87. The second one tested my diabatic pressure, which was at 62. And as for my heart rate, it was a soaring 94. Since I was above the normal heart rate, I was listed as prehyper. I was at the normal rate on the pressure measurements though. Both were below the minimum highest rate of normal pressures.
Mom tested herself out too. Her pressure levels were higher, but probably because she was walking home from the train station when my Dad and I walked with her to Eckerd. Her heart rate was at 64. Wow. What a difference from mine. “How come your heart rate is so high?” she asked me when we left to find my Dad in the store. “Because I get nervous easily.” True, true. My heart jumps too fast since I am too sensitive. It’s difficult to make myself calm or at ease most of the time. I think the only moment when my heart beats its’ slowest rate is when I’m sleeping. Whenever I’m awake, I always have something to worry about and it makes me nervous. Very commonly I exaggerate the problem and it makes me too aware and even more anxious.
When she told my Dad later after we rejoined with him, he said to me [in mandarin], “It must be nervousness.”
I finally registered for the one year subscription to Family Tree Maker 2006. But I never knew I would be so disappointed by what I found. Nothing but dead ends with lists and lists of names and online views of birth dates and residence addresses. I found the least bit of information. I found nothing on most of the members of the family on my mother’s side, and nothing about my own grandmother (my Dad’s mother). It feels so depressingly hopeless. What did I register this subscription for if I can’t even find anything on my relatives in the U.S.? I’m sure other people have felt this type of longing too; wanting so badly it hurts to know about your relatives and history and ancestors, yet you don’t know them. But I hope. I hope so much and I don’t know what to do now.
11:19 a.m. July 4th of 2006