Jesus Camp and What is going on in the US?

Yesterday after Composition class, NB, CS and I (since I can't use real names I used abbreviations) continued our discussion about Jesus Camp and other political and social events going on in the U.S. I have to confess that beyond my opinions I really couldn't participate much in their conversation as it turned political about the liberals versus the conservatives and universal healthcare and who the immigrants and blacks and evangelicalists and mormons would vote for. A lot of this blew over my head although the universal healthcare topic was something I could think about since we talked about it in economics recently and why it would be difficult to implement and the major tax increase that would be required. Then again, most Americans don't like their taxes raised and don't recognize that to get, essentially, free health care they have to pay for it in one way or another. I'm not sure how I feel about universal healthcare, but I think the topic we ended up discussing a lot of is the clash between the liberals and conservatives. The next presidential election is coming up in about a year and I didn't even know who any of the Republican candidates were! That is pretty sad, and I felt especially ignorant as NB and CS talked about who they think has the lead and from what group will they get the most support. In a way it doesn't really matter who the Republican candidate is for me unless he/she turns out to be liberal, but, like that's going to happen. Most of the political stuff I couldn't really contribute to and they noticed I was pretty quiet, although I did enjoy listening to them talk and enlighten me to what is going on now. So they asked me what I wanted to talk about so I brought up teaching creationism in schools and abortion because I feel very strongly about those two topics. When I mean teaching creationism in school I guess I should say, teaching creationism in science class. Teaching creationism is fine, but it should not be taught in science class and should not be put up right next to the theory of evolution. I mean how confusing is that for kids to listen to two different theories of where we originate from. Creationism is totally fine in theology class and if it's put into schools they should offer theology classes so those who want to study creationism or interested about learning about it can. I'm not a believer, I'm an atheist, and I believe that evolution is true so it's difficult for me to understand how anyone can believe in creationism. Creationism to me is as ridiculous as evolution must be to evagelicalists.

I have to go to class now, so I'll end this post with a question that NB presented to me as we talked about college and evangelicals:

What would you do if you got an evangelical roommate?

Senior Chapel

Senior Chapel was pretty fun. I enjoyed listening to the talented musicians and singers in my grade perform for us. It brought back memories from Senior year, like when we sang "Lean on Me". This is because the pre-variety show show the variety show band put on (of which I was a member) included "Lean on Me". The rhythm section played and the rest of us sang, banged a tambourine, and sort of danced around. It was probably one of the most special memories I have of variety show because I wasn't nervous about not forgetting any of the words or moves during my scene and I was with band people and my orhcestra friends. Mainly the band people though, because they were the people I spent four years with struggling through marching band and concert band and we created a bond that is different than that I have with my regular friends. Anyway, with the sound of us singing/shouting our hearts out and the AWESOME rhythm section going on in the back it was almost spiritual. I felt comfortable with myself and didn't feel like I was a fool or crazy, it was utter fun. It was ineffable because I can't find the words I want to use to describe how I felt. It was a combination of the feelings of being a senior, spending my last year at Punahou, and the "brotherliness/sisterliness" I felt toward those next to me. We put our arms on each others shoulders and swayed to the music and clapping our hands. So, thanks Senior Chapel Committee for making "Lean on Me" one of the songs we sang. It made me to relive one of the most memorable experiences of my senior year.

Protection?

Grizzly Man was entirely different than the documentary I thought we would be watching. As a youngster I enjoyed watching animal documentaries on Discovery channel, National Geographic, and Animal Planet in which I get to learn about the lives of animals I will probably never see. Grizzly Man, to me, was more so a biography of Timothy Treadwell than a documentary. Or maybe it was a biographical documentary? The video brought up a lot of issues relating to interactions between humans and animals, what is an inherent characteristic of nature, and character. Throughout the documentary I think the most difficult thing for me to understand was Treadwell's rational for going back to the Grizzly Maze and the Park each summer to "protect" the bears. According to the ecologist, the bear population can sustain a 6% decrease and still survive, so people are allowed to kill some bears since it contributes millions of dollars to the Alaskan economy. The ecologist also said that the poacher problem is not very large, so why was Treadwell so insistant that he had to protect the bears from poachers who were "sure to come"? I think it was ignorance and a selfish (though maybe not conscious) desire to bring meaning to his own life. He was portrayed as an All-American boy who ran into a lot of problems in college and ultimately spiraled downward because of substance abuse. Supposedly, Treadwell had a "near death experience" with some unknown substance, possible alcohol or cocaine or methamphetamines and decided he needed to "turn over a new leaf". So what does he do? He goes and lives with grizzly bears. Grizzly bears are HUGE. They can weight up to 1500 pounds (three quarters of a ton!), run up to 35mph, and have massive claws and powerful jaws. Why, of all animals that he could "save" would he choose an animal that has a lot of potential to kill him? If he really wanted to do good he would have tried to save an animal that really is endanger of extinction. Grizzly bears are labeled as "Least Concern" which is the lowest level of threat to an animal. Least Concern animals are not labeled as Threatened so Treadwell was protecting an animal that really did not need protection. Also, Treadwell never ran into any hunters during his 13 summers. Not one. All he did was nurture the bears and foxes to be comfortable with humans. He swam with them, petted them, and watched them and talked to them for months. Habituating them to humans only makes them that much more easy for a hunter to kill. Instead of hiding they may walk toward the poacher thinking that he would be like the other bipedal animal he saw, relatively harmless.

Otters Holding Hands

About a week ago my sister came jumping toward me as I got home from senior sing exclaiming with great excitement that there was this video on youtube that I had to watch. She said it was called, Otters Holding Hands. What? Wait, I think my ears were plugged or galactic star dust drifted into my ear, Otters Holding Hands? What the...? I thought that maybe it was some new song like the Berries & Cream commercial or Potter Puppet Pals: The Mysterious Ticking Noise (which is simply genius and if you have not watched this, you must, otherwise you will die not having lived). Instead, she gets on to youtube, types in "Otters" and I see in the list of otter related videos an "Otters Holding Hands REMIX". Good lord this already has a following. She clicks the first one and it begins to play. In what I could only presume was a zoo aquarius habitat are two chestnut colored otters lying on their backs with the palms of their little paws enlaced. "Eeeee! Omigod that is the cutest thing everrr!" Ok that doesn't really deserve quotes because that wasn't what I said exactly, but I think it was somewhere along those lines and definitely said "cute" and "ever" and "Eeeeee" with wavy hand motions and a scrunched-up smiley face. The next minute or so became less satisfactory as I got a little bored of watching these two otters hold hands (kind of like the Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility that I learned in economics, basically the more you have of something the less satisfaction each additional piece brings you). I waited because my sister said that the best thing was near the end so we watched and went "Awww" because the two otters drifted apart, but they kept drifting along and I guess the water current pushed them back together and one of the otters extended its arm and linked paws with the other otter and moved its head as if it was nuzzling the other otter. "OMIGOSH! That is the cutest ever!" and more "Adorable" and "Eeeeee!" followed. Wow, seriously that has got to be the sweetest showing of affection. Clearly, those two were made to be in a K-Drama. (Go Choi Ji Woo Otter! Go Bae Yong Joon Otter!)

DS

Nintendo DS. Plato's Republic. Sleeping student head. Each stacked atop each other in a poignant example of the life of a student at my school. Play. Work. Sleep. Although this may come in any order, often times it is Play, Sleep, Work, or Work, Sleep, Play. And sometimes the sleep goes on in the class instead of at home and this activity of "sleeping in class" increases exponentially as each year of high school passes. The play part has also grown since freshman year with so many different ways to deter ourselves from school work. I can't seem to walk around campus without seeing kids playing on their Nintendo DS, PSP, laptops, listening to iPods or other music players, playing cards, talking on their cell phones, or playing basketball. Those are just some of the options at school, at home there is also television and facebook and myspace and any of those other internet blog/comment sites. (Take blogger as an example, although this sort of blogging is me being productive). And why do students take the minimal amount of hours out of our day to contribute to unnecessary activities? Because we want to put off the necessary ones as long as possible! Oh, there it is, the dun Dun DUNNNN "P" word: Procrastination. Even though we could do our math homework first, which might take one to two hours, after only those one to two hours we'd be done and could either move on to the next homework item or if that was all the homework, do the things we'd rather do. It really doesn't make any sense as to why we choose to waste time when it only makes the time we actually do the work super late/super early so we are tired and are prone to falling asleep at the computer. (Oh yeah, this is another place where we fit sleep in). When I was a freshman, sophomore, and a first semester junior I knew this quite well and hardly ever did not turn in a homework or project late from procrastination or from sleeping. But now, especially as a fourth-quarter-in-college senior, homework is not so threatening as before except when it can lead to me being uninvited to the Senior's Beach Skip Day or college. Since AP's are over, the hardest of the classes, it seems like we are done with school when in fact there are still language, Economics/European History/Community Service, and English classes that have projects and homework and tests. In response, more of my peers and friends are turning towards their gameboys instead of completing "that Econ worksheet" making the "Play" and "Sleep" parts of our days supercede the "Work". Beware of too much play or sleep, keep things in balance. Not so easy to do as to preach, but maybe one of you juniors more diligant than me will follow through.

Surprises

What a year. College applications and decisions and scholarship applications for the colleges I hopefully would get in to, Northwest Passage Trip, Rose Parade Trip, PROM/Prom Committee, Senior Sing, and all the other pre-graduation activities. Not to mention two AP courses and discovering Senioritis is a real (and potentially dangerous) "disease". But when I strip down the year, peel off the special, only for senior activities, and the only-this-year activities, I think of the three people who vanished from my life. Two I didn't really know besides seeing them around campus and in the ITV room and hearing tidbits over the past four years from my friends. The third I saw and talked to at family mochi pounding, New Year's Eve parties, and when he came by to visit my grandpa or if I happened to pass him and my Aunty at Zippy's or Kahala Mall. None of the three should have died. Isn't that weird to say? Can anyone should not have died? If someone dies, I guess it can be comforting to think that it was simply their time to go. You know, so there's not as much anger and regret to think that they "went before their time". I don't really buy that. I guess, as a daughter, that I cannot see a parent die when the children are still young and believe that it was the parent's time to go. I cannot imagine what it would be like if my Dad died or if I grew up with no memories of my Dad. Another part of me hasn't accepted the third person's death, not yet. Even though I went to the funeral service and saw the urn and crying relatives I cannot really believe that I won't see him at the next mochi pounding sitting next to the wooden rice cooker tending the fire with my Grandpa. This past year reminded me that none are impervious to death. So if there's anything I learned this year, it's to make sure good-byes end on good notes because you never know when it may be the last.

Hair variety

It's pretty interesting to see the different hair styles that people have nowadays--especially the girls. There are a multitude of Asian girls with generic long hair or with long hair and bangs. This variety is also available layered or highlighted. There is also dark, long, and curly or dark, long and wavy. In blonde there is dirty blonde, platinum blonde, and, I guess, generic blonde. (?) Blondes can also come with long, short, straight, curly, and wavy.
Then there are the girls who choose the shorter hair cuts, some feminine, and some more boyish. I too have contemplated cutting my hair short. Not too short, but shaggy short, messy, and hopefully attractive. Alas, when I got into the barber's chair this past December I stared into the mirror, looked at my long locks (which I've had since forever) and chickened out. Instead of asking for a massive change in hairstyle I simply asked for a couple inches taken off the bottom, still layered, and (gasp!) bangs (also layered and not too short to make my forehead look awkward). Unfortunately, I stopped the barber too early and the tips of m bangs ended in the middle of my eyes. The pokiness and vision obstruction did not occur until I arrived home. I was afraid to take the scissors to my hair so I had to wait some two months until they grew out and weren't as much of a bother.

Reminder

The Virginia Tech shootings happened over a week ago, and I've been thinking about the event and its effects on the students and faculty of Virginia Tech, other college or college bound students, and the rest of the U.S. I think the first thing that I thought of after hearing about the shootings was the Columbine school shootings. The whole mass student and teacher murders followed by suicide by the shooter. It felt very eerie and I couldn't completely accept that such a terrible thing had happened...again. The Columbine shootings happened when I was much younger and did not take the time to process how that could affect me and the possibility that one of the dead students could have been me. Now, so close to the edge of the nest ready to take off to college hearing about the Virginia Tech shooting affected me a lot more. The are surrounding Virginia Tech was described as being "suburban and safe." Definitely not the place that one would except such a tragedy to occur. My college is in the industrial part of a city, but when I think of Nebraska, I think safety and "Midwest Nice" so nothing could happen to me, right? I would be less hesitant to go to college if the VT shootings had not happened. I would be less aware of those around me. I think the VT shootings were a reminder to students and parents that college, supposedly the best years of life, is not a sanctuary. The good and the bad are mixed together to prepare us for the different types of people we will meet as we explore the world, and unfortunately, there are terribly messed up folks out there that you just have to avoid. The problem is knowing who the "avoidables" are and there is know way to know until it's too late.

So I'm on my walk

around my neighborhood and decide to stop on the sidewalk next to my mailbox (which is supposed to be black but is rather faded on the top in expanding circular-like entities, kind of like wood rings) to look at my house. Everyone else already went to do the whole in-versus-out perspective of where they hang out so I thought it would be cool to look at my house since it's kind of a hang out place since I live in it. It looks small. Not tiny, but small. One of my friends described it as small and cute, like me. That makes sense since there is a row of small orbular (I don't know if that's a word) bushes with pink flowers that line the edge of the lawn. (I guess it adds to the cuteness). And my house is one story with pretty ordinary coloring--off white and tan with a dark brown-red roof. There are also palm-frond plants arranged in an Asian sorta of way in front of one part of the house so it keeps a portion from being exposed and I guess Asian-ness is kind of cute, all those pisu signs, tiny eyes, and squishy gel grip mechanical pencils. When I'm inside of my house I think it feels different in that it doesn't seem that small. I mean, it's not huge or anything, but we have high beam ceilings in the main portions of the house like the dining, living, and family room so it's spacious and doesn't give a claustrophobic feeling. It still has a cutesy feeling to it. My Mom buys materials from craft fairs here and there so we have some craft baskets with doilee like hemming, which hold note pads, calculators, and post-its. Our refrierator also has a lot of cute magnets like Precious Moments characters, Mickey Mouse, Daisy Duck, and Minnie Mouse clip magnets, tupperware, tigers, photos of my family, a girl and boy in kimonos, and a little blue bowl with a cat hiding in the somen. Most of the lights aren'ts very white, more yellowy so there really isn't any harshness except in the kitchen where there are fluorescent lights. My home is a homey home. At least it feels that way to me. Although we have a glass dining table which might look fancy to a guest I think my home is pretty welcoming and doesn't feel too stuffy.

Continuing on my walk I realize that I am taking the path that I used to take when my dad, my sister, and I used to go walking together after dinner. That was, of course, a while ago, maybe in 7th grade and part of 8th grade, back when there wasn't as much homework. Now I go home and take a nap either before dinner, or after doing some homework. None of this "take a walk" business. But I do miss it. It was fun to walk around my neighborhood for 30 to 40 minutes because I got to walk by houses that I'd never seen before and experience the feeling of being out at night with the cool air, the chirps of the bugs, and the on-toes feeling of walking around in the dark. Now I've passed the little park and am by the houses across from the empty-ish lot that attaches to the parking lot for the convenient stores and Thai restaurant. The weeds are high and the crickets, or whatever bugs they are, are making high chirping screechy noises--just like they used to before. Before, they irritated me so much. The consistency and volume would seem to fill the night with screechy-scratchy pitches for the two long blocks. They are still irritating, but not as much as before. I guess the nostalgia of going for a walk again makes it seem like strolling through memories.

On the second of the two blocks was a corner where we used to find a lot of slugs. My Dad, my sister, and I always carried a little flash light so we could see where we were walking in case there was any roadkill, toads, bugs or other unknown things which would be unpleasant to step on. After walking by that corner for a couple nights, we decided to bring a ziploc bag with Morton's salt to kill the slugs. I remember walking around with a hill of salt in hand sprinkling the pointy crystals over the black smudges on the sidewalk like Peter Pan sprinkling pixie dust on the Darling children, except the black speckled squishies would squirm (as much as a slug can squirm) and leak their goop. The next night they'd be dry husks on the sidewalk and my sister and I would be sad that there weren't anymore slugs to kill. I don't see any slugs now. Just some ants walking around. Maybe it's too early for them to be out, but I don't have any salt with me so it's not like I could really do anything.

After twenty more minutes of walking I can see my house in the distance. The little bushes and the mail box seem to blend in, nothing extraordinary when looking at everyone else's mailbox and front yard. As I continue to approach, I think the house a couple blocks before my house is more interesting since it has lumpy grass. Seriously. The lawn is comprised of many mini-mini fuzzy green parabolas. Kind of like putting ostritch eggs under a furry green carpet. It looks like anyone would sink in, walking on ground like that. From here my house looks ordinary and easily overlooked. It's the houses with weird lawns, colors, or Christmas lights still up that garner attention. But I think I'm OK with my house not sticking out.

Always Room for Wine

A philosophy professor stood before his class and had some items in front of him. When class began, wordlessly he picked up a large empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks right to the top, rocks about 2” diameter. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them in to the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks. The students laughed. He asked his students again if the jar was full. They agreed that yes, it was.

The professor then picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. He proceeded to pour a cup of wine into the jar and shook it as the wine slipped between all the sand.

“Now,” said the professor, “I want you to recognize that this is your life. The rocks are the important things – your family, your partner, your health, your children – anything that is so important to you that if it were lost, you would be nearly destroyed.

The pebbles are the other things in life that matter, but on a smaller scale. The pebbles represent things like your job, your house, your car.

The sand is everything else, the small stuff. If you put the sand or the pebbles into the jar first, there is no room for the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your energy and time on the small stuff, material things, you will never have room for the things that are truly most important. Pay attention to the things that are critical in your life. Play with your children. Take your partner out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party, and fix the disposal.”

Take care of the rocks first – the things that really matter. Set your priorities.
The rest is just pebbles and sand. And remember, there is always room for wine.

My friend posted this on his blog about a year ago. I don’t know how he came upon it or who wrote it, but out of the number of forgettable ‘how-to-live-your-life’ anecdotes that I’ve read, I haven’t forgotten this one. Maybe because it was not a chain email, not something forcibly received, but something stumbled upon which makes the memory of reading it pleasing. Maybe because it does not list phrases of how to live (those may begin with good quotes, but ultimately degrade into phrases which don’t help a person to live fully) which I’ve heard too many times that they’ve become too cliché for me to really appreciate anymore. I think I am captivated when reading it is because this is what my parents have always told me, that success is not how much money you make, how luxurious a house and how many cars you own, but the relationships between you and the people you love.

At times it is difficult to decipher what my parents are trying to tell me since here they are paying thousands of dollars each year for me and my sister’s education and constantly remind us how important it is to get a good job. Seems a bit hypocritical, doesn’t it? I finally told my Dad when we were out to dinner that he and my Mom were confusing me. He explained that it’s not the money that is the end, but the means. He said that it’s difficult to live a happy life without being able to provide for basic needs or to live worrying that the next paycheck may not be enough. So my parents sacrifice because they believe education is so important to helping my sister and me be able to do whatever we want when we are older. They believe that if we get good paying jobs then we will be able to provide for our children and be able to have the time to play with them. But ultimately, the most important thing to living happy is to take care of the people you love. So the job and the money to live comfortably, despite the tremendous effort spent in school, are just pebbles.

“And remember, there is always room for wine.” This is the last reason why I remembered this story. I can’t explain why and I’m not going to try and analyze it. I like it too much.

What's done is done

During the past week an earthquake radically changed the geography of Ranongga, one of the Solomon islands. The result of the earthquake was reef that surrounded the island, had been pushed out of the water. According to a Yahoo news article, "up to 70 metres" had been pushed above sea level. (You can read the entire article at the link at the end of this post). The coral and other marine life have been rendered helpless. The coral is dying and any of the fish or other marine organisms that were in the reef are already dead, dryed out by the sun. The people who live on the island used the sea as their main pantry. Their protein mainly came from fish caught around their island. The reefs provided the haven which attracted the fish and other animals, so now that a significant amount of the reefs are above water it is unclear as to whether the animals will come back. For now and in the near future, the people of Ranongga will have much more difficulty in gathering the food they need.

After I read about the disaster my first thought was an illogical one and now I feel retarded for thinking it: I wonder if they can push the coral back under the water. I took AP Biology last year so I should know that attempting to find a way to get the coral back under the water is altering of an ecosystem and could produce far worse results than letting time handle it. Besides, the earthquake was a natural disaster and, well, things happen. If it means that the fragile reef environment is destroyed, then it has to be accepted as such. Even though the people and other animals that relied on the reef are going to suffer, nature shouldn’t be tampered with. Right? But now I think of all that human kind has done to pollute, hack, blow-up, and toss Earth down to its knees so that she cannot stand again. Humans have tampered with the environment over and over again. It almost seems to be the homo sapien nature to change what is around it. So, what’s trying to save a reef, right? I mean when you line it up with the oil drilling, deforestation, and over-use of resources attempting to protect something doesn’t seem so bad. But then, maybe that’s just my programmed natural response as a human to believe that humans can do anything to preserve what we see fit.


Quake lifts Solomons island metres from the sea

Wisdom Teeth

This Monday my wisdom teeth got pulled out. Despite hearing from other people about how much it hurts to get wisdom teeth pulled and seeing one of my friends endure chubby cheeks and eating juk for a week, I really didn’t think that getting wisdom teeth pulled would be so bad. The last time I got teeth pulled was when I was five. My dentist removed my two front bottom teeth and I only needed gas and a shot to numb my gums. It wasn’t until the morning of, when I was talking with the dentist that I realized that getting wisdom teeth pulled is surgery. Eek! I didn’t want to be awake for any of it so I got an IV to put me to sleep. Kind of like getting a blood test. Turns out the guy couldn’t my veins in either of my arms but he stuck me with the needle in my right arm just to see if he could find one. He didn’t. In the end he had to inject the needle into one of the veins into the top of my hand. That was great. Much more painful than the injection in the arm, but not as painful as I thought it’d be. The extraction seemed to pass by within a second. The IV was put into my hand, I closed my eyes, and the next moment I was being woken by one of the nurses. My mouth couldn’t close and it felt uncomfortable despite the numbing medication from the IV. I had three gauze pads in both sides of my mouth to soak up the blood. At the time, I didn’t know that those gauze pads were for the blood because I couldn’t taste the blood, although when they had me spit them out they were soaked in a bright red. The car ride home was tortuous. I fell asleep but kept waking up because of the discomfort from the gauze pads, the taste of blood, and the pain from the swelling and where my teeth were removed. Also, my throat was burning from being so dry. But I didn’t even bother asking my Mom for water because one of the nurses told her that I might ask for something to drink, but that my Mom should wait until we got home because I might vomit it up. My Mom wanted to stop at Longs so she could pick up my pain medication and antibiotics. Waiting in the car, unable to sleep, I knew that my Mom had gone to pick up other unnecessary items because if she had just gone in to get the medication she would have been out much quicker. Frustrated, but still groggy, all I remember is trying to stay calm, but ended up stamping my feet on the car floor to show my anxiety. Finally, my Mom came out and we headed for home. I silently cursed every red light. Once home my Mom and sister helped me to lie down in front of the T.V. and propped me up with pillows. The first thing I asked for was to change the gauze pads because the salty taste of blood and the feeling of the soggy pads in my mouth was disgusting. My Mom helped me to wrap new gauze pads and I stuck them in my mouth collapsing back onto the pillows groaning in pain. After another hour and another set of gauze pads my Mom brought me a cup of some pink liquid. She told me that it was strawberry Ensure that she bought while at Longs. It tasted so good! After having the blood soaked gauze pads in my mouth the Ensure tasted wonderful. My sister tried it and she said it didn’t taste good, but to me it was almost like having a strawberry milkshake. I was so grateful that my Mom had spent the extra time to pick up the Ensure. Yay for Mom! Now I can't wait to eat regular food and actually BITE into something.

Creighton Reception

Last night I went with my Mom to the Hawaii Creighton Reception. I'd been to a reception before, for Washington University in St. Louis, but that was before I'd sent in my college applications and before I even knew whether or not I would get accepted. This reception was less stressful in that everyone who attended knew they were accepted. Creighton University is small, only 3,000-ish undergrads and it's in Omaha, Nebraska. Nebraska. Yeah. Location wise it's the belly button of the United States. The biggest negative aspect for me about Creighton is the location and the weather. Although they have a Kwest (I think that's how it's spelt) Center which holds their basketball and volleyball games and concerts, it's a relatively new city in what used to be an industrial area. (Err...) And they get snowstorms and it's extremely cold in the winter. Two of my friends are sophomores at Creighton and they tell me how cold it gets. I mean, I know that anywhere in the continental U.S. will undoubtedly get cold in the winter, but snow storms? Doesn't sound good. Despite the weather and location I was really impressed with what the parents had to say about Creighton. The consensus was that the professors at Creighton are there to teach the students and actively work to help them succeed. This is very important to me because I am the studious type (although I do procrastinate) and I like to be able to conference with my teachers and ask them for help. Another thing about Creighton that attracts me is that the people are friendly. It sounds silly but moving to a new place (potentially) without my friends and without my family is scary, and I want to have people there to make the transition smooth. My 8th grade science teacher, Mrs. Lam, is a Creighton alumnus spoke because she has two kids who attend Creighton and knows what it's like to go there. Before the reception I talked with her because it's been a while since I've seen her. I think she majored in biology so she was happy to hear that my plan is to do the same. She talked to me about a new Science Center they are building and how the science programs at Creighton are excellent. She was a highly demanding teacher (probably one of the hardest classes EVER was 8th grade science with Mrs. Lam) so I take her word when she says that Creighton is a good place for my field.

I don't think anyone should go into a reception if they are a gullible person because receptions are basically colleges marketing themselves so they present the best of everything they have and make it seem that they are the place to go to. Of course, they leave out the negative aspects and try to embellish those that need shoring up. Like, how there's tons to do in Omaha. Psh. My friends there say there isn't a whole lot of "city" stuff to do besides the occaissonal concert and on-campus activities. Probably the worst are the parents, maybe the Moms because my Mom and my friend's mom were completely sold after the presentation and stayed to talk to the VP of Admissions. On the car ride home my Mom talked non-stop about Creighton this, Creighton that, basically restating the ENTIRE speech. Good grief! Later that night my Dad said to me after hearing my Mom tell him everything over again, "I think your Mom really wants to go to Creighton." And you know what? I think so, too. Although, there's a USC Reception we're going to in a couple weeks, so after that my Mom will probably be saying, "Go Trojans!"

Not Again

I'm pretty tired of listening to the radio. The music on the radio, that is. I know that the stations are prone to playing the "popular" music of the day, but it seems excessive and ridiculous how they circulate with a very limited number of songs. For example, in the summer I was in the car and Buttons by the Pussycat Dolls came on, and by then I was fed up with listening to the song over and over so I asked my sister to change the station, and the next station was also playing Buttons! Ugh. A little variety please!

Instead of making me realize, "Hey that's a good song," radio stations have instead made me realize, that some songs and bands really aren't pleasing to the ear. Or not good enough that they can be listened to over and over. For example, How to Save a Life by The Fray. I don't care that it's high in the Billboard charts and people like it for...well they like it for something. It's terrible. Mainly because the lead singer has an awful voice which pretty much makes The Fray disgusting to listen to. Nickelback, too. I used to like Nickelback, but after hearing Photograph and whatever other songs that keep getting air time, I can't listen to them anymore. It's too much growly scratchy singing that doesn't change. So, in the past month I've been listening to my own music during the drive to school and it's made the 30 to 40 minutes so much more enjoyable.

When is too much, too much?

Yesterday was Sunday, laundry day. This weekend was my turn. I stared at the pile of laundry which overflowed in the basket that I shared with my sister. I decided to tackle the problem in bits. First I pulled out all the jeans, which was a pain because the legs got stuck to the shirts and they're heavy so they wouldn't come out easily. Then I dumped everything else on the floor and sorted by delicates...and the "tougher" clothing. Then I shook out the smaller laundry basket for whites and sorted again by delicates and everything else. Fortunately the "everything else" was just my sister's pair of white jeans so I put that back in the basket for next week.

Washing clothes has become pretty routine this school year so I didn't really mind the process of adding in detergent and softener and the transfer to the dryer. It was after the first load of regular clothes (aka shirts, non jeans shorts, and socks) that I realized that my sister and I faced a deficite of hangers! There were four dry shirts that could be hung back into our closet and four damp delicate shirts that needed to hang out and dry. Unfortunately there were only two hangers! TWO hangers?! What happened? I couldn't believe it. Did we really buy that much clothes? Last week I helped my sister to hang up clothes and we had a little over enough hangers. Maybe our mom stole some. Shocked, I sat in my room and thought about where the hangers could have gone and where I could get more hangers. I realized that earlier in the day my mom had told us to hang up some jackets that we had left on the floor so I unhooked those, folded them and put them in a corner. Then I took our marching band standshirts and folded those and put them in the container with the Northwest Passage/Seattle trip shirts. I had eight shirts that needed to be hung up plus six more in the washer, so I needed 14 in all and had now accumulated a total of ten hangers. I sorted through the shirts hanging in my closet and found a hanger that didn't have a shirt on it, so I was up to eleven. After ten more minutes of pondering and wondering how I was going to fix the situation I decided to take out three blouses that could be folded and added them into the containers that hold my tanktops. Finally, I had the fourteen hangers I needed. I went back to take out the clothes from the washer so they could air dry and realized I left a bunch of hangers on a chair! GAH! How could I forget? I caused myself so much trouble trying to find hangers.

The hangers on the chair weren't enough to cover for the fourteen I needed. I still would have had to move the jackets and do some creative thinking. When I was panicking about finding hangers I realized that my sister and I had a lot of shirts, blouses, dresses, and dress skirts and pants. It really seemed to be too much since I hadn't worn a lot of the clothing in a while. And then there are two containers that hold our camousels and tanktops because we realized earlier in the school year that we didn't have enough space and hangers for those. Each week my sister and mom go shopping while waiting for me to finish May Day practices. Generally, my sister comes home with something. She can't wear a lot of what she buys to school so she's limited to the weekend and we don't go out on Sundays so it's really only one day out of the week that she can wear what she buys. I think we need to stop buying clothes because we are running out of space in our room. I can't fit all of my jeans in my drawer, partly because I'm too lazy to fit everything in and partly because there really isn't space unless I want to strain the sides of my drawers by shoving everything in. The excessiveness of the amount of clothes we have is disgusting, especially since we can't wear a lot of what we buy or we kept clothes we didn't want to keep because they were gifts. It is fun to shop and bring home cute clothes, but for the sake of our room and the idea of being capitalistic pigs, I think I'm going to hold off buying clothes.

Rendezvous with Rama

It's been awhile since I last picked up a book. Not for school, but for pleasure. The last "new" book that I read was Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke. I started last summer, but didn't finish before I had to return it back to the library. Punahou does not have it and I never made a point to go to another library and borrow it again. It's not that I don't want to keep reading. I do. It's a pretty fascinating book dealing with space and other intelligent life in the universe, much like 2001: A Space Odyssey, Clarke's most famous novel. Senior year is actually very busy and stressful despite what seniors in the past have told me about it being cruise for second semester. I don't think so. Even now with college applications done and first semester over, there's still over a quarter of the school year left. It's my fault for taking courses that are challenging me and requiring a lot of study so I guess it's what I should have expected, but I still would have liked some rest. Being busy and continuously having tests to study for, homework to do, and projects to finish means that I shouldn't be spending time reading. Or "Do you have time to spend reading?" is what my Mom would ask. Yeah, I mean if I have time to watch stuff on youtube, k-dramas with Dad, and read books I have at home, then I think picking up a book from the library really won't be that time consuming. Part of me can understand why she would say that because whenever I start reading a book I tend to keep reading until I finish. At least that's what I used to do when I read consistently. I think she doesn't want me to consume all my time in a book because I was almost obsessive about it before. I remember one time I was in the parking structure at a mall I was reading a book while walking. I was going across one lane of parked cars to the next when a car turned coming at me, and I didn't even notice until my Mom yanked me out of the way. That was a definite heads up as to why it's not pragmatic to read and walk at the same time, especially in parking lots.
Anyway, I still want to pick up Rendezvous with Rama, so I'm thinking I'll go to the library during Spring Break. (Dunno why I didn't go during Winter Break. Nevermind, that's when I was finishing college apps and then I had the Rose Parade trip). I reccommend reading Rendezvous with Rama even though I didn't finish because it's very well-written and it's a book that makes one think. The time is in the future and mankind has located an object in space dubbed, Rama. Rama turns out to be a massive machine that contains a mini world inside. A crew is sent to investigate, and during the time they are there, life begins to form, but it is unlike life found on Earth. There are many questions as to what is Rama, why was Rama built, who were the Ramans, are they still in existence? These are ones that characters in the book think about, which the reader also thinks about too, but there are also the more general ones which affect the reader. Maybe it's not a question but the book inquires the reader to ponder what it would be like if we found other living beings or proof of other intelligence. If you're looking for a book to read and enjoy science fiction, you should pick up Rendezvous with Rama. (And loan it to me when you're done!)

Under the Influence

Watch the video at the link below (the quality is a little better) or the one in the post.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRVts7TFw-Y



Some Mondays ago I got sick with a fever so I stayed home. Besides taking tylenol cold, downing lots of fluids, and figuring out what I was going to eat for lunch, I went on youtube to watch Naruto. Before I could type in the episode I was searching for, I noticed a picture from a showcased video on the homepage. It appeared to be of a man's chest with a painted picture of a lady on it. Interesting, I thought, so I clicked on it to watch. Five minutes of video covered over twenty hours worth of painting. The artist used his chest and stomach areas as a canvas and painted people or objects that represented people who influenced him. He used white, black, red, yellow, blue, green, grey, and orange, but mostly white and black. Although he could have incorporated many colors in each painting he mainly stuck to one background color and one design color. The plainness really brought focus to what he was painting. I have to say that I was amazed at the quality of the artwork and even more impressed that each was drawn upside down. The creativity was pretty defining of what it means to be creative: using the body instead of paper or canvas, layering each painting one atop the other, and finally pulling all the layers off as one and cutting out a silhouette of himself and laying the two parts of the cut paint layers on black so it looked like he was staring back at himself. That last image struck me because that rectangular window of paint that made the cut-outs represented the 30 people who influenced him. The section that went around his head seemed to represent that the 30 people were external influences from the outside that continue to affect him. The section that was his head seemed to show that he is who he is because of those 30 people and that he would not be the same person if they had not come into his life. I don't know what the artist's intentions were when he painted, but it makes me wonder what I would be like if I did not meet one of the 30 people who influenced me the most. I doubt that I would be the same person, but just how different would I be? I suppose it depends which influential person I removed because if it was one of my parents then, yeah, I would be a completely new person because they've shaped me a lot, but if it was an iconic musician or author, that's very different. First of all, I never met any of the musicians or authors who's work I admire. Since I never met anyone, it's not actually THE musician or THE author who affected me, it's really their songs or their books (and the characters in them), although it is fair to say that what they produce depicts a part of who they are.

I find it funny that youtube lists this as the 39th most viewed video in "Film & Animation-English," when there is no English spoken. I think the lack of spoken language makes this a video that can be appreciated by anyone anywhere.

Two spaces, please

I did not realize this until yesterday. No, wait, it was before yesterday. Mmm, never mind it was yesterday. Anyway.... yesterday while typing Insomnia I noticed that I only put single spaces after periods. And I thought, whoa! That's so bizarre because when I type in Word or other writing programs I always put the traditional two spaces after periods. The even weirder part is I noticed other people do it too! When Mr. Watson was showing us something on wikispace, I noticed that he also left single spaces after his periods. I am not sure why I found this so interesting, but I was extremely curious so I looked at posts my friends made on facebook and it looks like a bunch do the single space thing too. Now I'm aware of my difference in typing from Word to on-line blogs/journals so I made sure that I put double spaces after all my periods.

Why would people, who learned to put double spaces after periods and used that style in all school papers, change to single spaces? I would think that habit would follow through. The quick two taps on the spacebar seem to not require any thinking. It's not really conscious movement that has to be thought about, just dun-dun and begin the next sentence. I should let you know that I took a break from the end of the previous sentence to the beginning of this one, so I saved this as a draft and went to get something to eat. I came back and opened this up and noticed that all of my two spaces were gone! Blogger automatically changed it! I guess that means I can't assume that if I see posts/comments with only single spaces that the person did that him or herself. Still, when Mr. Watson was typing he did only use single spaces, and when I typed my previous post I did use single spaces, so there are at least two people who diverge from the conventional double spaces. Does anyone else use single space breaks between sentences while writing their posts, comments or notes?

Insomnia

My spanish teacher likes to give us clips from stories written by latino authors to improve our reading and to immerse us in the culture. Recently, we read a couple pages from, Cien Años de Soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude) by Gabriel García Márquez. He is famous for being the best in the genre of realismo mágico (realistic magic). The section we read from One Hundred Years of Solitude is where the village of Macondo succumbs to a plague of insomnia. Besides insomnia, the truly negative effect of the plague is memory loss, similar to Alzheimer's. It begins with the people not remembering the names of objects, then it progresses further to forgetting what they're doing, names of family members and who family is, their past, and their name.

Forgive me for deluding you into thinking that this post is going to be a reflection about One Hundred Years of Solitude. I give it as background because if I dived into what I want to talk about first and then tried to explain about the book along the way, I think it would be too confusing. Anyway, Señora assigned the reading as homework so when we discussed it in class she had to clarify that the people lost their memories because of insomnia (a bunch of us were confused as to what was going on). When she said that, I thought of my grandma.

My paternal grandma has a terrible memory. It's not so bad that she doesn't remember names and faces, but she can't remember where she puts things or what she's done. It's frustrating and frightening because I worry that one day she's going to leave the house with the stove on. She wasn't always like that. My grandma used to be really sharp. She remembered everything. Now, she can't remember what she had for lunch. It's like she's been on a downward spiral ever since my grandpa died. After he died she was very distraught and lonely and I think she lost the desire to do things. She stopped cooking, which was difficult for me because she used to cook these huge dinners and invite my family over and it would be a good happy time. After my grandpa's death we weren't invited to anymore dinners and my grandma spent every day watching t.v. complaining about how bored she was. Then her memory started to go. I couldn't understand it. Why did I have to remind her that today was Friday, not Saturday, every ten minutes? I got frustrated a lot although I hid it. I wanted my grandma back. My Mom and my aunty suspected that the forgetfulness was a result of her taking a sleeping pill, ambien. My grandma is a chronic insomniac so she believes that she has to take ambien otherwise she can't get enough sleep. I started to believe that ambien was the reason why my grandma was so forgetful and it would make me upset when she would tell me how good it was and that it had no side effects.

Today seemed appropriate to talk about this since this afternoon my mom took my sister, my grandma, and me to Times so that my grandma could pick up her medication. I thought it was one of her anti-anxiety medicines, but as the pharmacist handed the little orange container to my grandma, I saw the label, ambien. We brought her back to her house and headed for our home. Before dinner the phone rang and I picked it up. It was my grandma and she said that she thought she forgot to pick up her medication. I told her, You did grandma. I remember standing in line with you. She told me it wasn't in her purse. Again she said, I think I left it at the store. Again I replied, No grandma, you brought it home, I remember taking it off the counter and giving to you as we left. Check the cabinet, you know, the one under the microwave where you keep all your medicine bottles. The last time you forgot where your pills were they were there. She called back a couple minutes later and said that she found her pills. Although I want her to stop taking it, I don't want her to have to suffer every night staring up at her ceiling unable to sleep. I'm not sure where I'm going with this anymore. I guess reading the part from One Hundred Years of Solitude, where insmonia leads to memory loss, was like déjà vu because it seems to parallel the situation with my grandma.

Hello

Hey everyone.