On one hand, living with Gramma sucks because she feeds me too much and I get fat. On the other, her food is yuuuummy. I also think it's nice that I get to talk to her. I wonder if May or any of my other cousins ever really talk to her. I know Jon does, occasionally, but recently Gramma's been a tad upset with him because he spoke rudely to her (which goes completely against our upbringing involving "Xiao," a.k.a. filial piety). I wonder if I should mention that to him or just keep my nose where it belongs.
In order to try to lose all the fat I've gained from all the good eating, I'm walking around more. Instead of taking the subway down two stops, I'll walk from 27th St and Broadway to 18th and 5th. I really like it once I get past 23rd St. Something about the people above that and below 33rd get me really nervous. I think its the fact that when I walk by, I get a "how you doin?" or a "hey, what up?" and occasionally a "hey, asian!" or "hey, Chinese!" Yes, I'm asian. Yes, I'm Chinese. I'm well aware of the fact. Now get out of my face.
Still, the more I'm here, the more uncomfortable I feel about it. At first it was flattering, no one besides by boyfriend ever notices me in CMU. Here, it's everywhere, and I when I go out for lunch, I find myself practically running back to the office to hide. I even rolled my eyes yesterday when a whole group of guys started whistling. For the most part, though, my eyes stay on my feet, I think less people notice me that way.
Still, it is nice that some people notice me...
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Long Lost Cousin
Mom randomly called me today at work. Apparently while in deep discussion with my uncle, she found out that I have a distant cousin also attending CMU. She's half English, half chinese, came from Hong Kong and is studying chemistry and history. She's also super skinny and way prettier than I could ever hope to be... I also neglected to tell mom that she was holding up a pink sign that very clearly read, "SEX!"
I've never met her, but we seem to know similar people. I'm not one to hang out with that particular crowd - probably why I've never met her. It'd be strange to meet her one day and say, "Hey, you're my sort of cousin!" And then everyone will give me funny looks while I try to explain the distance of the relationship. I'll bet she'll never guess.
I think one day, my fear of marrying anyone asian will be founded. I'll be about to walk down the aisle when an uncle will step up and say, "Angela, sweetie, I have something to tell you. That man is your cousin." Well heck, I don't even know who half of my family is and I already work around toxic chemicals. Why marry an asian guy and make the risk of having demented babies higher?
On another note, I had to tell the poor girl who was going to move in that she couldn't. If she'd only been a few days faster in signing the sublease, she could've had the place. But now she can't, and I feel terrible... At least Christi didn't seem to mind too much...
I've never met her, but we seem to know similar people. I'm not one to hang out with that particular crowd - probably why I've never met her. It'd be strange to meet her one day and say, "Hey, you're my sort of cousin!" And then everyone will give me funny looks while I try to explain the distance of the relationship. I'll bet she'll never guess.
I think one day, my fear of marrying anyone asian will be founded. I'll be about to walk down the aisle when an uncle will step up and say, "Angela, sweetie, I have something to tell you. That man is your cousin." Well heck, I don't even know who half of my family is and I already work around toxic chemicals. Why marry an asian guy and make the risk of having demented babies higher?
On another note, I had to tell the poor girl who was going to move in that she couldn't. If she'd only been a few days faster in signing the sublease, she could've had the place. But now she can't, and I feel terrible... At least Christi didn't seem to mind too much...
LIAR
Guess what? You'd never guess it! Mummy called Adria today (I can't because if I ever hear her voice again, I'll murder her - sniper rifle atop Cyert and everything) and she said that they don't have enough room in housing and they'd like me to leave!!! That lying B****!
So now I have to tell poor Helene that I'm kicking her out because I'm moving back in and completely reorganize Christi's life and basically turn all her efforts into time wasted.
O well...at least I get a room to myself.
So now I have to tell poor Helene that I'm kicking her out because I'm moving back in and completely reorganize Christi's life and basically turn all her efforts into time wasted.
O well...at least I get a room to myself.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Long Weekend
I'm home again this weekend. Mostly because several families of cousins are over at Grandma's apartment this weekend. I think I've got pretty much all of my stuff put away so it's not too bad.
Working in New York makes me really really wish that I'd end up going to school there. So darn close, darn it. But then, I really like certain parts of CMU. I really like how we don't have some sort of scary feral competition going on between the archies like I hear they do up in Cornell. I like the way the teachers are teaching things. I like how Pittsburgh's a city, and yet not really, so I can still get around and still have relative quiet when I want to sleep - that is, of course, if I ever manage to drown out all those noisy neighbors. Pittsburgh also has actual houses, unlike most of New York. I think that "when I grow up," I really want a house. One that I design. An apartment is great, sure, but you're still designing in a box. I think I'd like to go somewhere, find a disgusting little raised ranch, knock it down until no one can recognize it and resurrect it as something just as efficient and much more original in every which way.
Speaking of architecture, mommy dearest found the most interesting little architectural magazine called Dwell Magazine, which features modernist architecture and design. I quite like it. If it's still around "when I grow up" then I think I'll subscribe to it. As it is, I was looking at magazine subscriptions online, and they really aren't so expensive. Maybe when I have a stable year round address, I'll subscribe to a few.
Top picks for design related magazines include in no particular order:
1) Dwell magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
2) Metropolis magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
3) W magazine ($1.40 a copy w/ subscription)
4) Architectural Record ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
5) Interior Design ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
Those last two are pretty expensive - I think I'd have to wait till I was really, really "grown up" to get them.
O yes, and as you can tell, I've been thinking lots about adulthood. As an adult who makes her own money, shouldn't I technically be allowed to go where I want so long as I use my own money? My parents seem to feel that as "an adult," I still have no say in how I can run my own life and that I'm still too young and naive to know what I'm doing. Financially, I completely agree - boy have I botched a few things up, and I don't even know where to begin when it comes to taxes. But the whole thing about where I am and what I'm doing, who I go out with, who my friends are, shouldn't that be my choice? It's not like I've blown off school to go smoke and drink with the worst of them...
Working in New York makes me really really wish that I'd end up going to school there. So darn close, darn it. But then, I really like certain parts of CMU. I really like how we don't have some sort of scary feral competition going on between the archies like I hear they do up in Cornell. I like the way the teachers are teaching things. I like how Pittsburgh's a city, and yet not really, so I can still get around and still have relative quiet when I want to sleep - that is, of course, if I ever manage to drown out all those noisy neighbors. Pittsburgh also has actual houses, unlike most of New York. I think that "when I grow up," I really want a house. One that I design. An apartment is great, sure, but you're still designing in a box. I think I'd like to go somewhere, find a disgusting little raised ranch, knock it down until no one can recognize it and resurrect it as something just as efficient and much more original in every which way.
Speaking of architecture, mommy dearest found the most interesting little architectural magazine called Dwell Magazine, which features modernist architecture and design. I quite like it. If it's still around "when I grow up" then I think I'll subscribe to it. As it is, I was looking at magazine subscriptions online, and they really aren't so expensive. Maybe when I have a stable year round address, I'll subscribe to a few.
Top picks for design related magazines include in no particular order:
1) Dwell magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
2) Metropolis magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
3) W magazine ($1.40 a copy w/ subscription)
4) Architectural Record ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
5) Interior Design ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
Those last two are pretty expensive - I think I'd have to wait till I was really, really "grown up" to get them.
O yes, and as you can tell, I've been thinking lots about adulthood. As an adult who makes her own money, shouldn't I technically be allowed to go where I want so long as I use my own money? My parents seem to feel that as "an adult," I still have no say in how I can run my own life and that I'm still too young and naive to know what I'm doing. Financially, I completely agree - boy have I botched a few things up, and I don't even know where to begin when it comes to taxes. But the whole thing about where I am and what I'm doing, who I go out with, who my friends are, shouldn't that be my choice? It's not like I've blown off school to go smoke and drink with the worst of them...
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Tripe
In today's newspaper, I found out that the Bolivian equivalent of the WWF is very different. Whereas the US WWF is consisted of disturbingly buff men with shaved heads, grimacing with their veins popping out of their bullnecks, the Bolivian WWF consists of very healthy sized women, resplendant in braids, pumps and national garb of shawls and skirts. I think I'd watch that, just because it's always interesting to watch properly dressed ladies beat on each other...maybe not...
So this week has been very leisurely, as compared to last week where I worked way past 6 everyday. I've left pretty consistently on time this week. Well, I left around 7 on Tuesday. I stopped by my boss's apartment to drop off his laptop and tape measured. I got to see the apartment which previously only existed in blueprints, and got to meet the wife that calls every so often. She's very into different cultures - I asked her a bunch of things about Italy and she asked me a bunch of things about Chinese culture. Most of my answers might be somewhat off, since my parents aren't exactly what people call traditional Chinese parents. Talking about Chinese culture made Lauren want Chinese food, so we ordered Szechuan. Or rather, they wanted to see what real Chinese people would order, so they had me pick. I must say, that's some good Szechuan food - I have to ask them the location so I can drag my dad and my sister over. Real spicy stuff, I drank a ton of water. And the best part is they weren't shy about trying really different foods, so I ordered the ox tongue and tripe, which mom and dad always get, and the ma po tofu which we sometimes get. If I wanted to go all out and get wierd wierd food, I'd have ordered duck tongue except 1) I don't eat it, 2) I doubt they would either, and 3) it wasn't on the menu.
And then I took my first lone cab ride ever, all the way back home. The cab driver drove quite nicely and we chatted real estate. An aspiring grocery store owner, Fa-something-or-other got a 15% tip and a good luck before I practically sprinted back to the apartment at 11:30 at night.
And then I talked to Ben until 2 am. And then I overslept the next morning by two hours. And last night Ben called at 11:30 and we talked until 12:30. I really must stop staying up so late...
So this week has been very leisurely, as compared to last week where I worked way past 6 everyday. I've left pretty consistently on time this week. Well, I left around 7 on Tuesday. I stopped by my boss's apartment to drop off his laptop and tape measured. I got to see the apartment which previously only existed in blueprints, and got to meet the wife that calls every so often. She's very into different cultures - I asked her a bunch of things about Italy and she asked me a bunch of things about Chinese culture. Most of my answers might be somewhat off, since my parents aren't exactly what people call traditional Chinese parents. Talking about Chinese culture made Lauren want Chinese food, so we ordered Szechuan. Or rather, they wanted to see what real Chinese people would order, so they had me pick. I must say, that's some good Szechuan food - I have to ask them the location so I can drag my dad and my sister over. Real spicy stuff, I drank a ton of water. And the best part is they weren't shy about trying really different foods, so I ordered the ox tongue and tripe, which mom and dad always get, and the ma po tofu which we sometimes get. If I wanted to go all out and get wierd wierd food, I'd have ordered duck tongue except 1) I don't eat it, 2) I doubt they would either, and 3) it wasn't on the menu.
And then I took my first lone cab ride ever, all the way back home. The cab driver drove quite nicely and we chatted real estate. An aspiring grocery store owner, Fa-something-or-other got a 15% tip and a good luck before I practically sprinted back to the apartment at 11:30 at night.
And then I talked to Ben until 2 am. And then I overslept the next morning by two hours. And last night Ben called at 11:30 and we talked until 12:30. I really must stop staying up so late...
Monday, July 18, 2005
Books!
This is the first time in god knows how long that my books were overdue. Fortunately, it was only by a couple days. I didn't really register that July 16 was Saturday. Oops.
I also didn't realize that the library is closed Sundays, so I didn't get to take out any more books. Which led me to walk all the way to Barnes and Nobles to buy myself a couple more fantasy novels. Speaking of fantasy novels, I hate to say it, but I feel awfully ashamed of myself because they seem to be the only things I really read. Occasionally I read something else. Just recently, I read "A Picture of Dorian Gray." But in a way, that's almost like a fantasy novel, except the speech and mannerisms are horrifically old fashioned. And I felt annoyed by Dorian because he sounded like a petulant little brat the whole time. I couldn't even imagine him as a good looking guy, which is what he's supposed to be. Extraordinarily handsome in fact. But like I said, all he seemed to do the whole novel was whine and pine and guilt people into doing things. Still, the overall story was quite interesting. If I felt more like engaging my mind, I could do a whole English paper on it. Or, I could just pick up my usual mindless sci-fi/fantasy novels.
On the way to the Barnes & Nobles, I happened to notice my semi-co-worker walking sort of next to me. We talked a couple times and he seems nice. We've established the non-attracted part of our "relationship" already as he has his fiancee and I have my bunny - ahem, boyfriend. Today, I learned half his name. The rest of it got lost with the sounds of traffic. So his name is either Mark, Martin or Marvin. I keep leaning towards Martin, but I am not positive. I'll have to surreptitiously ask Michelle, whose name I had forgotten until I heard the little old lady of the office call for her by name. So, yes, I'm bad with names. Well, not really. I'm just a bit hard of hearing and too polite to ask people to repeat themselves. Must work on that.
Anyway, on the way to the bookstore, Mark/Martin/Marvin suggested that I read "Devil in the White City" or something along those lines. For some reason, my brain interpreted it as "Demon in the City Lights." I really, really need to work on my listening. Anyhoo, I looked the book up online, and it's about the Chicago Worlds Fair in the 1800s. Apparently some psycho pretended to be a doctor and ended up murdering a whole bunch of people. It's a true occurrence, though I don't doubt the author probably dressed the whole shabang up a bit to give it a bit more of a..well..bang. It sounded interesting enough, so I looked at the library catalog, and what do you know, Danbury has eight copies. Woohoo!
But until then, I'll be reading my "Royal Assassin."
I also didn't realize that the library is closed Sundays, so I didn't get to take out any more books. Which led me to walk all the way to Barnes and Nobles to buy myself a couple more fantasy novels. Speaking of fantasy novels, I hate to say it, but I feel awfully ashamed of myself because they seem to be the only things I really read. Occasionally I read something else. Just recently, I read "A Picture of Dorian Gray." But in a way, that's almost like a fantasy novel, except the speech and mannerisms are horrifically old fashioned. And I felt annoyed by Dorian because he sounded like a petulant little brat the whole time. I couldn't even imagine him as a good looking guy, which is what he's supposed to be. Extraordinarily handsome in fact. But like I said, all he seemed to do the whole novel was whine and pine and guilt people into doing things. Still, the overall story was quite interesting. If I felt more like engaging my mind, I could do a whole English paper on it. Or, I could just pick up my usual mindless sci-fi/fantasy novels.
On the way to the Barnes & Nobles, I happened to notice my semi-co-worker walking sort of next to me. We talked a couple times and he seems nice. We've established the non-attracted part of our "relationship" already as he has his fiancee and I have my bunny - ahem, boyfriend. Today, I learned half his name. The rest of it got lost with the sounds of traffic. So his name is either Mark, Martin or Marvin. I keep leaning towards Martin, but I am not positive. I'll have to surreptitiously ask Michelle, whose name I had forgotten until I heard the little old lady of the office call for her by name. So, yes, I'm bad with names. Well, not really. I'm just a bit hard of hearing and too polite to ask people to repeat themselves. Must work on that.
Anyway, on the way to the bookstore, Mark/Martin/Marvin suggested that I read "Devil in the White City" or something along those lines. For some reason, my brain interpreted it as "Demon in the City Lights." I really, really need to work on my listening. Anyhoo, I looked the book up online, and it's about the Chicago Worlds Fair in the 1800s. Apparently some psycho pretended to be a doctor and ended up murdering a whole bunch of people. It's a true occurrence, though I don't doubt the author probably dressed the whole shabang up a bit to give it a bit more of a..well..bang. It sounded interesting enough, so I looked at the library catalog, and what do you know, Danbury has eight copies. Woohoo!
But until then, I'll be reading my "Royal Assassin."
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Commentary
Reading the news has turned me into a horrible blogger in that I read something and I want to talk about it. Terrible, terrible blogger I am. But then, there's nothing to read, as I'm out of books and the library's closed tomorrow, so I must read the paper and write boring blogs until the Harry Potter craze is over and I'm no longer afraid to approach the nearest Barnes & Nobles.
Today's reading (I do wish I read more in the art section, but it just doesn't catch my attention as much as things that have to do with social issues) included a very disturbing article, a link I won't include since I just read Maddox's rant about how people who put links in their blogs are stupid. I've only put in links once anyway, when my friend showed me a site about a horrifically ignorant college out in redneck territory (and yes, if they're that ignorant, I will call them rednecks). Er...drifted again. Well, the article is about an organization called Love in Action, which is a "Christian" organization down in Memphis where gay teens are sent in order to be reformed into "normal" functioning heterosexuals. From what I gather, it doesn't work. People come out just as they always were, or they're so emotionally distraught from the experience that they end up asexual and alone. Maybe one person came out with the intended results and he's running the place now. The article had a link to a myspace blog, a gay teen whose username is "specialkid" who recently stepped out of his closet and into the nightmare. His parents up and told him that he was a horrible person and they raised him wrong, and they took away all of his things, and now, he's currently finishing up being brainwashed at the camp or whatever they do there. Of course, a lot of people are outraged - I know I am. Even my mom was when I told her about it - "Those are very stupid parents" is a direct translation of what her opinion is.
And of course, my usual pessimism springs up and whispers to me, "What if they succeeded in changing him? Then all of this will be for nothing." I think I'll just ignore her for now and see what happens first.
Either way, my opinion (for those that actually care) is that if a person believes he's what he is, then we should let him be. Everyone has a reason for being what they are. And look, it's not like he's a homicidal maniac, he just has..a different expression of love.
Maybe I should stop reading the paper. All it seems to do is upset me and make me write terribly because there are just too many things that need to be said and all that comes out is garbled.
Today's reading (I do wish I read more in the art section, but it just doesn't catch my attention as much as things that have to do with social issues) included a very disturbing article, a link I won't include since I just read Maddox's rant about how people who put links in their blogs are stupid. I've only put in links once anyway, when my friend showed me a site about a horrifically ignorant college out in redneck territory (and yes, if they're that ignorant, I will call them rednecks). Er...drifted again. Well, the article is about an organization called Love in Action, which is a "Christian" organization down in Memphis where gay teens are sent in order to be reformed into "normal" functioning heterosexuals. From what I gather, it doesn't work. People come out just as they always were, or they're so emotionally distraught from the experience that they end up asexual and alone. Maybe one person came out with the intended results and he's running the place now. The article had a link to a myspace blog, a gay teen whose username is "specialkid" who recently stepped out of his closet and into the nightmare. His parents up and told him that he was a horrible person and they raised him wrong, and they took away all of his things, and now, he's currently finishing up being brainwashed at the camp or whatever they do there. Of course, a lot of people are outraged - I know I am. Even my mom was when I told her about it - "Those are very stupid parents" is a direct translation of what her opinion is.
And of course, my usual pessimism springs up and whispers to me, "What if they succeeded in changing him? Then all of this will be for nothing." I think I'll just ignore her for now and see what happens first.
Either way, my opinion (for those that actually care) is that if a person believes he's what he is, then we should let him be. Everyone has a reason for being what they are. And look, it's not like he's a homicidal maniac, he just has..a different expression of love.
Maybe I should stop reading the paper. All it seems to do is upset me and make me write terribly because there are just too many things that need to be said and all that comes out is garbled.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Freedom!
Finally, I can relax. This whole entire week seemed to be spent at work - I leave the apartment at 8 and I leave work at 8, practically everyday. Now that Nestor's in Texas, things are a little more relaxed as his minions over there are doing all the work now. I still find myself looking around expecting more documents to magically appear and demand to be worked on. We'd better win that competition, or else I'm going to have to fly down to Hendersonville where heads will roll. Well, not really.
Still, something I realized from all of this - well, more of an affirmation rather than epiphany. I really love architecture. I actually have a bit of a say in the design process so I think that I'm somewhere in the realm of close to what it will be like to be an architect and it's just awesome. The professors really don't realize - it's not that we don't love architecture, it's that all the other classes bog us down so much that we can't enjoy it to it's fullest extent. O and Sol Lewitt's work is being exhibited in a gallery a couple of blocks over from my office. I'm going to go check it out on a lunch break next week. Fun!
--
So, I just got back from getting lunch - today it's Japanese beef curry. It's a lot stronger than I thought it would be, smell-wise. I hope no one yells at me for bringing it into the office. Something about Japanese curry, it tastes way better than Indian curry. And for $7, I get a hell of a portion. If I wasn't going on the train right after work, I'd bring the rest home for dinner. I'll compromise by thoroughly gorging myself.
Also, it's just insane how much attention I get in New York. I got hit on by no less than three people in 15 minutes (the time it took to buy lunch). I don't know what it is about New Yorkers, but they're a lot more...um...friendly than CMU students. I doubt most guys at CMU look twice at me. Or maybe there are just more desperate people in New York... O yes, and getting hit on makes me really really paranoid, but even my nervous/hostile glare doesn't seem to keep people from commenting.
Still, something I realized from all of this - well, more of an affirmation rather than epiphany. I really love architecture. I actually have a bit of a say in the design process so I think that I'm somewhere in the realm of close to what it will be like to be an architect and it's just awesome. The professors really don't realize - it's not that we don't love architecture, it's that all the other classes bog us down so much that we can't enjoy it to it's fullest extent. O and Sol Lewitt's work is being exhibited in a gallery a couple of blocks over from my office. I'm going to go check it out on a lunch break next week. Fun!
--
So, I just got back from getting lunch - today it's Japanese beef curry. It's a lot stronger than I thought it would be, smell-wise. I hope no one yells at me for bringing it into the office. Something about Japanese curry, it tastes way better than Indian curry. And for $7, I get a hell of a portion. If I wasn't going on the train right after work, I'd bring the rest home for dinner. I'll compromise by thoroughly gorging myself.
Also, it's just insane how much attention I get in New York. I got hit on by no less than three people in 15 minutes (the time it took to buy lunch). I don't know what it is about New Yorkers, but they're a lot more...um...friendly than CMU students. I doubt most guys at CMU look twice at me. Or maybe there are just more desperate people in New York... O yes, and getting hit on makes me really really paranoid, but even my nervous/hostile glare doesn't seem to keep people from commenting.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Working
There's four more days till the first draft of our Hendersonville presentation is due. That's why we're in such a rush. That's why I worked all Sunday, and worked for a straight twelve hours yesterday (but overtime is glorious!). Pretty soon I'll have enough hours racked up that I can take another day or two off, and perhaps visit my Ben. I wonder if I should bother telling mom this time, since she forgot last time, despite my reminding her three times.
Today on the way to get lunch, I was standing at a stop light and saw the funniest/strangest thing. A lanky teenanger-looking fellow in black jeans, sort of torn, baggy but not too baggy in an annoying way, big floppy hair and a trashy black t-shirt sporting Van Halen or something on it. Sure not too strange, in the way on New York. What was really bizarre was that he was very enthusiastically playing air-guitar. He had his walkman, yes walkman, not discman, and those dinky little iPod earphones that let me hear the cacophony he was listening to, and there was the air guitar, complete with zealous riffs and unrestrained head banging. I wonder if he noticed how I ogled him as we crossed the street, but most likely he didn't, since he head-banged his way across.
On another note, I realized today that the odd voice I hear every morning isn't some guy yelling, "What's up, Freddy!" It's a short, old hispanic man yelling, "What's up, pretty!" at me. I should probably take a different route to the office from now on...
Today on the way to get lunch, I was standing at a stop light and saw the funniest/strangest thing. A lanky teenanger-looking fellow in black jeans, sort of torn, baggy but not too baggy in an annoying way, big floppy hair and a trashy black t-shirt sporting Van Halen or something on it. Sure not too strange, in the way on New York. What was really bizarre was that he was very enthusiastically playing air-guitar. He had his walkman, yes walkman, not discman, and those dinky little iPod earphones that let me hear the cacophony he was listening to, and there was the air guitar, complete with zealous riffs and unrestrained head banging. I wonder if he noticed how I ogled him as we crossed the street, but most likely he didn't, since he head-banged his way across.
On another note, I realized today that the odd voice I hear every morning isn't some guy yelling, "What's up, Freddy!" It's a short, old hispanic man yelling, "What's up, pretty!" at me. I should probably take a different route to the office from now on...
Thursday, July 07, 2005
London
I just read the headline in the New York Times. A bunch of bombs went off during rush hour yesterday morning killing a whole bunch of people. It's sad that people would resort to this sort of stupidity. What was the whole point of it? If you make a demand, you make a demand. You don't punish people for things they didn't do, and you can't expect anyone to be able to read your mind and anticipate your wishes.
It sounds terribly selfish, but I hope no one does that here in NY, since I'm on the subway during rush hour, and I pass through all three major transportational hubs to get to work (Grand Central, Times Square and Penn Station).
It sounds terribly selfish, but I hope no one does that here in NY, since I'm on the subway during rush hour, and I pass through all three major transportational hubs to get to work (Grand Central, Times Square and Penn Station).
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Curious
Maya's so fun for silly things. I named this "Curious." So the question is, is the big happy sphere looking at a little fairy flying about? Or is he wondering why the nuclear power plant meltdown caused his acne to glow in the dark?
The Secret is Kertenkelellerimizde
Today and yesterday, my cousins visited. Lots of cousins. It's fun to hang out with cousins, most of them. It was fun right up until the point where I offered to put on "the Incredibles" being that I owned it since I spent $25 on it. And then my sister said, "O, I lent it to some other cousins." Cousins that don't make me so happy. Cousins who leave their CDs and DVDs lying out on the ground, face down, whether or not it belongs to them or that they're borrowing. These cousins don't make me too happy. The fact that my parents lent them the DVD doesn't make me too happy. The fact that when I asked them about it, and they had no recollection at all - that makes me REALLY unhappy. I really need to rescue my DVD as soon as possible. Why couldn't they just take, well, Center Stage or something? If they scratch that DVD, they're buying me a new one.
Today was still pretty fun though. Sylvie is reading the "His Dark MAterials" series, which I just finished reading too. I've been nagging May to read it, but as usual, she is ever resistent to any of my suggestions. I also helped with her morphology homework. I've decided that linguistics is lots and lots of fun, maybe I should take an introductory course of some sort after next semester, right between figure drawing and costume design. Today I think I figured out how, in Turkish, to say "to your friend," "in our lizards," and "it is in my little house." They might be, respectively, "dostine," "kertenkelellerimizde," and "zild3ikimdedir." Next round, Swahili!
Today was still pretty fun though. Sylvie is reading the "His Dark MAterials" series, which I just finished reading too. I've been nagging May to read it, but as usual, she is ever resistent to any of my suggestions. I also helped with her morphology homework. I've decided that linguistics is lots and lots of fun, maybe I should take an introductory course of some sort after next semester, right between figure drawing and costume design. Today I think I figured out how, in Turkish, to say "to your friend," "in our lizards," and "it is in my little house." They might be, respectively, "dostine," "kertenkelellerimizde," and "zild3ikimdedir." Next round, Swahili!
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Cheers
My new favorite drink in the whole wide world is Jones Organics White Tea: Strawberry. It isn't gritty like honest tea, and it tastes like tea and strawberries. I don't have to water it down. It only has 15g of sugar in a whole bottle, as opposed to most drinks which are about 30g. Coke, I thought, had it going on with Coke C2, till I realized that they attempt to replace the rest of the sugar with Splenda. Sure there's less real sugar, but now there's a yucky aftertaste. Really, when will all these companies realize that half the sugar tastes just as good, if not better?
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Not Unique?!!
The other day, I came face to face with the discovery of another Angela H. Chi in this world. How? She found me on the Face Book. She is a biochem major in San Antonio Texas who is part of a sorority. One with lots and lots of pink. Fascinating, and yet somewhat disappointing to know that my name is not unique (but then, most people have at least one other person with their name in the world).
Anyway, I'm home for the weekend in happy, pretty smelling Danbury. I never thought I'd associate Danbury with "pretty smelling," but the moment I stepped into my house, I caught a whiff of fresh air and flowers and thought to myself, "I like this a lot better than city air." But then, city air consists of garbage and car exhaust and god knows what else.
Being at home also reminds me of my loneliness. I tried calling up a few old friends today, but they never answer the phone. I guess they're just too busy or can't remember who the heck I am. It's a bit sad how life changes after you go away to college. Maybe that's what's making me so restless. I remember everyone I used to be friends with, all my orchestra buddies and classmates, and now they're just sort of...well...gone.
On another note, my boss showed me what I consider to be the best sketchbook every - moleskine notebooks. I have to get myself some for the next school year! And no, they're not made out of moles.
Anyway, I'm home for the weekend in happy, pretty smelling Danbury. I never thought I'd associate Danbury with "pretty smelling," but the moment I stepped into my house, I caught a whiff of fresh air and flowers and thought to myself, "I like this a lot better than city air." But then, city air consists of garbage and car exhaust and god knows what else.
Being at home also reminds me of my loneliness. I tried calling up a few old friends today, but they never answer the phone. I guess they're just too busy or can't remember who the heck I am. It's a bit sad how life changes after you go away to college. Maybe that's what's making me so restless. I remember everyone I used to be friends with, all my orchestra buddies and classmates, and now they're just sort of...well...gone.
On another note, my boss showed me what I consider to be the best sketchbook every - moleskine notebooks. I have to get myself some for the next school year! And no, they're not made out of moles.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Grosse
I'm getting fat. Could be because Gramma's trying to stuff me like a turkey. Not that I don't like her, but I can't wait for her to leave so I can start eating healthy, on my own, without massive quantities of seconds being pushed at me every freaking day. No wonder I'm so fat, she gives me more than double what I usually eat, and being that it's Gramma, how can I disappoint her by not eating?
And no, it is not my imagination. There is definitely a spare tire around my middle that has never, in my entire freakin life, ever, ever existed! Darn you, Gramma! ARGH!
And now I'm going to go shove dessert down my throat. ARGH!
And no, it is not my imagination. There is definitely a spare tire around my middle that has never, in my entire freakin life, ever, ever existed! Darn you, Gramma! ARGH!
And now I'm going to go shove dessert down my throat. ARGH!
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Legs, Subways and Doofus Awards
Today was fraught with horrible thoughts on my part. On the way to the subway, I picked up my usual free copy of the Metro. Today there were two stories I found particularly disturbing. The first involved a woman in Long Island hearing two thumps in the morning and returning from work to find that someone's right leg complete with socks and Adidas sneaker, as well as half a torso and part of the spine somehow fell down from the sky and crashed into the side of her house. Yes, very disgusting.
The second story I read was about a woman who got raped in the subway last night. Apparently the person who worked in the booth heard a scream but didn't investigate. One of the people driving the cars noticed what looked like a man assaulting a woman and called it in. Needless to say, by then, the deed had already been done. So me with my horrifically vivid imagination thought about how I would react if someone tried to rape me. The phrase, "You're frickin' kidding me," always seems to be the first words out of my mouth before I try to get away. I really need some form of self defense. It seems too easy for some guy to just grab me unsuspecting off the street - but then, I'm usually safely at home before the rapists start their evening lurk.
On a brighter note, Nestor sent me a most amusing email today. Apparently the company portfolios that we were busy making all last week made quite a splash over in Missouri. We won the Preferred Doofus Award for Outstanding Achievement. It involves the award for best cover, best use of color, fine fonts and most appealing and readable page layout, best use of photographs (aka "Pretty pictures: they made me drool"), technical excellence for special achievement in binding and paper quality, and lastly the highest rating awarded in the category of "Attention to Detail and Demonstrated Subtlety and Self-Restraint in Marketing." I think basically the librarians of Columbia, Missouri were telling us we went far above and beyond the norm for portfolio quality. We aim to please. ^_^
The second story I read was about a woman who got raped in the subway last night. Apparently the person who worked in the booth heard a scream but didn't investigate. One of the people driving the cars noticed what looked like a man assaulting a woman and called it in. Needless to say, by then, the deed had already been done. So me with my horrifically vivid imagination thought about how I would react if someone tried to rape me. The phrase, "You're frickin' kidding me," always seems to be the first words out of my mouth before I try to get away. I really need some form of self defense. It seems too easy for some guy to just grab me unsuspecting off the street - but then, I'm usually safely at home before the rapists start their evening lurk.
On a brighter note, Nestor sent me a most amusing email today. Apparently the company portfolios that we were busy making all last week made quite a splash over in Missouri. We won the Preferred Doofus Award for Outstanding Achievement. It involves the award for best cover, best use of color, fine fonts and most appealing and readable page layout, best use of photographs (aka "Pretty pictures: they made me drool"), technical excellence for special achievement in binding and paper quality, and lastly the highest rating awarded in the category of "Attention to Detail and Demonstrated Subtlety and Self-Restraint in Marketing." I think basically the librarians of Columbia, Missouri were telling us we went far above and beyond the norm for portfolio quality. We aim to please. ^_^
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Phone Bill
It's been about two and a half weeks since I started living with Gramma. So far, it was pretty good. She'd cook food, I'd babble about the day. I'd help carry groceries. She'd read her paper. I'd surf my stolen internet.
Then, the phone bill came in. Boy, is she mad. Apparently she ran up the long distance bill with phone calls to Taiwan - around $80 this month, plus the flat rate, totalling to about $120. Never is she as scary as when she's counting her money...She practically yelled at me today and made me explain what each and every part of the bill was - much of which I couldn't explain because I just don't know the words for FCC and surcharge are. That wasn't ever part of my daily conversation, nor was it part of my Chinese school education...
In any case, it's kind of odd and surprising all at the same time. At home, Gramma would do her anger thing and yell at mom or dad while May and I ignored them, and since I'm the only one around, I get the brunt of it. Joyful. I don't think she's ever raised her voice at any of us before - well, maybe at Jon and Ling for not drinking their milk.
O and I asked my parents (and by parents, I actually mean mom) if I could go to Pittsburgh and visit my bunny and mom said yes! Woohoo! Now I just have to tell the bosses that they won't have to worry about another 13 hours of overtime...
Then, the phone bill came in. Boy, is she mad. Apparently she ran up the long distance bill with phone calls to Taiwan - around $80 this month, plus the flat rate, totalling to about $120. Never is she as scary as when she's counting her money...She practically yelled at me today and made me explain what each and every part of the bill was - much of which I couldn't explain because I just don't know the words for FCC and surcharge are. That wasn't ever part of my daily conversation, nor was it part of my Chinese school education...
In any case, it's kind of odd and surprising all at the same time. At home, Gramma would do her anger thing and yell at mom or dad while May and I ignored them, and since I'm the only one around, I get the brunt of it. Joyful. I don't think she's ever raised her voice at any of us before - well, maybe at Jon and Ling for not drinking their milk.
O and I asked my parents (and by parents, I actually mean mom) if I could go to Pittsburgh and visit my bunny and mom said yes! Woohoo! Now I just have to tell the bosses that they won't have to worry about another 13 hours of overtime...
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Bored
Yes, I am bored. Today, I went out with Gramma so that I could help her get a library card. Of course, I had some self-interest in mind, I need books to read. In my massive boredom, I have actually read the newspaper, and I actually seem to read too quickly, and find my days still empty and my mind craving more entertainment. So we went to the library today. The Flushing Library has an embarrassingly paltry literary selection. It's consisted entirely of best-sellers and that Oprah list of good books to read. Most of it is in paperback, and most of it comes in multiple copies. I find myself looking at only V.C. Andrews and popular Romance novels complete with half naked men and women foreplaying on the covers. My god, is that the only stuff people want to read? Of course, once in a while, you can sift through the piles of Anne Rice and find a pretty good book. I managed to rustle up "I, Robot," which up till now I haven't had a chance to read. My brain practically inhaled the book, and now it's busily asking for more Asimov. Except that it's the only Asimov book in the entire library. Yes, I'm not exaggerating. And there's only two Bradbury books. As for the classics, like Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice, I haven't a clue if they've hidden those away somewhere.
Anyway, "I, Robot" was great. I have no clue how they managed to turn that into a movie, since the story was actually several that took place over the course of an old lady's career. I suppose they took the idea of a robot committing murder and stuffed it into some action packed story, turning that icy old woman into the voluptuous, hollywood dame that Will Smith's character will promptly fall in love with. Never mind the fact that the book states clearly that she is a plain looking woman who likes robots way more than she's ever liked humans. They always mess the stories up so badly...
In any case, I guess I can understand how crappy the library is. It is, after all, New York City, where those who want to read are rich enough to buy what they want, and those who only read a little only care for V.C. Andrews and the like. I need to go to Danbury in a couple weeks and take out as many books as I can carry back to NY.
What really pisses me off is that the cover has Will Smith on it. His character doesn't even exist in the book. The robopsychologist does all the brainwork in the book. Fine, I don't have to be a purist about it all, but I figure, as long as the very basic idea of the book is kept, then it's all right. I suppose that's what offended me so much about "the Bourne Identity." Even the meaning of the phrase, "the Bourne Identity" was completely ignored in the movie.
Anyway, "I, Robot" was great. I have no clue how they managed to turn that into a movie, since the story was actually several that took place over the course of an old lady's career. I suppose they took the idea of a robot committing murder and stuffed it into some action packed story, turning that icy old woman into the voluptuous, hollywood dame that Will Smith's character will promptly fall in love with. Never mind the fact that the book states clearly that she is a plain looking woman who likes robots way more than she's ever liked humans. They always mess the stories up so badly...
In any case, I guess I can understand how crappy the library is. It is, after all, New York City, where those who want to read are rich enough to buy what they want, and those who only read a little only care for V.C. Andrews and the like. I need to go to Danbury in a couple weeks and take out as many books as I can carry back to NY.
What really pisses me off is that the cover has Will Smith on it. His character doesn't even exist in the book. The robopsychologist does all the brainwork in the book. Fine, I don't have to be a purist about it all, but I figure, as long as the very basic idea of the book is kept, then it's all right. I suppose that's what offended me so much about "the Bourne Identity." Even the meaning of the phrase, "the Bourne Identity" was completely ignored in the movie.
Lonely
My next subway observation: Yesterday, a woman sat across from me from the stop at Times Square till the stop at Vernon. The first thing I noticed was that she looked like she stepped out of the baby ward at the hospital - everything on her was pastel, including her baby yellow sneakers with lavender shoelaces and baby blue ankle socks. The second thing I noticed was that she was extremely nervous. She never sat back in the seat, rather perched herself like a giant albatross on the edge of the seat, always something ticking, whether it was the side of the mouth or her finger or her foot. Her eyes kept darting back and forth, like she was just waiting for something to happen. I'm not sure what she was waiting for, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she's deathly afraid of germs. At any rate, I looked down for one second when the contents of my bag shifted at the sudden stop at Vernon, and all I saw was a lavender figure darting out as fast as possible out of the corner of my eye. She really didn't like being on the subway.
I, as you can probably tell by now, quite enjoy the subway. There's a lot of interesting things to see. If I ever went to France, you can bet I'd be one of those people who would just sit ouside a cafe and drink Parisien coffee as I watch the world go by.
Also, I'm just plain lonely. I don't have any friends that I can hang out with here. Everyday, it's work till 6:30, leave and get back at 7:30. After that, I would eat dinner, help Gramma clean up, and then it's 9. Sometimes, I'll call my Benny-bean, but still, talking to him on the phone and actually seeing him are two different things entirely. I sit in front of the laptop with AIM on desperately hoping to see a friend pop online, but then it's 10, and if I'm ever to wake up on time, that's when I must go. Everything is very nice and structured in my day, I get enough sleep, I get enough time to eat, but I'm just lonely. What's there to do in NY? Nothing without friends, really. I can't very well go into Manhattan all alone after dark, or my gramma will freak out. I don't have time to make friends. So I'm pretty much stuck here, all alone. Lonely, lonely, lonely...
I, as you can probably tell by now, quite enjoy the subway. There's a lot of interesting things to see. If I ever went to France, you can bet I'd be one of those people who would just sit ouside a cafe and drink Parisien coffee as I watch the world go by.
Also, I'm just plain lonely. I don't have any friends that I can hang out with here. Everyday, it's work till 6:30, leave and get back at 7:30. After that, I would eat dinner, help Gramma clean up, and then it's 9. Sometimes, I'll call my Benny-bean, but still, talking to him on the phone and actually seeing him are two different things entirely. I sit in front of the laptop with AIM on desperately hoping to see a friend pop online, but then it's 10, and if I'm ever to wake up on time, that's when I must go. Everything is very nice and structured in my day, I get enough sleep, I get enough time to eat, but I'm just lonely. What's there to do in NY? Nothing without friends, really. I can't very well go into Manhattan all alone after dark, or my gramma will freak out. I don't have time to make friends. So I'm pretty much stuck here, all alone. Lonely, lonely, lonely...
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Observing
Recently, I have fallen in love with a UK band called "the Servant." Sadly, their CD is not sold in the US, though I can order it on Amazon for a mere $40. I like them, but not that much.
Today I got out of work at 6:30, just like yesterday. Both days, I waited for the subway next to two elderly gentleman, both equally wrinkled and equally hunched. Perhaps it's an advanced form of osteoperosis? I was speculating on the way home. How is it that the only two hunch-backed old men I've ever seen in my entire life appear at the same time and the same place, and yet don't seem to know each other at all? Maybe there's a doctor's office nearby? I didn't see one anywhere around the area, so unless it's extremely well hidden, I don't think that's the case. Maybe there's a support group of sorts? That's just stupid. I hate to think that perhaps it's just a coincidence. But sometimes, that's all that it is.
I also thought about body posture on the subway. One fellow that sat across from me was dressed in the ghetto-fabulous bling bling style of Puff Daddy, or P. Diddy or whatever you call him these days. Odd thing is that he sat completely hunch over, legs together as if he were riding side saddle, reading a book. Next to him was a nerdy looking Chinese guy, he looked to be 16, but is probably anywhere from 20-25 years old. He, I thought, seemed annoyingly confident, like a prince sitting on his throne, looking down on others, legs apart, arms crossed, knowing smile on the face. It took me a while to come up with that metaphor, but that's what he was - he reminded me of a young emperor in one of those cheesy, low-budget Chinese soap operas. I also saw someone my sister probably would have drawn in her sketchbook. Skinny guy, hair slicked back like Christian Bale, little sunglasses, jacket with a collar like Vash and lots of buckles on it. I guess on paper it looks pretty good, but when someone wears it in real life...well, he looked kind of silly. I doubt even Christian Bale could pull it off. Sorry, Vincent, you're just not meant to be real.
Today I got out of work at 6:30, just like yesterday. Both days, I waited for the subway next to two elderly gentleman, both equally wrinkled and equally hunched. Perhaps it's an advanced form of osteoperosis? I was speculating on the way home. How is it that the only two hunch-backed old men I've ever seen in my entire life appear at the same time and the same place, and yet don't seem to know each other at all? Maybe there's a doctor's office nearby? I didn't see one anywhere around the area, so unless it's extremely well hidden, I don't think that's the case. Maybe there's a support group of sorts? That's just stupid. I hate to think that perhaps it's just a coincidence. But sometimes, that's all that it is.
I also thought about body posture on the subway. One fellow that sat across from me was dressed in the ghetto-fabulous bling bling style of Puff Daddy, or P. Diddy or whatever you call him these days. Odd thing is that he sat completely hunch over, legs together as if he were riding side saddle, reading a book. Next to him was a nerdy looking Chinese guy, he looked to be 16, but is probably anywhere from 20-25 years old. He, I thought, seemed annoyingly confident, like a prince sitting on his throne, looking down on others, legs apart, arms crossed, knowing smile on the face. It took me a while to come up with that metaphor, but that's what he was - he reminded me of a young emperor in one of those cheesy, low-budget Chinese soap operas. I also saw someone my sister probably would have drawn in her sketchbook. Skinny guy, hair slicked back like Christian Bale, little sunglasses, jacket with a collar like Vash and lots of buckles on it. I guess on paper it looks pretty good, but when someone wears it in real life...well, he looked kind of silly. I doubt even Christian Bale could pull it off. Sorry, Vincent, you're just not meant to be real.
