Wednesday, July 29, 2009

colors

we're different.

different at birth - the billionth chance of being you, that one sperm lucky enough to reach that one egg.
different as adults - the result of events we experience that happen by chance and sheer luck.

every mind has its own shade of color.
a color on a pallete, waiting to be mixed with the others.
then painted onto a canvas, the product of skill and luck
to coexist and work together
to be a masterpiece.

yet we point at each other and say the other is brainwashed
when really we're brainwashed ourselves.
we reject differing people that we're not familiar with
without even understanding them.

there is no empathy.

the colors don't mix.

the world makes an ugly painting.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Turnpike Breeze

Exploding suitcase, knees bumping the aisles/
Dizzy takeoff, clutching baba's arm/
Add ImageStale pretzels, groggy eyes/
open in time to see the 9:00/
sunset serving as a matte for the spiky shadows/
of pine trees standing guard over the city/

Rain-washed air, carressing the wind/
sinuously snaking around sky-scrapers/
Hint of puddles, evaporating on dirty streets/
a boy in a v-neck throws his cigaette in the puddle/
steam rises, marring the fresh leaf of the evening/

hello seattle/
flying in the turnpike breeze/

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Thank You Failure

I haven't cried for a while.

Thank you failure for the tears and total frustration.

Today was a mini-recital (to prepare for SYMF saturday) at my violin teacher's house. And it would be the first time I came out of my shell and played a violin solo in front of a real audience. This whole week, my upcoming performance had been constantly floating on the top of my mind. Wow...My first chance to impress. To show what I actually have. To prove something...something I've been working for since 3rd grade.

So fast forward to 8:30. It was my turn. Fear rushed into me as I stood in front of the audience. My cheeks flushed red. My eyes darted back and forth across the room. Their eyes stared back at me.
Piano started, I lifted my violin and set the bow on the string. It's your chance to prove it to all of them. 6 minutes later, I walked out of the room not acknowleding the fake applause and knowing I played the most horrible, awkward, and stiff rendition of Tchaikovsky.

Life basically was sucked out of me as I sat there and watched everybody else after me play something actually decent. A burning dry feeling stayed in my throat. That feeling was frustration and total failure. I tried to drink it off, but nothing helped the pain. Endured a few more players until my mom suggested we go home. I happily obliged.

As I walked towards the car, I couldn't help but start crying. It was as if I were a total weakling, with the lower lip quivering and tears teetering on the edge of my eyelid.

And then it just all came out.

My mom tried to make me feel better, saying she was proud, the other moms all went to talk with her, blah blah blah. But she did lessen the pain. Thank you mom for that.

I continued being overdramatic and depressed. All this for just 6 minutes in front of 16 people. A mini-recital. I did not know I was that pathetic.

Why Failure? Why did you do this to me? Why do you want to cause so much shit to happen? All these thoughts echoed through my head as I stared out window to the black sky. This pointless stupid world...why me? why? Then I just sat and stared. And began to think purposefully.

...maybe it had a purpose.

Failure is teaching me something. Asking me to open up - to accept it. To cope with it. To use it to improve. To tell me I can do so much more. And once I open up to it, I'll be twice the person I am now.

I don't mind how I do this saturday. If I place, well, good for me. Maybe enjoy a temporary boost of some self-esteem. If I don't, well. Who cares! It's only a 6 minute window of my almost 8 year relationship with my violin! You're not going to die, you're not a failure, it's just a competition after all. Yes, we all want to be the best, but success comes from failure. And it'll come someday. Someday...


Tuesday, July 21, 2009

All He Could Give

'It was finally here - Anna's weddign day, the day she had dreamed about and planned for months. The small, picturesque church was crowded with friends and family.

Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, and the gentle music of the string quartet filled the air. Anna walked down the aisle toward David. Joy surged within her. This was the moment for which she had waited so long. He gently took her hand, and they turned towards the altar.
But as the minister began to lead Anna and DAvid through their vows, the unthinkable happened. A girl stood up in the middle of the congregation, walked quietly to the altar, and took David's other hand. Another girl approached and stood next to the first, followed by another. Soon, a chain of six girls stood by him as he repeated his vows to Anna.
Anna felt her lip begin to quiver as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Is this some kind of joke?" she whispered to David.
"I'm...I'm sorry, anna," he said, staring at the floor.
"Who are these girls, David? What is going on?" she gasped.
"They're girls from my past," He answered sadly. "Anna, they don't mean anything to me now...but I've given part of my heart to each of them."
"I thought your heart was mine," she said.
"It is, it is," he pleaded. "Everything that's left is yours."
- Joshua Harris "I Kissed Dating Goodbye"

Is this how you want your wedding to be? Of course, I'm sure that old girlfriends or old boyfriends won't start coming up to you and holding your hand. But I suppose this story (which was actually a dream) changes the perspective on relationships. It did for me.
How do you view your dating history? Do you start over fresh at each relationship, thinking that the relationship you're in now is the true relationship, and the other ones were all flings or innocent fun? Are relationships cycles? Something to enjoy, then thrown away carelessly at the end? However amicable the parting, the memories are there. The imprint is there. You can't just wash out your heart like laundry and hang it up to dry. Wrinkles are left. Hearts are broken. Every time, you give part of yourself away. And at the end, nothing is left but a broken piece. Is this what you want to give to the person whom you are going to spend the rest of your life with?
How would they feel? You are not "fresh," anymore, not innocent...you've gone through the motions again and again.

Was it love? Or was it insecurity? Was it pure? Or was it lust?

First love is unmatchable. Many of us have lost that opportunity by now. But we can just prepare our minds, mend our hearts, and wait for the right person.
And hopefully they have kept our heart in mind as well, and not broken their own.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Life and Age

I was only 4 or 5 years at the time. It's the earliest memory I can recall.

My mom woke me up with tears in her eyes. Only a toddler at that time, I was pretty clueless of what was happening. But she didn't mind, and she just vented all her sadness, frustration, and anger to me. I was thoroughly confused...and she hugged me and sobbed over my shoulder. And after a while everything was better.

And now we've grown. How utterly depressing. I'm no longer a comfort; I am a burden.
Why did we all want to grow up?

Age is something so complicated. It's a curse, but also a blessing. Part of me wants to grow up, to explore the world, to understand everything. I want to see people, understand why they're "them," imagine new things I would've never imagined before, and experience things I have never experienced before.
...but are we happier that way? Maybe understanding the world...won't lead us to see what we want. Maybe we'll see an ugly place. Experiences, well there are the good ones, but there's also the bad ones.

And age kills you! You die. Your body becomes lifeless, and your connections to the world around is gone. Forever.

My dad's friend just passed away a week ago. He was healthy, happy, productive, and living a meaningful life. Nice wife, genius kid who went to Berkeley at 8th grade, daughter going to college, and about to retire and move back to Taiwan. In fact, he talked with my dad a month ago asking where he should live. Everything was going fine...
Then all of sudden he died. Some vessel in his brain popped, not sure what happened, but he died. His family - no longer with him. His friends - no longer with him. His wife's vision of them living in Taiwan happily and carefreely in retirement will no longer happen. His daughter will never spend the quality father-daughter time with him before she leaves to college. Her father, dead. Just...gone. I can't fathom it.

We are simply walking to death every day, every second, every millisecond. My 5 year old self is dead. My 15 year old self is half dead. And sooner or later, I will be dead, somehow someway sometime.

How wonderful!

Friday, July 17, 2009

A Demeritable Practice

Card A-325

parrot

-v. to blindly repeat or copy

How ironic. I parrot these definitions to Elite 50 times a day. I simply store these new words temporarily in my mind until Monday, the day we're tested, when I forget about it forever. The vocab tests are not comprehensive and do not engrain into memory. It’s clear that this method of building up vocabulary is completely pointless and idealistic. Those Koreans who run Elite expect us students to remember those words for the rest of our lives by being tested by it once. So then comes the question: is Elite really dependable to improve the SAT scores?


Card A-443

Skeptical

-adj. tending to question or doubt

Before answering the question directly, we must acknowledge Elite’s special “tool” to “encourage” the students to learn. It is the Demerit. A completely flawed concept, the Demerit is issued to students who "fail" (getting an 80 or lower) the daily vocabulary, reading, math, and writing quizzes and forces them to stay one hour after the class ends. It takes place in Elite’s white prison-like classrooms, and no talking is allowed. If you are caught, your one hour of serving time is doubled. It is essentially a strict detention.

This practice differs from the method of typical high schools, where detention is only issued to those who commit specific morally offensive actions against the school system. This includes vandalism, cheating, drugs, etc. However, according to Elite, a 79% on a quiz is morally wrong. This 79% is on the same level as flicking off your math teacher. How logical. Furthermore, the typical parents who send their children to Elite already have their own ways of improving their children's work ethic and academic performance. Take the common case among the Asian parents: Constant nagging, pressuring, and monitoring when they are aware of their child’s subpar academic performance. This method has proven to be sufficient in prodding the child along with his academic pursuit at school, so logically it could be applied to Elite; it’s summer school for SAT. Although this stereotypical example with the Asian parents may vary throughout the various homes and families, Elite has no right whatsoever to change the parents' way of handling things (especially when the parents are paying tons of money). The demerit is clearly an abuse of power which is unnecessary to “encourage” the student to achieve success.

Card B-461

futile

-adj. having no useful result

Clearly, Elite is run by people who have no understanding of the students, using faulty and flawed methods for their idealistic goals. What is evident, however, is their clear understanding of profit and greed. For a whopping $2000 for each student, each of the 6 classrooms amasses $32,000, so $192,000 is made during each session. Then there are 3 sessions, the morning, afternoon, and weekend, so Elite’s profit is tripled to be $576,000. Even more is that there are 32 total branches of this enterprise, so Elite accumulates $18,432,000 each summer. It is plain to see that Elite is a completely lucrative business. The question is no longer whether Elite’s methods work or not to improve SAT scores, but rather if Elite’s purpose is to improve the student or the size of the owners’ wallets. When the manager of Northwood’s Elite branch pulls out of the parking lot in her Maserati, what is really on her mind-the students or the money?

napoleon's downfall

These desires…

Comes from cares I cannot forget

Oh these woes of mine

Disciples dressed in blue

My heart worries for you

But the cause

Or this song without a pause

Honored guests I salute

Strike the harp

Play the flute

Never ceasing never dark

These birds…

Cannot settle, cannot subside

Flying with no rest

Where shall they nest?

The ocean too deep,

The mountain too steep

So at their feet

The empire does fall.

when we were young

Sequel to the Golden Goblet

Ibni’s Treachery

Plink ping plink ping! Ranofer’s hammer sang out like a clear bell as it shaped a hunk of gold into an exquisite bracelet. Ranofer stopped hammering, and picked up the bracelet, studying it critically. “What do you think, Master?” he asked tentatively. Zau looked at it decisively, and replied approvingly, “It is very good, very good indeed”, he nodded his wise old head.

“Really?” was Ranofer’s incredulous whisper.

“Yes, even my most advanced students cannot shape such a fine-looking bracelet.” Zau replied. Ranofer bowed, gratefully. He was very happy that he was Zau’s apprentice, happier than he had ever been since his father had died. The sun was setting, and Ranofer bowed to Zau. “Peace be with you, Master.” He said.

“Peace be with you, Ranofer.” Zau said. Ranofer bowed once again and strode out of the shop, his brilliant bracelet wrapped up in a shenti the Queen had given him. He walked to the banks of the Nile, and watched Ra sink in the sky. Despite the fact that he might be robbed, he took out the bracelet, and held it up to setting sun.

It was quite beautiful, and made of pure gold. It was in the shape of lilies, twining all around the arm, and lovelier the moon. The centers of the lilies were plated with priceless silver, and the whole bracelet shone like the star on a cloudless night. Ranofer sighed. Aii! He thought. Amon has blessed me so. First, I caught the tomb robbers, Gebu and Wenamon. Then the Queen granted my wishes. Now, I am becoming a master goldsmith. Aii!! I know! He started. I shall give this lovely armband to Zau, as my appreciation. Nay! That will not do, Zau can make anything like this anytime. I shall give it to the Queen, the Daughter of the Sun! She will wear it, and it will glow on her slender arm like the moon on a cloudy night.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Ranofer started to walk toward his little cottage, still holding up the beautiful bracelet. It was as quiet as a grave as he made his way through the thicket to his cottage. There was a slight sound as his beloved donkey, Thutra, came to greet him. “Ah, it has been a lovely day, my friend,” He said as he stroked the donkey’s nose. “And look! I have some honey cake that Zau gave me! We will have a real feast tonight!” Quickly, Ranofer doled out some bread, onions, cheese, grapes, honey cake, and water to himself and Thutra. He had named the donkey Thutra to remind him of his beloved father. They ate quietly, sitting outside the hut, watching the moon shine behind the clouds. When they finished eating, Ranofer led Thutra into his pen, and he settled down on his frayed sleeping mat with his handsome bracelet at his side. Life cannot get better than this, he thought. And with that, he drifted off into a restful, dreamless sleep.

When he awoke the next day, refreshed and energized, he made it up in his mind to present his masterpiece to the Queen. He picked up the bracelet, which looked a little dull. What happened? He had just polished it last night. Perplexed, he picked up one of his best shentis and buffed the bangle vigorously. It didn’t help. But the most peculiar thing was that it wasn’t cool to the touch and smooth to the fingers, the way gold and silver is. It felt rough, spoiled, and PAINTED!!! Ranofer quickly scraped his fingernail against a petal of a lily flower. Aii! It scraped off! This was paint! This was a fake mimic of his own piece of art! Someone had stolen his beautiful armband and had replaced it with a crude replica! Ah! What a fool he was! He had thought nobody was watching when he had taken the bracelet out of his shenti on the way home and had admired it! And now, his hopes of pleasing the Queen were gone! Ranofer screamed with anguish and fury and threw the painted bracelet in the thicket.

As he was walking down the street, looking for Kai the baker’s boy, and brooding about who could of taken his precious armband, he saw a very familiar figure hastening to Mutra’s wine shop. That stooping figure, with cheese white hands, it was Ibni!! He had a bundle underneath his arm! That wretched beast! He must have stolen his armband and is now going to celebrate with a goblet of barley beer! Ranofer started to chase after that atrocious figure, but stopped. Aii! If I go in now, he thought. People will catch me! A wine shop, full of brawny men, is not a place for a young boy. I must wait, and plan. I will wait for Ibni to come out, and follow him to his home. Then I shall alert the Queen’s guards that there is a thief on the loose. Then I will lead them to Ibni and they will teach him a lesson! Then I will get back my beloved bracelet, polish it, and present it to the Daughter of the Sun! Rejuvenated by this ideal plan, he bought some bread, and settled down behind a tree next to Mutra’s wine shop and waited.

Finally, near sunset, Ibni came out, still clutching his bundle with his repulsive hands. When he was well down the street, Ranofer crept along about ten paces behind him, like a lone dog. Every so often, Ibni would look surreptitiously behind him. Ranofer knew that look. It was the look Gebu sometimes had. I look of greed, hate, and utter malevolence. Ugh, how he hated Ibni. He loathed thinking about Ibni stroking his lovely armband, spoiling its loveliness. Finally, they came to a shabby little hut.

Ranofer quickly sprawled on the ground behind a palm, and watched as Ibni carefully placed his precious package just inside the door. Then, he strode off toward a well nearby. When Ibni was out of sight, Ranofer picked up the package and hastily untied it. Inside, was his lily-shaped bracelet. His heart beat uncontrollably, and with trembling fingers, he replaced his bracelet with the fake one. He tucked his precious bracelet inside his shenti and tied the bundle back together again. “Having a fine time, aren’t you? Little thief!” A chilling voice in his ear whispered. Despite of his careful planning, he had forgotten to go fetch the palace guards! Ibni wrenched him around and cuffed him soundly around the ears. His head spun, and he found himself spread-eagled on the dirt road, being beaten by Ibni! Again and again, he punched Ranofer. Aii! I must not let this brute get away with this! And with a mighty effort, he pushed Ibni off him and began to run.

Ibni chased after him, yelling his name. Ranofer ran, as he had never run before, with Ibni gaining with every beat of his feet. But Ranofer wasn’t running because of fear, he was running toward the palace. On and on they ran, until the beautiful gates of the palace came into view. He ran across the courtyard, yelling, “Thief! Thief! There’s a thief following me!” And sure enough, the guards quickly pinned Ibni down. “This man was pursuing one of the Queen’s Favored! Let him be dragged off to be testified!”

They dragged the struggling Ibni off, and Ranofer sat down to catch his breath. Finally, he got up, and looked at the stars, they were shining very brightly, as if they were smiling down on him, winking approvingly at his good deeds. He had taken back what was his and had revealed a thief that had roamed Thebes for too long. He reached into his shenti and pulled out his immaculate armband. He would give it to the Queen tomorrow. Now, though, he must go home, and tell Thutra about his heroic day. He set off, into the night.

something i wrote in 6th grade.

thought blenders

bearing in mind the importance of the college app essay, we have decided to embark on a literary journey to "broaden our horizons."


here's to success...we hope. :)

 
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