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The problem with having two blogs is very similar to problems that arise when raising two children. If there is only one good story, which blog does it go to? If there is only one morsel of food, which child gets it? In this situation, I have acted like most parents do; I shove one of my children into the basement and pretend he/she doesn't exist. But this can occur no longer. I have a moral obligation to all of you to continue writing on this blog. Also, I'm trying to put off some work and Facebook is being weird right now.
So what have I been up to the past year? I've changed my major again. I am now Business/Architecture. My parents tell me I'm running away from my problems and I will never stick with it and if I really want to be an architect I better make at least $150,000 a year to support my family but then they tell me it's not realistic because architects are always poor. It's funny how my parents try to place obstacles in the way of things they'd prefer me not to do. If I told them I wanted to be a doctor or a chemical engineer, they'd probably cheer me on and release millions of balloons into the air.
But all of this has just added to the uncertainty of what I'm doing. I have a chronic fear that I've got a romanticized perception of what architecture really is. What happens when I start studio in the Fall and realize that it's even more uninteresting and painful as organic chemistry was? And at that point, I really can't afford to jump ship again.
Another issue that concerns me is that, once I take up architecture, I will be officially letting go of any hope of becoming a doctor. It's frustrating that I took three semesters of chemistry and two semesters of biology for nothing. And am I going to regret, in the long run, not pursuing the med-school dream like every other dutiful Asian child does? Every time I watch ER or Scrubs I begin to feel an intense regret, watching the life that I'm going to miss out on. I don't want to feel that for the rest of my life. But this is perhaps another romanticized image. They don't really show you the parts where they have to poke around at dead bodies and get sued for malpractice. That is no fun.
So I've made my decision to apply for architecture in the Spring. I hope I get in. And if I don't, that will be God telling me that it's not the right path for me. Or perhaps it will be fate trying to screw me over like it always does. |
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| So it seems as though Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign
has finally hit a dead end. I can’t say I didn’t this coming; she has been
playing catch up the entire time. Perhaps I was just hoping for some sort of
miracle a la pictures surfacing of Obama making out with a young schoolboy. For the past month (at least) there have been suggestions
that Hillary should take the “high road” and throw herself wholeheartedly into
supporting Obama’s campaign. After all, doesn’t she want the democrats to win
in the Fall? But these propositions came far too soon. The press prematurely
sent a message to the public that Hillary had no chance of securing the
nomination. That very well may be the case starting yesterday, but it was not
back then. And so what if continuing her campaign damaged Obama’s image?
The point of the nomination process is to pick the strongest candidate to
represent the party. Not to coddle the candidate that most members of the party
endorse just to seem hip and progressive. Is this pampering going to continue
when the oval office is accidentally set on fire, the economy collapses, and
the Middle East implodes? Anyway, what’s done is done. There is no use crying over it
now. But before I let go of all my post-presumptive-nomination rage, I have to
complain about just one more thing. I cannot understand why the press has been
so bias throughout this entire ordeal. Every single time Obama’s camp has a
slip-up, the media rushes to his side to defend him. From the beginning, Obama
has been worshipped by huge crowds like he’s some sort of messiah that has been
sent to deliver us from the disarray that is our current administration. Much
to my annoyance, and apparently nobody else’s noticing, he has reveled in it.
He is pompous, genteel, and I find his connection to middle class and black
America flimsy at best. I honestly cannot see his appeal.
“He
inspires us! We have faith in him!” This isn’t The Ten Commandments
people. As much as he’d like to, he is not going to lead us through the Red
Sea.
"He
has been against the war from the start!” His vote against the Iraq war five
years ago was equal parts serendipity and good judgment. Lucky for him, that
war failed horribly and now it’s easy for him to condemn the mess that it has
become.
“He
exemplifies change!” Quick question, has Obama ever clarified on his plans to
revamp the entire political system? He claims to offer “change we can believe
in.” Well, I’ll believe it when I see it. On the other hand, the press has harpooned Hillary
like a baby seal. Even the most irrelevant details have become major issues.
Uhm, who cares if she wasn’t shot at on the runway in some Eastern European
country? And on that note, most of the negativity generated against Hilary
doesn’t make sense or has no bearing on an election of a President to begin
with.
“She’s a woman.” Strangely,
people feel no need to hide their misogynistic views. Go make me a sandwich
Hillary! But racism, now that is offensive. And everyone loves the chance to
assuage a little white guilt. Shouldn’t they be equally unacceptable?
“She’s not feminine enough.”
It seems as though people want to elect a female president that more accurately
fits their perception of a typical woman. As it is, Hillary is some sort of
hybrid, not unlike Zac Efron. How on Earth is Hillary going to juggle all that power, aggression, opportunism and still get dinner on the table by five? Many people would prefer a female candidate that is more soft-spoken and sensitive, a.k.a. Martha Stewart. Have we forgotten that Stewart couldn't even handle The Apprentice? In order to be the President of the United
States, you have to exhibit traits that are traditionally masculine. There's really no way around that. It's not like she's going to melt Ahmadinejad’s heart with her
feminine wiles and lure Kim Jong Il away from his nuclear stash with freshly
baked cookies.
“She
doesn’t seem friendly.” Yes, because the utmost priority of the President is to
become your best friend forever.
“She
doesn’t inspire me like Obama does.” Something I’ll give Obama is the wonderful
timbre of his voice. It makes for good speeches, vacant stares and head rolling
aside. Let’s elect him President because of it. One fact Hillary can use as leverage, for anybody
that still acknowledges her legitimacy, is that she did manage to wrangle the
majority of the popular vote. But what’s ironic is that nobody cares. That’s
the funny thing about democrats. When Al Gore claimed the popular vote but lost
the general election, the democrats shit their pants and screamed in the
streets like wild banshees. Now that Hillary has the popular vote, it’s a
non-issue. In fact, most democrats are telling her to shut up about it and sit
in a corner while they go fetch Obama another ice cream cone. But it doesn’t matter what I think anyway since people
aren’t about to change their minds based on a xanga entry and I doubt any
superdelegates are reading this (but just in case, I love you Nancy Pelosi) At
this point, the democrats have sealed their fate, their failure. | | |
| In light of my worst academic semester on record, I really
got to thinking about what my grades actually mean and why they still matter.
If there’s one thing that gives me nightmares, makes my heart
skip a beat, and instills primal fear into my soul, it’s B's. Not bitches, I
mean the ones on my transcript. I still remember my second grade teacher
warning my classmates and me about our upcoming hardships, “There are no more
O’s, S’s, and N’s in third grade!” Immediately, I knew that my graduation to
letter grades was going to translate into more stress. And even at my tender
age, I remember saying something along the lines of, “Omg, how am I going to
deal with this shit.”
Over a decade later, not much has changed. I still plan my
entire academic life around avoiding B’s as if they were explosive landmines
littered on the path towards a successful career. But as soon as I develop a
good strategy of circumventing them, I end up at a new school where the rules
change. Regardless, I always thought that once I entered college, I would be
released from my academic prison; I was wrong. Since I will most likely end up
applying to grad school (ugh, shoot me in the face), I still have three years
to worry until my hair turns white and my spleen explodes (ugh, shoot me in the
face). But even if I weren’t applying to grad school, the searing pain of
seeing a B on a report card has become somewhat instinctual. So much so that
even if there were nothing at stake, it would probably still upset me.
But that brings me to the question of why B’s matter. I guess
many of you are probably pulling your hair out, stomping around like Godzilla,
and yelling about how crazy I am for obsessing over B’s when I could be doing
much worse. Yes, it is a good thing I’m not on academic probation and Geico
still gives me a decent discount. But my competitive nature makes me feel that
being in the second tier just isn’t good enough. And as a perfectionist, a 4.0
will always be the dream… (although cumulatively speaking that is, at this
point, unattainable). But more so than either of these things, A’s, for me at
least, have adopted huge connotations. The more A’s you have, the better
college you can get into, the better job you can have, and the more money you
can make. This may be a gross oversimplification of things. After all, life isn’t
like Super Mario Galaxy where you run around outer space collecting stars. But I
do think the few B’s I got during high school in the classes where I didn’t work
as hard as I should have affected my college acceptances. Whether or not that
will affect the rest of my life is still up in the air. So it seems my parents accomplished their goal of
raising a B-fearing child. Their talk of grades and their importance have all
but ceased but their incessant nagging lives on in my superego from where the
torment continues. I hope I don’t end up doing the same to my kids. I wouldn’t
want them to become a wreck like me. | | |
| At
the end of every stage of my life, I always feel an intense sense of nostalgia
and a desire to cling on for just a bit longer. I know finishing the first year
of college isn’t exactly the end of an era, but the feelings are here
nonetheless. No doubt moving out of my dorm was what triggered this landslide of emotions.
I’ve basically lived in the same home my entire life, so I don’t know what it’s
like to leave behind a place that I’ve become attached to. But emptying out my
room and seeing it so bare got me thinking. My home for one year suddenly became just another
room, ready for next year’s unsuspecting victim who has to live next door to
Andrew Levinson, (yes, he is returning). Although I can’t say I didn’t see it coming,
moving out happened upon me quite abruptly. And it’s embarrassing given how much I
complained, but I admit that I will miss life in Ellicott, basement and all.
But
living conditions aren’t what is really bothering me. Mostly, I cannot believe
that the year came and went so quickly. I distinctly remember how slowly time
moved the summer preceding and how nervous I was coming in, but the entire year
has been somewhat of a monotonous blur. I always expected college to change my
life in a dramatic way. I thought it would make me a different, (perhaps
better), person. I can’t say that it has. I can't even say that I have learned that much, especially since I don't remember a single thing from organic chemistry now that the final is over. I’m sure that I’ve passed a million
little milestones that I’m overlooking at the moment. But in many ways, I feel
like the same naïve kid I was in high school. There are just so many things I
want to do and experience before I enter the realm of adulthood and am thrown
into the real world. And now, I’ve only got three years left to do them. | | |
| It
is a universal truth that all TA’s talk funny, look funny, and sometimes smell
funny. But when further classification is necessary, they can be divided up
into three basic categories.
The Fobs: Either from China or India, these TA’s give directions in English
that is so broken, nobody knows what the hell is going on. Whenever you ask
them questions, they repeat the keywords out loud to themselves and you can see
the look of pure confusion on their faces.
The Idiots: I once heard that to be a TA for a course, you had to have gotten
an A in the class. For some TA’s, I find that hard to believe. They seem to
have no knowledge about the course material whatsoever and they turn all of
your questions into questions back at you. Somehow, discussion sections
inevitably become 2 hour-long tic-tac-toe tournaments with myself.
The Douches: These TA’s are under the illusion that they are God’s gift to
students. Despite only being a couple years older than the students they teach,
they condescend worse than Simon Cowell or anybody for Howard County. Sorry,
hanging out with fellow graduate students at Ledo’s pizza while grading lab
reports does not constitute having a life so please do what you were hired to
do, fix my grades and answer my emails.
There
is no group of people that is more awkward, useless, and frustrating than
TA’s. I can’t wait to become one… | | |
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