Amy's Wedding

This past Saturday, I stood witness to the union of Amy and Victor. Amy, my good friend from high school looked regal and graceful in her bridal raiment. She has a very noble bearing, one that she usually hides in very down-to-earth attire and manner. It was a pity that I was 20 minutes late and had to miss the grand entrance of the bride, but I'm happy that I still caught most of the ceremony.

It was very fun to see some old high school and junior high school friends again. One of my old friends shocked us all by showing up with her husband. They had married last year, quietly, without fanfare, without telling anyone in fact. I was surprised, almost dismayed at first. But I soon decided that all that's important is that they are happy now. Having friends come to your wedding, giving you gifts, lavishing congratulations -- these are all great but not essential to a happy and long-lasting marriage.

Jason and I went up and danced at a time when nobody went up. It was just me and Jason, gyrating clumsily to some music I no longer recall the melody of. I was by then, three drinks down and much less inhibited. It was still awkward but I consoled myself that no one was really watching us. When I remarked that to a friend, she promptly retorted smartly that THEY were definitely watching us. Oops. So much for the self-consolation. Oh well, hopefully I didn't make a complete fool of myself and even if I did, so what? I'm only young once and there's no time like now to make a fool of myself.

Amy and Victor did a slow dance and it was very lovely to watch, against the backdrop of the sunlit floor to ceiling windows. They also had two rambunctious wedding singers who began to take on the job description of wedding dancers as the wedding reception wore on. I tried to request Lady in Red at first and unfortunately they didn't know the lyrics. Jason kept yelling "99 Red Balloons" for reasons I can not imagine. He refused to just go up to the wedding singers and request the song in a civilized manner. In short though, it was a very good wedding and I much enjoyed the drinks and the oyster bar. =)

My nails look like shyte

and that's AFTER I put on nail polish too.

So after deciding that the least I could do for my friend's wedding was get a decent pair of manicured hands and a decent pair of pedicured feet, I went to the drugstore to pick out some nail polish to work with. (Recently in random fits of renewed determination to live life in a minimalist fashion, I have made sweeping purges of my cosmetics and toiletries. Alas, the nail polishes usually didn't survive the cleansing campaigns) So I meticulously selected two colors that delighted me and with great excitement embarked on some DIY salon experience later last night.

Now giving yourself a good manicure require first of all, a decent canvas to work on. Your nails have to be smooth, the cuticles removed, the skin surrounding the nails need to be soft and pliant, not dry and cracking. My fingers really don't fit any of the above criteria as I consider putting hand lotion on my hands the pinnacle of pampering. (yes, I'm That lazy) Plus, there is the necessary hand-eye coordination skills required to apply just the right amount of polish to each nail in controlled strokes from one end to the other. For some reason, this simple physical act eludes my capabilities and my nail brush goes wild, splattering heavy color here, barely scraping by in other places from lack of polish. The end result? Uneven coating, bumpy veneer, streaked with airbubbles (from waving my hands in the air too vigorously) and polish spilling over on the skin. Good manicure it is not. If not for the fabulous color that my discerning eye picked out, my manicure would have to be classified as a complete failure. As it is, its irisdescent glow, its pearly sparkliness manages to still dazzle and somewhat pretend it's actually a good manicure job....until this morning when on another whim, I decided to streak some more polish on top of it. I thought, in salons, they always give customers at least two applications, so why not?

But then, Miss Genius here was running late for work and waved her hand frantically in the air again to dry it quickly. And after about 5 seconds, decided it was dry enough and rushed off. Out of curiosity though, I couldn't resist patting one of my nails and promptly placed a fingerprint indent on the polish, like embossing. On closer inspection, all my nails look pretty tacky, despite my best intentions and now it just bugs me to stare at them, knowing what an awful job I did of it all.

Yeah, even now as I'm writing them, I can't help but stopping every few seconds to inspect my nails. The verdict is the same everytime. They look like shyte.

Talk by Dr. Yewdell

I just attended a motivational talk by a scientist at NIH. Smart guy, MD-PhD forward-thinking, hip scientist. What was his talk on? On the importance of science, of the importance of nurturing a generation of scientists and preaching the gospel of science. I believe he is right though. Whatever our mixed feelings about the advancement of technology and our increasing dependence on all things scientific and technological may be, I do believe that we as a society must go forward in making more scientific discoveries and advance scientific knowledge. We can not go back, we can not stagnate, thus, we must go on.

I really enjoyed his speech for two reasons. For months now at NIH, I’ve been attending dry seminars delving into the nitty-gritty of scientific and genomic research. Most of the information seriously goes right over my head and I merely sit there, daydreaming about the day all this will become comprehensible, my day of enlightenment. Today, I got to listen to a talk that made complete and utter sense to me. Every word, from beginning to end, made sense. My level of enjoyment of a given talk is directly proportional to my level of understanding. However that is no big surprise, I’m sure it’s a common enough phenomenon.

The second reason I really enjoyed the talk was because it achieved what it set out to do. It motivated. The irony is I don’t even plan on becoming a scientist. Fortunately however, his talk on becoming a good, successful scientist can be applied to being a good post-bac intern (as I am now) and a good premedical student and a good medical student and ultimately, a good doctor.

Some of the contents of his talk are directly related to the field of science. Other parts of his talk focus on more universal principles and can be applied to any field. It is the language of success and how to achieve it. He keeps it real though. He admits that there are too many graduate students that come out of grad school every year to become PI’s, principal investigators. Not everyone has to be a PI however to have a successful scientific career and that’s the good news.

In the end, his basic point for people hoping to enter the scientific research field is, this is a noble career but a difficult one. There are things you can do to maximize or enhance your success at it and you get what you put in. Even when the going gets tough, scientists can take consolation and pride that they are part of the greater international scientific community, working to advance the collective knowledge of mankind.

Oh and he poked some jabs at the Bush administration, at the Intelligent Design jabberwokkees and some other foolish policymakers. Good fun.

Results of the challenge

I failed. =(

So Wendy gave me the following countries:

1. Cambodia
2. Venezuela
3. Algeria (maybe?)
4. Sierre Leone
5. Liechtenstein

And I got one of the border countries for Sierre Leone wrong! I thought it was the Ivory Coast, but I was one country off, it was Liberia!

But the good news is, I do know most of the countries in the world and also Jason backed out of the bet at the last minute. So I no longer have to be his slave for life nor do I have to cough up $100 to him. I do owe Wendy $10 bucks though, as per our agreement, so I guess I'll treat ya to lunch next time I see you eh Wendy?

Test me some more!! I will become a geography master yet!

Miss Softie's past weekend

Saturday was a fun-filled day. I woke up expecting a rainy downcast day and was greeted instead by a sunny one. I had made plans to have lunch with a friend and the prospect of socializing always brightens my mood – provided that I was socializing with desired company of course. So we had a delightful lunch at a Thai restaurant named a bit too cutely as Thai Tanium. The conversation was good although the food was only so-so.

After lunch, I went to CVS to pick up stuff and ran into a high school/college friend’s mom. She is so chatty! We must have stood in the parking lot and talked for over an hour, with me doing mostly nodding and murmurs of agreement as I am prone to do with chatty “adults.” She seemed to be in good spirits and the conversation flowed in all directions. I learned a few things about her that day that I didn’t know before and it made more sense now when I consider my friend and who she is. I think I never truly understood parts of her until now.

Finally, at night, over IM, I made last minute plans with another friend to go catch a movie. We went to downtown Bethesda, the place was fairly humming with people and for a while, you could almost trick yourself into thinking you were in the city again. We went to watch Water, by Deepa Mehkta (sp?) and it was all in all a truly enjoyable film. At the end, my friend was sobbing quite unreservedly and I remember affectionately thinking with a touch of amusement that she was such a softie. What I didn’t expect of course was that my reaction to the film would come, only somewhat later.

The next morning over breakfast, I recounted the movie to my mother. Everything was fine until I described the last scene, arguably the most powerful one in the film. Suddenly, inexplicably, tears filled in my eye and I bit my lips to keep from crying. I looked down and blinked back my tears and forced myself to gulp down some coffee. Inwardly, I was also tsk-ing myself, going, Emily Emily, when did you become such a leaky faucet? My mother may have noticed my sudden desire to cry, because she murmured some thing in a kindly way, but I was still too caught up in my emotion to fully understand.

Now some of you might be somewhat curious about what film I saw, as it made me, a veritable cold-blooded animal squeeze out some emotions. All I will say about the film is, some parts are clichéd and even Bollywood-ish, thus, a tad too melodramatic for my taste. But at the end of the film, there was indeed a very powerful moment which captured the essence of the film and I think, that one moment makes the film worth watching.

Oh and then for Mother’s Day, I went shopping for groceries and came home to produce a ten course meal for my family. I started shopping at around 12:30 PM and finished cooking around 4:30 PM. When my mom came home to the lavish display on the table, she grinned broadly and pronounced me marriageable. Heehee, not bad for a girl with a reputation for napping and no talent for cooking. The good news is, Mother’s Day only comes around once a year. The bad news is, my dinner was such a success that it has been unanimously decided that I will cook for all Sundays from now on!!! Picture the Scream picture. (Okay maybe that was a bit too melodramatic)

Anyway, a good weekend through and through. And oh yeah, Wendy postponed the test so that I get to fail tonight instead of last night. =)

Two mental challenges for myself

1. I want to learn all the countries of the world by name and know where they are in the world. I'll give myself one week to accomplish this task.

2. I want to begin honing my observation skills and eye for detail. I think a good way to start is to learn botany and specifically in flowers (since I've always been sucha girly girl and like flowers) I will start learning the names of common and uncommon flowers in BOTH English and Chinese, so that whenever I see a flower, I can confidently rattle off its name. I probably won't learn the scientific name though, that would be a bit too much for this novice in botany.

Saturday night a bomb went off

and that bomb was me.

For about two hours, I sat in between my mother and father, firing volleys back and forth. At times, the three of us talked simultaneously, no one was listening to anyone else. But most of the time, at least we were communicating, and not just seething with resentment and annoyance on a day to day basis.

But, I may be making it seem more serious than it was. The truth was, we had a good talk and really got some things out into the open. For some time now, my mum and pop would nag incessantly by my ear side that I need to find a good Christian man to be my husband because there is more of a likelihood that the marriage will succeed.

I finally threw down the gauntlet. I told them, dear parents, please don't worry about me any longer. The way I see it I have three options. A. I get married, my marriage is great, everyone is happy. End of story. B. I get married, the marriage stinks, we divorce, fine. I live on in blessed singlehood. C. I never get married and I live my life as I please. I am happy.
There are no fourth options. Unhappiness is a state of mind. My parents are so worried about me being unhappy in the future if I settle with some non Christian boy, that they refuse to see that happiness is or can be a state of mind. It doesn't hve to be so tied to one's external circumstances. I don't negate the possibility that external circumstances can affect happiness, but it should not be the end all be all causal agent.

And to make a long story short, I think maybe, maybe, I was able to get some of my message across to them. Yesterday for instance, I spent a lovely day with my mom. We went to Church, then after, we went to have korean food at a korean restaurant. The food was pretty decent and my mother was in a good mood. And we went shopping for food afterwards. After that, we hit the gym and I did a few laps in the pool before convening to my ultimate destination: the Spa and Sauna. aahh...bliss!

So hopefully I will continue to dialogue with my parents and let them know what I feel, as well as trying to accept some of their thinking, without being so quick to judge them as provincial or narrowminded or stodgy. I'll try try try until I succeed to bridging that supposed "generation gap."

**DISCLAIMER** This has nothing to do with current relationship with BF. In fact, the two are completely unrelated, as far as I'm concerned.

Interesting quiz

You Are a Blue Flower

A blue flower tends to represent peace, openness, and balance. At times, you are very delicate like a cornflower. And at other times, you are wise like an iris. And more than you wish, you're a little cold, like a blue hydrangea.

What Color Flower Are You?

My personal May 4th Movement

In modern Chinese history, there is a famous movement known as the May 4th Movement. It was a shakeup of traditional values and heralded the establishment of modern schools of thought in the new republic of China. I just realize that today is May 4th and I too need to revolutionize my life and shake it up a bit.

I think, slowly, gradually, I realize that I am truly responsible for all that happens to me or around me. No one else can take that responsibility for me. I have witnessed/experienced firsthand how disastrous it is not to be accountable for your life, to always let others to the thinking for you or tell you how to think. It means living life in a very slippery manner, always slipping out at the last minute when trouble arises, letting others take the brunt of it. I despise such living and I do not think highly of it. It also means not confronting your worst fears. Escaping -- it used to be my mode of operation. But at some point, a person has to face the facts squarely, brutally, in its ugliness, in its inescapable existence, one has to wake up no matter what.

My personal May 4th vow is just to be different. Step out of my comfort zone. Open up my mind and my heart and let others in, or I should say, let more people in. I think I've always been somewhat exclusive about who I let into my life and who I keep out. Also to be kinder. It has been brought to my attention that I can be very cold, very standoffish, very arrogant and stuck up. Never mind that these are just perceptions from others, I feel that perhaps to some degree, it's all part of the same package of my personality and my tendency to not "bother" with all things too annoying. So much as I hate to admit it, probably to some degree, it's a true assessment.

Hopefully I will get this "revolution" off to a start and begin proactively reaching out and making more of a difference in the people whose lives intersect mine. And btw, patience is one of the highest virtues and I will say with all humility that I have not yet mastered it.

Happy Birthday Jason

Yeah it's Jason's birthday and he will be 24. It's his year, the year of the dog. I still remember one of my earliest memories of him was him gloating that he was a golden retreiver in a dog quiz. I remember thinking that he was absurdly proud of this rather odd fact. For the record, I was a labrador or something.

Btw, dogs ARE really cute. I'm wondering if I should get a dog. I'm not too eager to clean up after its messes, but maybe it would be fun. Almost all my colleagues are pet owners, and I've never had a "cool" pet before. What do you guys think? Should I get a little puppy?

Due to the intermission known as MCAT study period, I stopped watching this show just short of the last four episodes. It was a long interlude too - about 2 months I think.

It's strange. 24 is not as good now. Maybe because I have grown emotionally distant from the cast and the storyline that the things that happen in the show engages me less now. I just watched two episodes last night and didn't feel much for any of the characters. I was almost bored, just waiting idly for whatever "heart-stopping" cliffhanger they would attempt to throw at me next. I know that a lot of people have worked very hard to make this show happen and that there are definitely very strong merits to the show, but I just couldn't get into it. Maybe tonight, the final two episodes will be more satisfying. I think I'm too jaded for my own good.

New York New York

This past weekend, I went up to New York to see friends. It was a lovely weekend, not counting the gusty winds and moments of chilliness. It was fun to hang out with BF again after a 12-week block of self-imposed separation. Central Park welcomed us eagerly decked out in its Spring loveliness. We walked by several bodies of glistening water and admired the visage of laughing children, sleepy babies and amiable benchwarmers. Jason bought this new game called Brain Age which amused us for the better part of our ride into New York. I clocked in at 61 my first time!! Thankfully, I quickly went down to a brain age in my 20’s after some practice.

After brunch on Saturday, a group of us meandered down to Battery Park, near the Statue of Liberty. At one point, a couple of us needed to go to the bathroom and we seized on the brilliant idea of choosing the Ritz Carlton. The bathroom was really nice -- they had cloth wash-towels, as befitting their ritzy status. At first I was feeling a bit sheepish, but then soon shrugged it off and just strolled in as insouciantly as I could manage. How would they know the difference?

Highlight of the trip: hanging out at this Korean bar/lounge in Korea town. Stuff was pricey but we all got a big kick over the ice cream which was served in a bowl made of pure ice and fruit. The whole ensemble was quite stunning, prompting members of our group to wax philosophically and entrepreneur-ally about starting an archaeologist workshop. I had a watermelontini which was delish. Poor Jason, by then, was suffering mightily from his allergy attack and taking pity on him, we retired early for him to take his medicine.

But overall, it was really great to just kick back and relax with friends.

Dead deer and homeless person

This morning as I drove out from my house, I saw a dead deer on the road side. Living as I do in the land of rapid developments and ruthless cutting down of natural wooded habitats, I am used to seeing small roadkill as animals haplessly encounter more and more man-made roads and metal killing machines. Still, every time I see a larger animal, say a cat or a dog or a deer meet its demise under the wheels of a car, I feel a little sad. Usually, involuntarily, I would sigh and mourn for that death, if only for a moment.

As I was walking into the metro station this morning, I walked by a person sleeping in the corner. He is by all accounts, homeless. But what caught my attention was the fact that his face was all cut up with fresh wounds. The wounds seem fresh enough that the blood has not even had time to react with the oxygen and darken. For a moment, I wondered if he was dead instead of asleep. I even thought I'd go and wake him up and asked him if he was alright. My good samaritan wishes lasted but a microsecond and quickly, my fears, my tendency to be protective of self took over and I walked on, rationalizing that he looks like he is asleep and plus, I was going to be late for work and plus I don't even know what I would do for him if he did need medical help and plus what if he turned violent or nasty or what if he really were dead?

Ideally, in a perfect world, I would be a person of strong, full-steam ahead convictions. When I feel the need to help someone, I would just do it, irregardless of consequences, stripped of all thoughts of self. I would cast aside my wimpy, scared, tentative self and emerge, Superhero Emily, saving the world one day at a time.

Realistically, I'm so far from being that person it's not even funny. =(

I just came up with a brilliant idea

In order to deter criminals from committing crimes, we should institute a punishment system in which the convicted felon must read a scientific journal from cover to cover. He/she must read every single scientific research paper published in that journal and then write a paper to critique the research involved in each of the paper. They will still be in prison, but that's what they must do with their free time. What better way to purify the criminal mind than with the sheer, staggering weight of scientific research?

Playing Devil's Advocate

The day before, I went on a walk with Mom and we were just talking about random stuff. Suddenly, feeling adversary, I challenged my mom to the philosophical question, "Why is it so bad to be selfish?" If you know my mom, she takes morality very seriously. To her, being selfish is immoral in the eyes of God and therefore, she's probably the third most selfless person I've ever known in my life, surpassed only by her very own parents. I think my mother actually started getting mad at me, because she probably thought that I was seriously advocating being selfish, although on my part, it was mostly an intellectual discussion.

Suffice to say, I probably should have kept my mouth shut. Now my mom has the troubling notion that I'm going into the DARK SIDE.

Saw Memoirs of a Geisha last night. What a crappy piece of work, all told. Zhang Ziyi IS pretty, but her prettiness was not enough to carry the movie. It's not so much that the female actresses were all Chinese, I had less of a problem with that than the fact that they all spoke English - Asian accented English at that. It was irritating. They were all theatrically trying to portray an Asia that existed only in the eyes of the Westerner. It was so fetishized and unconvincing, it was truly hard to be engaged in the movie. Gong Li was not bad, but I had problems understanding her because of her English. Fundamentally then, acting rests on the all important principle of clear communication. She would have been better off if she didn't have to speak. Or they should have all had Japanese actresses dub their lines in Japanese. Really, the language was a fundamental and ultimately fatal flaw to this movie.

I don't wanna be a stoopid girl

"I don't wanna be a stupid girl" is a new song by Pink. The music video is hilarious. According to Pink, stupid girls are girls who like to play up their sexiness and would do just about anything for that dubious honor. Among the females made fun of are Paris Hilton and her infamous sex video, Jessica Simpson or other soapy sexy carwash girls, bulimic girls, girls with fake breasts, etc etc. You get the picture, they're relatively easy targets after all.

Lately I've been watching with a sort of morbid fascination as girls one after another go under the knife in order to be prettier, more attractive, more "like the person they feel inside." Style Channel: Dr. 90210 and Extreme Makeover and 10 Years Younger, etc etc. It's absorbing and twisted and in a perverse way, very satisfying because it goes back to that whole "Man is in control of his own destiny" thing. Inject some pain killer, artfully sculpt around with a scalpel and voila! A new and beautiful you! The possibility of instant transformation is too much like the powers of the Cinderella Fairy to resist.

The other allure of cosmetic surgery is that for some things, you can't achieve the result through hard work and practice and toil. I will never be a size D even if I worked that "We must we must we must increase our bust" chant til the day I die. But! I CAN shell out some money and achieve barbie doll perfection overnight. Hmmm....tempting indeed. I guess it's just as well that I don't have the option or luxury of considering that at the moment, or my days would be spent researching that possibility. But the question I would like to posit is, "Is it necessarily stupid to undertake these drastic measures to achieve a certain desired and highly idealized aesthetic of your body? Is the answer really very clear cut? What exactly is the big difference between saline and natural fatty breast tissue? If there isn't such a big deal and distinction, do we need to make such a fuss over a "real" or "fake" breast tissue?

So the one possible objection one may say is, what if you had to nurse your baby in the future? You don't want to be feeding it salt water. And the usual risks involving surgery and what not. But almsot everything in life is a gamble anyway. If you never take the chance, you would never know would you?

Jason is a sweetie

I received two bouquets of flowers today, one of gossamer lillies and the other, prim roses. They were beautiful and such a pleasant surprise. Somebody in the world loves me! Thanks again darling. =)

The world according to one overactive neuron in Emily's brain last night

There was this cop going after a criminal, a mafioso. It was old Shanghai style. The cop caught the crook on the bridge and directed a cannon at him, ready to blast him away unless he gave up information about something. The crook, wiley as always, said, "Wait! Wait. I have a better idea of how to get me to talk. He beckoned the police to look over the bridge at the swirling water beneath, a 100 foot drop into the water at least. I peered over too, because I'm curious as to what he was pointing at. A rope materializes miraculously and he ties it to the bridge and flung the rest into the water. He implies, "You can dangle me on the rope, threaten to drown me and get me to talk that way." The cop thought it was a good idea.

But before anyone actually did anything, a sophisticated lady in a Chinese style cheongsam very gracefully leaped over the bridge and seemed to float gently into the water below. She emerged from the water, wet, but still graceful and then casually walked to the bank of the water. She said to the crook, now transformed to dashing revolutionary hero, "I'll be waiting for you here." The man nodded and then he grabbed the rope and then leapt over. But something was wrong. He was falling! He was getting major rope burn because his hands were sliding down the rope. With supreme effort, he halts his advance by gripping the rope super hard. He stops. Then with a yell, he steps on his own hand on the rope and somehow manages to climb up the rope. His hand was a pulsating mess of blood and swollen flesh. The scene was very intense. I was astonished, You can do that on a rope? What a neat acrobatic trick.

But all that effort was for naught, because soon all of us found ourselves in the water, walking towards this house. But the story of the revolutionary heroes continue. Inside the house, I paced with the revolutionary hero and the female counterpart. The TOD (totalitarians of the day) were after us and were about to capture one of us. Another female team member, a dashing, tomboyish female flippantly showed her disregard and her fearlessness. But shortly after, she was dragged off to the "interrogation" room. She returned to us but she was severely disfigured. There was a moment, as in a horror film where I looked upon her face. She was ghastly white. Her hair changed from glossy black to burnt bright orange mess, like the hair of a clown. On her eyes were two shiny metal plates. The sophisticated female revolutionary walked up to the girl and gently took off one of her metal plates. I remember cringing. I did NOT want to see what was underneath. Her eyes were swollen shut. She had no eyelids. God knows what unspeakable things they did to her eyes. At first I thought they plucked out her eyeballs like they did to this girl in Hostel. She uttered a cry and then turned and ran away. Against all my better judgment, I ran after her to stop her. She turned to me and amazingly, she suddenly had these amazing gray Anime eyes, abnormally large and alien looking. Still I was relieved, I thought, oh, at least she still has her eyes.

Then I was walking through an amusement park. The aisle was filled with teddy bears. Along each side of me were these mountains and mountains of teddy bears. High up on the hills, you can see a vendor stationed among the bears. Their job was to throw the bears at you. Your job was to pay them for the privilege of throwing the bears at them. The thrill of course is to be able to hit them, even though they have such an unfair advantage. I kept throwing and throwing, but my aim was terrible and I kept missing. In my rage, I ran away as fast as I could and refused to pay. I ran away and hid in the bathroom.

Ever the Same

Have this song "Ever the Same" stuck in my head, playing on repeat. The funny thing is, I don't know all the words to the song, only the refrain, but the situation is not without a touch of irony.

Hm...what else? Taking off from work Friday. Wasn't too hard of a decision to make as there is not too much for me to do at work except stress out about the MCAT and yes, I could just stress out while getting paid, but I decided to take the day off and stress out in private. I have visions of me floating serenely in the pool with my ears plugged with water and being surrounded by utter silence. That is a fantasy of mine. Maybe then I can find peace from my anxieties? (No, I don't mean I wish to drown, that sentence may be slightly misconstrued)

I read The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway last night. Quick read, I finished it in about 1.5 hours. I really liked it. I had to speed read it because I wanted to finish it in one go. There is something about that Old Man and his running dialogue to himself. He goes, "Old Man, you can do this. Don't quit now, " in his eternal struggle with the majestic Giant Marlin in the sea. It's very heroic actually. It reminds me of Bruce Willis in Sin City as he talks to himself saying, "Old Man, don't give up now, keep at it." Maybe that is where they got their inspiration for his character. I know I talk about aging maybe a tad too much. I can't help though feeling that it is especially touching to see an old person, wizened and battered, but still tenacious, still retaining something of his/her former glory and spirit. Clint Eastwood comes to mind too. He just has that touch. My grandfather too...

Oh yeah, the book also made me want to try fishing. Sure, I'm easily influenced by outside ideas. On the other hand, I see no reason why I shouldn't try fishing. Maybe I'll discover a God-given talent for it. I just need to find some fishing master to latch on to and maybe he will teach me how to fish.

More outdoor stuff, that's what I vow to get into this summer. I have to take advantage of every outdoor weather that there is, because I feel a claustrophobic grip on my psyche. I want to get out there and breath some fresh air. Need air, need space, need oxygen. Except, ironically, the pollen count is driving me berserk. Stupid nose, always the bane of my existence.

Stress

I've been told in the past that I seem to always maintain my cool and calm and that I am not easily perturbed. You know what my secret was? I treated most things in my life as no big deal. If it didn't matter all that much, what was there to sweat?

Lately I'm finding this approach to life pretty dissatisfying. If nothing is a big deal to me, then nothing matters then the sum of all its parts is decidedly insignficant. Extrapolate that to...what? Nothing. There is nothing to extrapolate to.

Now I'm trying to reform my mindset, a paradigm shift. I'm starting to focus on the things I do care about, or at least take the things in my life more seriously. When I say things, I guess I mean, oh...career? Life direction? Relationship? Yeah....those things.

So yeah, I'm also starting to understand stress. You should see me these days. Not a pretty picture. I wake up, I put on my glasses, I shove down some food and I go off to work. I don't bother too much about my appearance, because, well things have to be prioritized. Once I deal with this hurdle in front of me, I'll decompress from this state of high anxiety and hopefully rediscover the joy of living.

Yeah, so I guess it's not fair to say that nothing mattered to me in the past. Whatever else my faults, I was good at enjoying life. =)

the jack diamond morning show

I've gotten hooked on the Jack Diamond Morning Show. Listening to them gab happily amongst themselves as I speed down the freeway every workday morning has become something of a routine for me.

What I like about the show is the dynamics of the show. There's an older guy - Jack. There's a younger guy, Jimmy. And there's a woman in her late 30's or early 40's - Erica Hillary (one of those last name as first names). And they're just a bunch of fun, decent people who are extremely talented and gifted speakers, but are also mindful of what they say. They don't try to say outrageous things just to be "cool" or "different" or extremely radical.

I once heard them interview Kevin Federline and they poked good natured fun at him. However they were never nasty, whether during the interview or afterwards, when they commented on the interview. I think that it was a deliberate choice on their part to not use nastiness as the drawing spot for their show, aka Simon Cromwell style.

This morning, they were poking fun at the fact that Erica Hillary's 13 yr old son was gleefully pushing his mom to have the "TALK" with the 8 yr old sister. The talk of course being about S-E-X. The impetus for this was because the little girl observed these teeangers go at it in the bushes in a park, and they were not holding back. So naturally the girl was very curious and kept wanting to ask questions about it. And Erica Hillary recounted bewilderedly, "And my son was like, 'I think you need to start talking. I'm interested in hearing about what you THINK you know about this topic." Of course everyone starts ribbing her about the fact that maybe her 13 yr old son knows more about sex than she does. It's mostly lighthearted stuff, especially good for a cheerless morning like today's.

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Recently I've taken to singing James Blunt's song, You're Beautiful, to myself. Two reasons. One, the lyrics are easy to sing and repeat. Anything more complicated would be above my ability to remember and sing along. Secondly, something in the song resonated with me. I feel that there is a very simple yearning in that song and it's not just directed at some random girl that one happens to encounter in a crowd, I feel that it's a simple yearning for a love that is and will always be unattainable. The sad part is, you get a glimpse of that possibility only to realize that you are getting a glimpse of what can never be yours.

____________________________________________________

Had a dream last night where I turned in my exam completely unmarked. I realized what an idiot I was and went to the teacher to ask for my exam back so that I could complete it. Then with the clock ticking, I finished it as best as I could and returned it to the teacher again. I got a 25/30. And my mother was sitting next to me and she was a student in the class too. And I resisted the feeling of being competitive and wanting to check out what SHE got on her exam. It was a ridiculous feeling for me, to be in competition with my own mom. Also, I was completely out of character in the dream. I was loud, obnoxious, impulsive. I said whatever I felt like in the class. The class seemed really rowdy too. All of us were opening and closing our mouths, expelling random words into the air but it is unclear whether anyone bothered to listen to anyone else. We were like a bunch of baby birds in a nest, beaks opening and closing, chirping shrilly for attention, oblivious to everyone else.

My God

I realize that my last post was the pitiful ramblings of an aging woman. I need to get a serious grip on myself. Focus Emily Focus!

I sometimes wax too sentimentally about the passing of time. There is something particularly poignant about fading looks, sagging lines, wilting flowers. Or you can just take the hard nose route. It's just life, dude. Get over yourself already right?

I will. I promise. I am just feeling outgunned by life recently. Too much being hurled at me at supersonic speed. I feel like I stumble around helplessly half my waking hours, haggard and tired and heartsore and all because I worry too much about the future. Why worry? Why am I losing the ability to feel happy? Is this really then what I should be doing with my life? Maybe my last post also smacks bitterly of jealousy. How come I'm never in those pictures, carousing with friends, drunk as a monkey, having the time of my life?

How come I scurry to and fro every day, head bent low, trying to stay above the water and the best I can do is not to drown? I think I need to rethink which end of the pool I belong in.

Old faces, New perspectives

Rediscovering people from high school is like stumbling upon a little box of forgotten stuff. I hesitate to use the word "treasures" because these people never meant anything to me in the first place, and vice versa. That thought depressed me somewhat. All those years in high school, all those people I could have gotten to know and yet I was imprisoned inside my teenage angst and therefore, managed to go through four years of high school without saying one word to some people, never getting to know some people. What I may have lost in those missed opportunities, well, I guess it is up to speculation now.

So came across this guy's XANGA. The profile picture was funny. Also, he's gotten alot more built than I remember, but my memory of him is hazy at best. I don't think we ever had the same class together anyway. Anyway, he's also more articulate than I ever imagined. The thing is, I don't think I ever once spoke to this guy in high school. He existed at the very periphery of my consciousness. He might as well have been transparent. And here he is, with his Xanga, very much alive, very much out there. Amazing. What is amazing is that I realize that to some degree, everyone is very much alike. Or at least Xanga presents it that way. Blog after blog, I see people huddled together in drunken glory, deliriously happy, partying, living the good life. He's at once a complete stranger and yet at the same time, so familiar. He could have even been my boyfriend in another dimension, in another life. At the very least, I can see no true ostensible difference between him and say, one of my exes. It's really strange. I don't know what I'm talking about. I guess this is just to say, I rediscovered a new person today, behind a somewhat familiar face. It amazed me to realize how completely wrapped up I have been in my own private thoughts for the past N number of years.

Okay, well perhaps I don't need to be too melodramatic. I was just stalking people from high school on their Xangas, marveling at how everyone has matured so much and at the same time, how alot of them are not so different from me after all. I wonder then, why is it hard for people to get to know each other? No one that I have met has struck me as a true original, everyone is a copy of another is a copy of another. Okay, now THAT is starting to depress me.

Things said to me

Musing on some of the things said to me over the years. Some of these go way back. Of course I have received more compliments than the ones below (I'd like to think, at any rate) but these are the few I could recall at the moment. In general, I take the compliments in stride. If I happen to agree, or it just agrees with me, I tend to let myself be flattered. Why not? That is the whole point of compliments. But sometimes I am sensible enough to grin wryly, weakly accepting a compliment that is completely off base. In any case, I always appreciate hearing nice things. Again, why not? Life is brutish and short. We have to grab hold of something to keep our spirits buoyant.

Compliments:

1. You look like Maggie Cheung. (maybe...)
2. You look like Cameron Diaz with those cheekbones. (so we both have cheekbones?)
3. You always have a certain lightness about you. (that's a nice compliment)
4. Oh don't worry, you'll get into medical school, you're so cute. (strange logic, but...)
5. You'll make a pretty doctor. (hmmmm....)
6. You have legs that extend like forever. (no, they are actually quite finite.)
7. Oh pretty hair (my fifth grade friend touching my unwashed hair. I cringed slightly because I didn't want her to know that I've been lazy. hehehehe)
8. You look mischievious. (sarcastic i think)
9. You're a good listener. (i try)
10. You're a good shopper, always finding great bargains. (what else is a bored disaffected young girl to do in the big city?)


What compliments have you received?

Only Yesterday

Friday night I gave myself a little time off and watched the film "Only Yesterday."

http://www.madman.com.au/studioghibli/yesterday.html

It is an animated film produced by Studio Ghibli. Although not directed by Hayao Miyazaki, the film was still very entertaining and simple in its soulful approach. It takes the viewer on a trip to the countryside and imagines the landscape through the lens of a somewhat jaded city girl (27 and not sure what to do with her life). Much of the film dealt with flashbacks of her childhood as her memories of "only yesterday" come alive. In the end of the film, a wonderful sequence appears where the past and the present temporarily come together in magical surrealism. And the ending is surprisingly romantic for an animation.

Watching this film made me yearn to work on a farm somewhere, planting, harvesting, growing. Coarse, physical labor in the sun, exercising, being free from mental, academic and pedantic exertions, working closely with nature, breathing fresh fragrant air. Being free from enclosed spaces, indoor fluorescent lighting, car exhaust fumes, honking people, mad drivers, exams, books to study, applications to do. The film offered a temporary escape from my current existence and created in me a simple yearning for the great outdoors.

While I know better than to jet off to the countryside in search of this idyllic existence, I am happy that a film was able to temporarily transport me out of reality and into a virtual one.

She's an angles girl

When I was young, whenever my mother, my sister and I huddled in front of the TV and watched the latest soap opera, it was prime bonding time for my family. Upon the conclusion, we usually would commence the critical analyses portion by talking about the characters and their various pitiful and tragic endings and cluck at the dumb mistakes made, etc. My mother especially liked using soap opera narratives as moral lesson of the day, instructing us on the mores of living a good, proper life.

My sister and I would often discuss the looks of the female and male characters. Through our discussions, I have very wisely and knowingly came up with my own term for a certain type of individual. They are not unattractive per se. They are far more complex than that, you see. Something about their faces is not in complete harmony. The lines are sharply delineated, the features are strong and juts out. From certain angles, the face presents a not altogether pleasing symphony. Yet, catch this face at the right angle, slightly upturned, slightly lowered, full-frontal...it could be any angle and the face becomes softened, it fills with a sharp aching aesthetic power all its own -- it blossoms into a beauty.

It is all very well and good to have a beautiful face that shines and chirps from all angles, under all lighting and at any given time. Yet I believe that a face that has transformative powers, it can be ugly one minute and it can be beautiful the next, it is versatle and alive, that is the more interesting face.

Whenever I come across a person like that, I think to myself, "She's an angles girl."

A possibly morbid post - beware

"But the worst thing that could ever happen to a person is not death - anyone would die given a cause big enough. The worst thing that could ever happen to you is never having anything worth dying for." - Joanne Shetler

I found this off a friend's blog and I am pondering on the meaning of this statement. Is that really the worst thing that could ever happen?

Death, after all, is hardly an option. Whether you die for a cause or not, one thing alone is certain, you are going to die. So what is the worst thing that could happen to someone? I think the worst thing that could happen to someone is not being able to find anything worth living for. Maybe it is just semantics and we are essentially saying the same thing. But nothing is sadder than to observe a person living when the will to live is no longer there. There is something particularly poignant about a person who is living only to die. Poignant yet regrettable.

I admit that I have always been somewhat fascinated about death myself. I think about it every now and then. I wonder if you will get to see your relatives, your friends, hang out with some historical greats. Will you hold on to your personality? If you were stiff and awkward in life, are you going to relax a bit in death? Do you still have the capacity to learn new things after you cease owning a brain? I must say that I would be truly disappointed if there is no life, no existence of some form after death. I would be disappointed if this is it, our one shot at announcing to the universe, "I exist."

Sometimes I wonder if people commit suicide not necessarily or purely out of depression but out of an irrepressible curiosity about the "other side" and can't wait to see just what the fuss is all about.

Stories from the road

Apart from my privileged friends coccooned in the city of New York, the rest of suburbia America usually have to deal with the very necessary evil known as driving. Now, I don't mind to drive and I enjoy the autonomy that operating a vehicle gives me. If I weren't too cheap to pay the speeding tickets, I may very well be a closet speed demon as well.

That said, I have two great hates in this world and I'm positive they are shared by many. One: I hate hate hate driving in morning rush hour. Aside from the bumper to bumper phenomenon, I am constantly either worrying that I will hit the car in front of me during a momentary lapse of concentration or that I would be rear-ended by some stupid, careless driver behind me. Usually my morning commutes consist of me looking longingly at the HOV lane next to me (high occupancy vehicle or the carpool lane) and wishing I had a blow up doll to pass for a decoy passenger. Einstein's theory of relativity never hits home quite as hard as during those times of solitary contemplation.

Secondly, I hate tailgaters. Ever since being rear-ended at 12:15 PM on January 31, 2006, I have been existing in a post-traumatic state where I expect to be rear-ended haplessly by some fool of a driver every time I venture behind the wheels. I've taken to eyeing my rear-view mirror obsessively as I talk to whomever is behind me. Usually the message is simple " Don't hit me please don't hit me please." Then of course, there are those obnoxious ones. The people who seem to enjoy kissing ass so much, they incorporate it into their daily commute. Last week, I had this Asian punk driving a sports car determined to keep the distance between us at around 5 cm, give or take a few sig figs. As we neared an exit ramp, he actually USED the exit ramp, swung around to my right and then cut in front of me. Now, the only reason the little punk isn't in the hospital is because I slammed my foot on the brakes to avoid a collision. Boy I was plenty mad though.

Last night, going home, a huge red SUV very menacingly tailed me for a good 10 minutes. Sometimes I slow down on purpose to annoy the driver even more. But sometimes I play it cool and completely ignore its existence. But this car was BIG and big makes me nervous because I don't particularly feel like getting whiplashed, should it decide to bulldoze into me for the hell of it. Get this, even going down the exit ramp, when you are supposed to slow down to about 30 mph, the red SUV still tailed me like mad. That is just pure asshole behavior. All I can do of course is roll my eyes and rant on my blog, but I don't understand why people have to be so aggressive when they are driving. Maybe they are trying to compensate for the smallness, the pettiness of their actual lives.

And today, as I was once again in bumper to bumper traffic, I saw this grandma behind me, in a snazzy sports car. She was this little old lady, and I thought, well, maybe at least SHE won't tail me. But instead, the grandma got sick of the slow traffic and tore into the HOV lane with ferocious speed and then took off. And there I was, sadly gazing at the dust trail left behind her and knowing that I have a couple more miles of bumper to bumper to endure in the road ahead.

Eureka! The value of having no options

For most of my young adulthood, I've always been smug about the fact that now we live in an era of multitudinous choices. We can select this, we can elect that, my, what empowerment, what progress, what utopia! If I so please, I can choose to study this. If I so like, I can choose to work in that field. The options are available and the opportunities abound.

But wait! With choices, come responsibility. With choices, come agony. With choices, come the temptation to always take the easy way out.

Therefore, also for most of my young adulthood, as opposed to when I was a teenager and felt very powerless about many factors in my life, I was given the free will and the option to choose any particular path for a given course of action. Sadly then, I realize that for much of my life, I have taken the road more easily travelled. The path of least resistance.

A simple example is when I present myself with the option of going to the gym. For some time now I have resolved, or at least pondered at the possibility of getting up early to go work out. (Montages of Rambo jogging on the beach, running up the stairs come to mind - oh how disciplined I will be!) Then, usually, come 6 AM alarm clock blaring, I sleepily look at my clock and consider the options A. Go back to sleep. B. Get up and be a rambo. What do I always always do? I choose option A.

BUT NOT TODAY!!! Today, I was startled out of my sleep by my hideous sounding alarm clock. I turned it off just before my heart attack began and without giving myself that option of choice, I got up! Okay I lied, I did begin the familiar multiple choice question, but I stopped myself sternly and said, it's not an option. You go!

So I did. Nothing could have been simpler.

Life without choices is indeed a simpler thing.

Ack! Ack!

I was trying to put together a gel apparatus today using liquid acrylamide. In the process, I think I sprayed myself with liquid acrylamide, Some got on my face and maybe a few drops even into my mouth. Powder acrylamide, btw, is supposed to be very poisonous for you and it would be a BAD idea to inhale or ingest it. Liquid acrylamide can't be much better. I immediately went to the bathroom to try to spit it out and washed my face repeatedly. Now I have a funny taste in my mouth, I can't decide if it's from the Chocolate truffle I had for breakfast. The other worrying thing is, liquid acrylamide is said to be able to polymerize and be absorbed by skin. Who knows what funky business it could be up to with my cells?

Word of advice for the ladies

So I had lunch with a female technician who happens to be Chinese and slightly older, mother of one. She is in her late forties, but as a very youthful appearance and could easily pass for late 30's or early 40's. She has, I think, taken a liking to me and decided to give me some pearls of wisdom regarding boys today.

The conversation went like this...

Me: Yeah, today, there are no guarantees with marriages.

Ling: Well, you needn't be so pessimistic!

Me (shaking my head sadly): People change, you can never tell what will happen in the future.

Ling: That's true. But let me tell you and remember this carefully. Whoever you choose, make sure the guy treats his parents well. Make sure he's nice and kind to his parents. If a guy can't even be nice to his own parents, how do you expect him to treat you well? Sooner or later, the "real" side to him is going to come out.

Me: Really? Hmm...interesting. I will have to keep that in mind.

Ling: Oh yes, and remember, the first year together will be the hardest (she meant after marriage). That first year is the critical year of adjustment. It was so so difficult for me, so difficult for two different people to conform to each other and become a harmonious pair. So just remember, once you get past the first year, then you can hope for some smooth sailing.

Me: Yeah my mom says that I have to find a guy who is willing to do all the housework. Someone who is not afraid of hard work.

Ling: Impossible! No such thing. Nobody, but nobody will be willing to do that these days.

Me (nodding emphatically): Exactly, that's what I'm saying!

List of things I suddenly have a wild urge to try

1. Camping
2. Fishing
3. Hiking
4. White water rafting
5. Snorkeling
6. Sailing
7. Jet skiing
8. Lie on the beach
9. Star gazing
10. Dig for clams

It's no coincidence that these are all outdoor activities. It's sad that I have done too few of these in my life, indeed, some, I've never done before. I've come to realize that I live way too sheltered a life and that I need to try more things.

That's just the way my family is

Today I had to take my Dad to the airport because he's going to Shanghai for two weeks to hang out with his Dad. Now, my family, particularly my Dad has never been prone to be touchy-feely. I suppose that has rubbed off on me big time. So when it came time to say goodbye, my Dad reached over and awkwardly patted me on my shoulder. Simultaneously, I reached over and awkwardly patted him on his back. So there the two of us stood, exchanging pats in this stilted ritual.

So in general, I am a pretty hands off person I'd say. From my body language, I think people can usually discern this large neon sign flashing, "Step away from the body, stay 15 feet away." But I do admit I'm much more relaxed with females. So again, this must be my repressed American/Christian/Chinese upbringing coming into play.

Musings of a Tiny Speck in the Universe

The beauty of the blog is that we can elevate the mediocre and the banal up to the level of seeming importance. In ancient history, when paper was scarce and writing is a precious skill, putting an event down on to paper usually means the event was very significant. I think there is definitely that element of using blogging to attach more significance to our petty lives than is otherwise warranted.

My past weekend

Friday night, tortured Jason through sleep deprivation and keeping him on the phone longer than is humane. I may be watching too much 24 and becoming thoroughly Bauerized.

Saturday, went with my aunt to have dinner with her tutor and her husband. We went to an Italian restaurant in Bethesda, MD. They are very warm Jewish folks, who patiently explained and illuminated various parts of the Jewish culture to me, Miss Ignoramus. My aunt, I'm quite proud of her, was able to tell the story of Joseph (in the Bible) in English, complete with very colorful gestures and punctuated with Chinese filler words like "Na ge" and "Hai yo". But her tutor is very pleased with her progress, and I am too. We then went to watch a musical of Joseph at their Synagogue, although not professional, the musical was well done. The actors sang really well and I liked the part of the Pontiphar's wife stalking Joseph in order to seduce him. Talk about coming on strong.

Sunday was quite relaxing too. Owing to some scheduling conflicts, I ended up going to two services at Church, first the mandarin one with Mom and Dad and then the English one right after. I took a nice snooze during the English one. It's too much Church service for one day. Then afterwards, my mom and I went to have dim sum - very yummy. Best of all, I ran into two old high school friends. I have been feeling left out of the social loop recently, I should definitely make more of an effort to hang out with friends. After lunch, went home took a two hour nap (see profile picture) and then went to work out with Mom. She was hard core man! She burned more Calories than me on the elliptical. I was just puttering around, trying to reach my quota of about 300 Calories to burn. As we were leaving, my mom triumphantly reported burning 403 Calories to be exact. I showered her with praise.

Mature Love

Erich Fromm wrote this:

To give has become more satisfactory, more joyous, than to receive; to love, more important even than being loved. By loving, he has left the prison cell of aloneness and isolation which was constituted by the sate of narcissism and self-centeredness. He feels a sense of new union, of sharing, of oneness. More than that, he feels potency of producing love by loving -- rather than the dependence of receiving by being loved -- and for that reason having to be small, helpless, sick -- or "good." Infantile love follows the principle: "I love because I am loved." Mature love follows the principle: "I am loved because I love." Immature love says: "I love you because I need you." Mature love says: "I need you because I love you."

Such a starking contrast

I was flipping through my old youth pastor's xanga site and then there was a link to his wife which I clicked on. I don't know her at all but I suppose lurking on her xanga was my first step in getting to know her somewhat.

I discovered first of all that she is my age. That surprised me because I have always thought she was younger than me. So having now discovered that we are after all the same age made me think about how else we are alike and we are different.

Well for one thing, she is married, and to a pastor to boot. That fact gurantees one thing: her life will always be at the hubbub of a community, surrounded by many many people, friends and family, members of the congregation. In a way, it is like being a mini-celebrity, is it not? As the pastor and the pastor's wife, you're going to be closely and intimately interconnected to such a vast social network - I suspect the word loneliness is a near extinct concept in their lives. I am not so naive as to think mere people, mere warm bodies hovering over you all the time is enough to ensure lack of loneliness. However, with their faith in Christ, and their daily lives surrounded in this conglomerate of two legged creatures, I think it is a strong enough defensehold.

Wow, how different we are, and yet how not different. I think I have generally admitted very graciously that I am not Miss Congeniality and as likely will never win a popularity contest in my lifetime. Something in my genes has hardwired me to be more or less an aloof creature, content to go to and fro about my own little life, minding my own little affairs. Sure, I have a close knit set of friends, but the number doesn't go past 5, truth be told. =)

How under the radar I am. Not so many eyes on me. I realize this when I read her xanga. She wrote some one little liner, completely and utterly meaningless perhaps on to themselves. Yet she had 50,000 comments to trail its wake, testifying to the large and ever expanding circle of eager friends and family, people wanting to get closer, to show that they too are part of that circle. Wowo...that must be an interesting way to live life and I'm sure people less grounded in their faith in God and humility woould very likely be spoiled by being at the constant spotlight of attention.

But really, I deviate from my original intention in mentioning this. It is not my intent to judge or to criticize in the least. I am just reflecting on how two Asian-American girls raised in the same middle-class, religious background, at the same age, can now be leading such wholly different lives. She is in a completely different life stage than me, if you will. Since I am still puttering around in singleland, free and easy to do what I please for the most part, and living a very sheltered, private life. Even when I do marry one day, I am pretty certain it's not gonna be a pastor =P and thus, I will probably be living a very low-key existence, punctuated by small delights and pleasures, known only to me, reveled only by me, seen only in my mind's eye. 'Tis good, 'tis all good.

Priorities

So Jason not unkindly pointed out to me recently that my priorities in life are all screwed up. I pay attention to all the little insignificant trivial things in life and get more or less worked up about them while blithely forgetting about the IMPORTANT, practical matters in my life, ie. MCAT, going to med school, etc. For the record, he is right.

In other news, I am currently listening to a set of audio lectures regarding the course of modern Jewish intellectual history. I realize that for someone who grew up in a culture steeped in and deeply influenced by Jewish traditions (Judeo-Christian, conservative, America) I know very little about the Jewish people and intellectual history. For example, I would like to find out more about Zionism, which just sounded cool in the Matrix.

In still other news, my hair is finally growing long enough for me to pull it back into a small piggytail. I've been very scissor happy the last few years and always snip snip snipped away to keep my crop of hair short. Hopefully this time I will manage to control that itch and let it grow down to my back and I can finally have that long Renaissance woman with long flowing hair look I've always drooled over. Call it my Rapunzel Envy.

Finally, I noticed today that I have these frecklelike things dotting my cheeks. They don't really seem like freckles either, but they are not acne. I don't know what they are!! My hitherto flawless complexion is in danger of annihilation! (Okay so I think my friends are generally in consensus that I'm a rather shallow creature...)

Dad: No Conformist that's for sure

So last night I decided to drag my frumpy self to the gym after weeks of no show. My dad accompanied me dutifully, in the interest of "not wasting" our monthly dues to the gym.

I show up at the treadmill in my usual T-shirt and shorts and running shoes, standard apparel for fitness. And what does my dad show up in? A button down shirt tucked into long khaki pants, fastened with a belt. Aiyayayyayayaya. My dad!!!!! Very obliviously, he steps onto the treadmill and starts to work out. If the entire gym becomes a "Where's Waldo?" cartoon, he sure wouldn't be hard to find.

Dad truly lives in his own world. He doesn't seem capable of actually SEEING the contrast between what he is wearing and what all the other people around him are sporting. Either that, he just shrugged it off.

In other news, people at work found out through the grapevine that I keep a blog and for some reason, that has perked many a person's interest. I am genuinely surprised that it's such a big deal, since I thought everyone in this cybercrazed world that we live in are thoroughly familiar with the concept of blogging. I guess the people I work with are very old-school. One of them is constantly threatening to search for my blog. The funny thing is, all he really has to do is go to my work computer and use History on my web browser. Otherwise, he could waste alot of time googling and he would not be able to find anything. I think they are curious because they want to know if I've written anything about them. So far I've refrained from doing character anaylses on my coworkers, partially because my workstation is so out in the open and anyone and anybody can just walk by and read what i'm typing, and partially it's just because it's the decent thing to do. It is so high school to "gossip" about people and so un-interesting, as far I'm concerned.

You know you're...

bored when you find yourself checking even the WEATHER page obsessively. As if the weather is capricious to the point of changing every 10 minutes or so.

Seriously though, today was a day spent in idleness. I would have enjoyed it if I had the comforts of home and my TV of course, but alas, I was stuck at my desk, very ungraciously surfing the web.

Of course I was also doing a fast and furious email correspondence with SOMEBODY until he decides to just ignore me for reasons I am not aware of. Maybe he was busy and he actually had work to do. Hehe, that would be the most logical explanation. Or perhaps he was just mad at me, again, for reasons foreign to me and he decided to not talk to me ever again. We have a very mature correspondence, he and I.

No one is making any comments on my wonderful Tsotsi review. How disappointing.

Update on the Hothead Episode

So I did a pee test on Friday and it came out negative! Yay for me, no internal contamination!

Guess I am luckier than George Mason. =)

Talking your way to genuine connections

Increasingly, I'm starting to realize the true importance of good communication skills. In fact, it may well be my new religion. I really believe that it is a fine art to be able to express what you wish to express to another person and have the idea arrive safely and intact to that person's comprehension without tacking on extra baggage. More succinctly, how do you get your point across without the other person taking it the wrong way?

I don't think I have ever given this idea very careful thought until recently, nor did I properly respect the awesome potential that lies in good, effective communication. Truly, its powers should not be undermined.

On that note, I believe that emotionally delivered communication are ineffective at best, harmful at worst. You have to temper your emotion and harness it, use it to deliver a point more forcefully, but be sure to never overdo it. I've noticed that at my most emotional, my communication ability essentially implodes on itself and brawls, fistfights, and kapows generally follow (in the verbal sense of course). It is important to distance yourself from the emotional element in order to effectively communicate your thoughts and feelings, as well as receive the message others are trying to send to you.

Now I realize of course that emotion is a part of the human essence and can not be exorcised like demons. But I have no patience for people who don't bother controlling their emotions, on a daily basis. Yes, it's okay to cry at funerals, that doesn't make you an overly emotional sap. But it's not okay to fly out in a rage at the people close to you on a daily basis because you're just an "emotional" person. Get a grip seriously, for both your own sanity and others around you. (and no, I'm not referring to anyone in particular, this is just an example)

As for me, I think I used to be the type of person who doesn't bother to communicate her feelings to others if it takes too much trouble. I would just retreat into my own little world and emerge again when I am alright again. I think part of my admittedly slow human development process is that, I am starting to take a different tack now. I am literally a different person than I was 10 years ago even. I am more assertive. I would speak up now. I don't know if I have mastered the ability to always calmly and effectively express my feelings to others, that is my personal mount olympic to conquer perhaps. But at least, I have isolated a singular goal to work towards. And in the end, at least I can count that as a measure of progress in better communication skills.

Paul Raines Episode

I am impressed. I am very very impressed.

24, Season IV

After a week of being good, I slid very easily back into full blown couch potato mode. I just watched three episodes of 24 back to back. Since I don't want to give away spoilers, I'll just list some of the truly satisfying highlights of the last three episodes.

1. The leader of the most powerful country in the world shows serious human flaws, understandable and entirely reasonable, given the circumstance. Not everyone can be superhuman like Bauer after all. I just want to know why his face seems so malleable. It reminds me of the wrinkled skinned dog, can't remember its name.

2. For once some girls get in on the action and we see a CTU agent kicking butt other than Jack. Also, bullet-proofed windows are great, wish I had those.

3. Marwan is an evil genius but he is so intelligent that he commands respect. And he's pretty hot for a terrorist. =)

4. Some ordinary peopple got embroiled in the action and that was cool too because it made the audience feel like they too can at any time, at any place, suddenly be caught in the thrill of the CTU hunt. In any case, that's what I thought with the Jason and Kelly episode.

5. Aaah old faces and old friends. It appears like Season IV is slowly reverting back to Season III again. More like the CTU I've come to know and love.

More later. Going to be "bad" for one more hour. Hehe...

Hothead Emily

So yesterday, about 15 minutes before the end of the day, I had to inject a small dye into my radioactive samples. I had nine samples to work with and things went pretty smoothly for the first six samples. When I got to number seven, as I was pipetting the dye into the sample, I noticed with annoyance that the dye was somehow stuck in the pipette tip. At this point, the smart thing to do was to dispose the pipette tip anyway into the waste container, because the tip has already touched the sample and was considered "hot." Did Emily choose the smart and logical course of action? Nope. Her basal neurological functions took over and by sheer brute force, she thought she could shake the dye down the tip of the pipette. Instead, what happened was the pipette tip popped off and the dye went kersplat!!! everywhere. Suddenly, the area I was working at suffered a first degree contamination and became the hot zone.

Very meekly and very apologetically, I told my mentor my snafoo. He told me to not move and proceeded to methodically check every surface with the geiger counter detector. For those unfamiliar, it's like any other detectors, but it is supposed to sniff out radioactivity. When it detects a high level of radioactivity, it gives off repeated high pitched shrieks, literally the detector is screaming at you "contamination!" in loud jarring tones.

So we ran the detectors over the surfaces and the detector went berserk. So we had to clean everything in the area. Then, my mentor said, check yourself. I ran the detector over myself and my lab coat was hot. So the mentor told me to ease off the coat and he promptly threw it away. Then I continued to run the detector over myself and it was okay until it reached my HEAD. Then the detector went nuts over me again. Disbelieving, I moved the detector away from my head - nothing, intermittent beeps at best. Move it back to my head: shrieks somewhat similar to those of Harry Potter's Mandrakes. Bad, bad news indeed.

My mentor was suddenly on the phone, calling all relevant people. The radiation safety people, the lab chief etc. My boss, the lab chief, came back to the lab as soon as she found out, armed with Suave shampoo and a truly good sense of humor. The next 30 minutes was spent wiping my head down with wet towels (which actually did take alot of the radioactivity off) and then dumped a quart of Suave on my head. I couldn't help giggling during the truly bizarre situation I found myself in. What a great Suave commercial that would have made. Then I went home and took a shower, washing my head copiously with water and soap. Told my family and promptly freaked everyone out. Told Jason, got yelled at for half an hour for being careless. Then called it a night.

Re: Coming of Age

Sapphire_Gal's comments --

Sometimes, I wonder if we actually improve because of experience. Well, I could understand you can get better at certain things, like playing soccer or doing math. In the realm of relationships, does one actually learn from experience? The easy answer is "yes," but let's say if you meet the "right" person the first time around, that you guys are compatible and there's no need to round off the rough edges, does having experience really matter or benefit your relationship?

__________________________

So I would just like to say that my point wasn't really that learning would ultimately improve or benefit your relationships. Of course there is that live and learn element and you can't easily disregard that learning curve and how it applies to all areas of your life. I was really just saying that in the end, you can't take anything with you. You can not take your money with you, you can not take your loved ones with you. Each moment that passes is another moment gone by, you can not even hold on to any one moment. So what do you really have? You have your experiences, in the form of memories. You have your thoughts to hold on to. I know this is all rather metaphysical and overly contemplative. But at the end of one's life, the only pronouncement one can say is, "I existed once."

Being told you look tired

I remember back in college I once looked at this girl, an acquaintance of mine, and then told her quite sincerely, "You looked tired." I meant it nicely, not necessarily out of concern, but really an effort to make conversation. Apparently I have the social graces a la Chloe from 24, because she immediately assumed a wry grimace and replied, "Thanks" in an over the top sarcastic way. I was honestly puzzled. I think I must have shrugged it off at the time but I realize belatedly that she must have took it as an insult. Apparently being told that you look tired is code for "you look like a putrid wart today."

On another somewhat related branch, I think girls in general are more sensitive to both insults and compliments. The slightest thing can leave a girl fuming for days and a word of praise can also leave her feeling light and happy for quite a while too. This may be due to the fact that girls are in general more empathetic creatures and thus are more sensitive to other people's thoughts. Boys are no less sensitive to insults/praises but only after they are able to discern that it was indeed an insult or a praise, as sometimes they may miss the subtlety of a remark. I know this is not true of every guy out there, but most guys I've met required communication to be spelled out in big bold letters for them to get it.

So back to the topic at hand, after realizing the social connotations of that phrase, I rarely ever remark to any girl, certainly not to people I'm not close to that they look tired. I would only say it to my family and close friends and then, only because well, because it's the truth. So this incident, though minute in itself gave me pause ever since, whenever that type of exchange occurs in my life. I remember last year this guy mentioned to me, "Hey, you look better these days. More rested and energetic. As opposed to before." Dude! Excuse me? When exactly are we talking about when we say "before"? So he proceeded to explain and dug himself deeper and deeper into a hole, "Well ah, you just looked really tired back in September and just didn't look like you reached your full potential, you just looked like you could look better than you did." blah blah blah. Huh...and here I thought, I was Miss Gorgeous every day of my pretty little life. SO much for that illusion.

Coming of Age

In general, it is easy to go through life not really thinking about the passage of time, unless you were feeling unusually philosophic on a given day. However it is easy to notice how far you've come in maturity when you encounter a younger person's thoughts through either conversation or blog.

Recently I stumbled upon a blog by a complete stranger to me. It was overly sappy, ridiculously emotional, gushing on and on about love and life and true deep feelings. That's when I thought to myself, this must be written by some school girl. Similarly, I read some random guy's xanga and he was waxing sadly about loneliness and hurt and isolation - typical teenage angst. I thought he was both young and a loser to boot. What especially aroused my disdain about this guy's blog was that he absolutely despises his girlfriend and repeatedly said so on his blog. I don't really know why he doesn't just stop seeing her then, instead of going on a hate rampage on the girl he is supposedly in a relationship with. Ah, the irrationality of youth.

It is true...things hold so much more significance to a younger person than it does to an older, jaded person, such as yours truly. I think if I were to go back and read my diaries as a young girl, it would make me positively squeamish with all my sentimental declarations, emotional outpourings and tunnel-visioned perspective on life. I think about the boy that in high school used to dominate 75% of my thoughts and I can't help but scoff at the silliness of it all. I look at the 17-19 yr old boys today and I think, overgrown toddlers! Babies! All of them. Even boys in their early 20's are really maybe two steps away from diaperhood.

But that leads us to an interesting exploration of the word "maturity". Exactly what does it mean? To my parents, maturity equates with "dong shi" or "to understand matters." What it really translates to is that I would be willing to work 24/7 to help out around the house, that I would take on all the tasks that I can conceivably take on and be a competent caretaker of affairs, a butler-daughter. More important than the actual execution of said tasks is the fact that I should have the mentality of "I am now grown up so I need to take care of business." So according to my parents, I am still very immature, "bu dong shi" as evidenced by the other night when I casually remarked, "Wow, that girl cooked meals for her family at the age of 4??" and my father says, "Emily, many people are very dong shi, you know." Which made me wonder if that was a pointed remark and not so subtle jab at the fact that i'm just a lazy cat.

However maturity to me doesn't mean exactly what my parents mean, not that I'm saying I'm oh so mature. I think maturity means that you gain a clearer understanding of the world and that you are able to laugh at the folly of it, both at yourself and at the environment in which you live in. You are able to see and put things in perspective. If you are angry, you have the ability to take a step back and understand why you are angry, what ticks you off and why. You can analyze yourself and you can have greater control over your emotions, your decisions and your actions.

I once heard this in a lecture and it's a statement I heartily agree with,"Life is about learning. We all come to this Earth and we have this one shot at living. All living is just experiencing, that is all we can say we ever possessed: the experience of having lived."

Top 10 things to keep in mind when meeting Emily's parents

Top 20 Things to Keep in Mind when Visiting Emily's Parents

1. Always greet Parents by Mr. and Mrs. Yen. Always. Each and Every time you meet said parents.

2. Before leaving the table (either breakfast, lunch or dinner) always tell hosts politely that you are leaving to do whatever it is you need to do. Never just stand up and leave, without so much as a word of communication.

3. Make sure you bring your plate/bowl and utensils to the sink. Offer to help wash just to kiss up, because you know they would never let you do it anyway.

4. Smile and look at them in the eyes as a gesture of friendliness. Do not give in to the temptation of looking at your feet and study the dirt on your socks. Not a good impression to make.

5. Always thank the parents politely after a meal shared together, because as hosts, they will either be treating you at a restaurant or hosting you at home. Thank them and tell them the food was good.

6. Make an effort to engage in conversation. Even in broken Chinese. Apologize with puppy eyes about how you need to practice more on it. However they will forgive you for the effort you make.

7. When visiting and staying over at someone's place (particularly if they are Chinese and of the older generation) be sure to bring a token gift as gesture of your appreciation and goodwill. It can be fruit, flowers, or wine. Keep it simple. Practically anything will do.

8. Talk about me once in a while. Show them that you actually know who you are dating. Say good things of course. Or as conversation starter, you can say, "Emily tells me this...blah blah blah" This shows that you pay attention and remember what is said. Double bonus.

9. When leaving, always make sure you leave the place in the same way you found it - immaculate. Make the bed, clear off any debris. Make sure no trash is littering the floor.

10. Say goodbye, thank them politely, smile, look them in the eyes, say their names, say you had a wonderful time and you hope to be able to visit them again. KISS UP as best as you know how.

All I got to say is...

I hear ya, little buddy.

The importance of self-regard

Amelie posted an article that brings to light a certain unalienable fact about human nature. We all want to think the world revolves around us and that we matter.

Click here to read it

Let's play devil's advocate. Suppose we all believe that we don't matter. Our ideas, our voice, our thoughts are not important and no one cares about us. No one loves us. No one could bother with us. Then what will we have? Clinical depression and suicidal tendencies, most likely.

But in reality, it's true that we do not matter as much as we would like to think. What is the worth of a life? Senseless destruction of lives in the Middle East (and many other places too of course) forces you confront the reality, at least in parts of the world, that life isn't really worth all that much. Anyone that can convince you that you should blow yourself up has convinced you that your corporeal existence doesn't matter, at least in comparison to the heavenly existence that awaits you.

So, as Confucius says, "Keep to the middle ground and stay the course." In other words, be aware that you are only as important as you would like to think you are, but that it's okay to view yourself as important. If you won't, who will?

Putting things in perspective

Some say that happiness is over-rated. Others believe that the end goal of life is not happiness. I guess I am not one of them. I firmly believe that one's life must be in pursuit of happiness. However, I should clarify that happiness does not equate to pleasure, as I had once believed when I was younger.

I had a conversation with a friend that put things in perspective for me. At the end of the day, you have to make choices that allow you to view yourself in a satisfied manner, to be at peace with both yourself and the world. How do you tell if you've reached that point? If you can truly be happy for others. If you are feeling shitty about yourself, feeling like a total loser, you won't and you can't feel good about other people, you won't be able to revel in their good fortune (it's just human nature perhaps?)

When I was younger, I was not sure about what I wanted. Now, as I have gotten older, my vision of what I want has solidified, crystallized by my environment, my self-reflections and those reflected from the people around me. I want to climb the peak known as achievement, to meet and succeed challenges in my path, to make the hard choices when an easier one tempts me, to persevere despite being the sole, lonely last runner in the marathon.

So all this is just a more convoluted way of saying, Emily will redouble her efforts to study! There, it's in print and my word is now bound in the written form. Hold me to my word, guys. =)

Last night's dream

Last night I had a strange bizarro dream. Everything felt very real and that's why it was scary.

I dreamt that my face split open from my forehead to my chin. There was just this huge gaping crack in the middle of my face. Red pulsating tissue inside. I quickly put my hands on each of my cheeks and pushed it back together. I then went to my parents and asked my mom to sew it back together. For some reason, although of course I was perturbed by my face being essentially bissected, I was more worried about the pain of the needle even more.

My mother on the other hand seemed relatively unconcerned. She's like, Oh, I'll get to it when I get to it.

What??? This is my FACE being split into two.

Then soon thereafter, my face melded into two again. Except now there was a fault line down the middle, like the line left by an earthquake. My face is now the geography of very dry arid land.

I woke up this morning and when I remembered my dream, I had to touch my face quickly to make sure it was not happening for real.

Revisiting Freudian Theories

So as much of a joke as Freud has become in modern day culture, there is no denying the major influence that his theories have had on our lives.

From these audio lectures I've been playing, I recently and finally understand the distinction between the Id, the Ego, and the Superego.

Let me put it in the simple terms that I understand it to be. The Id is the essence of your unconscious mind, the psychic energy that drives your most primal desires. Hunger, sex, and arguably, the need for love and affection - basic desires of any human being.

Now, I mentioned psychic energy - and energy is defined in physics as the ability to do work - but in Freudian terms, it is the drive, the means to satisfy those desires. Have you ever really really desired to have something and just thinking about it induces a rush of emotion, even violence in your being? That's the psychic energy rearing its presence, or in Freudian terms, the libido.

What then is the Ego? It is the part of us that deals with the external world and the reality of the situation. For instance, if we are in the same room as a person that thoroughly disgusts us, and we have to fight the urge to slap the person silly, the part in us that resists that internal urge is the Ego holding us back. The Ego is the awareness of the external reality and is often the voice of reason.

What then is the Superego? It is the part of us that reaches even higher idealizations and forms a mental, a psychological ideal of ourselves, the perfect being that we wish to strive to be. It is that person that we know we want to be but also realize that we are not there yet.

Freud concludes that a well adjusted human being is able to use his Ego as the mediator between the Id and the Superego, forming a perfect balance, resolving any conflicts between the Id and the Superego.

Now, all this may have been rather dry, but it is truly fascinating when you think about how it may apply to your own life. For me, I believe for instance that my Id is always telling me, you want to watch 24. You want to kick back and relax and lose yourself in Jack Bauer's world. My SuperEgo tells me, You SLACKER! Get back to work and study the science passages. You should have no thought at all of rest and recreation. (Sometimes my boyfriend and my Superego merges into one). Then there is my rational calm Ego attempting the peace negotiations. You can study for X number of hours and reward yourself with one episode of 24. There there, everyone happy?

Sometimes there are too many voices in my head and it just gets too crowded and noisy. But where will you go to escape yourself?

More Minutiae from Emily's life

What was the first thing Emily did when she woke up this cloudy Thursday morning? She plops on the sofa like it's any Saturday evening and watches an episode of 24. What a joy to greet the world after having the show vicariously pump adrenaline in your body! I'm now convinced that this is the only way I should start my day.

Jack Bauer personifies the adage "the ends justifies the means." I realize that if the strength of your conviction is strong enough, that is, if you are morally convicted that what you are doing is the RIGHT thing to do, if the power of that belief is strong enough, you can get away with anything. That is the take home lesson of the day for me.

In other news, I recently got an email from my ex with an Interesting link promising footage of him dancing with another member of the XY species. HMMMMM....now I've always known that he was an open-minded fella. Yet this begs the speculation and adds a sudden, more interesting twist to his story. I am actually intrigued. Or I guess at the very least, it would be inappropriate to label him as a "h-phobe" any longer. He has passed that test, for sure.

Oh yes, I am very happy with Ang Lee's victory as director. To be sure, this is a 4-day belated news, but i still want to publically acknowledge it. He deserved it. I mean, Steven Speilberg does NOT need three trophies to line his mantel. In fact, once you earn it once, you should really let others have their chance. Steven Speilberg can get his lifetime acheivement award next, that's fine by me, but he definitely should not even have been nominated a third time.

Lastly, I find myself daydreaming far more often than is appropriate about the type of person I should be and not enough time doing it. I have romanticized the whole idea of self-perfection to a degree you will not believe. it's all rosey and tinted until the going gets tough and then, I wilt back in the face of exhaustion. Something must be done about this. People around me are getting antsy and that's starting to feed the flames of anxiety in me too. How long will I continue this cruel self-indulgence?

Two years ago today

my grandfather Han Gong-xia passed away. He was much loved by everyone not because he was dapper and charismatic, not because he was supremely intelligent and erudite, nor because he impressed everyone with his fame, wealth and social status.

Yet to me, he has long stood for all that is good and decent in a human being. He was hard-working and dedicated, in everything that he did. He was a loving father, a responsble husband and a jovial, energetic and lovable Grandfather.

I am very proud of where I came from, in large part due to him. He has many qualities that to this day, I still aim to emulate, to strive for. Some time ago, I made a few pages in dedication of him and his life. I wish to share it here again.

Grandpa Han

Clutter!

I realize the act of cleaning one's desk and clearing away paperwork is a very powerful act of renewal. Each time I do it, I feel I have cleansed my soul and that I have put my life in order.

Maybe I am somewhat neurotic after all. I have always thought quite proudly that I was cool as a clam, immune to the stresses and anxieties that other mere mortals succumb to. But it seems that I have my Achilles' Heel too. I need to feel in ccntrol of certain things, and nothing is as satisfying as cleaning a large pile of paperwork and whittle it down to nothing.

Paperwork in and of itself is of course insignificant. What is significant is the thing they symbolize. Credit card bills - my spending habits, my monthly expenses, my psychological need for shopping, etc. Med school applications - self explanatory. Taxes, statements, insurance forms - life of the adult and the dreaded word: RESPONSIBILITY. So tackling paperwork usually forces me to reassess my adult life and see where I'm standing. It's a measure of how in control of my life I am, or not. It usually serves the purpose of making me more motivated too, since I now have that feeling of control, instead of powerlessness.

Really, cleaning paperwork, who knew it could be so powerful and therapeutic?

Apparently...

when Emily gets hot, it is REALLY hot.

Yesterday as I was meticulously plating various dilutions of cells on the plates, I had my bunsen burner fired up close by, the temperature of the lab was somewhere around 80 degrees F, and I had, oh, three layers of airtight, windbreaker style fabrics hugging my body. It was definitely getting a bit warm.

So, flushed and uncomfortable, I went to the bathroom and promptly removed two offending layers and emerged in a short sleeved top, free and easy and breezy.

Immediately the comments began to roll.

First, my mentor who sailed into the room from outside let out a "Whoa!" and then he said, "it's like a freakin' sauna in here." Then, he added, "And you know when you see EMILY in a tank top, that's saying something."

Fine fine, so one person makes a remark.

Then, my boss, the chief of the lab, whips around the corner to talk to one of the postdocs. Satisfied with whatever she had to tell him, she whips out again only to pop her head back into my corner and grins, going "Boy, must sure be hot when you see EMILY stripping down."

Then another coworker pipes in, "Yeah, YOU must be really cold-blooded!"

I smiled back at her weakly. Man oh man, what am I? A snake? The local eskimo girl? The Russian layer doll? Okay fine, I don't deal with the cold very well, but I am already made the butt of all cold jokes at home, it seems that I was not to be spared at work.

What annoyed me further was that I couldn't come up with something quick and witty to retort back. Yes, I am afraid of the cold. Feel free to use me as the room thermometer or some human litmus test of how hot it is.

All I could do was shrug and take comfort in the fact that at least I have nice arms to show off. Hahahaha.

Jaywalkers should learn newtonian physics

Today as I was driving down the narrow, altogether awful Wisconsin Avenue, I encountered a female pedestrian standing at the crosswalk, in the middle of the road. She looked like she wanted to charge across the road. The light turned green. We locked eyes. I glared at her, inwardly daring her to take one step out. She glared back, hating the fact that while she would go against me woman to woman at any other time, she doesn't really relish the visage of being flattened on the streets of Wisconsin, her limbs spewed in all four directions. I gunned down my car ferociously, and victoriously soared past her.

Having been a pedestrian myself many a times, I do recognize the heady temptation of just darting across the street, free and unencumbered, doing the little frogger thing. However my conscience is clear in that I have never deliberately set out to stop traffic by oh-so-casually sauntering across the road in the midst of oncoming traffic. Usually it's the decidedly less dignified scurrying of a mouse if I have to be quick about it.

I don't personally understand the psychology of jaywalkers. These insouciant devil-may-care airhead pedestrians who casually stroll across the road, crosswalk or no crosswalk, red light or no red light. The world is apparently their oyster. Did they think the forces of nature will all conspire to help them at that last critical moment? If the driver strives to come to a screeching halt in 2.5 seconds from an initial velocity of 35 mph, how far of a distance do they think the car will travel? Probably far enough to smear them nice and bloodily over some gravelled pavement on Rt. 355. Sure the driver is in no hurry to go share the jail cell with some italian mafioso and the local child molester, but the law of physics binds everyone. The law can't help you when you're six feet under.

That said, I probably should NOT have been so quick to floor my gas pedal either. Mini-Mom sitting on my right shoulder shakes her head at me reprovingly. Bad Emily. Bad bad emily.

Wednesday: Day in progress

My task today is to set up various cell cultures plated on a medium with an antibiotic selector. I am working with three strains of bacteria, one normal and the other two are mutants. My experiment is to see at what concentration of cells grow best in a medium with the antibiotic. Sounds pretty simple right? Well it is, except for the fact that I have to do seven serial dilutions for each strain and plus, I am also testing it under conditions with and without a certain other ingredient. Sorry if I'm starting to sound like Alan Greenspan but this is definitely tedium infinito.

No further shallow and disdainful comments today on the latest episode of 24, because I haven't gotten around to it yet. I am discovering the simple joy of starting a forum and was very into setting it up last night with my good friend WWZ.

Was just pondering the question of what it means to be hypocritical. If there is something that you don't wish other people to do to you, but you wish to do yourself, is that a screaming neon flashing sign of hypocrisy? Or is it simply that you're being true to your human nature? I have always been very dutiful (in general) in abiding by the saying "Don't do onto others what you don't wish others to do onto you." So I suppose the simplistic conclusion is, if you were to do onto others what you don't wish others to do onto you, you are a "BAD" person and a "HYPOCRITE" to boot. My, what solemn judgments are thus pronounced.

But don't get me wrong...I may sound like I'm mocking the system, but I'm not. I am merely reflecting on it....