I want to dedicate this blog to a great history professor: David Kennedy. I sit through his class on and off this quarter: American History in 20th Century. Today is his last lecture. I noticed there were a lot of old people in the back of the classroom. They later turned out to be professors from history department. In the end of the lecture, the chair of history department went forward and announced that we were David's last group of students because he is retiring. I am so honored.
For me, his lectures are the best lectures Stanford has ever offered me. He embodied my ideal of an intellectual: smart, reserved, confident, and with excellent abilities of communicating ideas with lay people. For a while, I thought he might descent from the famous Kennedy family. After a couple of googling, that might not be true. But whatever, thanks for a great class, David.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Damn. There is nothing I can do about it!
Ok, I did not expect that i will blog that soon, but I have to. Here is the reason.
Remember that girl that started all my troubles two quarters ago? I met her today in the library. I took a seat, and found some papers about China's politics sitting next to me. It turned out to be her seat an hour later. She was surprised too. Then She found an excuse to move her seat to somewhere else.
Damn, it really pissed me off. I put up my best smily face when I talked to her, and I do not think the previous episode still matter even slightly for me. But in her mind, I am still the old sketchy grad student. Most frustrating is that there is nothing I can do about it! I admit that I had my mistakes dealing with the whole thing before. That's the price I am paying for them right now. Sigh......
Remember that girl that started all my troubles two quarters ago? I met her today in the library. I took a seat, and found some papers about China's politics sitting next to me. It turned out to be her seat an hour later. She was surprised too. Then She found an excuse to move her seat to somewhere else.
Damn, it really pissed me off. I put up my best smily face when I talked to her, and I do not think the previous episode still matter even slightly for me. But in her mind, I am still the old sketchy grad student. Most frustrating is that there is nothing I can do about it! I admit that I had my mistakes dealing with the whole thing before. That's the price I am paying for them right now. Sigh......
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Blog
I have to admit that I haven't done much work since the defense. But, hey, maybe I deserve the break. I feel quite busy every day, but I also feel I am doing a lot of random things without a clear direction. If life is supposed to be built up towards a goal with every day as a building brick, I do not know what I am after.
Anyway, happy birthday to my friend who I know is reading my blog. Originally I thought of mailing a surprise gift (a gift not stolen from Universal Studio shop, if you know what I mean), but then I found I lost your address. An email of "happy birthday" struck me as too cheap. You know I am sincere in blogs.
I just attended a wedding this afternoon. I am so happy for the groom, a nice guy indeed. The best moment is when he hug his parents, who flew in from China two weeks ago. He cried, and I found my eyes were wet too. I was thinking, "What was the last time I hug my parents, or my grandma? Will I cry the next time I hug them?" They are getting old so fast, and I am living so far away. I do not really know how many hugs have left. I do not even know what's the next time I am going to visit them.
There is a lot of bullshits in church. First, the things pastor said are condescending (I do not even want to mention his sexist comments). Why everyone should live the life under god's instruction? That's the irony of America. The strange bedfellow of individualism and religiousness. The improbable combination of rebelling against authority and obeying an imaginary god. Second, I read half of the first page of bible today. It is well written and deserve to be on new york times best-seller list based on its literary quality. But, man, the content is such stupid nonsense!
But I have to say I like other aspects of church. The best part of church is singing with other people. The second best is its space and architecture. The third best? Well, hard to come up with another one. I guess church does not impress me too much after all.
Anyway, happy birthday to my friend who I know is reading my blog. Originally I thought of mailing a surprise gift (a gift not stolen from Universal Studio shop, if you know what I mean), but then I found I lost your address. An email of "happy birthday" struck me as too cheap. You know I am sincere in blogs.
I just attended a wedding this afternoon. I am so happy for the groom, a nice guy indeed. The best moment is when he hug his parents, who flew in from China two weeks ago. He cried, and I found my eyes were wet too. I was thinking, "What was the last time I hug my parents, or my grandma? Will I cry the next time I hug them?" They are getting old so fast, and I am living so far away. I do not really know how many hugs have left. I do not even know what's the next time I am going to visit them.
There is a lot of bullshits in church. First, the things pastor said are condescending (I do not even want to mention his sexist comments). Why everyone should live the life under god's instruction? That's the irony of America. The strange bedfellow of individualism and religiousness. The improbable combination of rebelling against authority and obeying an imaginary god. Second, I read half of the first page of bible today. It is well written and deserve to be on new york times best-seller list based on its literary quality. But, man, the content is such stupid nonsense!
But I have to say I like other aspects of church. The best part of church is singing with other people. The second best is its space and architecture. The third best? Well, hard to come up with another one. I guess church does not impress me too much after all.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Spring Migration!
All of a sudden, the performance is finished. My brain is blank right now, and I do not know what I am supposed to feel. I know so many amazing people through dancing, although none of them would make the list of my 26 blogged friends. I just know them too little. While I was stretching today, I asked Sophie, "Hey, Sophie, I have a question for you. Why are you so happy all the time?" It is my favorite question for now.
Excitement aside, I feel tired. I think three days of dancing really hit my limit. Now I only want to lying on the bed, letting every inch of my muscles and bones touch the surface of the mattress. My butt hurt too.
I decided to put a break on my blog. The blogs of May are all great, but they are very emotionally draining to write, especially the mother's day piece. I felt great that I finished it, but now I also know I need some time to put myself together in post-spring-migration life. Blogs wouldn't help in this. See ya!
Excitement aside, I feel tired. I think three days of dancing really hit my limit. Now I only want to lying on the bed, letting every inch of my muscles and bones touch the surface of the mattress. My butt hurt too.
I decided to put a break on my blog. The blogs of May are all great, but they are very emotionally draining to write, especially the mother's day piece. I felt great that I finished it, but now I also know I need some time to put myself together in post-spring-migration life. Blogs wouldn't help in this. See ya!
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Mother's day
Ok, I have to say I have hyped up this blog of my mom, and I am afraid that it wouldn't match the expectation any more. But I will try.
I just called home. My mom is out and my dad is in a spring trip with his colleagues. So I talked to the nanny for 1 minute and then hang up. Really, nothing to say to my mom anyway. I wouldn't even mention "Mother's Day" at all, because she just does not care.
Let's start to describe my mom. My mom is Meiying Bao (Oh, I just revealed the answer of my secret question for my banking account. If you dare, please steal my identity:-). She was a doctor in a state-owned factory before a stroke forced her into retirement. Although I am never close to my parents, I have to admit that my mom is a nice and warm person, at least before the stroke. I was very weak when I was a kid, so my mom always brought medicine from the factory for me, free of charge. One medicine made my teeth yellow. I often played with the medicine and her equipment when I got a chance. But to be honest, since I grew up with my grandma, I never got too much chance with my parents, so my memory about them was very very vague.
I think my parents were very traditional. They probably followed the crowd all the time and expected their children to do the same. They were not socially capable. When all relatives got together during festivals, I felt they were taken advantage of in various occations. My relatives were not evil, but they would laugh at my dad's booksmart and my mom's low capability of getting things done. My parents seemed getting used to it, and I do not think it really hurt them. But it is the reason why I never enjoyed the get-together of my big family. I do not know when it all started, but from very early on, I told myself, when I grow up, I want to stand up for my parents, so nobody would laugh at them for them minor flaws. Well, I guess it sows the seed for all my ambitions of upward mobility.
One story: It happened when I was about junior high school student, and my sister was high school student. We were horsing about the apartment, and we found some thick "balloons". We put a lot of water in them. They looked like rubber balls that were able to change shape freely. We threw them around, and I forgot whether we broke one or two. But we had a lot of fun playing with them, thinking they were the best balloon ever. When my parents came back, they were sorta mad, but did not say anything more. Several points: 1) these balloons were actually condoms. I realized that when I relived those old memories a couple of years ago. 2) My sister was a high school student, but she did not know that. I did not know either. You can see the sex education in my family, or in most Chinese families, sucks. 3) My parents were having sex back then. I do not think they are any more. They were in a stage of de facto seperation for quite some time, probably since my mom's unexpected stroke back in 1995. Somehow, I always had fear that they would get divorce, but amazingly they got through for so many years. I wonder whether they really thought of this option before. Maybe not, maybe yes. But on the other hand, maybe there was something I was never able to understand. For example, my mom liked to complain and was stingy, and my dad was impatient and tried to escape from the real world. Were these traits just perfect for each other? I do not know. Here is the best explanation I can come up with: they tolerate this loveless marriage, because love is never in their expectation when they got married. Years of frictions just made them to take for granted that it is the life all about, and they convinced themselves that they would have to make it through because there is no alternatives.
I would stop psycho-analyse my parents here. The least I can say is that I do not really understand them. Maybe I've never tried. But do I love them? That is a tough tough question. Obviously, I do not want to stay with them for more than 1 month. That's for sure. But do I love them? I do not know how to answer them. Let me start with a story. Back in 1995. One day, I suddenly got to know that my mom had a stroke when she was writing a prescription for a worker in the factory. She was hauled to the emergency room. I biked like crazy to home, only seeing my dad biking like crazy to the hospital, carrying all the daily necessities for my mom. I kept biking. Something choatic ran through my mind, but I cannot remember what any more. Some sort of music, I think. I then biked to the hospital, seeing my mom lying on the bed lifeless. I cried. I was so used to see my mom walking like a bull, carrying big shopping bags from the farmer market to home. Now she was just helplessly lying in the bed, calm like a baby. My dad talked to me, and I cried more, but tried to stop, tried to show my dad that I was a big boy and could handle anything. My tear just kept coming out. For the first couple of days, my mom couldn't even recognize the most familiar faces. I asked one of my good friends to read some of my favorite stories (Maybe it is only one story) and I recorded them. I believed that these stories would stimulate her brain so her intellegence would get back to normal. Of course, nobody really appreciated my effort (except my friend who recorded it). Sadly, my mom never got back to normal. I could feel that she was quite a different person completely. To say the least, her self-esteem was evaperated. She used to be so proud of being independent; but now she had to rely on all the medicine to bring down the blood pressure and other people to take care of her. I was so sorry for her.
I do not know whether the above story tells anything to answer the question of "whether I love my mom". But on the flip side, who cares about these big questions? Details of the life are much more subtle and interesting than any "yes"/"no". So please allow me to be vague on this question, even on the Mother's Day. Sorry, mom, I cannot put up with an half-assed "I love you" even on a Mother's Day. But here is some thing I can say: I remember so many things about you. I remember your awkwardness towards me: you wanted to be close to me, but since I grew up with my grandparents, you never succeeded. I remember your harsh criticism towards my sister. I remember you picked on my dad over small errors. I remember your bad cooking skills, but you tried. I remember your able body before the stroke. I remember your self-depreciation after the stroke, a strategy to make your self-esteem hurt less. I remember you still worked after retirement with your sick body, earning 6 dollars for half a day, touring different middle schools to carry out medical examinations. I remember sometimes I worried about your safety, because I know sometimes you just walked out of the apartment unannounced, making other people worrying about you. Maybe you tried to reclaim your independence, anouncing to the world that you still had an able body. You just never gave up, a real fighter. If I inherited any thing from you, I think that's it.
I guess I lost myself in all these details, and no conclusions can be drawn today. My mom is just a good person with numerous flaws, and I am not sure how I really feel about her, in the past, in the present or in the futre. But if I keep exploring the life as it comes, I will figure it out eventually. In the meanwhile, Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I know you do not care, but I just want to say that, and there is nothing you can do about it, just like the tape of stories I gave you ten years ago.
I just called home. My mom is out and my dad is in a spring trip with his colleagues. So I talked to the nanny for 1 minute and then hang up. Really, nothing to say to my mom anyway. I wouldn't even mention "Mother's Day" at all, because she just does not care.
Let's start to describe my mom. My mom is Meiying Bao (Oh, I just revealed the answer of my secret question for my banking account. If you dare, please steal my identity:-). She was a doctor in a state-owned factory before a stroke forced her into retirement. Although I am never close to my parents, I have to admit that my mom is a nice and warm person, at least before the stroke. I was very weak when I was a kid, so my mom always brought medicine from the factory for me, free of charge. One medicine made my teeth yellow. I often played with the medicine and her equipment when I got a chance. But to be honest, since I grew up with my grandma, I never got too much chance with my parents, so my memory about them was very very vague.
I think my parents were very traditional. They probably followed the crowd all the time and expected their children to do the same. They were not socially capable. When all relatives got together during festivals, I felt they were taken advantage of in various occations. My relatives were not evil, but they would laugh at my dad's booksmart and my mom's low capability of getting things done. My parents seemed getting used to it, and I do not think it really hurt them. But it is the reason why I never enjoyed the get-together of my big family. I do not know when it all started, but from very early on, I told myself, when I grow up, I want to stand up for my parents, so nobody would laugh at them for them minor flaws. Well, I guess it sows the seed for all my ambitions of upward mobility.
One story: It happened when I was about junior high school student, and my sister was high school student. We were horsing about the apartment, and we found some thick "balloons". We put a lot of water in them. They looked like rubber balls that were able to change shape freely. We threw them around, and I forgot whether we broke one or two. But we had a lot of fun playing with them, thinking they were the best balloon ever. When my parents came back, they were sorta mad, but did not say anything more. Several points: 1) these balloons were actually condoms. I realized that when I relived those old memories a couple of years ago. 2) My sister was a high school student, but she did not know that. I did not know either. You can see the sex education in my family, or in most Chinese families, sucks. 3) My parents were having sex back then. I do not think they are any more. They were in a stage of de facto seperation for quite some time, probably since my mom's unexpected stroke back in 1995. Somehow, I always had fear that they would get divorce, but amazingly they got through for so many years. I wonder whether they really thought of this option before. Maybe not, maybe yes. But on the other hand, maybe there was something I was never able to understand. For example, my mom liked to complain and was stingy, and my dad was impatient and tried to escape from the real world. Were these traits just perfect for each other? I do not know. Here is the best explanation I can come up with: they tolerate this loveless marriage, because love is never in their expectation when they got married. Years of frictions just made them to take for granted that it is the life all about, and they convinced themselves that they would have to make it through because there is no alternatives.
I would stop psycho-analyse my parents here. The least I can say is that I do not really understand them. Maybe I've never tried. But do I love them? That is a tough tough question. Obviously, I do not want to stay with them for more than 1 month. That's for sure. But do I love them? I do not know how to answer them. Let me start with a story. Back in 1995. One day, I suddenly got to know that my mom had a stroke when she was writing a prescription for a worker in the factory. She was hauled to the emergency room. I biked like crazy to home, only seeing my dad biking like crazy to the hospital, carrying all the daily necessities for my mom. I kept biking. Something choatic ran through my mind, but I cannot remember what any more. Some sort of music, I think. I then biked to the hospital, seeing my mom lying on the bed lifeless. I cried. I was so used to see my mom walking like a bull, carrying big shopping bags from the farmer market to home. Now she was just helplessly lying in the bed, calm like a baby. My dad talked to me, and I cried more, but tried to stop, tried to show my dad that I was a big boy and could handle anything. My tear just kept coming out. For the first couple of days, my mom couldn't even recognize the most familiar faces. I asked one of my good friends to read some of my favorite stories (Maybe it is only one story) and I recorded them. I believed that these stories would stimulate her brain so her intellegence would get back to normal. Of course, nobody really appreciated my effort (except my friend who recorded it). Sadly, my mom never got back to normal. I could feel that she was quite a different person completely. To say the least, her self-esteem was evaperated. She used to be so proud of being independent; but now she had to rely on all the medicine to bring down the blood pressure and other people to take care of her. I was so sorry for her.
I do not know whether the above story tells anything to answer the question of "whether I love my mom". But on the flip side, who cares about these big questions? Details of the life are much more subtle and interesting than any "yes"/"no". So please allow me to be vague on this question, even on the Mother's Day. Sorry, mom, I cannot put up with an half-assed "I love you" even on a Mother's Day. But here is some thing I can say: I remember so many things about you. I remember your awkwardness towards me: you wanted to be close to me, but since I grew up with my grandparents, you never succeeded. I remember your harsh criticism towards my sister. I remember you picked on my dad over small errors. I remember your bad cooking skills, but you tried. I remember your able body before the stroke. I remember your self-depreciation after the stroke, a strategy to make your self-esteem hurt less. I remember you still worked after retirement with your sick body, earning 6 dollars for half a day, touring different middle schools to carry out medical examinations. I remember sometimes I worried about your safety, because I know sometimes you just walked out of the apartment unannounced, making other people worrying about you. Maybe you tried to reclaim your independence, anouncing to the world that you still had an able body. You just never gave up, a real fighter. If I inherited any thing from you, I think that's it.
I guess I lost myself in all these details, and no conclusions can be drawn today. My mom is just a good person with numerous flaws, and I am not sure how I really feel about her, in the past, in the present or in the futre. But if I keep exploring the life as it comes, I will figure it out eventually. In the meanwhile, Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I know you do not care, but I just want to say that, and there is nothing you can do about it, just like the tape of stories I gave you ten years ago.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
O.K. and a friend (Limela)
O.K.....
Let me blog another friend today. First, I feel like blogging tonight. Second, I got an email from her this morning. Third, I wrote back to her tonight, feeling that is a perfect time to blog about her.
For anyone who follows my personal narratives, you have already encountered Limela in Jan 25th blog. But here is more history. She is a high school classmate of mine. We did not talk much during high school at all. As you all know by know, I was quite nerdy back then, trying hard to get ahead in exams while rarely looked at girls with straight eyes. She was quiet, smart and had an appealing personality, seemingly well-liked by those boys who were good at sports but not academics, but no scandelous rumors as far as I know.
We did not become friends until our senior year in college, when she came to Beijing for a language school. Since she knew only few people in Beijing, the nerd-back-in-school became her helper in finding a cheap apartment. My serior year was sorta crazy, since I knew I would go to the USA and tried to find multiple jobs to pay my way across the Pacific Ocean. I took two jobs and one time I went sleepless for 48 hours because the day shift and night shift went together. It was really nice to have a person from home to talk to, recounting whereabout of our old friends. That time I was also acting in a play, and she came to see my rehearsal. After the real performance, we sat on grass in the university. She brought a bottle of wine for celebration. I guess we got quite close during my last summer in China. One day before I departed for the US, we celebrated her birthday. Sorry, I even forgot whether I gave her a gift or if yes, what gift. But I remember she gave me a gift: a bottle of soil. She said it is to let me remember my root is in China no matter where I go. The next day, I left.
Sometimes I have to think about a lot of "what if"s. What if she came to Beijing in her Junior year? what if I did not have to be admitted into a US university? Is it possible to have a romantic relationship with her? Of course, history has no alternative. I moved on to pursue my study in US, without being bothered by any hypothetical world (I guess that's why I had the feeling as recorded on Jan 25th. Some buried memory probably found its way to sneak by). However, we still communicated with emails, probably 3-4 emails a year. I know she first got a job in our homtown, then quit the job and went to France to study for one year, and now she is back and find a new job in our hometown. I am quite impressed by her decision of going to France, because most people would never have made this kind of decision. Anyway, in the last email I got from her yesterday, she seems happy with her current job and her friends. I am happy for her too.
I know blogger.com is blocked in China. That's why I blogged about her on Jan 25th. I have numerous crushes on girls since my puberty, but I rarely proceed to puruse, because I know sometimes it is just impossible, sometimes just for fear of rejection. Well, tonight, I emailed her a zip file of my this year's blog, asking her to read it matter-of-factly if she want to. Two major reasons stands out: 1. I have my love interest now, and she knows that. So my blog wouldn't be misunderstood, I believe. 2. My friend's comment one day really hit me. I think she is right all along. Of course, I gave a half-assed "thank-you" a couple of blogs before. Now my action is a real "thank-you" to her. Oh, maybe there is a third reason. 3. My recent experiences really taught me the value of being honest and being a straighter talker. I want her to be a remote friend back home, for as long as I can, and I guess I try to be honest to her, from now.
Ok, that's my blog today. I need to have a good sleep tonight, because tomorrow, it is my performance night. Next blog is about my mom on May 8th. Happy Mother's Day, mom. I know you are gonna say:"What is the heck with Mother's Day. Get real, son!" Ok, ok, but I am still going to blog you, and there is nothing you can do about it:-)
Let me blog another friend today. First, I feel like blogging tonight. Second, I got an email from her this morning. Third, I wrote back to her tonight, feeling that is a perfect time to blog about her.
For anyone who follows my personal narratives, you have already encountered Limela in Jan 25th blog. But here is more history. She is a high school classmate of mine. We did not talk much during high school at all. As you all know by know, I was quite nerdy back then, trying hard to get ahead in exams while rarely looked at girls with straight eyes. She was quiet, smart and had an appealing personality, seemingly well-liked by those boys who were good at sports but not academics, but no scandelous rumors as far as I know.
We did not become friends until our senior year in college, when she came to Beijing for a language school. Since she knew only few people in Beijing, the nerd-back-in-school became her helper in finding a cheap apartment. My serior year was sorta crazy, since I knew I would go to the USA and tried to find multiple jobs to pay my way across the Pacific Ocean. I took two jobs and one time I went sleepless for 48 hours because the day shift and night shift went together. It was really nice to have a person from home to talk to, recounting whereabout of our old friends. That time I was also acting in a play, and she came to see my rehearsal. After the real performance, we sat on grass in the university. She brought a bottle of wine for celebration. I guess we got quite close during my last summer in China. One day before I departed for the US, we celebrated her birthday. Sorry, I even forgot whether I gave her a gift or if yes, what gift. But I remember she gave me a gift: a bottle of soil. She said it is to let me remember my root is in China no matter where I go. The next day, I left.
Sometimes I have to think about a lot of "what if"s. What if she came to Beijing in her Junior year? what if I did not have to be admitted into a US university? Is it possible to have a romantic relationship with her? Of course, history has no alternative. I moved on to pursue my study in US, without being bothered by any hypothetical world (I guess that's why I had the feeling as recorded on Jan 25th. Some buried memory probably found its way to sneak by). However, we still communicated with emails, probably 3-4 emails a year. I know she first got a job in our homtown, then quit the job and went to France to study for one year, and now she is back and find a new job in our hometown. I am quite impressed by her decision of going to France, because most people would never have made this kind of decision. Anyway, in the last email I got from her yesterday, she seems happy with her current job and her friends. I am happy for her too.
I know blogger.com is blocked in China. That's why I blogged about her on Jan 25th. I have numerous crushes on girls since my puberty, but I rarely proceed to puruse, because I know sometimes it is just impossible, sometimes just for fear of rejection. Well, tonight, I emailed her a zip file of my this year's blog, asking her to read it matter-of-factly if she want to. Two major reasons stands out: 1. I have my love interest now, and she knows that. So my blog wouldn't be misunderstood, I believe. 2. My friend's comment one day really hit me. I think she is right all along. Of course, I gave a half-assed "thank-you" a couple of blogs before. Now my action is a real "thank-you" to her. Oh, maybe there is a third reason. 3. My recent experiences really taught me the value of being honest and being a straighter talker. I want her to be a remote friend back home, for as long as I can, and I guess I try to be honest to her, from now.
Ok, that's my blog today. I need to have a good sleep tonight, because tomorrow, it is my performance night. Next blog is about my mom on May 8th. Happy Mother's Day, mom. I know you are gonna say:"What is the heck with Mother's Day. Get real, son!" Ok, ok, but I am still going to blog you, and there is nothing you can do about it:-)
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Dance and others
It has passed midnight already, but I am so happy today that I have to write this post.
I nailed a practice presentation of my dissertation proposal this afternoon. And then I went to a dance rehearsal. Since our piece is the last, we waited until the very end. Eight of us agreed on a joke to "Irisa". That is, in a section of "unison fall" (in which we supposed to run with a falling feeling), we really fell to the ground at the same time. We danced through the rest of piece all smiling, thinking we must have scared "Irisa", who is always asked us not to get injured before the performance. Well, while I am typing this blog, I am still laughing. This joke is THAT good.
Recently my favorite music is "My Immortal" by Evanescence. I put my ipod on "repeat one" and listen to the song everywhere, with the sound almost hitting the maximum. I love the background piano and the female voice, both of which are tragically beautiful.
I decided to give my life a summary today, so I counted the items in my "running box". Into the box I put a random item every time I ran the campus drive. Recently I got a bunch of sea shells from the beach. When the supply lasts, it will all be sea shells now to put in the box. There are 39 items, which means I have run about 156 miles in the past 5 month. It is 6 marathons. I felt I actually ran more than that, and sometimes I must forgot to keep track of it. However, 6 marathons are something I am really proud right now, although they took me 5 months. Thinking about how I started running, I feel how life can be turning around in any unexpected ways. Now I am all happy and feel connected to the people around me all the time. Somehow I feel that my running might be inspired by "Forrest Gump". Maybe it was not how I started, but my experience does fit into Gump's idea: life is a box of chocolate, and I never know what's gonna happen next.
I nailed a practice presentation of my dissertation proposal this afternoon. And then I went to a dance rehearsal. Since our piece is the last, we waited until the very end. Eight of us agreed on a joke to "Irisa". That is, in a section of "unison fall" (in which we supposed to run with a falling feeling), we really fell to the ground at the same time. We danced through the rest of piece all smiling, thinking we must have scared "Irisa", who is always asked us not to get injured before the performance. Well, while I am typing this blog, I am still laughing. This joke is THAT good.
Recently my favorite music is "My Immortal" by Evanescence. I put my ipod on "repeat one" and listen to the song everywhere, with the sound almost hitting the maximum. I love the background piano and the female voice, both of which are tragically beautiful.
I decided to give my life a summary today, so I counted the items in my "running box". Into the box I put a random item every time I ran the campus drive. Recently I got a bunch of sea shells from the beach. When the supply lasts, it will all be sea shells now to put in the box. There are 39 items, which means I have run about 156 miles in the past 5 month. It is 6 marathons. I felt I actually ran more than that, and sometimes I must forgot to keep track of it. However, 6 marathons are something I am really proud right now, although they took me 5 months. Thinking about how I started running, I feel how life can be turning around in any unexpected ways. Now I am all happy and feel connected to the people around me all the time. Somehow I feel that my running might be inspired by "Forrest Gump". Maybe it was not how I started, but my experience does fit into Gump's idea: life is a box of chocolate, and I never know what's gonna happen next.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Finished!
I thought I would write this blog on the night when I finished the draft of my paper, but it delayed it until now.
This past week is quite a roller-coaster. I was extremely stressed out until Friday, and then "Boo", I am a happy person again. Though still not a good dancer though. This rehearsal of the past several days felt wierd.
I was helping "Kiery" moved on Saturday. He tried to make the best out of the breakup, so he was joking that he would hook up a hub so Amsol, he and I could play "red alert" again. We had a good time playing the game last summer. (I am not a big game fan, but playing in Amsol's house and ganged up on Kiery was fun:-) Without a girlfriend, he would definitely commit more time in the future. I hope he wouldn't sink too low, but I worried he would.
Next week is a big week for me. First, I have a practice talk tomorrow in the workshop, and I haven't prepared for it yet! well, tomorrow morning should be enough. And then, all the dancing things come. I am hyped for it, believing I would do better than last year. Not that my technique improved. No, not at all, probably. But I definitely feel that my body is more in sync with my mind, which makes dancing a much better experience than before.
Have a good conversation with D. At one moment, she asked me why I haven't blogged her yet. Well, I do not know. Her reading this blog might be one reason. But also, I am not willing to analyze her in the way that I did to other people and then put them into a stereotypical description. Anyway, just a minute ago, I got her email saying that she also enjoyed it. Cool. Afterwards I called my parents and sister. All of them were at home, for the May 1st holiday. I can even heard my sister's baby crying. They handed over the phone receiver to each other, as if my voice is just a scarce commodity that they all want a fair share of it.
They told me a person from my high school died in Yale. He was a good student in high school and then was sent to Yale for computer science. He stressed himself out and died one night in sleep. Poor guy. When my parents' description indicated that they did not really understand why he died, but I believe I do. I see many Chinese students on the same track with less severity, some of whom were still in denial. Recently I am extremely worried about a friend who would probably dropped out of school.
Anyway, tonight's blog is very unorganized. I feel I have much to say, but does not seem to say anything well. But you get the picture.
This past week is quite a roller-coaster. I was extremely stressed out until Friday, and then "Boo", I am a happy person again. Though still not a good dancer though. This rehearsal of the past several days felt wierd.
I was helping "Kiery" moved on Saturday. He tried to make the best out of the breakup, so he was joking that he would hook up a hub so Amsol, he and I could play "red alert" again. We had a good time playing the game last summer. (I am not a big game fan, but playing in Amsol's house and ganged up on Kiery was fun:-) Without a girlfriend, he would definitely commit more time in the future. I hope he wouldn't sink too low, but I worried he would.
Next week is a big week for me. First, I have a practice talk tomorrow in the workshop, and I haven't prepared for it yet! well, tomorrow morning should be enough. And then, all the dancing things come. I am hyped for it, believing I would do better than last year. Not that my technique improved. No, not at all, probably. But I definitely feel that my body is more in sync with my mind, which makes dancing a much better experience than before.
Have a good conversation with D. At one moment, she asked me why I haven't blogged her yet. Well, I do not know. Her reading this blog might be one reason. But also, I am not willing to analyze her in the way that I did to other people and then put them into a stereotypical description. Anyway, just a minute ago, I got her email saying that she also enjoyed it. Cool. Afterwards I called my parents and sister. All of them were at home, for the May 1st holiday. I can even heard my sister's baby crying. They handed over the phone receiver to each other, as if my voice is just a scarce commodity that they all want a fair share of it.
They told me a person from my high school died in Yale. He was a good student in high school and then was sent to Yale for computer science. He stressed himself out and died one night in sleep. Poor guy. When my parents' description indicated that they did not really understand why he died, but I believe I do. I see many Chinese students on the same track with less severity, some of whom were still in denial. Recently I am extremely worried about a friend who would probably dropped out of school.
Anyway, tonight's blog is very unorganized. I feel I have much to say, but does not seem to say anything well. But you get the picture.
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