I cuddle on the sofa, with a ridiculous, ear-flapped, knit hat on my head and a down jacket covering my lap. It's a habit of mine, a trickery of the mind. I think, if I put my life on pause, time itself pauses with me. But I'm wrong, life moves on and I'm even more behind than usual. I gather myself together, with many things on my mind, including midterm grades I'll be receiving soon and Yale and Princeton notification tomorrow, I continue with my homework.

The expected Berkeley acceptance. The unexpected UCLA Alumni scholarship interview rejection. I would rather have liked the two results switched. Minjie is on my mind. Some par of met, I suppose the less hateful part, would want her UCB hopes to have been answered.

Still fun from the half pound burger I ate yesterday at Bay Street, I managed to finish a couple rounds at a Buffet in San Mateo today. It's a wonder how much room a stomach has.

My precapillary sphincters loosen, my blood drains. I login to my email with fear, thoughts of the "9% UCLA acceptance rate" fresh in my head. I click "inbox," then the link, and I see, "Congratulations." I rejoice. I later found out it was actually 23%--the power of Minjie's confusion spreads like an epidemic.

Smile for the Camera

I anxiously open the Walgreens photo package.

At last.

There is a brief joy.

The conversation with Professor Olds finally became comfortable, after five minutes of boisterious dialogue on his end on the bus. We walked on the long passageway of College of Alameda and continued to discuss about schools and the future. He asked me if I plan to go to graduate school. I tell him "yes," and he tells me, "I went to graduate school three times." I laugh.

"So, studying rocks at Berkeley, huh? How's that going?" I ask him, hoping to pry into his personal life that he rarely mentions.

"Well, yeah. It's fine. It's fun," he pauses and with a bit of reluctance he finally tells me, "Yeah, I'm trying to get my Ph.D."

"I knew it!" I exclaimed.

He laughs, "Yeah, I'm a Ph.D. drop out, but I'm back in the game!" He chuckles some more, "I'm the oldest graduate school student ever."

I can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm and his choice of words.

Mom comes home, "So, how did it go? Did you guys go running?" I remain quiet, as I always do, hidden in the computer room doing the usual useless things. "Yes" answers Dad, "It was so tiring." Mom scoffs, "Well, count how old you'll be turning this year, then count hers!" Dad laughs "I thought I could outrun her too." As I sat listening, it occurred to me again, how scary aging and time really is.

Heavy-hearted Fool

I long to touch the white keys.
But they now feel cold and sad.
I snuggle beneath the blankets for warmth
to escape
and to see again
they both go hand in hand.

I laugh hysterically at her. "Oh my God, Morgan. Why are you so retarded?!" She looks at me, almost in disbelief, "What? You're the one that is retarded!" I look back at her, "What? When was the last time I was retarded?" She tells me, "Like, the whole last 10 minutes!"

I sneakily tip-top to mom's bedroom, waiting at the door with my finger curled in front of my face. Mom comes out unexpectedly, and looks at me indifferently, "What are you trying to do?" "Uh..nothing?" I answer with my fingers still awkwardly out. "Are you trying to scare me?" she asks again. "Uh, no. I'm just trying to..uh..enter the room." "Oh," she responds and leaves the room. I flop on the bed and wonder if my ninja-abilities have deteriorated.

Mr. Dadd chuckles, "Looks like James is doing tricks now." James looks embarrassingly at Mr. Dadd. "You're all putting the bouncy ball on your nose. You're like a seal!"

When his eyes met mine,

我觉得自己好像失去了对我很重要的人。

His memory, like the shadow of my thoughts, parts not from me.
My heart, so heavy, for reasons unknown
Or for reasons only the universe would understand.

Li Yundi at Herbst Theatre

I don't think I've ever been this smitten, even with my first love. I feel like a fool. I look at his autograph on my ticket stub and I giggle like there's something funny on it. I took a picture with him, several too. At first, I thought I would be satisfied with just a look at him, but I knew I would regret if I didn't get an autograph and picture of some sort. I was within an inch from him, oh my God, I sound like a stalker.

He really did blow me away with his performance. Teacher Zhou's husband said he played better last time, and that he didn't play Liszt's Widmung well. I haven't listened to Liszt's pieces enough to tell a difference. However, I was absolutely mesmerized with his fingers--how they danced across the keyboard so gracefully and easily. At several points in the performance, I was actually moved that I got teary. I think I'm in love with his talent, more than Yundi himself. Although I think he's just too "shui," I found myself staring at his fingers almost the entire time during the performance, and not at his face. At the autograph session, I was nervous just to think that such a prodigy was right before me. Tonight was probably the closest I'll ever be next to a talent like him. It makes me kind of sad that I probably won't see him again. But I'll keep a copy of my ticket stub in my wallet. It'll serve as my inspiration, and I'll continue to strive as he has done.

I don't think Yundi played as well as he could have. They said he was nervous. When I really think about it, it does seem like that. I think he's under a lot of pressure, and his busy life of constantly touring the world must have put a toll on him. I sometimes wonder if he likes the life he has now. Does fame take away the joy of piano-playing?