Cowardice

“Okay, Morgan. Look normal, look confused” I tell her. I set the camera on timer in front of the Oakland Main Public Library. I suppose it would appear quite odd, but Morgan and I can’t really define “odd” anymore. But we were reminded.

“Stop taking pictures,” whispered a girl to her friend.

We ignored them.

“You guys look hella stupid, stop taking pictures,” she said again. It was becoming more apparent that these comments were being directed toward us rather than her friend.

But they continued to walk and comment. They walked, we ignored. They continued walking and insulting until more walking would relieve us from their irritating sight. But they stopped. She turned to us and said assertively, “Stop taking pictures.”

I think it was the perfect time to apply the lines from my favorite Comcast commercial: You come stop it, stop it reeeeeaaaaaal good. But of course, instead, I said something plain like “You stop it.”

“What did you say to me, bitch?”
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My head: Oh, fuck.
Morgan’s head: I think she said it pretty clearly. :-\
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I quietly whisper to Morgan, “I think it’s time to go.” So we walk slowly to slightly mask our great desire to get away from this over-reactive girl with issues.

I whisper to Morgan, “Why did I say that? I said that on impulse.” She responds indifferently, “I knew you were going to say that. You always say something back.” “What?! Why didn’t you tell me to shut up?!”

“What did you say to me? Stop walking, bitch.”

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My head: Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man.
Morgan’s head: What makes you think we’ll stop walking just ‘cause you told us to. Gosh, stop telling us to stop doing stuff! So dumb.
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We safely cross the street. We were wrong to think the traffic would stop her. She continues to tell us to stop walking. We continue walking until we reached the bus stop, where we would cowardly be in the company of three other people. After awhile, thinking that she may have calmed down, we turn to walk. I ask Morgan, “What are they doing?”

Morgan looks and calmly reports to me, “Well, one girl is running really fast on the street parallel to us. The other girl is not really doing anything.” I look.
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My head: Oh, fuck! Crazy bitch wants to intersect us. She’s serious.
Morgan: Why is she running?
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“Nevermind, Morgan. Let’s not go that way.” We walk back, and soon enough, she does as well.

“Okay, I can not lose my camera. I wouldn’t be so nervous if I wasn’t holding any valuables right now. We have to get out of here. Let’s take the bus.”

Morgan, “Aww, man. I don’t wanna use money.”

“We don’t have a choice, Morgan! Do you have two dollars on you?”

She briefly digs in her pockets. “No.”

I look at them again. She seems to be busy on the phone. A couple seconds later, I see a whole group of “wangster” guys circling her.

“Man! Morgan, can you believe we’re in this situation?”

“That girl is so bored. Can’t believe she called her guy friends out.”

“I know!”

“She’s so small, I bet I could beat her up if she didn’t have her boyfriends there,” Morgan nods in agreement with herself.
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My head: Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What are we going to do? I can’t believe I’m going to get beat up by wangsters. What the fuck is this? Oh, my God.
Morgan: Man, I bet they wouldn’t mess with us if I called my guy friends out here. .v.
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“Okay, Morgan. We have to get on the bus, with or without money.”

The bus comes.

“Morgan, I’ll do the talking.”

We board. I pathetically ask the kind bus driver to give us a ride. I explain the situation to her. She saved my life.
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My head: Phew..
Morgan’s head: They’re lucky. I would have unleashed my hellish powers on them and touch them with my oil. They would scream.

Urinary Bladder

Wednesday, July 16, 2008
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It was 3:15. I grabbed my voice recorder, notepad, pen, and notes, and was getting ready to head downstairs to interview the director of Kaiser’s Hubs and Core. Nervous, intimidated, afraid, I realized I really had to use the restroom. What is it with fear and anxiety that makes people really need to pee? I’m sure it’s not just me.

3:20 pm--So with my urinary bladder drained, there was no excuse to delay the interview any longer. I went downstairs, found the door, and knocked.

A cheerful lady with curly, golden hair opens the door.

“Hi, could you direct me to Shari’s office?” I ask politely.

“I am Shari,” she replies.

If I wasn’t so good at suppressing my emotions and feelings in public, my jaws would have dropped. If I was just two years younger, I would stare at her intensely, and the next sentence that would come out of my mouth would be a medley of stuttered words. But after all sorts of uncomfortable situations that I have experienced, I have become expert at smiling warmly even if there was absolute chaos burning within.

So I introduced myself. “Hi, my name is Nancy and I’m the intern who wanted to interview you about your career at Kaiser…” and then, for some reason, probably because of the fear of awkward silence, I couldn’t stop. I spent at least ten minutes talking about MYSELF in a 30 minute interview about HER. It was partly because she kept asking follow-up questions! Afterwards, she told me about her life and the many roles she has played in it. She was a world traveler, a consultant, clean-up crew in the Exxon oil spill in Alaska, firefighter, engineer, real estate broker, director, and now mother.

Shari has provided me with both wisdom and insight that will continue to encourage me in my future academic and professional endeavors. When I look at Shari’s approach to life and compare it to mine, I can not help to notice how opposing our personalities are. She is a risk-taker, and takes all life has to offer. She is not afraid of failure, and definitely not afraid to fully appreciate the big world, big community that we live in. Her lack of fear in the unknown and uncertain future and her affinity for new experiences has brought her here as a successful professional at Kaiser Permanente. If she had not enter through all the doors of opportunity that have been opened for her, she would be elsewhere today.

I strive to have that courageous character that Shari embodies. Unlike her, fear runs through my veins. But I realize that even though I may not be able to rid myself of that fear, I can not let it direct my life. Acting on fear is acting against success.

My 9,017-Word Post

There are so many doors in this place...a true adventure, scary (almost haunted-like), but certainly rewarding!

That's so funny-bunny! Shut up, it's not. Why are you so mean to me?

The lack of human contact in my secluded and remote office cubicle as put a toll on me. On one hand, I like the fact that I have freedom in my work environment. On the other hand, I’m not sure if talking to yourself is a healthy habit to develop. Over the past two weeks, my relationship with myself has developed into best-friend status—to the point where I have actual conversations with myself.

Me 1: Laughting at something stupid. Oh, that’s so funny-bunny (I also like to rhyme words).
Me 2: Omg, you’re doing it again.
Me 1: What?
Me 2: Stop talking to yourself.
Me 1: But it’s funny.
Me 2: People will think you’re crazy.
Me 1: So? It’s funny.
Me 2: It’s not even that funny!
Me 1: It’s funny to me.

It’s very likely that I need help. Socializing will probably solve the problem. But I’m not sure if I want to. I must admit, my life has become a lot more interesting. Finally, a person who gets my jokes!

Damn, right, you better not get rid of me. But what if want to, it’s not normal, you know? Normal people are boring. Mom calls me crazy! Mom’s crazy. Well, yeah…you're always right! :-)

It just occurred to me that if Me 3 is born, that would be extreme. I would use terms like "you guys" and "they" and "them." Lol. Omg, we would party all night long.

Snow

Scholarship essays--they're the worst! This one is about my travel experience, feedback/constructive criticism is appreciated. :-)

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Living in the Bay Area, the concept of “snow” seemed mystical to me. I knew it was real, just like how Santa Claus lives in the North Pole, a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, or how unicorns could be seen galloping in the forests as the radiant sunlight illuminates the forest canopy. But just like how I never went to the Arctic, followed a rainbow, or trekked in a forest, I could not relate to the concept of “snow” until I see it fall from the gray skies and into the warm embrace of my palms. Last winter in December, I had the opportunity to study abroad in China. I stepped out of the Beijing Airport and took my first breath of the winter air in China. I could see the vapor of my breath condensing to smoky trails that gently faded into the cloudy, polluted air Beijing.

But as always, life is disappointing. My dream of seeing snow was never realized, even in the middle of winter in China. What I saw was ice. What I saw was piles of ice shavings made from an invisible icee machine that magically appeared on the roofs of pagodas in SuZhou and sidewalk curbs when I was shopping on the streets of Shanghai. The street vendors selling ripped-off Rolex watches in the entrance of the Forbidden City told me, “It snowed last night!” In my dreams, “snow” wasn’t like a sneaky ninja that only operated in the darkness of the winter night.

I was gloomy, just like a lovesick teenager, yearning for the love-of-my-life, to literally drop from the skies. With my dream of seeing snow shattered, my entire world became a lot uglier to me—what I saw was probably something called “reality.” The country was rapidly industrializing. Construction workers were building skyscrapers that seemed like ladders to the sacred heavens. But all around, little shops and huts were marked with a red Chinese character—a character that symbolized its complete demolition and represented the sacrifice that had to be made in the lives of the Chinese people. And in the economic trade center of Shanghai, at first glance, it would appear that this city, was indeed wealthy. But outside of the Yu Yuan Bizarre were women in dirty clothes, with a baby in one arm, and extending their curved palm out with the other. They have a keen and desperate eye for travelers, taking advantage of their unfamiliarity with modern, Chinese society. The native Shanghaians, had Louis Vuitton handbags in their hands and Dolce & Gabbana shades that seem to not only block the UV rays, but the disparity in their rapidly transforming country.

Dry skies. Poverty. Materialism. I didn't have to travel abroad to see this. Our last stop was the Summer Palace in Beijing. The marvel that was the grand marble treasure of the Summer Palace, which took away from the Chinese people did not impress me. But what it sat on, what it was surrounded by--did.

There at the Summer Palace, I finally found peace. It was a chilly, winter afternoon. The winds gently brushed across my cheeks and combed my hair. The surface of the lake before me was blanketed with a sheet of ice. The trees surrounding me were naked and still. The world seemed to be asleep. It was beautiful and tranquil. But I noticed, there was still no snow. It was then that I realized that perfection can not be found anywhere on earth, even in the most beautiful of places. And that I found absolute beauty in a society, like all societies, that contained so many ugly things.

Path

The questions are unavoidable. When you’re around that age and you don’t appear that dim-witted, the same questions are asked of you:

“Where are you going?”
and…
“What is your major?”

I pretty much memorized the exact dialogue I respond with, since I get asked quite often. The same answers are always given:

“UCLA”
and…
“Neuroscience”

Then, the doubts come in. They tell me that the major is “difficult” and how “[they] wouldn’t be surprised if [I] change majors.” Their verbal expression of their lack in faith in me was done so harmlessly. And even though I get it so often, I am never too offended.

Because I know, they’re just being realistic with the on-the-spot-made-up-in-their-head statistic from word-of-mouth data.
Because I know, people all too often underestimate human ambition.
Because I know, their faith in me is irrelevant. Besides, there’s no way I could disappoint ;-)
And because I know, I would be happy whether I do change majors or stick to my current one.

I believe that life is a learning process. And with my interests in the field of neuroscience, I would be happy to be in a great university with the opportunity to study it. But maybe it really isn’t my calling; there are not many things that are certain in life. And if I do end up changing majors, I do not mind either because it means I’m another step closer to where I want to be. Everything that is “not right” for me brings me closer to things that are.

The Little Things

If I said I was "green," the real greenies would spit at my face. My parents still drive me with a gas car (gasp)! On a hot summer's day, I would readily turn on the AC (and since we're on the subject...the Bay Area is having a rather chilly summer this year). In the winter, I would turn on the heater instead of getting my ass up and grabbing a sweater (very stubborn about my t-shirt-all-year-long policy). But I've began changing my ways. And I wouldn't say that I'm "being green," but I would like to think that I'm being a more considerate person. Here are some changes in my life:

1. I'm currently typing this blog in the dark.
2. I shut down my computer everytime I leave for an extended period of time. (I was a person that left the computer on for months. And no, I'm not kidding. And yes, I'm serious)
3. Standby mode no longer exists. (Okay, that was a lie. It exists to a significantly lesser degree)
4. The bathroom with 5 switches, I now only use 2.
5. I brush my teeth in the dark (although I still can't floss in the dark...)
*6. My father drives half way to work and rides his bike for the remaining half. weird. o_o

Yes, in my attempt to live a more responsible life, I have become a creature of the darkness! It may be little...may be deemed "insignificant"...but I do what I can. And that's what I think everyone should do. Look around you, look at your life.

I think we often feel that being more "environmentally friendly" would somehow conflict with our rather comfortable lifestyles. In many ways, we live too lavishly. As an individual, the changes in our lives may be "small" in comparison, but "small," is a measurement of "something," and "something" is by no means synonymous with "nothing."