tributes

so today, on my usual "eavesdropping on mother's phone conversations in case she talks smack about me" missions, I heard my mom talking to a friend of hers who wanted to know about the good violin teachers in town. Of course, my mom recommended my own violin teacher, Davis Law. And usually, when I determine that the conversation is indeed not about me, I tune her out, but this time, I couldn't tear myself away. the almost 7 years I spent under Davis' helping hand all came flooding my memory and I suddenly became extremely nostalgic and just bloody fucking sad.

Davis, I guess, was one of those people in my life who grew on me. We never started off as best friends... I remember the few times I've sat in the car ride back with tears after a disappointing lesson- not even few times, it must have been dozens. But as I grew, he grew with me. By the end of our lessons, we had grown into the best of friends- he knew of all the burdens that even my friends did not know of, he offered the truest, soundest, and wisest of advices, he made me truly laugh, and basically made me believe that I could accomplish what I have now. He is living proof that the best friendships develop over time. And though it took us almost 5 years to get to that point, his presence in more than a third of my life has deeply and thoroughly affected me. He not only made me a better violinist (kind of), but he also made me a better person. I still think back to all the times I would go into his lesson feeling like absolute rubbish all through junior year, but come out feeling refresh and rejuvenated. I remember the time I was extremely wound up because I was caught in a tight situation regarding my mother, and he talked me through the mess, ignored the frustration in the massacre I made of the Mendelssohn because he understood what I was going through. And then he would believe in me when I felt virtually no one did. He didn't judge me, berate me, hate me, or lecture me when I told him about the incident junior year that I don't talk about much because it still kind of kills me a little inside. Sometimes I'd wait on telling my parents any good news so I could tel Davis first. I remember that baffled and slightly disgusted look on his face as I sat before my lesson next to his trash can clipping my nails. And the way our conversations always started: "Did you practice?" "Nope" "Why not?" Or when he'd pick at my inferiority complex to my sister, laugh and joke about it, then remind me of how capable I am. Or the time he slapped a bug on his hand with such force, my mom jumped in her seat. Or his bad ankle and how he went through a month with it propped up on a chair next to him. Or the multitudes of college sweatshirts he wore, the UCDavis one being his favorite. And how he would offer me kimbabs that his wife would pack him every week, proudly stating the ingredients to each kind (those were goddamn delicious too.) Then he'd nudge my elbows when I started bowing incorrectly and that pissed me off so much sometimes, I'd purposely play horrendously. There was that time when I just could not play the E minor scale correctly for my life, so he bet that for ever mistake I made in the next lesson, I owed him a quarter, and if I played it correctly, he would give me a quarter. I played that scale so slowly the next week, and he was so reluctant to give me that 25 cents but he did so in the end, along with a sticker.

So this is a tribute to Davis Law, the one person who may have made one of the biggest impacts on my life- hobbies, tastes, morals, humor, and confidence.

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on another note, I got a new phone. And I am in love with it. Somehow, my blog counterpart seemed to think this new phone was a sign of a completely new Rachel and that is completely untrue. I didn't get a new number so I can break off from my life here, nor did I change my area code as some gesture of finality. In fact, I'm having a slightly difficult time registering this change that is about to come crashing down on me... it's a raging understatement to say I'm a little scared for college and my future. I have never really adapted to change well and I especially have never been good at goodbyes. So with the mentality that the goodbyes I say are actually only just "see you later"s, I suck up that cowardliness get on with... packing... ha, ha.

My procrastination regarding my packing is part laziness and part refusal. Though I have to defend that I am further than most of the people I have been talking to but that I guess is no excuse.

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Before this gets too tedious... let's see, almost half of tfc has gone for college... I wish you guys the best of luck and please party fucking hard.

Peace

by the way. That Green Day concert I've been talking about... oh I haven't blogged about it yet? yeah that's because I plan to post all the amazing photos and videos along with it. Basically, it was the best grad present I could ever ask for.

Outliers

Last night, I shared a few beers with my father and discussed the inevitable situation of our infinitely separated family. I don’t normally like talking about this, but it’s not because it’s made me emotionally unstable or lacking; I simply don’t feel the need to. It’s not an aspect of my life that necessarily defines me. It’s certainly changed me and affected my “path to adulthood.” But I’m still me, you know? Or you don’t know. Actually, even I don’t know. The point is, I have never really been in a completely complete family, but I’ve gotten so used to it that in those rare instances the four members of my family coexist under the same roof, I feel uncomfortable. It’s unnatural for me. It’s always been my mom, sister, and me. Or my mom and me. Or me. But that was life as I knew it and it never crossed my mind as significant until yesterday, while reading Malcolm Gladwell’s novel, Outliers: The Story of Success.

In the section detailing the “Trouble with Geniuses,” Gladwell suggests that high IQs, or intelligence as we know it, don’t necessarily lead to success. Such is the case for Christopher Langan, with an IQ of 195 (Einstein’s was 150), who now resides in a farm in Missouri with his wife. The reason is the intelligence necessary for acclaimed, successful geniuses: practical intelligence, the art of getting what one wants in the world. Gladwell then explains the reason as explicated in various case studies: the genius child’s upbringing, usually closely correlated with his or her socioeconomic situation. A child raised in a middle-class home grows up learning how to speak to authority figures and question adults. They understand that authority figures exist to guide and help them, and thus utilize that guidance for their own good. For example, one of the case studies goes to the doctors with his mother, and his mother tells him to ask the doctor any questions if he has any. The boy then asks the doctor after his examination about some bumps under his arms, inquiring what they are and asking the doctor to take a look. On the other hand, children raised in a poor home learn to fend for themselves and never ask for anything from their superiors. The most prominent example is Christopher Langan, raised in a family of 5 children and an abusive father. In return, Christopher grows up resenting the authority figure, consequently failing to gain any practical intelligence.

I just wrote up a fucking book report (I couldn’t help myself, that section was too bloody interesting) because I have to sort out what went through my head as I read this. Although I can’t really say I am from a low-income family, I was raised with the mentality of taking what I can get and taking care of myself. All through my adolescence, I was often on my own, and though I never begrudge that, I learned that it not only made me prone to homealoneness, but also resistant to receiving assistance. How do I know this? I’m deathly afraid of Korean department stores because of the clothing store workers who loom over my shoulder, saying in their saccharine voices, “Do you need some help?” When the man at the restaurant gives me the wrong order, I say nothing and eat what I’m given—this one especially, since I noticed that my parents enabled this behaviour by not doing anything as well. And I’m the kid who goes to the doctor with all these problems, but bounces out as soon as the examination if over. I dislike asking my teachers for anything—I usually dislike asking anyone for anything. I can’t say if it’s necessarily a bad thing or not since I’m not really an extreme case (I don’t even know if I’m a case at all) in this study, but I must be extremely interested in child development psychology or something. Now, I analyze all my cousins’ actions and speculate just how they were raised… it’s kind of fascinating yeah? Bottom line is, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS BOOK.

Moving on, I started off by telling the story of father daughter bonding time because I intended to write this entry detailing my sentiments on coming back to Korea for so long. Since I’ve exhausted a lot of my energy gushing about the new revelations I had, I’ll just say what Korea has done for me in a nutshell.
-I love this city life. It’s invigorating. There are so many things to do. I’m rarely that bored. (Sometimes, I am)
-I love the place I’m staying… the bit more country-like city of Deokso placed so nicely next to the river.
-Korea, though, still is not the country for me. It has a very distinct shallowness you can only experience after actually staying here for a while.
-I love the service in Korea, but not the every day people on the streets. They’re not as friendly and opening as the people back at home.
-I highly dislike the girls in Korea. Enough said.
-I mildly dislike the men in Korea. More specifically, the “men.”
-I really really enjoy my students! Or at least, one of them. I don’t know if I’m allowed to have favorites but I do. XD
-I also really like my cousins! It does help that I haven’t seen my little vixen from hell yet.
-Casually sipping beers with dad at a restaurant while my mom laughs at my asian glow... priceless.
-I also really like the culture. I actually love traditional Korean music. Not so much the recent Wonder Girls, SNSD shit that play NONSTOP here.
-I miss home… a nice picture message from my sister with snowflake made me actually incredibly nostalgic.

Moving on, I got new shoes today, and usually, I don’t share news like this but I have to say, these make me feel very happy. They’re not like any shoes I’ve owned before but they were just calling to me.



Otherwise..... Korea's fine, I'm fine, so I guess I'll leave this blog on a happy note for once. Hardy har har.

lmaonade.

an empty ramble

the feeling of senioritis rushing through my veins is not a good one. The feeling is familiar. It is me walking around school or wherever, not knowing where I'm going, why I'm going, and how I'm going... kind of drained the purpose of living from me and that was the only thing that kept me going. Kind of like those fish that died because they took out the sharks because what's the point of living when there's nothing to live for- survival. And I always needed a goal, a purpose, and not one that I make up for myself because I know down there that it's a fake one and I need the complete truth to convince myself of the truth. So I can't shoot for that 4.0 because I know in my heart that it means nothing to me- anymore, that is. I also remember being surrounded by those zombie-like seniors last year, yearning to feel what they felt with no worries or stress but senioritis is a dubbed a disease for a reason. it's like those viruses that see you're a-okay so it does whatever it can to fuck you up and I doubt there's actually a virus that does that or if there is then surprise me. But you know what I mean? It's like you say you have no troubles, so you go out and make yourself more trouble. That's human nature? is it? because that is the worst punishment God can give to mankind. I think satisfaction is the greatest feeling on Earth, and I think it is the greatest because it is the most unattainable. My brain is empty.
In my free time I like to ponder a lot of things like religion or human behaviour, especially my own because there is nobody I want to know better than myself. And after studying myself and the things I do and the things I say, I come to a conclusion that man is inherently evil- like Hobbes said. And though when we learned him, I thought, what a man, what a cynic, what a blubbering pessimist, it feels correct. sometimes, I can't differentiate a lie from the truth, especially the ones I say myself because by then, I've convinced myself that I am ultimately correct. It's either a defense mechanism or just a really bad ego but it's the constant self-justification that undercuts all my actions. And by then, my actions are what they truly are- acts. So I dig, but the further I dig, the more my actions become even deeper acts, and the hole only gets bigger and wider and all encompassing.
everything's to happen after watching spaceships crash into outerspace matter for two hours and loving every bit of it; live long and prosper

i also wonder why there are always so many spring birthdays.

i can hardly walk, where is my advil?

Today is Cal Day hence I am awake at 6am. Rachel and I will be taking the BART all the way up and down. Because I broke my cellphone two days ago while I was down in San Diego, I do not have any of my own means of communication. This normally would not bother me, but the last time I traveled significantly far without a line, and by this I mean- took the highway, my car broke down, I had to abuse it to get it off the highway, walk to a local cafe to ask to borrow a phone, and wait awkwardly for 45 minutes or so until my friends were able to pick me up.

Hm. I had more to say, but I am now done taking a crap.

good day as I wash up and get my Cal plans ready to be executed

one hundred

Today, I called Jacqueline to go hiking. It ended in disaster. It was disastrous. Jacqueline failed me. THAT IS ALL

THAT IS HOW I AM WASTING OUR 100TH POST.

busy!

we are nearing our 100th post, but at the rate Jacqueline and I are going, we'll probably never get there. It's like we're secretly playing that game where you pick out 1-3 marbles from a pile of... a lot and you try not to pick the last marble. Let's see who gets that cursed 100th.

Let's see... second semester is horrendous. I've actually never felt so stressed and anxious in my life. Even my junior year was a lot (a LOT) more relaxing than this. Not only are my goddamn AP classes trying to drill me to a desk, chain me to a wall, and rape me to death, but these college decisions are leaving me in a state of clueless surreality. What, where, how? College? That shit was always foreign to me. I thought I'd spend my second semester living in the present and living for the future, but I have spent more time thinking about the past- the things I could have done differently and the things I'm glad I did. I mean, it's too late now, but maybe I'm just trying to reminisce.

Enough of that. I've added another two TV shows to my healthy collection. I have to admit, though, that Kings was a slight disappointment. I started it to fulfill my secret fantasies of watching a show based on tyrannical monarchies and elite nobility, but I guess that stuff is best in Elizabethan England (or even before! King Henry VIII and his six wives? fascinating!). It was way too modern and unrealistic for me, but the acting is pretty impressive and it doesn't hurt that the main character looks like a younger, fresher Matt Damon with a splash of James Dean's sultriness. Castle is also interesting, and I rarely say that about ABC shows (adult Disney channel). I was so excited to see Captain Mal Reynolds back on the small screen, this time playing a flirty but sharp writer. I'd tel you I started watching it because of my sister, but I'm pretty sure my subconscious was won over at the word "castle." And I do not have a fetish for anything royal.

I made myself a schedule for this week, but I am already killing it. I should actually be doing gov homework right now. SSS, forreal.

I also recently discovered Nature Valley granola bars. I always pushed it away after some bad experience with energy bars in general, but my eyes have been opened.

Trust nobody.

107

All it took was Malware... and 3 hours early morning of battling it out against the 'AntiVirus 360' worm and dozens of Trojan Vundos. My computer crashed about four times, the screen turned a deadly blue two times, and I repeatedly slammed my face into my laptop, wailing, the whole way through. Just imagining a parasitic worm wiggling through my precious Pikey repulsed me. I was a mother watching her child get sick- really sick- after a week of fevers and coughs, and it was such a helpless feeling.

But healing my laptop is such a relief. I felt pretty hacker logging into my system configuration and registry; I feel like I know my computer better now. I guess whipping my child really lets our blood flow as one. (ha ha ha.)

Anyways, I shall be more careful where I go now. I'm pretty sure the trojans came from all the Chuck I was watching on different sites. This is why I do not trust sidereel but... desperate times called for desperate measures.

I've been pretty disconnected from the world this week- mostly because I spent most of my days sleeping and watching Chuck. Thursday was probably the worst because I had no cellphone and the viruses affected my gtalk and facebook- cut off from all means of communication.

I finally uploaded pictures from Korea onto my laptop, and I plan to pick out a few to put in a facebook album. Because nothing is official until it is on facebook.

That has been my life. I think I also deserve to die in Assassin because I am very half-assing this game now. Eyes on the prize.

today was also an adventure. Oh, the things we sacrifice to see some pandas on a wall.