I want to take a moment to thank some of the people in my life.


Thank you Rude Neighbor Man. If it wasn't for your marijuana deals at 8:30 AM on Saturday mornings, I might never get up in time for the good donuts at Dunkin' Donuts. Your incessantly loud, incessantly awful music is so horrible, it renders sleep impossible for me. And I'd like to thank you for making sure that I can hear every word of your grammatically incorrect conversations--you teach me every day that my college education is not for naught. I would never want to end up like you: caught in the ghetto, dealing drugs so I can make the outrageously priced rent for a hole-in-the-wall apartment. My life will be better than yours because I will be able to make an honest and decent living. You give me the motivation to graduate.


Thank you Horribly Screechy Children. You give me a reason to procrastinate my homework with your shrill cries for 6 hours straight, giving me the time to do some Tai Chi Chih and watch an interesting documentary of The Secret Lives of Geisha. When you're right below my patio, yes, I have the urge to throw water balloons at you. But then I remember I don't have any water balloons. So I have the urge to throw eggs at you instead. But then I remember that my eggs are precious because I'm going to make the world's best chocolate chip cookies tonight, and I don't want to waste them on you guys. You kids play on a very sad, not-a-hill-but-it-is-kind-of-sloped-downward-from-the-shrubbery-area. You guys scream and laugh and giggle and play, honestly, for 6 hours straight, by creating makeshift sleds out of cardboard and garbage bags on the quickly melting 1-inch amount of snow. And you guys make me jealous, that not even snow makes me happy for as long as it does you, in Maryland. But you guys also teach me that maybe I shouldn't care as much about not doing homework for 6 hours, and rather, take those 6 hours and relax.


Thank you Very Bad Drivers That I Encounter Every Single Day On My Way To And From School. If it wasn't for the ways you cut me off, flip me off, honk, swerve, and nearly crash into me four days a week, I might not be as aware on the roads as I should be. See, my commute to campus is a fairly easy one: it's basically just 60 miles of straightness. But you guys make me alert, and force me to pay attention, so that I end up being a safe driver. Plus, you all make me value my life more than I ever thought possible. I cherish every day that I am not in an accident with one of you, because I will not allow myself to be victimized by your lack of competence on the road.


Thank you Professor Falco. Thank you for that 'C' you gave me in Medieval Literature. Some of the students from English 304 had a mini-reunion in English 307 this week, and we all laughed and cheered when we learned that we each had received 'C's in your class. We never worked so hard for a 'C' in our lives, so thank you for making us prepared for English 305, and thank you for showing us that not all grades come easily. I really learned in your class, and didn't just memorize.


Thank you Bedbugs. You've become my new phobia. You've taught me to be even more careful and mindful of thrift-store furniture and mattresses and clothes than I ever thought was possible. You're still not gone, but we're relentless against you. You've taught me the meaning of perseverance: you against us, and us against you. I don't know where you're still coming from, especially when our apartment is thoroughly poisoned. It must be from the birds and squirrels that infest the area and you must make your way through the walls and the roof. Well, my dears, the last time I saw you, I didn't freak out. I did lose hope that we'd ever be rid of you, but I was able to regain my composure and smite you good. When we leave this place, and Maryland, far behind us, in just 4 months--you. will. not. follow. You see, my dears, we're throwing away everything you've touched. And we're going to scour the moving van before we start moving furniture, just in case some of your little buddies are in there. You've made living in the ghetto, even more nightmarish. So I want to thank you for teaching me to never let my guard down. And to persevere. Even when my will is broken, to persevere.


Thank you Little Bamboo. I have seen you grow in just a week. I know you're stubby right now, but that's okay. You remind me that I need to remember to lay a foundation of happiness for myself before I'll be able to grow.


Thank you Lorie. For listening to the whining and the swearing when I've been overwhelmed over the last semester. You knew when to crack jokes, and when not to crack jokes. You tolerated my temporary insanity and proof-read my papers. And when on said proof-read papers, when I got a 'C' you supported the decision that those professors were crack-whores who didn't know a good paper about Online-Writing-Labs when it bit them in the butt. You were/are dealing with your own stuff, and yet still made time for me. And continue to do so. I know we haven't technically been friends for that long yet, but I really wanted to let you know that I appreciate every time we stay up until 7, 8, 9 AM talking and going to bookstores and expanding my musical borders.


Thank you Laura. For still writing to me, even though we haven't seen each other in a year. I miss you more and more with each semester that passes. And I always love your letters, and your e-mails. They seem to come when my day is at the grey-est point it can be, and your letters bring a much-needed spark of sunlight.


Thank you My Love for doing the dishes.



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I'm taking Badminton this semester as part of an undergraduate requirement, and here's what the syllabus says:


GRADING METHOD: P/F

Your grade in this class will be based on attendance and participation.

• More than 2 absences could result in a failing grade; 2 late arrivals = 1 absence

• You must wear appropriate attire to participate. Appropriate attire for this class is court or athletic shoes and shorts/Tshirt/sweats. Street clothes (including jeans) or shoes are not permissible.

• NOTE: You must attempt to participate in every activity.





Uh. We must wear seats or shorts? It's freakin' Badminton! How sweaty are we gonna get?


But anyway.


I got an 'A' in my math class. So that's awesome.


I went to my Spanish class today, and this profesora is really nice. The class seems a bit scary, but I think as long as I'm diligent, I'm pretty sure I can pull off at least 'B.' I'm going to get a tutor--which is free, courtesy of the language laboratory on campus.


So far, so good.

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I used to spend hours agonizing over a new design. But this was the easiest change-over ever. But that's probably because I'm keeping the same general layout.


I've been wanting to combine frogs and fairytales for a while, but never had the motivation because it used to be so time consuming. I had this up in less than half an hour. How cool is that!


Anyway...


I have a bone to pick with the show Charmed.




Well let's start at the beginning:

1. Charmed was never the best show by any means, but it was decent. And every once in a while they'd have a really really good show that would either make you think or tug at your heart strings, but not in a necessarily pandering kind of way.
   
   
2. Prue, Piper, and Phoebe (and now Paige since Prue's dead) never used to rely on men for strength, dependence, or identity. But this season, it's all about the men in their lives. If they're seperated, it's a tragedy. Saving world or saving innocent people or even their sisters no longer come first--it's all about standing by your man (I guess I missed that memo).
3. And speaking of men, Leo was the best. Leo is their "Whitelighter" or guardian angel (so to speak). His character was always consistent and he was genuinely likable. Piper even married him like 3 years ago, and they had a child last season (which was a darned good season actually). But this year, Piper and Leo got a "divorce" even though there was no reason for it. They still love each other, and they get along. But now that he's no longer their Whitelighter and he's an "Elder" (an in charge angel kind of guy) he supposedly wasn't going to have enough time to commit to their marriage anymore, and so they got a divorce. Which is CROCK because Leo is around more this season than any other season in the show's history.
   
   
4. The new Whitelighter, Chris, is annoying as Janice's laugh from Friends.
   
   
5. Piper and Leo have, for all intensive purposes, have been together since the beginning of the show (there were obstacles, but that's beside the point). That is 6 years. The show had constructed the foundation of their relationship so thoroughly, that it seemed rock solid. So the divorce was a complete shock (especially on account of reason #3). But okay, so they get their divorce. Less than a month later, Piper is dating and kissing other guys. Um... Does that strike anyone else as odd? After a break-up as significant as theirs, wouldn't the character of Piper need time to get used to not being with Leo? Dating and kissing and sexin' it up with not-that-hunky-firemen is just... inconsistent with her character.
   
   
6. The girls used to be resourceful, creative and strong on their own--and the family dynamic was written pretty well into the show. But now... the show is sounds worse than a R.L. Stine Fear Street novel put to screen. The dialog is inane. The plot has no coherency. And the editing is abrupt.
   
   
7. Yes, the show definitely had its formulaic moments--I mean, what show whose basis is saving the world from a different kind of evil every week doesn't have it's formulaic moments? But on the whole the show was diverse enough that it didn't bug me. Now all the episodes blur together.
   
   
8. And now they're stealing music from The Neverending Story. That's just low.
   
   

All of this inconsistency has led me to boycott the show. I used watch it reguarly on Sunday nights. But now I don't. In fact, B has reminded me that Charmed is on, and I don't care. I don't want to watch the crap they're shovelin'.


I'm sure I've left stuff out, so if you feel the pain as well, feel free to vent. Or if you've had this happen with a formerly beloved television show, then please let me know I'm not alone.




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I've practiced my guitar three times this last week. The first day was a bit depressing because it was hard to press the strings down since my fingers are too much flesh, not even callous. The second time I practiced, I had a hard time remembering how to strum in rhythm. And I also decided that if you're going to play songs you like to listen to, then it's kind of pointless to play them unless you sing at the same time. Last night, when I was playing, I was able to play Ode to Joy without even looked at my fingers on the strings. And I was able to play Pearl Jam's Wishlist from memory--also without looking at my fingers.


I have found out that most songs that I like are quite repetitive sounding, without the lyrics to accompany the music. And so I think I need new music.


So if you have a suggestion of music, please feel free to make it.

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And I'm not funny.

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Man, I suck.


I finally get a guitar that fits my hands this year's Christmas, which is good. But I suck, which is really bad. The calluses I used to have on my fingertips disappeared a long time ago, and so now I suck but also I painfully suck.


And I've decided that if you play guitar, it's kind of pointless unless you sing, too. And I don't think I can sing. In fact, I've had people ask me to shut up. The only person who has ever complimented my singing was my mom--and that was one time, like 5 years ago. And it doesn't count if your mom compliments you, it's her job. It's like that really sad joke, "Well, my mom thinks I'm cool!"


I can't paint, because my watercolors and my brushes are trapped in my mom's shed, 3000 miles away. And I'm not good enough of an artist to use the digital art pad that I got for Christmas last year because I have to look at my hands while I draw, and I have to see the result as I draw (or paint)--I can't look at a computer screen separately from my hand. It's too difficult for me. Nothing comes out right.


And I haven't been motivated enough to make a new design for any aspect of my website. Which is strange, because I usually have too many ideas and it's hard to choose just one.


So to recap:

1. I cannot sing.
   
   
2. I cannot play guitar.
   
   
3. I cannot write anything creative.
   
   
4. I cannot paint.
   
   
5. I cannot design.
   
   

At least I have Tai Chi Chih? ButI don't even look graceful when I do that...


I wish there was something I was good at, other than, ya know, figuring out all the things at which I suck.



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I believe I aced my math final.


I've never been able to say that about anything math related. Ever.


It's about friggin' time!


Woohoo!


When I turned in my test, my professor looked over it and then looked up and said, "Very good job!" And I asked him to e-mail my grade on the final, because I'm really interested to know, and so I should find out Monday or Tuesday. It is possible that I could get better than 100% because there was an extra credit question at the end worth 7 points that I know I nailed.


Oh. And today, I was driving during rush hour, and there's a certain large intersection, and about half of the people were trying not to block it, while the other half would beat at those people and swerve around to block the intersection. I was waiting at a stoplight whose intersection was going between being clear and being clogged. And their green light was fairly long. But it ended up being hilarious because the people who were trying to be nice and not clog it didn't win, and so the intersection was blocked. Except I was in the middle of 3 lanes. And there was just enough space for me and my car to get through. I mean, I had to honk at a SUV to move up (he was like a whole car length behind the car in front him, you'd think he'd try to conserve as much room as possible for the cross traffic, but no. So I was forced to use the horn.) So he moved up, and it was just enough room between the SUV's butt and a Mustang's front bumper for me to squeeze through. I bet all the other cars in the two outer lanes were pissed. But what am I gonna do? Sit there and wait until all three lanes are clear enough to go, that way no one is left out?


Nah.


Rarely does driving ever amuse me, but I have to say, that was a hoot.





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I thought I'd never see A Beautiful Mind. Really. I hate Russell Crow. I mean, was the Academy of Arts and Sciences just itchin' to give the guy an Academy Award, so they jumped the gun and gave him the Oscar for Gladiator--a piece of crap so large that even Fat Bastard would be impressed? I mean, I was horrified that year because I was thoroughly un-impressed with everything related to Gladiator, but most of all the superb lacking of acting and wrongful casting. (I used to hate Joaquin Phoenix after that movie as well, because he was the wussiest Julius Caesar that I could possibly imagine.) Okay, I hated the camera movement during fight sequences as well. But that's beside the point of why Russell Crow annoys me.


However, everyone is allowed to make mistakes. Kevin Smith did it with Mallrats (although I happen to find that movie amusing), but he made up for it with Chasing Amy. Jim Carrey did it with Cable Guy (although, again, I actually liked the black comedy aspect of that movie) but made up for it with Liar, Liar. Maybe even Russell Crow is allowed to make up a non-performance in Gladiator with A Beautiful Mind, because: Oh. My. God.


A Beautiful Mind was actually good. I don't know if it deserved the Best Picture of the Year award, but that's probably because I'm partial to The Fellowship of the Ring. However, why in the world would you give an Oscar to a guy who apparently can act for a movie where he didn't do any acting at all, when a mere year later, he gives a remarkable performance as a West Virginian, paranoid schizophrenic, mathematical genius John Nash, Jr. I think it would have been a much wiser decision to reward Crow's performance in A Beautiful Mind than in Gladiator.


I used to have a grudge against this movie because it stole the oscar from The Fellowship of the Ring and it starred one of the actors I begrudged the most... but all prejudices aside, it was a terrific film. Truly. I was thoroughly moved by the performances by both Crow and Jennifer Connelly (whom I've had an affection for since her Labyrinth days).


Even though it was pointless and petty, I held a grudge against an actor and a movie for nothing. It feels good to let go.

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I wonder if I would have been a math major. Or maybe even an engineer.


You know something's up when I start to question my direction in life. I've pretty much always known that I wanted to do something in English. I mean, the role within the English Major realm has often changed: from wanting to be a 6th grade teacher, to just being a writer, to being an editor, back to being a hermit writer, to owning my own small publishing house, to being a screenwriter, to being a playwright, to finally wanting to teach creative writing at the university level...


But then I went and took a math class...


Granted, it's just a 100-level math course. Just something for non-science related majors to fulfill their undergraduate math required credit. But it's been one of the most interesting classes... there are so many uses for math that I had no idea about. I was so blinded by my anti-math attitude that I never realized that this actually has real life applications that are altogether fascinating.


However, as I commented to Lorie, had math been this interesting in high school, I would have continued onto Algebra II and all that good stuff. Because I stopped at geometry because 1) I couldn't make it into town the day the class was offered and 2) I figured since only geometry was required to graduate, I could take fun classes instead.


Because even though we're covering basic concepts like game theory, linear programming, different kinds of voting systems, logic, Euler circuits and those kinds of things... It's very interesting. And it's all coming so easily to me, which is strange. Because I don't remember math being this easy.


I think if I was able to get the basics down, I would be able to continue in a math or science related field. I mean, I have always wanted to be a marine biologist--primarily a shark biologist. I've wanted to do that since 5th grade. Or maybe I could end up being a computer animator afterall... In 6th grade I really wanted to work at Pixar (this would have been around 1992-93). My dad even bought me a computer animation program, and I was always feverishly working on that. Of course, it was on an Amiga computer (remember those? hahaha). But everyone always told me that if you wanted to be a computer animator, you had to be good at math, and I had always struggled with math, and so I figured that my chances were shot.


All of this is starting to make me wonder if the course of my life could have been different. But it's really all Lorie's fault. She's the one who put the idea into my head about going on to get another degree in marine biology, after I graduate with my degree in May, of course.


So many possibilities...

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I bought a “lucky bamboo” today. I went to Target, since it was the closest place I knew that sold the plants. I lurked around the corners of the store, and finally found a small, fluorescent-lit aisle dedicated to all things horticultural. To my right were the dust-free, phony purple orchids, fabric ferns and a vast array of stylish vases and pots. On my left, was a small collection of forgotten and struggling bonsai trees that had lost nearly all of their miniature leaves, which now covered the metallic shelf in a desolate brown pattern. The bamboo was tucked away at the opposite end of the aisle, and there were only three left, all of which were a healthy slightly-muted-lime-green color. For $12.99, I was ready to share the journey of my growth with a “lucky bamboo.”


I had read online that the “lucky bamboo” on the market today is not really bamboo, but just a plant that looks and grows like bamboo. Either way, I needed a hearty little plant that could survive without much sunlight, as my apartment doesn't get “direct sunlight.” I was willing to compromise not having real bamboo, like the kind I had grown up with back home in California, for a “lucky bamboo” that would mark the beginning of a spiritual transformation that was sparked by my Tai Chi Chih class.


It used to be that I dreaded every time I left my apartment, because it always felt like I was fighting to survive. Whether it was on the Beltway—where I had never encountered such dangerous driving conditions in my life; or just walking to the 7-11 across from my apartment building—where stares from strangers always remind me of the way hungry coyotes circle their prey. I used to blame Maryland for the way I felt: drained and desolate—because in California I used to be happy and I used to care. But in Maryland, I was allowing the bitterness to seep into my personality when I’d take the Toyota Camrys of the world cutting me off personally. I allowed the apathy to grow in my soul as I saw the field next to my apartment complex fill up with anonymous garbage. Even statistics justified the building of my disgust: Washington, D.C. was the murder capital of the country—“This is where I live!” I’d say in exasperation. The Maryland/DC area is the second worst place to drive, but harbors the least considerate drivers in the country—“And I have to battle them for 60 miles every single day,” I’d say in utter surrender. When I’d walk up the steps to my apartment, I could feel my feet clomping away lifelessly. My heart was browning and withering, like the leaves on the forgotten bonsai trees on that Target shelf. I knew I had to somehow stop allowing my surroundings dictate the way I felt, but I also felt powerless to do so. I was stagnant in a state of self-paralysis, and I admit, I was quite content to let Maryland take the blame for how I felt. It’s usually easier to place the blame somewhere else, rather than owning my actions.


However, in the Tai Chi Chih class, I must own my actions. I have to be one with the movements of my body, and I decide how and where my body moves. TCC has forced me to take charge of myself, which is a seemingly obvious aspect of the exercise, but for me it was a revelation to a new way of thinking. Whenever I begin to feel as though I am losing control of my emotions and allowing the environment to dictate my actions, Around The Platter Variation always pops into my head. I just let that “ball” of paralyzing and stagnation drop from my hands, I don’t need or want it anymore. I just let that “ball” of paralyzing and stagnation drop from my hands, I don’t need or want it anymore. It’s no longer like pulling taffy to take responsibility for my emotions, for they are my own, and there is no reason to place blame anywhere. Instead, I can turn to the Tai Chi Chih movement Pulling Taffy to release the tension, instead of anchoring it within myself.


At the moment, yes, my “lucky bamboo” is a little on the stubby side. It's nothing like the tall and majestic bamboo that I remember from my backyard. Even though my little baby “lucky bamboo” isn't tall and isn't majestic, I believe that I have more in common with this plant than I do with the bamboo of my memory. It's not as graceful or as pliable as the twelve-foot shoots that to which I am accustomed. But it's just a sapling, and so it's okay if it's not as flexible right now. It must build itself a sturdy base before it learns how to bend; it needs to grow before it can stretch. In this way, I feel strangely akin to this little green plant. I, too, must learn to root myself in the ground before I can allow my body to move with fluidity. If I am to continue growing in the future, I must learn how to embrace my environment, without allowing it to affect my mood. I must be the one in control of my growth.


I plan to continue practicing the Tai Chi Chih movements on my own, and I’ll look to my “lucky bamboo” to serve as a reminder of the physical, emotional and spiritual growth that is possible.




The

bamboo

bends and gives

with the grey storm

and returns

again

still.





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I've been without motivation for a while. I thought graduating would be my source of motivation. I thought getting the hell out of Maryland, could also, be another source of motivation. But it has not. My grades for last semester read: B, B, C, C. I only had 4 classes, 12 credits, but it was just about the hardest semester I can remember. And it wasn't just the course work, it was everything. This place... the people... the phenomenally horrible drivers... Me... I had a really big problem with myself last term, that I cannot quite put into words. I remember trying to write an essay about all of my wonderful qualities for graduate school applications, but it seemed so fake. I started to wonder why the heck would these places want me anyway? The effort I put forth to applications was lacking at best. I wouldn't be surprised if none of the grad school accept me--especially after my grades this last term.


Anyway... I found out my grade for my writing internship class, and that was one of the 'C's I received. I felt majorly betrayed, because I was an awesome tutor. So what if my tutoring logs didn't use "tutoring language"? But it just turns out that those teachers are evil, and held some kind of grudge against me the entire semester. And I don't usually whine like that. I mean, if I do a half-assed job in a class--I admit it: like when I only went to 4 classes of American Musical Theatre all semester all and got a C. Or if a class really busts my butt and I'm grateful for the grade I got: like the C I got in British Medieval Literature and Biology. But when I'm given a grade unfairly, it just pisses me off--because, well, that's never really happened before. It's like I've picked up an anger ball and haven't been able to set it down. And I crave for some kind of distraction.


Even now, I should be doing some math homework since I have a test tomorrow, but instead my website has consumed my entire attention today.


Maybe my priorities are screwed up.


"Yeah, probably."


Stop talking to yourself, Sammy.


"Okay."


See! Look at all the bad habits I picked up while I wasn't blogging!


In other news...


I've been taking Tai Chi Chih (pronounced "Chu" like "Chuck," without the "ck") and a math class, and it's been going really well. I'm doing really well in my math class. I guess if I can survive a junior level physics course without any background in science or math--whatsoever--and still get a B in that class, I can survive a 100 level math class.


As for Tai Chi Chih, it's been a very enlightening and opening experience. I thought the "Chi" was just something people used to make fun of New Age people on television. Or maybe something Zen Buddhist monks felt. But it wasn't something that I'd ever be able to feel.


But when I do the movements, I'm actually able to feel an energy--something I can only describe that's like holding two really huge magnets with opposite polarity in the palms of my hands. And when I'm really into the exercises, it feels like I'm moving through water. But friction-less water.


It's pretty cool.


And so this Tai Chi Chih thing is helping me let go out of that ball of anger that I've been carrying around. Letting go is not as easy as I thought it was going to be... but already my shoulders feel lighter than normal. When I leave the apartment, and see the broken bottles, used condoms, cigarette butts and coffee cups littering the ground around my car, I am no longer angry. When I drive, and people cut me off, or are just stupid, I am no longer angry. When I play my guitar, I don't get upset with myself for strumming the wrong strings. And when I would usually be appalled with myself and my grades last semester, this semester I am not. All of the petty things are just falling around me and I no longer allow it effect me. It's a really great feeling. Even better than the "Chi."


But most of all, I'm not going to stress out about going to graduate school. I'm only 22 years old. If I don't get in now, I'll try next year, or maybe the year after that. I'm not in a hurry.



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