Ghosts of the Past

Tonight, I humored myself with a delightful movie starring Matthew McConaughey and Jennifer Garner: the Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. Though the movie itself was utterly predictable and the moments too perfect to be true, I couldn't help but realize that so many situations in my life could turn out the same way.

The entire lesson of the movie can be summed up in a couple words: What goes around comes around. Naturally, McConaughey plays a young, successful man dubbed Connor Mead who lives life to the lees; well at least in a sexual context. Let's just say that he is the epitome of what most of us, girls, call a player. With absolutely no sense of commitment and what I call, marital-phobia, he picks up and throws aside girls like a stack of worn-out cards. The night before his "kid brother's" wedding, Connor nearly ruins the greatest moment of both his life and his brother's. Quite pathetically, he seems arrogantly oblivious of the disaster he wreaks; that is, until the ghosts of his past girlfriends visit and completely change him.

Seeing the numerous girls of his past parade before his eyes, Connor begins to realize that all of it resulted from a feeling of desperation and a fear of feeling heartbroken. When left on the floor alone, choked up over his failure to ask his childhood friend-turned-love to dance, Connor sees her, Jenny Perotti, kiss another guy and never did he forget that moment. Years later, Connor has found a way to never feel that emptiness again, simply by shutting out his emotions and refusing to feel attached to any girl who comes into his life.

And to me, I don't know which is the saddest part: to lose touch with your feelings or to live perpetually alone with nobody to truly share your life with. Being heartbroken is perhaps the worst thing you could ever wish upon anyone. To let someone in, to allow someone to know your most intimate thoughts and emotions, only to see him step out of your life and leave you staring after where he used to be - that is the worst pain for any girl. Yet at the same time, harboring an inability to attach to an important person in your life is just as excruciating. The end of the movie ties up the package with a beautiful red bow: Connor's younger brother marries the love of his life, and Connor finally opens up, letting himself fall in love with Jenny all over again.

That's why I always believe that despite all the challenges and heartache, one day, I'll meet the perfect guy, too.

So Not Ready

"11th grade..that's like Form 5 for me..and in Hong Kong, after Form 5, most would go out and work," my father reflected out loud. I met these words with silent shock.

My father was raised in the urban mess of Hong Kong in the years when Britain had considerable influence in virtually every aspect of Cantonese life. As a result, the educational system was quite British as well, and Form 5 was the grade that nearly all men reached before settling in for economically-driven adult lives. To hear that 11th grade was the American version of Form 5 seemed surreal to me: I am most certainly not ready to move out, get a job, and start a family.

Junior year has been hectic, busy, relentless. Filled to the brim and about to burst, the myopic activities my life currently revolves around fundamentally leaves me unprepared for the much larger picture. How to live out there in the big world where there isn't a friendly Harker teacher to help me along the way.

Looks like I have a long year ahead of me.

Today, I had the pleasure of sitting in the back loading zone for about half an hour, waiting for my ride who was stuck in traffic. While I watched parents arrive and students pile into the passenger seats or take over the driver's side, I amused myself by looking at how the drivers would proceed in leaving the pick-up zone. (Pathetic, I know) Most would back up before making the turn to exit, but the curious thing was, most cars could fit simply by turning without backing up. But I knew what held them back, to take that extra precaution, because though it was such a mediocre act in the mess of everything else, I'd found the perfect reflection of the same apprehension in everything we do.

For centuries, the future has been regarded as something ominous hanging above our heads, waiting for the exact moment to explode. The uncertainty of each forthcoming minute creates a tension, a blossoming fear of what was going to happen to us at the end of those 60 seconds...

Oracles, fortune-tellers, palm-readers -- all would attempt to tell of your future, comfort you by making the unknown known, but the truth is: they know nothing. We approach life with a certain lack of perception, a blindness that renders us unable to see through the haze. And that explains why so many people make conservative decisions that would ultimately ensure survival. Conservative actions such as tentatively backing up before making an already-safe turn.

Despite the pessimism that underlies this so far, there's a bright side, just as there always is. What would life be without taking chances? The most beautiful things can come from good fortune. What would love be without challenges or mistakes? It would become nothing for without error, love would be a burnt-out fuse.

There are probably some who will take this and go out living with a grain of salt. But that's not what I plan to do or what I intended. Opportunities await, and I want to do a bit of my own exploring. Experiment with luck, with happiness, with love. Cause remember, in the end, there's always second chances.

Head vs. Heart

One of my close guy friends asked me today, "Why are girls so fickle?" I've been mulling over those words as the day flew by and I realized that his question, though denigrating, was a very good one.

Why is it that so many times in so many different situations, our heads tell us one thing while our hearts tell us another? Reason versus Emotion. In addition to being a phrase taught in AP US History in regards to the Enlightenment and the Great Awakening, these two simple words underly every decision that we make, whether it be deciding which savoring candy to buy at 711 or which person you'll love for the rest of your life.

Over the years, I've found myself in this exact sticky situation: should I listen my practical voice or what my heart is telling me? Taking a look at the words of wisdom from eclectic sources:

Disney tells their viewers at a young age to follow their hearts because for some reason, every single time the main character does so, he or she always ends up with quite a happy ending. By the time those little children grow up to be about my age, believe me, that happy ending seems fairly unattainable.

Novels, from the most contemporary to the most classic, seem to romanticize and create this vivid variation of Cinderella's fairytale ending. They follow the same trend as Disney, spelling out clearly to their readers that the heart and satisfaction is oftentimes much more important.

I, on the other hand, by following my heart, have fallen into many a trap. Don't get me wrong: following your heart gives you that Disney-guaranteed self-satisfaction. But love, in the strangest of ways, muddles the most practical of people and brings out the deist side in all of us.

On one hand, I don't see what's wrong with letting our emotions take us over once in a while. But on the other hand, it always ends in nothing but tears and heartbreak. Even though we hate to admit it, we all make mistakes when it comes to listening to our heads or our hearts.

I guess I'll never really understand.

The Beginning

Here we are, starting on yet another year and this time, everything matters. And guess what, I'm scared. I'm scared about looming grades, the formidable GPA, frightening APs, and the monster of them all: the SAT. Almost everyone in college or beyond tells me that this year makes you or breaks you. Naturally, as we all try to be optimists, we hope our lives rest on the previous.

What happened to those frivolous days when I need not worry about homework or tests or even class? What happened to the days when an hour or so was solely dedicated to naptime? My mind was constantly on a fun random puzzle, an excitingly useless game with friends, or simply asleep. I miss those days.

Sometimes, I wish I could turn back the clock, invert the hourglass a couple times like Hermione in Harry Potter, but if I did, I wouldn't change anything. Perhaps, prolonging that innocence and that youth could be the recipe of dreams, but we all have to grow up one day. And as we grow up, more is expected from us and hopefully, with each year comes great wisdom. And before long, we'll go to college, grow up to be unique individuals, succeed. I wonder where we'll all be in 5, 10 years.

Late at night, as I studied for an AP US History test the next day, consumed by every conceivable specter of stress, I promised myself that once in a while, even at the worst possible moment, I deserve a break.

I think it's time for all of us to take one long, deep breath cause junior year has just begun.

For the Love of Music

The flurry of sophomore year had placed piano last on my long list of activities: debate, basketball, school...Beethoven's voice no long filled my mind at midnight, but rather the voices of calculus and chemistry always lingered. There seemed no end to my study, my homework, my tests: only a ceaseless cycle of overwhelming stress.

Even my last days of summer dwindled down to SAT prep, where critical reading, writing, and mathematics were constant reminders of my anxiuos need to improve. One night, in one of rare moments to catch a breath, I sat down on that leather bench and proceeded to strum a few bars of Lucky by Jason Mraz, a personal favorite. I found myself piecing together the bits of popular music by Mraz, Avril Lavigne, Taylor Swift, and Colbie Callait. Closing my eyes, I could almost hear their individual voices, alighting on just the right notes of music, my fingers weaving through the rests and beats. So excited, I even flipped through my old books and renewed my childhood love for Chopin in the midst of nostalgia.

After an hour or so, I settled down to peruse a pre-lab for chemistry class and almost laughed as I found myself strumming my fingers on the surface of my desk.

Once in a Long While

It's been a year, a year of living, laughing, and loving. A year of wearying struggles but worthwhile memories. A year since I last saw any of my closest friends from Cosmos '08.

Last weekend, I had the lucky opportunity that many can't say they've savored themselves: to see one of my closest friends from science camp, summer '08. When I left behind my friends that weekend in the Davis summer heat, despite promises to see each other again, I knew bitterly that our individual schedules would rarely find perfect time for a cohesive reunion. But hey, nearly one year later, I found myself hugging and jogging down the crowded, smoggy streets of San Francisco with Jasmine Leyro.

Unfortunately, our friend Nate couldn't make it to our little meeting to catch up, but sitting, talking, sipping on a Jamba Mango-a-Go-Go seemed to wholly complete one of my last few summer days. As we sat there at a plastic table in a fast food restaurant, hearing the cashier take orders in the loud bustle of the open kitchen, I suddenly realized something. For the first time in over a year, I wasn't busy putting together a project, writing up a paper in the wee hours of the morning, or musing over a voluminous novel. I was sitting still, watching all the business happen around me. For the first time in a long while, I was the listener. Listening to the chit-chat of a mother and her 5-year old at the table next to us. Listening to the life stories of Jasmine as she smiled with a scintillating glow. Listening carefully to my own thoughts, something I didn't do too often. Not only did I get to see and to talk to my close, dear friend, but also, did I get to hear and to listen to myself.

So, thank you.

Just Another Day: My First Vignette

A light breeze whispered through the branches. A quiet stream trickled by, licking the rotund edges of a few scattered pebbles. It was a beautiful day. The silence of the early morning with the staccato of chirping here and there seemed to awaken some kind of peace within me, long lost in the hustle bustle of life. Sunlight glistened on the still lake water surface where sparse bubbles rose intermittently, the meager signs of the lively underwater world hidden from view. It was like I'd stepped into an artist's painting; Monet's, Picasso's, or DaVinci's greatest masterpiece. The tapestry was so perfect, almost as if I could brush my fingers through the floating clouds in the azure sky. The grass beneath my toes tickled to my mild amusement, the fresh scent enveloping in a gust of wind that whirled around me.

Who knew such subliminal beauty could exist in the smoke and smog of crowded Chicago?

Ridiculously Intense Brain Stretch

Gel Electrophoresis. DNA Litigations. Lifelong friends. Some of the most intelligent scientists I will ever meet. And I can't believe all this happened in just four weeks of my 2009 summer at the University of Chicago.

I vaguely remember the first day -- shy, awkward, and deathly afraid of making mistakes. We all sat on the edge of our seats that humid Monday, gathered like college students in a lecture hall as we hung on every word of Professor Schonbaum's. With a friendly, warm smile, he reminded us that RIBS (Research in Biomedical Sciences) was a strenuous course, dedicated to our acquiring of lab skills and biomedical knowledge, something that all of us timid teens shared in our common goals. Julie, Emily, Taylor, and Brent, our TAs, seemed just as nervous as we were, reflecting our very emotions on their complexions. Little did we know that in just a few weeks, we would all grow to adore them.

The first and second week whirled by in a flurry of lab notebook entries (a plethora I guarantee), intriguing experiments, and numerous lectures. Buffer after buffer, centrifuge after centrifuge, the 9-6 lab hours passed quickly, almost too quickly. I fell in love with gel electrophoresis at first sight, seeing my DNA ladder successfully travel across to display an array of colors made all the hard work worth it. After just a few days, I quickly learned that perseverance was the true gift of a researcher. Believe me, I had my share of mistakes and imperfection, but in the end, time, teamwork, and practice led to the ultimate success of reaching a conclusion whether it be a perfect DNA sequence for the PTC receptor or mourning over a failed attempt at creating a roller gpdh: GFP hemaphrodite.

The last 2 weeks dwindled down to long hours of peering down an ebullient microscope in a shaded lab room. Oftentimes, I looked forward to that hour long lunch break during which my sore hand could rest from the tedium of worm-picking. But, with the love, companionship, and mirth of my fellow group members (Emily, Ford, and Vikram), the once-intimidating prospect of the "FINAL PROJECT" soon wore off. After settling down and finding ourselves working around the clock, crossing hemaphrodites and males, knocking down all kinds of genes in the protein pathway like dumpy-10 and unc-43, humming Lady Gaga as we plated a variety of nematode strains, I blinked just once, and we'd already arrived at the last day. Consumed by printing out all our research findings, pictures of pooting (our new scientific term) as well as our successful crosses, and slathering our fingers with glue in a frenzy of putting together our poster minutes before presentation, farewells had barely brushed our minds.

The next hour, we presented our findings to the very TAs who had helped us along in every little step for the last 4 weeks, to Professor Schonbaum and Professor Zaragoza who taught us everything from pipette tutorials to lab technique, and lastly, crowds of numerous parents visibly impressed by just how much we'd learned in a month. After the hour-long exhibition, I collapsed against the whitewashed walls in pure exhaustion before looking over at the equally-tired countenances of my fellow researchers and realizing that I'd never see their faces again.

For the next 15 minutes, we savored our last hugs, tearful goodbyes, and dear promises to always keep in touch no matter what. As I embraced my professors and TAs, I recalled Professor Schonbaum's first few words of how we'd all learn so much in his class, and I finally understood what he meant.

RIBS wasn't a class just to experience the life of a college student and researcher, but also to learn what it takes to succeed in life. I got my first taste of independence, my first taste of self-motivation, my first taste of making something of myself. Not only did I affirm that research was what I'd love to do in college and in the future, but also, I made lifelong friends and mentors who'd be with me every step of the way.

In 60 years from now, when I flip back and reread my younger days in transient reflection, I know I will love every minute of my chapter at UChicago.

charity : water

Every morning, we wake up, expecting to see pure water pour from our stainless steel faucets, while halfway around the world, children, as young as 9 years old, have to walk for hours just to bring home dirty, germ-infested water to drink as necessity.

What's wrong with this picture?

Last week, which seems centuries ago, Harker was blessed by the visit of a man, a man who changed how I see everything today. Scott Harrison started off small, a novel photographer in the making, but with big aspirations and a magnanimous heart, he instigated his own kind of butterfly effect, touching the lives of people, young and old. What Harrison is doing and has been doing to this day hit a chord within me: those little kids, who should be in elementary school like I had been, are instead forced to settle for the mediocre just to live.

So, I tried to do a little something with the purchasing of the charity water band (thanks April haha). What I'm trying to say is that in order to change something, it's not about the extravagant, philanthropic gestures that you make, but the thought and the heart behind it all. With each dollar, a well can be built, a well that can provide clean water for a whole village. Every little step counts, even if it's just 5 dollars.

I mean, who knows? You could change lives, even if it's just one.

Double chin, thick uni-brow, frizzy short hair -- not exactly the epitome of beauty, but nevertheless, something surprises us everyday and today, it came in the form of Susan Boyle.  

A Scottish singleton who participated in Britain's Got Talent, Susan Boyle has become an overnight sensation.  Not only does she have 3 Yes's for her performance, but also, has her performance astonished over 2 million viewers worldwide.  She possesses a cherished gift of a resplendent voice, magnanimous and beautiful in its own wake.  This is quite arguably the culminating instance of inner beauty.  Her rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" remains a poignant message in so many ways and to so many people that I can truthfully say, I will never forget it.  Now, one may ask, "Wow, what more could she ask for?  Famous overnight!"  Well, this woman's life has endured the parochial mindset of many solely because her appearance may not conform to society's definition of outer beauty.

On a quick tangent, Boyle's story reminds me of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, inspired by one of Mr. Hufnagl's self-assessing prompts about inner beauty.  In the early 1800's, Shelley had already recognized an unwillingness to accept those whose appearances may seem unappealing, but possess a beauty that far outshines even the most outwardly beautiful.  Similarly, Cowell's immediate rejection of Susan Boyle as she walked out on that stage reflected the very criticism that Shelley implicated throughout her novel.  To this day, people center their interactions with others based on first impressions, many times refusing to better understand those they choose to judge.  And that I think, is a loss on their part.  As Paula said, Susan Boyle's appearance was a wake-up call, forcing people to realize the fatal mistake of judging a book by its cover and not by its contents.  I mean, at first passing, who would have thought that Susan Boyle could stun the world with a few words and notes?       

I think everyone can see a little Simon Cowell in themselves.

The Story of Stuff

The Story of Stuff.  The name itself sounds so juvenile, but the site which bears such a name truly opened my eyes to just how endangered our very own world has become.  A Harker school meeting never goes by without a speech or announcement in a green, environmental light.  I must admit, most of the time, I never heed the announced warnings because such discussions have become so common, they just blend in with the rest of the noise in the normal business of my life.  However, after watching Annie Leonard's talk and my recent research on climate change for J8, I have come to realize the true gravity of the world's climate issues.

So without further ado, here is the site and all it has to offer.  Please, I urge you, to take a look because it certainly sheds a new light on the worsening of our Earth's predicament and our own degradation.

http://www.storyofstuff.com/

The night of March 30th was memorable and perhaps, could certainly be remembered as a cornerstone of my life.  In the American culture, a sweet sixteen has symbolized a new start; the beginning of a journey, the beginning of freedom, the beginning of understanding.  And sure, a dinner at Mimi's and a movie at AMC may seem quite mundane, but being surrounded by friends and family, made it everything.

Dinner wasn't exactly 5 stars but the people were.  Thanks for your planning, Mom!  All smiles, all laughs, all love ;) I couldn't have asked for more.  From silly jokes to the spreading excitement of an upcoming NY trip, the atmosphere seemed tense at first, but knowing my talkative and outgoing friends, that slowly melted away.  Spring break has brought the best out of all of us: the sense of relaxation and just plain hanging out.  I wish I took more pictures, though I grumbled at my mother's incessant camera-snapping, because a year from now, those pictures would've been priceless even if I'm not exactly photogenic...

The Knowing wasn't all that bad, but for a person like me, some of the scenes were nerve-wrecking!  I'm sure Kevin can attest to my fear..haha.  But anyway, the movie was pretty cheesy in the end, but Monsters vs. Aliens would've been far more unbearable........

I want to thank everyone for their presents (: and their time!  You all have no idea just how much it means to me, especially cards!  In the imminent future, when we all move on with our lives and we go our separate ways, those cards will always be with me...And coming right up, PICTURES! 

haha. Fail ordering of appetizers..

hehe.

I couldn't have asked for a birthday more sweet.

Things I want to Do Before I Die: My own Bucket List

So I reread the book by Mitch Albom For One More Day, and I simply don't know what to say.  It is for sure, one of my most favorite books of all time!  Right next to Kite Runner and Gone With the Wind.  Anyway, that book got me thinking...and so, while thinking, I thought of a list of 10 or more things I want to do before I die!  Yeah, seems kind of depressing to write up such a list but it's kind of like that movie "Bucket List."  That's a pretty good movie, too.

Anyway, here goes:

1.  I want to travel to every continent in the world for sure.  As of right now, Europe is my favorite :)  It's so beautiful, so majestic...Paris, France was an awesome experience, seeing the Louvre, my first ever fashion show!  All these sights and new sounds that I'd heard so much about were worth my time and more.  I can't wait to see Rome and put some of my Latin to use (HAHA the dead language)

2.  I want to dive in as many places as possible.  I went diving at the Great Barrier Reef and really enjoyed it.  I even took my mother's turn for diving hehe!  I saw the BIGGEST clam I've ever seen in my life and a sting ray in its natural habitat.  I stroked a turtle and swam with it!!!!!!!!  It's definitely one of those memorable moments.

3.  Find a cure for cancer! haha, yeah I know that's like virtually impossible at this point in time, but after seeing so many people in my family or my family friends affected by lung cancer, brain cancer, breast cancer, every type of cancer imaginable...I can only hope to prevent any more pain.

4.  Live in Greece for a year.  The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants was the movie that got me hooked on this idea.  It seems like the most placid, peaceful, and picturesque place from a girl's dream.  I would LOVE to live there.

5.  To see the 7 wonders.  This is a pretty common aim for many people but I've always been intrigued by the ancient and the mystique.  Pyraminds of Giza, Hanging Gardens of Babylon...

6.  Learn a bunch of languages:  Did you know there are people out there who still write hieroglyphics?!?!?  I think that's pretty cool, and I personally want to learn how to write hieroglyphics.  So enigmatic! :D

7.  I want to write my very own published novel.  As you can tell, I love to write and one of my greatest accomplishments for myself would be to write a book and publish it :)  No, I don't mind if it doesn't become a bestseller.  Just the feat in and of itself would be satisfying.

8.  I'd also love to write for a well-known newspaper.  That would a life-changing experience: to write for New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle...World-famous.  To have a column in there would be beyond my wildest dreams!!

9.  Fly.  One day in math class, Mr. Barth showed us this youtube video of men flying.  They were wearing these suits but besides those dorky outfits, they were soaring through the valley and whisking around the scrags of mountains.  One guy even grazed the side of the rocky mountain with his fingers...yay for danger :]

10.  Meet Greg Mortensen.  He's the guy who wrote Three Cups of Tea and built schools for the poor children in the remote areas of the Middle East like Iraq.  He's really made a difference and I would love to meet him one day.

Aspirations, what would we do without them?