that's where you'll find me.
i don't know why, but i feel so overwhelmed and sad tonight. i feel like i won't be able to get everything i need to get done before spring break. i should stay in this weekend and work on my lab report and read (oh, so much reading . . . ), but i don't want to. i feel silly because spring break is so close. i feel really distant from everyone. i'm sad because i've been a sloppy, dozing mess in all my classes this week.
i don't know what's wrong with me!
oh gosh . . . i'm never going to get my work done . . .
EDIT
How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. – Mitch Albom
all right, i'm kicking it into high gear. i couldn't focus before, but now that i've remembered that mitch albom quote, i've decided not to be miserable.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Ca ira mieux l'an prochain.
French phrase of the day for Tuesday, Feb. 26: "Better luck next year."
when i grow up, i want a cowboy
with dust all over his jeans
with a horse named jack and a ten-gallon hat
he is nice, but he looks so mean
if you were a cowboy, i wonder could i be your girl?
hum-dee-da
too much to do! when am i going to finish my history reading (de tocqueville, recollections: the french revolution of 1848) or my french reading (schwarz-bart, ton beau capitaine - really fascinating concept for a play, by the way; a man plays cassette-recording "letters" from his wife who's in another country, he's the only person onstage)
i need to sleep, but when! tell me, quando, quando, quando!
when i grow up, i want a cowboy
with dust all over his jeans
with a horse named jack and a ten-gallon hat
he is nice, but he looks so mean
if you were a cowboy, i wonder could i be your girl?
hum-dee-da
too much to do! when am i going to finish my history reading (de tocqueville, recollections: the french revolution of 1848) or my french reading (schwarz-bart, ton beau capitaine - really fascinating concept for a play, by the way; a man plays cassette-recording "letters" from his wife who's in another country, he's the only person onstage)
i need to sleep, but when! tell me, quando, quando, quando!
Monday, February 25, 2008
$111.75
Plan Name, Current Balance
E-Plaid Flex Dine Extra 07-08 $111.75
Printing Quota-Fall 2007 $6.60
Printing Quota - Spring 2008 $26.40
Plaid Ca$h-Students $0.00
There are a little over ten weeks left in the semester, not counting Spring Break or Finals.
$11.18 a week
$1.60 a day
Omg, I'm going to max out on campus food. I need to stop eating at Skibo.
P.S. Using real money is not a solution! Campus dining venues : my wallet :: Scary rage people from 28 Weeks Later : other people!
P.P.S.
02/18/08 10:55 AM
Remaining balance: $152.74
SO SAD!
E-Plaid Flex Dine Extra 07-08 $111.75
Printing Quota-Fall 2007 $6.60
Printing Quota - Spring 2008 $26.40
Plaid Ca$h-Students $0.00
There are a little over ten weeks left in the semester, not counting Spring Break or Finals.
$11.18 a week
$1.60 a day
Omg, I'm going to max out on campus food. I need to stop eating at Skibo.
P.S. Using real money is not a solution! Campus dining venues : my wallet :: Scary rage people from 28 Weeks Later : other people!
P.P.S.
02/18/08 10:55 AM
Remaining balance: $152.74
SO SAD!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
tonight will be the night that I will fall for you
But hold your breathe
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
French phrase of the day for Friday, Feb. 22:
Les films ne sont plus ce qu'ils etaient. "They don't make movies like they used to."
I saw Michael Clayton in the UC last night. I liked it. I slept through a bit of it. But Elaine explained the confusing parts to me afterwards. Achronological movie plots have gotten a little trendy . . . Too much, lately.
French phrase of the day for Saturday, Feb. 16:
Vivement qu'il fasse beau. "The warm weather will be a treat."
Pittsburgh, please be spring, soon.
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
French phrase of the day for Friday, Feb. 22:
Les films ne sont plus ce qu'ils etaient. "They don't make movies like they used to."
I saw Michael Clayton in the UC last night. I liked it. I slept through a bit of it. But Elaine explained the confusing parts to me afterwards. Achronological movie plots have gotten a little trendy . . . Too much, lately.
French phrase of the day for Saturday, Feb. 16:
Vivement qu'il fasse beau. "The warm weather will be a treat."
Pittsburgh, please be spring, soon.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
10 funny flirting facts
"10 funny flirting facts"
By Laura Schaefer
So you’ve mastered the eye-contact game and can beckon a cute prospect with a few coy glances… but do you really know all there is to know about the fine art of come-hither? Just to make sure you’re up to speed, we culled some very surprising info that you can use to your advantage. Read on for some juicy tidbits that may up your cute quotient in no time.
1. Flirting is good for you. Studies show that people who flirt have higher white blood-cell counts, which boost their immunity and keep them healthy.
2. Think it ends at a little eye batting? Hardly—all told, scientists say there are 52 “flirting signals” used by humans. Of these, the hair flip is the most common.
3. In some places, flirting is illegal. In Little Rock, AR, an antiquated law is still on the books warning that engaging in playful banter may result in a 30-day jail term. In New York City, another outdated law mandates that men may be fined $25 for gazing lasciviously at a female; a second conviction stipulates the offender wear a pair of blinders whenever he goes out for a walk.
4. Why wait for Happy Hour? Lots of people get their flirt on during their morning commute. A full 62 percent of drivers have flirted with someone in a different vehicle while on the go, and 31 percent of those flirtations, it turns out, resulted in a date.
5. Flirting need not occur face to face. According to Pew Research, 40 percent of people who look for love online say they can easily flirt with someone via email or IM.
6. In the Victorian era, fans were the ultimate playful prop that could communicate all sorts of messages. A fan placed near the heart meant, You have won my love. A half-opened fan pressed to the lips suggested, You may kiss me. Hiding the eyes behind an open fan meant, I love you, while opening and closing the fan several times warned, You are cruel. Given how much a fan could come in handy, it’s a shame they ever invented air conditioning.
7. These days, cell phones do the flirting. In one survey, half of all mobile phone users have texted suggestive messages to keep things interesting while away from their amour.
8. Watch out, you can overdo it. According to the Social Issues Research Centre, the most common mistake people make when flirting is maintaining too much eye contact.
9. Sometimes, flirty gestures aren’t what they seem. Research has shown that men tend to routinely mistake friendly behavior for flirting.
10. Flirting is universal. A woman living in New York City and one in rural Cambodia may not have much in common, but when it comes to attracting a little attention, they both employ the very same move: smiling, arching their eyebrows, then averting their gaze and giggling. Animals flirt, too: Birds, reptiles, and even fish have their own way of strutting their stuff. Moral of the story: If the simple sea bass can act cute to enhance a romantic agenda, you can, too—so give it a go!
Let me just find my plaited fan, and we can hit the road! I'm so joining that 62% of people who flirt with people in other cars. Ahaha.
- -
I was trying to see what I blogged on Valentine's Day the past four/five years. Nothing! I was so disappointed. But I found this ("3 Things Wrong With Me"):
Saturday, February 21, 2004 >> 11:05 a.m.
(. . .) 3. I believe in a thing called RANDOM love…
Yay, now I can work [what I’m going to say next] into an entry. (I’ve been thinking of ways to do so; no success.) I want a guy who… I can approach randomly (as in, I didn’t know him before, is a complete stranger to me), at the mall or something, start having a conversation, and have him say something intelligible back to me. And then have it progress from there. Jussssssssssttt like in a movie chick flick. Like… HOW GREAT WOULD THAT BE?! Hahaha… I don’t know, here I go with my whimsy and imagination again (referring to Flaw #1). I think it could happen… (I’m really tempted to incorporate God and religion into this.) Like… if it’s MEANT to be, then why couldn’t you meet your “significant other”… randomly? Rather than at camp, or at school (those are obvious references to people… really happy for you guys!), why not just randomly? And then this makes me think of [another topic that has been bothering me for a while] all of those random encounters that I’ve had in my life with complete STRANGERS. The old lady you chance to stand next to while looking through the [OVERPRICED] clothes at wet seal, who wants to know which shirt would make a better gift for her teenage granddaughter (hypothetical); the ten-year-old-looking boy you walk past on your way out of a truck stop, who lets you pet his golden retriever (non-hypothetical). The old lady could have died the next day, and the boy could grow up to win the Nobel prize in literature, and you would never know! NEVER! I just wonder about random encounters… if they amount to anything. And then I think about how utterly trapped we all are in our own worlds, and how everyone else is trapped in their own worlds, and how these worlds sometime overlap… sometimes… sigh.
When I went to New York (City) sometime last November (I think) for an orchestra field trip, I went into Toys R Us with three other friends, to ride on this HUGEEEE Ferris wheel that they have inside the building (the cars are plastic recreations/models of different toys). We got onto this Ferris wheel (approx. 20 minutes left until we had to meet back at X, the pre-determined meeting point for our bus’s departure), WHEEE, riding on the Ferris wheel (haha), and you know, it was stopping every so often to let people off. We got to about… 3:00 on a clock face (if the Ferris wheel starts at +270°, it went 90° counterclockwise), and it started stopping (wow, paradox) to let people off. So we’re sitting in this car (it was the Barbie car, wow, fun)… we take some pictures… and there’s really nothing to do, so I look to my right, towards the glass elevator, and there’s this guy in it. Dirty-blondish hair, he looks like he could be in high school… he’s wearing a short sleeved shirt (not a tee-shirt though… something more form-fitting) and he’s leaning against one of the walls of the elevator. And I don’t know, from +20 feet away I could sort of see him, he looked kinda cute, so I just watched him. AND THEN (gasp) he turned his head… AND LOOKED BACK AT ME! Ahhhh… allrightthen, so, being me, being guy-shy, my immediate reaction was to look away. And then I looked back again… and he was still looking at me. GAHBLUMAHGEIOMVEARDC. The Ferris wheel starts moving again… when it stops (5 seconds later), I look back at the elevator, and he’s looking back at me… I think he was going from the third floor of the store down to the first, and that's why he was still in the elevator after all that time. Sigh. When he got out of the elevator, he stood by it for a while, waiting for someone. The Ferris wheel started moving again, and when I looked back again, he was gone. I wonder about him, about all of the random strangers in my life… about that boy at the truck stop... I don’t understand why these people stick out in my mind. I guess I just think too much. Wonder too much. Like, I was wondering about that guy in the elevator… if he went to high school, why wasn’t he in school? We went to a New York on a Friday… but it was around 4:00 in the afternoon when we went into Toys R Us. Okay, so what was he doing in a toy store? What was his name? What were his hobbies, his ambitions? What is wrong with me????
- -
Haha. And I don't think I've changed at all.
Friday, February 15, 2008
recessive trait
I was stuffing envelopes at work today (CMITES clientele, est. population 10,000), and I suddenly remembered that in elementary/middle school, I had a fixation with guys with blue eyes. I mean, I really, really, really . . . I think pretty much every boy I crushed on had blue eyes. I'm not sure which came first and which followed, my fawning delusions over their personalities or my love for their baby blues.
So then I started wondering how that even came about, because how could I, as a little girl, have gotten it into my head that blue eyes were such a desirable trait?
Maybe the movies I watched when I was little? The alpha man was the Disney prince with a soul, a build; a distaste for bad art, a rejection of vanity, a canine companion, an affinity for music, some knowledge of dance, a penchant for days on the town, a nice laugh, beautiful smile, and who, on top of that, had biceps to spare. (NOT Gaston.) Oh, that rowboat scene! Prince Eric:
Otherwise (from an even earlier time in my life), it was Daniel Truhitte, Rolf in The Sound of Music (1965). He may or may not have had blue eyes, I can't remember. I think he did. But for all his angst and bad political preferences, he was one gorgeous, smooth, talented-dancer, telegraph-deliverin' Austrian he-man. And his voice. I loved his voice. Speaking, singing . . . if it wasn't to wear that silk-organza dress Liesl wears in "Sixteen Going on Seventeen," I always wanted to be Liesl to dance and sing with Rolfe,
and at the end of the scene, after that kiss, presumably a first, squeal a delighted "Wheeeee!" into the thunder-and-lightening night.
So then I started wondering how that even came about, because how could I, as a little girl, have gotten it into my head that blue eyes were such a desirable trait?
Maybe the movies I watched when I was little? The alpha man was the Disney prince with a soul, a build; a distaste for bad art, a rejection of vanity, a canine companion, an affinity for music, some knowledge of dance, a penchant for days on the town, a nice laugh, beautiful smile, and who, on top of that, had biceps to spare. (NOT Gaston.) Oh, that rowboat scene! Prince Eric:
Otherwise (from an even earlier time in my life), it was Daniel Truhitte, Rolf in The Sound of Music (1965). He may or may not have had blue eyes, I can't remember. I think he did. But for all his angst and bad political preferences, he was one gorgeous, smooth, talented-dancer, telegraph-deliverin' Austrian he-man. And his voice. I loved his voice. Speaking, singing . . . if it wasn't to wear that silk-organza dress Liesl wears in "Sixteen Going on Seventeen," I always wanted to be Liesl to dance and sing with Rolfe,
and at the end of the scene, after that kiss, presumably a first, squeal a delighted "Wheeeee!" into the thunder-and-lightening night.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Knock on wood!
Sooooooooo excited for tomorrow night! We had our final run-through dress rehearsal tonight. And it was good. Even though everyone (many more than others - half the cast + the directors have had rehearsals for the Carnival show - a musical - all this week. is that not crazy?) is exhausted. It was just . . . everything gelling. The energy was good. Oh my gosh I really hope we nail it tomorrow night. I think we will.
To so many people in my life right now:
French phrase of the day for Thursday, Feb. 14: J'ai beaucoup de chance de l'avoir dans ma vie. "I am so lucky to have him/her in my life." I am so lucky to have you in my life! Happy Valentine's Day!
To so many people in my life right now:
French phrase of the day for Thursday, Feb. 14: J'ai beaucoup de chance de l'avoir dans ma vie. "I am so lucky to have him/her in my life." I am so lucky to have you in my life! Happy Valentine's Day!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Les plages du coin sont magnifiques.
French phrase of the day for Tuesday, Feb. 12: "The beaches there are beautiful."
WOW, could not be anymore different from today's weather! Snowy and slushy and wet and gross. The snow was pretty. But disgusting on the roads and sidewalks.
I would love to lie out on the beach right now. er, in the daytime. with tons of spf.
We had tech run-through for the show! Sound and lights, no lines. That starts tomorrow. Aah excited but a little nervous! I can't believe this week is finally here. I thought it'd never come.
Oh, and my phrase-of-the-day calendar says it's Lincoln's birthday! On Tuesday, not today. Hope you had a heads-up lucky day today (yesterday)!
WOW, could not be anymore different from today's weather! Snowy and slushy and wet and gross. The snow was pretty. But disgusting on the roads and sidewalks.
I would love to lie out on the beach right now. er, in the daytime. with tons of spf.
We had tech run-through for the show! Sound and lights, no lines. That starts tomorrow. Aah excited but a little nervous! I can't believe this week is finally here. I thought it'd never come.
Oh, and my phrase-of-the-day calendar says it's Lincoln's birthday! On Tuesday, not today. Hope you had a heads-up lucky day today (yesterday)!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Je vais visiter la Tour Eiffel.
French phrase of the day for Monday, Feb. 11: "I am going to the Eiffel Tower."
The girl who plays my sister in Proof is studying at La Sorbonne this summer. So cool! I hope I'm going somewhere cool this summer. I hope I get to go to Paris one day.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Uh, what?
This morning's homily at church: The presiding priest spoke about patience and resisting temptation. (The gospel verses were from Matthew 4, "And he fasted forty days and forty nights.") So he's talking, talking - living today, we've all but sold our souls to impatience, we could do with a little dose of that virtue, etc., and then out of nowhere, he goes "Like stem cell research."
Hold the phone.
You want to make an analogy comparing human impatience to the progress of stem cell research?
He continued: What is to be done? . . . Alternatives: Fat tissue, adult bone marrow. We all just want this miracle cure. We need to be patient. You know, I don't even remember him mentioning the word "embryo," because I was still reeling from the shock, "Did he really just say that? What in the world is he trying to say in the first place?" And then when he mentioned alternate stem cell sources, I got really confused, because he made it sound like they weren't working. "We have more than one method of obtaining human stem cells [, but we need to patient and wait for the original method, which involves terminating human life, to prove effective.]"
I'm all for the advancement of science. Medical research? Ooh, yeah, give me more. Please, find a cure; find a solution; regenerate tissue, organs; make a change so that people don't have to endure cancer anymore. Embryonic stem cell [research] . . . mm, is there another way? I'm not for taking human life. You can no longer argue that an embryo is not alive, developing, more than a semblance of a life capable of being ended (more than dwindling life-support veggies on hospital beds). Ugh. But the research needs to be done. It could change the world. (Hey, GW authorized federal funding to get it done.) It is changing the world! How happy I was, though, when I read an article reporting the use of adult bone marrow. So much progress is being made that way.
Back to Father Whoever. After stem cell research, he brought up sexual temptation, and then he went back to gospel, and then I knew he must have just been rambling. Impatience? Temptation? Consciously fighting the two? Right, the spirit of the Lenten season. We'll just assume stem cells were on his mind and he wanted to encorporate the issue, but didn't quite connect the dots. Because impatience in the name of progress is nothing like impatience to return to a bad habit. ("You wouldn't believe how hard it was to not eat a Big Mac on Ash Wednesday. Like, once something is forbidden, it's all you can think about!") And impatience to improve the world is quite a Christian notion, really. Let's not be Machiavellian about ends and means, but let it suffice to say that someone with a mind to advance the human condition, eradicate suffering, seek progress, and love others would not need another analogy to understand forty days of abstinence, whatever the sort.
Hold the phone.
You want to make an analogy comparing human impatience to the progress of stem cell research?
He continued: What is to be done? . . . Alternatives: Fat tissue, adult bone marrow. We all just want this miracle cure. We need to be patient. You know, I don't even remember him mentioning the word "embryo," because I was still reeling from the shock, "Did he really just say that? What in the world is he trying to say in the first place?" And then when he mentioned alternate stem cell sources, I got really confused, because he made it sound like they weren't working. "We have more than one method of obtaining human stem cells [, but we need to patient and wait for the original method, which involves terminating human life, to prove effective.]"
I'm all for the advancement of science. Medical research? Ooh, yeah, give me more. Please, find a cure; find a solution; regenerate tissue, organs; make a change so that people don't have to endure cancer anymore. Embryonic stem cell [research] . . . mm, is there another way? I'm not for taking human life. You can no longer argue that an embryo is not alive, developing, more than a semblance of a life capable of being ended (more than dwindling life-support veggies on hospital beds). Ugh. But the research needs to be done. It could change the world. (Hey, GW authorized federal funding to get it done.) It is changing the world! How happy I was, though, when I read an article reporting the use of adult bone marrow. So much progress is being made that way.
Back to Father Whoever. After stem cell research, he brought up sexual temptation, and then he went back to gospel, and then I knew he must have just been rambling. Impatience? Temptation? Consciously fighting the two? Right, the spirit of the Lenten season. We'll just assume stem cells were on his mind and he wanted to encorporate the issue, but didn't quite connect the dots. Because impatience in the name of progress is nothing like impatience to return to a bad habit. ("You wouldn't believe how hard it was to not eat a Big Mac on Ash Wednesday. Like, once something is forbidden, it's all you can think about!") And impatience to improve the world is quite a Christian notion, really. Let's not be Machiavellian about ends and means, but let it suffice to say that someone with a mind to advance the human condition, eradicate suffering, seek progress, and love others would not need another analogy to understand forty days of abstinence, whatever the sort.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Gimme gimme s'more
The world is your snowball, see how it grows,
Thats how it goes, whenever it snows,
The world is your snowball just for a song,
Get out and roll it along!
It's a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts,
Take a walk with your favorite girl,
It's a sugar date, what if spring is late?
In winter, it's a marshmallow world!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Venn diagram
My name is Sharon.
I was born in New York.
My favorite food is pizza.
I like to draw. I like to color. I like playing dress-up.
I have a mom, a dad, and a little sister.
My sister and I play a lot.
I am four years old, and when I grow up I want to be a ballerina.
* *
I was serious about that ballerina thing. I really thought I could do it. The most dance experience I'd had at the time was a children's ballet class at the YWCA back in Hatfield, Pennsylvania, and I had just joined a dance troupe at my Chinese school. (Our first dance involved pink plastic stools and round paper fans (not the plaited ones).) I had never seen a professionally staged ballet. I still haven't, actually. But how cool would it have been to have really pursued it? Barbara Milberg Fisher wrote a memoir about dancing with the NYCB and Balanchine - she didn't go into graphic detail about the physical pain involved in being a ballerina, something that would have deterred me the most, also the one thing I knew about the least. She talks a lot about traveling, which I would have considered kind of cool when I was in kindergarten; about the rehearsals, which I would have thought I could endure; about the costumes and makeup, which I would have loved; and about dancing and performing. Gosh, I would have loved it.
I wasn't a compulsive liar when I was four, but I was imaginative. I liked to believe I could invent things in my life that hadn't happened yet. I lied about things I thought I could get away with, especially to people who I figured wouldn't know better. So the first time we had to talk about ourselves and illustrate, I said that there were three other people in my family. Even though I was an only child. I told the room mother, whoever was helping me write my ten-sentence life story, that I had a sister. I don't remember what her name was. But she existed. And she was a baby sister, I think she'd just been born.
I'm trying to decide if the four-year old me would like the nineteen-year old me. If she'd even care. If we'd get along. Would she shun me for not being cool enough or pretty enough (Not a dancer? Next.), or would she be shy around me and actually want to get to know me? I know when I was younger, I idolized the high school girls I knew, mostly from Chinese School and also in the dance troup (one girl actually went to my elementary school, was a fifth grader, a safety, and she rode my bus). I thought their lives were infinitely more glamorous than mine (my understanding of glamor didn't involve too much), that they could do so many cool things (I couldn't name anything specific, but I just knew), and that I wanted to grow up as quickly as possible and be like them. Get to dance with umbrellas. And silk ribbons. And wear prettier costumes.
The kindergarten me - I feel like I know her. But we sort of lost touch. I feel like I think about her a lot, but I never know if she thinks about me. About the me-me, not the abstract, imaginary me she wanted to be. I wish I could ask her questions. I wish I could give her advice. I wish she would be happy, I mean, she was, but I wish she'd known to appreciate her present. I think four-year olds mostly do, appreciate their lives, that is, because they have no basis for comparison. But four-year old Sharon would imagine things to compare her life to . . . She was too good for me, I think.
* *
Dear four-year old me,
You didn't need to lie about having a sister. In general, lying is a very bad thing, and you should avoid it at all costs. But you didn't need to lie, because she was on her way. You wanted a sister and you got her (and she and you are quite good friends, actually).
I'm sorry to say that you aren't a ballerina. I'm not a ballerina. I'm a materials scientist/engineer. It's . . . kind of less glitzy than what you wanted. But you will make a difference, somehow. To be completely honest (since I just told you not to lie), I don't know if I will make a difference. I don't even know what I want to be, unlike you. But if you asked me for an answer, either in writing for a job application or in an interview, I could probably think of something to say. I went to a job fair today and told people that I was interested in working with energy, technology related to that, and transportation, finding a way to make that more efficient. It wouldn't be lying, exactly, because that is what I want to do, for now. I could get away with telling people that, especially to people who I figured wouldn't know better. I'm kind of a loser for not knowing what I want to do, aren't I? And something that not a lot of people have heard of, I agree (a lot of people had heard of "materials science and engineering" at this job fair, but they weren't really sure what it was and they didn't think they wanted to hire me).
I go to school in Pittsburgh. That's in Pennsylvania, where you used to live, but on the other side. Pennsylvania's a huge state, I don't know if you know that or not. I didn't know it myself until last year - it takes over six hours to drive from one end of it to the other. That's longer than it takes to drive from your house to where I am now.
I like your room. Green paint, rose wallpaper trim. Pink carpet. It looks exactly the same - I finally bought glow-in-the dark stickers (they're stars and planets, I know you like those) and put them on the ceiling about eleven or twelve years ago (not as long as it sounds), so it's like looking at the night sky, but only in one spot - except it's not your room anymore. You have a brother, too. Cool, right? That's his room now. Yeah, you're right, pink isn't a boy's color, but he's a pretty relaxed guy, he was good about it. Your toys are still in the house somewhere, some are in Stacy's room, most of them are in the family room, and some are in my room, on the bed and on a shelf. Brownie is here with me at school. People have recently told me she looks like a chipmunk, but you and I know that she is just a teddy bear.
I'd like to give you advice, I don't know whether or not you want to hear what I have to say. The biggest things: Be patient; don't worry. Dad probably tells you this all the time (if he hasn't started yet, he will say it to you a lot, eventually, because you're kind of impatient, and worrying is something you tend to do). Be patient because you'll be in fifth grade before you know it; be patient because middle school and high school will go by so quickly, and then you'll be in college, which is even cooler than playing dress-up or Princesses. Be patient because you will get to make lots of friends and see lots of movies and go to many places, but right now, you don't need any of those things; what you have is enough, and what you have is great. Your best friends will mostly still be your best friends in fifteen years. You won't be a ballerina, but you will still like to dance, and to perform, and The Sound of Music will still be one of your favorite movies. (And you can still pretend to be Liesl, if you want. You will still like to sing, and often, so keep singing.)
Don't worry. Just remember that God is always watching out for you from Heaven and your family and friends are looking out for you on Earth. Don't worry about not being good enough. You'll never be the best - well, maybe that's not true - you won't feel like you're the best, a lot of the time, but you'll always be more than good enough. You will be well liked and funny and pretty and kind and think interesting things and have interesting experiences, and you will smile and laugh often, cry sometimes, but mostly be very happy. So don't worry. You will do great in school and learn, and read great books, and it may not happen how you planned it, but I really think it will all work out in the end.
Work hard. Keep practicing the violin, don't give it up. Study hard. Try to plan in advance. Make sure you tell Mom and Dad about things before right before they happen, like if you want to go to the movies with your friends or something (in a few years). Be focused. Do one thing at a time, and focus on just that one thing while you're doing it. Be efficient (that means . . . try to save time), but don't over-multi-task (do too many things at once) in order to be efficient. Don't look down at the radio to change the station while you're driving.
I don't exactly know what I want to be when I grow up, or what I want when I grow up. Things I know I want, for sure:
I want a well decorated house. Or apartment, I could do with someplace small. I love IKEA and Laura Ashley, those are home furnishing companies.
I want a family. I'd like to have kids, I'd maybe like to get married . . . I feel like this is still far off and hard to imagine, but I think I'd like this. Or I'd like to visit my family a lot.
I want to be happy.
I think . . . we're probably a lot alike, wouldn't you say?
Oh, another thing. Don't procrastinate. Kick that habit as soon as possible. I'm writing you this letter instead of reading a book for a history class. That's bad. Don't do that.
And you don't have a boyfriend yet. I don't have a boyfriend yet. There will be a lot of boys who you like and a few boys who will like you. Try not to let those boys (who like you) get away. They might seem kind of weird or . . . annoying or creepy at first, but they mean well. They're good guys. They like you for the right reasons.
I'll let you know as I figure that one out.
I thought it was funny.
Love,
Sharon
I was born in New York.
My favorite food is pizza.
I like to draw. I like to color. I like playing dress-up.
I have a mom, a dad, and a little sister.
My sister and I play a lot.
I am four years old, and when I grow up I want to be a ballerina.
* *
I was serious about that ballerina thing. I really thought I could do it. The most dance experience I'd had at the time was a children's ballet class at the YWCA back in Hatfield, Pennsylvania, and I had just joined a dance troupe at my Chinese school. (Our first dance involved pink plastic stools and round paper fans (not the plaited ones).) I had never seen a professionally staged ballet. I still haven't, actually. But how cool would it have been to have really pursued it? Barbara Milberg Fisher wrote a memoir about dancing with the NYCB and Balanchine - she didn't go into graphic detail about the physical pain involved in being a ballerina, something that would have deterred me the most, also the one thing I knew about the least. She talks a lot about traveling, which I would have considered kind of cool when I was in kindergarten; about the rehearsals, which I would have thought I could endure; about the costumes and makeup, which I would have loved; and about dancing and performing. Gosh, I would have loved it.
I wasn't a compulsive liar when I was four, but I was imaginative. I liked to believe I could invent things in my life that hadn't happened yet. I lied about things I thought I could get away with, especially to people who I figured wouldn't know better. So the first time we had to talk about ourselves and illustrate, I said that there were three other people in my family. Even though I was an only child. I told the room mother, whoever was helping me write my ten-sentence life story, that I had a sister. I don't remember what her name was. But she existed. And she was a baby sister, I think she'd just been born.
I'm trying to decide if the four-year old me would like the nineteen-year old me. If she'd even care. If we'd get along. Would she shun me for not being cool enough or pretty enough (Not a dancer? Next.), or would she be shy around me and actually want to get to know me? I know when I was younger, I idolized the high school girls I knew, mostly from Chinese School and also in the dance troup (one girl actually went to my elementary school, was a fifth grader, a safety, and she rode my bus). I thought their lives were infinitely more glamorous than mine (my understanding of glamor didn't involve too much), that they could do so many cool things (I couldn't name anything specific, but I just knew), and that I wanted to grow up as quickly as possible and be like them. Get to dance with umbrellas. And silk ribbons. And wear prettier costumes.
The kindergarten me - I feel like I know her. But we sort of lost touch. I feel like I think about her a lot, but I never know if she thinks about me. About the me-me, not the abstract, imaginary me she wanted to be. I wish I could ask her questions. I wish I could give her advice. I wish she would be happy, I mean, she was, but I wish she'd known to appreciate her present. I think four-year olds mostly do, appreciate their lives, that is, because they have no basis for comparison. But four-year old Sharon would imagine things to compare her life to . . . She was too good for me, I think.
* *
Dear four-year old me,
You didn't need to lie about having a sister. In general, lying is a very bad thing, and you should avoid it at all costs. But you didn't need to lie, because she was on her way. You wanted a sister and you got her (and she and you are quite good friends, actually).
I'm sorry to say that you aren't a ballerina. I'm not a ballerina. I'm a materials scientist/engineer. It's . . . kind of less glitzy than what you wanted. But you will make a difference, somehow. To be completely honest (since I just told you not to lie), I don't know if I will make a difference. I don't even know what I want to be, unlike you. But if you asked me for an answer, either in writing for a job application or in an interview, I could probably think of something to say. I went to a job fair today and told people that I was interested in working with energy, technology related to that, and transportation, finding a way to make that more efficient. It wouldn't be lying, exactly, because that is what I want to do, for now. I could get away with telling people that, especially to people who I figured wouldn't know better. I'm kind of a loser for not knowing what I want to do, aren't I? And something that not a lot of people have heard of, I agree (a lot of people had heard of "materials science and engineering" at this job fair, but they weren't really sure what it was and they didn't think they wanted to hire me).
I go to school in Pittsburgh. That's in Pennsylvania, where you used to live, but on the other side. Pennsylvania's a huge state, I don't know if you know that or not. I didn't know it myself until last year - it takes over six hours to drive from one end of it to the other. That's longer than it takes to drive from your house to where I am now.
I like your room. Green paint, rose wallpaper trim. Pink carpet. It looks exactly the same - I finally bought glow-in-the dark stickers (they're stars and planets, I know you like those) and put them on the ceiling about eleven or twelve years ago (not as long as it sounds), so it's like looking at the night sky, but only in one spot - except it's not your room anymore. You have a brother, too. Cool, right? That's his room now. Yeah, you're right, pink isn't a boy's color, but he's a pretty relaxed guy, he was good about it. Your toys are still in the house somewhere, some are in Stacy's room, most of them are in the family room, and some are in my room, on the bed and on a shelf. Brownie is here with me at school. People have recently told me she looks like a chipmunk, but you and I know that she is just a teddy bear.
I'd like to give you advice, I don't know whether or not you want to hear what I have to say. The biggest things: Be patient; don't worry. Dad probably tells you this all the time (if he hasn't started yet, he will say it to you a lot, eventually, because you're kind of impatient, and worrying is something you tend to do). Be patient because you'll be in fifth grade before you know it; be patient because middle school and high school will go by so quickly, and then you'll be in college, which is even cooler than playing dress-up or Princesses. Be patient because you will get to make lots of friends and see lots of movies and go to many places, but right now, you don't need any of those things; what you have is enough, and what you have is great. Your best friends will mostly still be your best friends in fifteen years. You won't be a ballerina, but you will still like to dance, and to perform, and The Sound of Music will still be one of your favorite movies. (And you can still pretend to be Liesl, if you want. You will still like to sing, and often, so keep singing.)
Don't worry. Just remember that God is always watching out for you from Heaven and your family and friends are looking out for you on Earth. Don't worry about not being good enough. You'll never be the best - well, maybe that's not true - you won't feel like you're the best, a lot of the time, but you'll always be more than good enough. You will be well liked and funny and pretty and kind and think interesting things and have interesting experiences, and you will smile and laugh often, cry sometimes, but mostly be very happy. So don't worry. You will do great in school and learn, and read great books, and it may not happen how you planned it, but I really think it will all work out in the end.
Work hard. Keep practicing the violin, don't give it up. Study hard. Try to plan in advance. Make sure you tell Mom and Dad about things before right before they happen, like if you want to go to the movies with your friends or something (in a few years). Be focused. Do one thing at a time, and focus on just that one thing while you're doing it. Be efficient (that means . . . try to save time), but don't over-multi-task (do too many things at once) in order to be efficient. Don't look down at the radio to change the station while you're driving.
I don't exactly know what I want to be when I grow up, or what I want when I grow up. Things I know I want, for sure:
I want a well decorated house. Or apartment, I could do with someplace small. I love IKEA and Laura Ashley, those are home furnishing companies.
I want a family. I'd like to have kids, I'd maybe like to get married . . . I feel like this is still far off and hard to imagine, but I think I'd like this. Or I'd like to visit my family a lot.
I want to be happy.
I think . . . we're probably a lot alike, wouldn't you say?
Oh, another thing. Don't procrastinate. Kick that habit as soon as possible. I'm writing you this letter instead of reading a book for a history class. That's bad. Don't do that.
And you don't have a boyfriend yet. I don't have a boyfriend yet. There will be a lot of boys who you like and a few boys who will like you. Try not to let those boys (who like you) get away. They might seem kind of weird or . . . annoying or creepy at first, but they mean well. They're good guys. They like you for the right reasons.
I'll let you know as I figure that one out.
You like fortune cookies, right? That was the one I got with my dinner a couple nights ago. I just opened it tonight.
I thought it was funny.
Love,
Sharon
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
que sera, sera
When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Ugh what am I going to do with my life. Even though I told a friend today that it's not a crime to not be stressed, I still don't feel like I'm living adequately unless I'm in crisis mode. In complete contradiction with my love for peace of mind and clarity. Well, I've gone through both of those and back again in about . . . three hours.
Chloe spoke at IVCF tonight about "God's Heart for the City," an anecdotal, "In the Cit-ay," touching, funny, informative and all-around sobering account of her experiences with urban outreach/restoration (and approach to the Gospel). I was floored. I mean, I knew the world was poor . . . Actually, no, that's not true. I knew there were poor in the world. But no, I did not know that 40% of the people in the world live on 2 USD a day. Chloe did a nice price analysis for us of what $4/day would afford in Mexico (she just got back from a weekend trip), and she was left with 70c for "water, sanitation, rent, taxes, transportation, health care, entertainment, vacation, toiletries, tithing, saving, college education, school uniforms, etc." Oh, and before she became the IVCF director for the Pittsburgh-Metro area, she was on her way to becoming a concert pianist. Yeah. She was studying at Julliard. She gave it up for a position on IVCF staff.
So what am I doing, exactly . . . ? We're talking about the Restoration in French history: We discuss the plight of the middle class, the plight of the artisanal factions, the crisis of the socially mobile (actually immobile) "in-migrants" from rural France, the post-Revolutionary political upheaval, anti-Revolutionary sentiment, anti-monarchical sentiment. Life was pretty bad for the working class before the Revolution - afterwards, too - so are 19th century suicide statistics in the Paris region an accurate representation of the social demography for that time, that place? They've been categorized by age, sex, occupation, time of day, time of year, and method. No, they aren't accurate for that purpose because there are other factors to consider.
And life was bad in the past and it's bad in the present, and I feel like I should be able to process this on a much deeper level, but all I feel is a hollow pretense of a headache, sort of like when I have to fake a hangover for a scene in "Proof."
I feel like I really owe the world something. I feel like I should do something. But what? Gosh, sometimes I feel like I could be that person who makes a huge difference all on her own. I want it so much, sometimes, that I actually believe I could be her. I thought that for a second tonight.
I owe the world everything and myself nothing. But not just the world, I owe certain people certain things . . . and I'd say I owe the people I know personally a lot more than the impoverished I have never met. So I will spend Spring Break with my family and friends, even though I'm telling everyone in IVCF to go to the Pittsburgh Urban Plunge, even though I'm distraught over not going myself, even though I feel like, maybe, that's where I should be? What if? Chloe said (the Bible says, Mother Theresa said) we need the poor, not the other way around. And?
And when I wake up in the morning, I don't want to stop feeling like this, I don't want to forget what I'm feeling. But being in a perpetual state of turmoil is definitely unhealthy. And inevitably I get happy and sidetracked and forget that over two billion people live daily on the tip I gave to the guy who delivered my Chinese food last night.
Pray, pray, pray . . . And listen to "Faith," by George Michael (P.S. ELI STONE on ABC, watch the pilot!).
Possible things to give up for Lent: Hitting the sleep button on my alarm clock (not getting up as soon as I hear my alarm), feeling sorry for myself, letting my laundry sit in the basket after I take it out of the dryer,
I gave up AIM one year, I think it was either 7th, 8th or 10th grade. Last year, about halfway through Lent, I decided I'd give up crushing on boys.
Hm well I haven't decided yet for this year. Que sera, sera. I'll stay away from candy for a while in case I can't think of anything else . . .
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows, day after day?
Here's what my sweetheart said.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
French phrases of the day for Monday, Feb. 4, and Tuesday, Feb. 5:
J'ai dormi à poings fermés. "I slept like a baby." True for Monday night, not for last night or tonight.
Je me suis reveillée a l'aube ce matin. "I woke up very early this morning." Not true for Tuesday morning; will be true for Wednesday morning.
Ooh you know what else I could give up? Putting off dropping my self-paced Italian class. I actually did some of the homework exercises last night while I was waiting for my delivery dinner. Preliminary chapter and chapter 1, out of chapters 0-4 (test next week). Um . . . or maybe just commit to pacing myself better. In everything. Gosh.
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Ugh what am I going to do with my life. Even though I told a friend today that it's not a crime to not be stressed, I still don't feel like I'm living adequately unless I'm in crisis mode. In complete contradiction with my love for peace of mind and clarity. Well, I've gone through both of those and back again in about . . . three hours.
Chloe spoke at IVCF tonight about "God's Heart for the City," an anecdotal, "In the Cit-ay," touching, funny, informative and all-around sobering account of her experiences with urban outreach/restoration (and approach to the Gospel). I was floored. I mean, I knew the world was poor . . . Actually, no, that's not true. I knew there were poor in the world. But no, I did not know that 40% of the people in the world live on 2 USD a day. Chloe did a nice price analysis for us of what $4/day would afford in Mexico (she just got back from a weekend trip), and she was left with 70c for "water, sanitation, rent, taxes, transportation, health care, entertainment, vacation, toiletries, tithing, saving, college education, school uniforms, etc." Oh, and before she became the IVCF director for the Pittsburgh-Metro area, she was on her way to becoming a concert pianist. Yeah. She was studying at Julliard. She gave it up for a position on IVCF staff.
So what am I doing, exactly . . . ? We're talking about the Restoration in French history: We discuss the plight of the middle class, the plight of the artisanal factions, the crisis of the socially mobile (actually immobile) "in-migrants" from rural France, the post-Revolutionary political upheaval, anti-Revolutionary sentiment, anti-monarchical sentiment. Life was pretty bad for the working class before the Revolution - afterwards, too - so are 19th century suicide statistics in the Paris region an accurate representation of the social demography for that time, that place? They've been categorized by age, sex, occupation, time of day, time of year, and method. No, they aren't accurate for that purpose because there are other factors to consider.
And life was bad in the past and it's bad in the present, and I feel like I should be able to process this on a much deeper level, but all I feel is a hollow pretense of a headache, sort of like when I have to fake a hangover for a scene in "Proof."
I feel like I really owe the world something. I feel like I should do something. But what? Gosh, sometimes I feel like I could be that person who makes a huge difference all on her own. I want it so much, sometimes, that I actually believe I could be her. I thought that for a second tonight.
I owe the world everything and myself nothing. But not just the world, I owe certain people certain things . . . and I'd say I owe the people I know personally a lot more than the impoverished I have never met. So I will spend Spring Break with my family and friends, even though I'm telling everyone in IVCF to go to the Pittsburgh Urban Plunge, even though I'm distraught over not going myself, even though I feel like, maybe, that's where I should be? What if? Chloe said (the Bible says, Mother Theresa said) we need the poor, not the other way around. And?
And when I wake up in the morning, I don't want to stop feeling like this, I don't want to forget what I'm feeling. But being in a perpetual state of turmoil is definitely unhealthy. And inevitably I get happy and sidetracked and forget that over two billion people live daily on the tip I gave to the guy who delivered my Chinese food last night.
Pray, pray, pray . . . And listen to "Faith," by George Michael (P.S. ELI STONE on ABC, watch the pilot!).
Possible things to give up for Lent: Hitting the sleep button on my alarm clock (not getting up as soon as I hear my alarm), feeling sorry for myself, letting my laundry sit in the basket after I take it out of the dryer,
I gave up AIM one year, I think it was either 7th, 8th or 10th grade. Last year, about halfway through Lent, I decided I'd give up crushing on boys.
Hm well I haven't decided yet for this year. Que sera, sera. I'll stay away from candy for a while in case I can't think of anything else . . .
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows, day after day?
Here's what my sweetheart said.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
French phrases of the day for Monday, Feb. 4, and Tuesday, Feb. 5:
J'ai dormi à poings fermés. "I slept like a baby." True for Monday night, not for last night or tonight.
Je me suis reveillée a l'aube ce matin. "I woke up very early this morning." Not true for Tuesday morning; will be true for Wednesday morning.
Ooh you know what else I could give up? Putting off dropping my self-paced Italian class. I actually did some of the homework exercises last night while I was waiting for my delivery dinner. Preliminary chapter and chapter 1, out of chapters 0-4 (test next week). Um . . . or maybe just commit to pacing myself better. In everything. Gosh.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Je suis heureuse d'être à nouvelle en ville.
French phrase of the day for Friday, Feb. 1: "I am glad to have returned to the city."
It really occurred to me for the first time on Wednesday that I go to Carnegie Mellon. I mean, like, a weighty, aware-of-my-surroundings, aware-of-my-identity, aware-of-being-labeled-by-the-school realization. The "I'm that girl in that publicity brochure"-type of feeling. I really go to this school. I am Carrie A. Card on the CMU student IDs, I'm just another student here. For a split second, I time-warped to five, eight years from now, and imagined myself saying, Yes, I went to Carnegie Mellon. It was so odd and a little bit overwhelming.
But despite the rough start, this semester is going well, and I am most definitely glad to be back in Pittsburgh.
It really occurred to me for the first time on Wednesday that I go to Carnegie Mellon. I mean, like, a weighty, aware-of-my-surroundings, aware-of-my-identity, aware-of-being-labeled-by-the-school realization. The "I'm that girl in that publicity brochure"-type of feeling. I really go to this school. I am Carrie A. Card on the CMU student IDs, I'm just another student here. For a split second, I time-warped to five, eight years from now, and imagined myself saying, Yes, I went to Carnegie Mellon. It was so odd and a little bit overwhelming.
But despite the rough start, this semester is going well, and I am most definitely glad to be back in Pittsburgh.
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