My ENT must need a new pair of shoes...

So, if you know me, you know that I have really bad nosebleeds. It’s disgusting. I feel really bad for my roommate.

About two weeks ago, my doctor finally had the brilliant idea that something *might* be wrong.
So he sent me to an ENT (ear, nose and throat specialist).
It was not fun.

First of all, the ENT does not have her own office. No, she works at the Springfield Clinic, which is basically a large building that smells like Lysol. And not the pleasant lemony kind of Lysol—the weird antiseptic-smelling kind.

So, on Good Friday, I went to the ENT. What I hate most about going to the doctor is that your appointment is never really on time. If they say 10:30, you might as well not even show up until 11:15. But my freakishly organized mother insisted on getting there at 10:15. So I got to wait a full *hour* in the waiting room with children who had shoved rubber balls up their noses, old men whose ears were leaking crap, etc. It was not a pleasant experience.
Then, when the nurse finally called me back to the office, the ENT came in.

“So, you’re having nosebleeds.” She said.
Duh.
Then, after several minutes of mindless, faux-polite Q & A, she said the one thing I didn’t want to hear. “We’re going to have to cauterize it.”

Um…thanks, but no thanks.

First of all, have you ever been in an ENT’s office? It’s a creepy place. There’s this big chair in the middle of the room that looks like some sort of death chair or something. And there’s a big cord hanging from the ceiling. I didn’t know what that was for. The creepiest thing is that all of the doctor’s tools are just sitting out, on this big cabinet. They are really sharp, and some of them look like blowtorches. There’s this big machine that I don’t even want to *think* about.

Needless to say, I wanted to get out of there. But the ENT had other ideas. She took this big headband thing with a light on it, which she plugged into the cord hanging from the ceiling.

She looked like she was going to go spelunking in my nose.

Luckily, my mom happened to mention that we were getting on a plane for San Antonio the next morning. So the ENT decided it would be best to wait a week, after we got back, to cauterize it.
So a week later, yesterday, I went back to the ENT’s office, absolutely dreading it. Cauterization = not fun, from what I could tell. Basically, the doctor sticks a match up your nose, except it has silver nitrate on it. Yeah.

So we got back in the little room again (which looked even more like a death chamber the second time around) and the ENT came in. She put on her spelunking headdress and looked in my nose. Her breath smelled like lemon Starbursts. I kind of wanted to run away.

“Well,” she said, “it looks a little better today. I think we’ll wait about a month or so and see how you do, and then we’ll cauterize it.”
Um…are you kidding me?!

Seriously, lady, if you’re going to put me through excruciating pain, just get it over with! So now, instead of just paying her for one office visit, we get to pay for three!

I mean, hey, it’s not like I want to get the inside of my nose burned, but this is getting ridiculous.

Long story short, my nose is still bleeding. And I have to go back to the ENT...

How To Tell When You Are In Desperate Need Of Money:

You babysit two kids for four hours and make less than fifteen dollars, and think, "Score!"

Perspective

Quick Fact:
SAT Math score 740 will get you:
at IMSA: 50th Percentile
in the Nation: 97th Percentile

I Can't Wait

So today i met a guy who went to community college.

I was shocked.

Sometimes i hate what IMSA has done to me.

Also my parents were upset i came home at 12:30

Typical Asian parents

I can't wait until i go to college

My Life Flashed Before My Eyes

A bird flew into the side of my face today.

Actually it didn’t, but it would be interesting and humorous (definitely more retrospectively, but I imagine there still would be plenty of humor).

I was walking out of the house taking out the trash, and this huge black bird swoops down only inches in front of me. Had I not stopped and complained to my mother for doing all the chores in the house and been a few seconds faster it would have flown directly into the side of my face. Don’t get me wrong now; I am delighted it didn’t hit me. But looking at it from the onlookers’ perspective, it wouldn’t be too bad if it did.

Immediately from the experience I imagined this huge hole shaped gash on my cheek. People would be all concerned and asking what happened, and I would reply nonchalantly that a bird flew into me. I mean really, how often does that happen?

That or, I could picture myself in the emergency room. Somehow the avian creature managed to wedge its beak so deep into the side of my face that I assumed I shouldn’t take it out myself without the doctors properly giving me a dose of anesthesia. So I would be slouched in one of those overstuffed couches in the waiting room, you know for four hours of course, just tweedling my thumbs with a bird sticking conveniently out of side of my head, while people came in gushing blood and seizure-ing. It would be kind of funny.

Actually, the unfortunate bird would probably be alive through all of this. Provided that birds don’t pass out from shock or anything, the new vision would be of me, tweedling my thumbs in the waiting room, with a bird lodged into the side of my head flapping furiously trying to get away. Would it get tired of struggling say for after 3 hours? Probably. I would probably be lying on one side because I would have a headache from the beak wedged into the side of my head for 3 hours. So I’m lying there. And the bird is lying on the side of my face. The bird is tired because it’s been flapping for hours.

Oh god. What happens if it ends up dislodging itself in the waiting room? I can see that too. The bird somehow gets free, and starts to fly away. I would spring up in enormous pain because the bird just extricated itself and now there is blood spurting out of my head Kill- Bill-style. In the meantime, the bird having used up all its energy trying to dislodge itself from me can’t exactly fly so instead, it falls to the ground and just kind of flaps around the ground like a fish. That might not be as funny.

I am thankful for those two seconds that didn’t bring us together, and I think I am slowly dipping into this isolation induced insanity since those flashes of what would have happen happened in the 20 feet walk between my house and the garbage can. Hooray for spring break.

book

I'm reading Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. It's a good story but her writing is a bit stiff. I guess I can't blame her since it's from the 50's and all. I hadn't really expected to completely agree with Shrugged's premises. I find that I can't help it, though. Turns out that my (somewhat) longstanding theory about the very modern and very scary inability to accept personal responsibility being the prime factor in most of our nation's problems ties in quite nicely with the book's theme. Besides, a lot it just makes sense, shaky plot devices aside. A certain monologue on the nature of money was especially brilliant, in my opinion. Has anyone else read any Ayn Rand, and do any of them care to comment on her ideas? Does anyone else think they're becoming increasingly relevant in society? Juuust wondering.

Risks... Why can't I take them?

Actually posted this on my own blog a few days ago:

Here's something I'm thinking about right now. I'm watching Dancing with the Stars and Marlee Matlin just performed. She did pretty well, for her second dance. What's special about her is that she can't hear the music. She's almost completely deaf, yet she still came out and volunteered for the show and has been trying her best.

I've been told before that I should take more risks. Do more things that scare me. Now, a lot of things scare me. I've classified myself as paranoid before. But I'll admit, I'm not very fond of stepping out of my comfort zone... A quote I keep running across is, "Well-behaved women rarely make history."

Okay, so I'm ranting, but here's what I'm getting at: I want to take risks. I want to make my life more exciting. I enjoy the thrill of doing something a little bit scary, but... it's like I'm in this shell, and I don't know how to break out.

When I do take a risk, even if it's a tiny one that no one else notices, and it goes badly, it's like taking two steps back. I just turn bright red and make a mental note not to do the same thing again. Everytime this happens, it creates a brand new fear for me.

Sometimes I find that I'm able to just throw all my inhibitions out the window, even if it's just for a little while. Those times tend to be my best... that's when my adrenaline is pumping and I enjoy every moment of whatever I'm doing. It's... such a thrill.

So this has all been pretty random. Long story short: I want to put more excitement into my life... but I honestly don't know how.

I think I am high

on life, that is!

this is going to sound silly, but...

Have you ever just felt so good? 

Not because you finished all your homework. Or because you just accomplished something meaningful. Or because you just won the lottery.  Or because you found the love of your life. [all things which i, sadly, have not yet achieved, but that is besides the point.]

But because you just experienced "one of those moments in life" where you realized that you would not want to be anybody else or be at some other place or do anything else. Instead, you just want time to slow down a little bit just so you can spend a little more time [laughing] with the people around you.

Don't you wish you could bottle up these moments to keep them forever (so they'll remind you of the goodness in the world when times are shitty)? It'd be like, happiness in a jar. That would sell, no?

Maybe the sunshine is at fault for my idealistic thoughts today... Man, it is sad what makes me happy sometimes. Hah.

Well, this all leads me to an Albert Einstein quote [which Jon reminded me of]: 

"There are only two ways to live your life. 

One is as though nothing is a miracle. 

The other is as though everything is a miracle."

I guess I'm just trying to say that I’m tired of being nostalgic. I’m tired of studying. I’m tired of worrying. I’m tired of wishing. I'm tired of regrets. I’m tired of dreaming. I’m tired of waiting.  I'm tired of missing out.

Let the wind run its fingers through our hair already.

I mean, life is for living, right?

Clean Rooms

I came home today, from college visiting. That was actually really tiring, because we went to one city a day, and woke up at like 4:30 am every day. So I came home exhausted, thinking, "Thank goodness, home! I don't have to clean or anything, I can just relax." And then I opened my bedroom door.

I just discovered why everyone cleans their rooms (or houses, depending) before going on vacation.

good evening

ladies and gentlemen.
today, i'd like to share a story about my life with you on a subject that i will probably never again write on.
but first let me write it up, and then paste the last sentence of the story right here so that you know what is coming/you read the spoiler/you realise that there is really actually nothing to spoil/you see whether you want to keep reading or not:

"everyone's good. "

so, a few weeks before we all were let loose upon our unsuspecting hometowns (read: spring break), my Dell Inspiron 6000 (you know, the laptop that every second senior owns) died hopelessly. after asking everyone i knew for help, akin a single mother with a manic schizophrenic child, i've realised that there was no hope left (read: a very small amount of hope left). at that point, i've called Dell 6 times (or so), and all that they could offer me was a new hard drive, but i didn't have any of my stuff backed up!

so.
and.
but!
i've found a cure!

if you're ever in this situation as well, do this:
go to best buy, buy a hard drive enclosure (just the case for an external without an actual HD in it), it will cost you about $40 - don't worry, you can return it later for a complete refund. They have IDE and SOMEOTHERSHIT kinds. chances are, you own an IDE one.
then, come home, drink some water, eat a granola bar and proceed as follows:
take out your 'fried' hard drive and put in the enclosure, and then connect it (they come with usb cables) to any other computer. then, you can browse your hard drive as if it were a flashdrive.
ha!
but the best part is - dell ended up sending me a new hard drive. i got it yesterday. apart from me now having two hard drives AND all of my data saved, the new HD turned out to be 60 GB instead of my previous 40 GB one? i am excited more than i was when i found out what shoulder pads were.
and if you are as excited as i am about this, then i'm happy that you didn't waste your time on this pseudo-knowledge blog. i promise not to ever talk like i know something about computers ever again. everyone's good.

It breaks my heart

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/03/25/walmart.insurance.battle/index
.html?iref=newssearch

Read it.

Long story short,
Walmart employee gets hit by truck and suffers extreme brain damage.
Trucking company awards 1 million dollars for medical expenses, and Walmart gives 470,000 from health care plan
All in all, the couple only have about 200 thousand dollars left after all of the medical expenses so far.

Now, Walmart is suing for the money back
Husband has to divorce wife to get more "state funding"
Their son died in Iraq two weeks after the accident

Moral of the Story: Walmart is an ass.
I was trying to figure out a way for Key Club to help this man, but what can we do? Raise a couple hundred dollars for him? In the big scale of things, this would help nothing. The system is flawed. A man should not have to divorce his wife to get more funding, and Walmart is wrong.

I just felt like sharing, and i sure know that Im no longer shopping at Walmart (for those of you who saw the Walmart movie in Dr. Skinner or Dr. Kadel's class, you should already have tons or reasons not to shop there!)

Old Friends

For the past couple months, I had been worrying that I would come home over summer break, excited to hang out with friends from home, only to find that I did not, in fact, have any friends anymore.
When I come home on weekends, I just sleep and catch up with the family and my dog, and the past few extendeds I haven't been home for various reasons. That is to say, I hadn't seen my friends for quite a while.
So when I took a break from eating easter candy and playing around on the computer long enough to call my friends to hang out, I was a bit worried. I saw myself feeling left out of discussions about local going-ons, or completely lost by inside jokes I was no longer a part of.

But this was not the case. We picked up our friendship right where we left off. I got in on the news of my old school, we watched a movie and laughed at all the serious scenes, and made a song in Garageband, then recorded a music video of us dancing to it. All in all, I had a lot of fun, and felt completely included.
Perhaps this is a testament to the strength of our friendship.
Or perhaps this is just because nothing changes out here anyways, so I didn't miss much.
Or perhaps I should go back to eating easter candy and messing around on the computer, and stop over analyzing the situation.

Either way, I'm relieved to know that I will have people to hang out with this summer.

Sometimes I wish my family was invisible.

So. I just got back from vacation.
Oh yes. Vacation.
Here’s the thing. My family loves to travel. We actually do a fair amount of traveling. But…we suck at it. I mean, we really suck at it.

If you don’t know me, here’s a quick bit of background info on my family…

My dad is tall and German. He doesn’t smile a lot, and frequently scares people by accident.

My mom is short and Irish. She has hair the color of a fire engine and a very short temper. She is ridiculously organized and enjoys yelling at people, or really anything that moves.

I have a perpetually unhappy and somewhat angsty 13-year-old sister who only listens to bad Christian rock and insists on wearing hooded sweatshirts, even in July.

My brother is 11. He thinks the word “poop” is hilarious. He likes to blast Black Sabbath on his iPod and whistle at 19-year-old girls. I blame this on Catholic school.

My littlest sister is 7. She prefers singing to talking, will only eat Lucky Charms for breakfast, and has a habit of catching pneumonia whenever we travel.

We also have two dogs. Thank God we left them at home.

So, Tuesday afternoon, I think it was, we were sitting in our hotel room when my littlest sister decided it was time for a spontaneous outfit change. Rummaging through her suitcase, she suddenly stood up and burst out, “I DIDN’T BRING ENOUGH SOCKS!”
For some reason, the delivery of this message required a lot of screaming and stomping on her part.

So, we all piled in the rental car and sped off to the nearby Target to buy the necessary articles of clothing for her. Fifteen minutes later, we were in the line to pay for them—High School Musical socks—when my mom opened her wallet and discovered that all of our vacation money—over $400—was gone. She pulled out her credit card to make the payment, all the while panicking along with my 13-year-old sister. They were paying for the socks and deciding it must have been the hotel maid when my brother came running over. “Come on,” he said, “we’re going to miss our reservation!” So we hurried out of the checkout lane.

As we were nearing the exit, I felt a tug on my sleeve. Looking down, I saw my littlest sister pointing to a box on a nearby shelf. “What does t-a-m-p-o-n spell?” she asked innocently. “It’s a kind of fish,” I said quickly, before grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the store.

Long story short, it was the maid. We didn’t get the money back.

Yesterday, we went to downtown San Antonio to visit the Alamo, of course. My 13-year-old sister is deathly afraid of birds, and for some reason the place was packed with pigeons. So, every time one came near her, she started shrieking. One woman and her husband stared at her, speaking rapid Spanish and laughing a little. “Hey,” said my little sister, “those people are talking about Maddie in Mexican!”

“They’re not speaking Mexican, stupid,” said my brother knowledgably, “they’re speaking Hispanic.”

Oh, hooray for political correctness…

i am i pretty much blind.

so when i woke up this morning at 8:26 and looked outside the window, 

all i could see were these quickly falling little objects.

i thought to myself, "oh well, it's just rain."

but as i pulled my glasses on, 

an overwhelming sadness loomed upon me.

it's snowing. once again.

and being the obsessive person i am, 

i checked weather.com and read the flood warning update.

-_-

how is it possible for it to still snow?

so much for SPRING break.

I have a ridiculous amount of energy

for 12:31 at night. Or is it in the morning?

Okay, so "when I grow up", I want to travel the world. My question is, when do we get too old to say "when I grow up"? When you get your first real job? When you're forty-five? My mom turned forty-seven today and when I asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up she told me she was already grown up. She seemed a bit sad about it, too, like she would have rather said "I want to be a fashion designer" or "I want to read all the time". Actually, she already does the second one, but that's not the point. The point is, I don't think you should ever be too old to say "when I grow up".

Edit: My mom says she wanted to be an elephant trainer, but I'm not sure she was serious about this one.

This morning I woke up and thought I was alone in my house. It was kind of terrifying for about six seconds, until I remembered that my family members were all off on various excursions. Turns out my mom took my cell phone, too, because my brother took hers to the Dells after losing his own. Sound like it doesn't make any sense? That's because it really doesn't.

So I take my shower and wonder what on earth I can do, because not only am I alone and phoneless, but it's snowing outside. The only thing that pops into my mind? Igloo time. I grabbed a blanket from my closet, pulled the dining room chairs out into the living room and proceeded to make a tent. The only difference between today and when I used to do this when I was six is that I've got my computer instead of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This is nice. It's comfy. And much more fun than cleaning.

So Greeting from the Igloo! It's time for a snack.

I <3 aspartame

My mother is going through an anti-aspartame phase, and has forbidden anything containing the stuff to enter the house any longer.

Around noon today, I drank my last can of Diet Coke.

I am a pretty big fan of Diet Coke.

I don’t have my license.

Hmm, problem. Then I had an epiphany.

Using the wonderful technology that’s available today, I visited the Domino’s website. I tried to place an order for 1 two-liter, but no beans. They have a $8.99 minimum order for delivery. But that wasn’t going to stop me! So I ordered 4 two-liter bottles of Diet Coke. The site informed me that their expert delivery man, Deon, was going to get me my order in a jiffy. I waited and waited, but no Deon. Where was Deon??

Then, my mother came home. Ohh shooot.

Thankfully, our trash was nearly full. I played the Good Daughter and asked to take out the trash. My mother, surprised but pleased, said of course. I loitered outside for a bit, and thank God, DEON!! He looks at me funnily, and says, “Iz this yo ordah? Foor litahs of Diet?” I hurriedly responded yes, paid him, and managed to sneak the four 2-liter bottles of Diet Coke back to my room.

Crisis averted!

Diet Coke in my tummy!

I win.

I never noticed until now

just how much I rely on IMSA. Over the past year, my entire life has been turned upside down. Among other things, I used to actually like going home, but now I'm always counting down the days until I can go back. It's really sort of a grass is always greener thing. I'm sitting here, halfway through spring break, and I'm thinking, "I don't even care how much work is involved. I just want to get out of this house." I miss my friends. It hasn't even been a week, and already, I don't know what to do with myself. How on earth am I going to make it when I graduate?

At the same time, I keep asking why I put myself in this position. IMSA is a tough place to be, and it has pushed me dangerously close to the edge more than once. If it weren't for the people, I seriously doubt I'd still be there. My support group has grown immensely in the past few months, and I don't think I could ever give that up. At the same time, what is all the stress for? Are we really going to do that much better in the long run? Isn't there a way that we can get the same education with less work outside of class? I'm really tired of losing sleep and forgetting to eat, but that's what I'm struggling with. My grades are good, but I have to kill myself to keep them that way. So where would I honestly be happier? That's what I can't figure out.

Things I miss about IMSA

1. All the friends I made who I now cannot see quite as often.
2. Dr. Czerny
3. DC++ (sometimes)
4. That room in the library with the computer that has a gigantic LCD monitor and the door you can lock.
5. The building right before it closes, when all the lights are turning off and it's basically a ghost town. Also after when it's closed, when you can still (and I'm not saying how but if you know, you can rejoice in our shared secret) go inside and look around.
6. That glitch in the vending machine outside the cafeteria that turned 5 dollar bills into 20 dollar bills. (I think it's gone now.)
7. Looking through other people's mail.

IMSA is a pretty good place to engage in Eloise-like behavior. There's a lot of unorthodox stuff you can do with a building and hours of free time, and I didn't get anywhere near doing all of it.

Kevin's [mini] big give

a tuesday night with no panera bread? oh no!

actually, i called almost 15 panera stores, as did liam hessian and jen byers, trying to get bread. we were going to go downtown tomorrow and hand our bread to homeless people, but now we have revised our plans.

tomorrow, i will be arriving downtown chicago at 4:42 PM with $50 worth of quarters, a video camera and a whole lot to learn. i will give $0.25 to 200 homeless men, women and children, talking to each of them to learn a little bit about what they have to say. this is to make up for all the times i have blown right by someone even when i had some money to spare.

think about it, though i'm sure it is dangerous, probably not the best use of my time, and $0.25 wont make that much of a difference to them, they have so much to say--but no one cares. i want to show them that someone cares.

so, if you are free and in search of your inner self (as the number of facebook notes tells me many are ;)), then come join me, liam, arjun and jen for some self discovery inspired by oprah!

(note: i'm pretty sure the ! is now part of her name. This spell check says 'Oprah' and 'Oprah.' are misspelled, but not 'Oprah!'

p.s.-- stay posted, more later

out east

so my parents decided to take me out east to visit colleges that i have no chance of getting into. coincidentally, this requires me to spend a lot of time with my family cause we're driving everywhere. now don't take the previous statement the wrong way; i generally have no problems with my family. its just that my mom adn brother can get on my nerves pretty easily. its my dad thats the problem. we have a history of not always seeing eye to eye (thats putting it quite lightly), but it has become much more apparent during our trip. in the past these arguments were one-sided (he yells, i look at the ground, punishment, argument over), but now in my older age i stand up for myself more often. over this week, i have been pushing him farther and farther by pointing out his irrationality. he does not know how to deal with this, however, because i am not the small little boy that i used to be. please note that although i am no small person, my dad could still kick my ass if it came down to it (as it has in the past). i dont want for this to come to violence or for either of us to "win", but rather for him to stop destroying our family. im not sure how to do it, and every passing day makes me yearn to just go to college and forget him. half of me wants to walk away, whereas the other half still wants to try and fix him. i look back and realize that he has made progress over the years, but it is hardly enough. he blames all of his problems on alcohol and drugs (he has been aldohol free for 2 years, and takes concerta and ritalin for his add), but i cant stand this. everyday i hope that i am not following in his footsteps and becoming him. it seems as if most other things dont matter anymore. school, friends, and everything else is sort of a blur. i havent had a passion for anything in such a long time that it hurts to think that im wasting everything that i have been given. maybe my dad being who he is has given me a passion to not become him. maybe thats just what i need.

Why IMSA?

Being home for spring break has made me realize how much I gave up to come to IMSA. As I was half-cleaning my room, I came across my memory box- a box of mementos that my mom made me start keeping. I came across my symphony concert programs, my badminton award, and all the other things that I gave up to come here. It made me stop and think "Why on earth did I choose to go to IMSA? I don't even like math and science, I don't like technology or any of that!" I think about all of the honors I left behind at home- school academic awards, being principal violist at my old symphony and now being demoted to second chair at IMSA- and wonder what drew me to this place that looks like a bomb shelter. After all, my old school was designed as a castle (Cati- I'm sure you understand that!). Between all of that and the Facebook messages from former badminton teammates hinting at how me leaving the team has caused the doubles teams to become mixed up, I kind of get frustrated at my decision to come to IMSA. Don't get me wrong, there's no way I'm leaving, I love this place, but at the same time I wonder what it was that made me come here, because I have no idea. I'm sure many people can relate to this, and I'd like to hear what you think.

And in a deep philosophical sense, I think that me trying to figure out what made me come here is actually me trying to figure out who I am.

the juno/easter blog

i think i will change the name. thoughts?

More Lo Mein, Dr. Kiely?

Hey everyone!

This blog is a cool idea. It reminds me a lot of magicmuffin.com- a IMSA group blog that John Li/others had when they were here. I remember reading some of their blogs before I came to IMSA. It's nice, seeing the real side of IMSA students. Going past our budding leadershipping selves to see the average, quirky, and slightly insecure people we all really are.

I've spent the last few days thinking about what I would write as a first entry on this blog. Right now, I'm in Washington D.C. with the family. I'm not going to lie...it hasn't been much fun. Too long of lines + too much security= one slightly bored Challa family.

This bit of mental boredom has given me a lot of time to think about random things- blogging being one of them. However, I didn't need to look far and wide for a blogging topic- I walked right into it, at a small little Chinese restaurant.

MONDAY NIGHT, I SAW DR. KIELY IN WASHINGTON D.C.

Our family was walking down Connecticut Avenue (like in Monopoly!) Monday night, when my mom spotted a tiny little Chinese restaurant in between two big shops. Deciding to give it a try, our family stepped inside. The place was pretty empty. The waiter brought us down to the area with booths, and as I stepped in, I noticed a balding man sitting across from a pretty attractive lady. However, something was very familiar about the man...the way he was sitting, his hand gestures, his sweater, his nose...

[Well, here's something to know about me. Whenever I go out of town, I always feel like EVERYONE looks like SOMEONE at IMSA. I have no idea why. I was almost positive that this was another one of those cases- a Kiely look-alike, to add to the OlehZaychenko2 and Mini-JoshCote I had already seen in the same day.]

However, as we approached the table to turn to the table next to it, I was getting a bit apprehensive. This person looked more and more like Dr. Kiely...

Next thing I knew, the mystery-man looked up. We made eye contact, we both turned away, and then we both made a double take.

Oh. mah. gawsh.
IT WAS DR. KIELY.

Trying to figure out how exactly to respond in the situation, I responded like I normally do in awkward trying-to-be-friendly-but-not-really-sure-how moments; I did a quadruple waving-wave (if you want, I can demonstrate it sometime). He nodded back, and I sped off to sit by my family.

The experience was wholly surreal. Kiely + HotWoman left a few minutes after that. I only saw his face once the entire night.

Was it him? Or was it just a figment of my imagination? Will I get Jen Byers to ask him what he did over Spring Break?

The answer to all these questions is...well, we'll just have to wait and see. ;D

-Mamatha

there's no way i'm going to look back at this and find it well-written in 6 months

Have you ever not quite been able to pull an all-nighter, so you wake up at dinnertime the next day? Because that's pretty much been my entire break so far, and I'm not a fan of the feeling. The only good thing about sleeping this much is how incredibly weird my dreams get when they're given full opportunity to spread their wings and fly around the inside of my brain. Ideally tomorrow I'll wake up early and actually do things all day, rather than spending my daytime hours convinced that I am late for a meeting with the Prime Minister and the hallway to his office seems to be a sentient being bent on my total and complete destruction.

It's nice out. There are people I know who probably wouldn't mind spending a morning with me. There is work I must do. I might actually have more than one meal in a given period of consciousness, and I might actually be able to go to bed before I hear birds twittering and cars honking and the optimistically set alarm for 9:30 in the morning requires me to wake up and unplug the clock and then ritualistically take it apart and burn it in the hope that it may never beep, whistle, or turn on talk radio ever again. I might even be able to read the newspaper before my slightly tidier mother decides it needs to be thrown in the trash.

Sometimes I feel like the lack of a daytime schedule really messes with my head more than I'd like to admit, which would explain my horrible dreams.

One night, every time I tried to fall asleep I'd drift off and suddenly feel like I was falling and wake up. The weird thing is, having actually done some falling in my time, this feeling is a lot worse than I think actually jumping off a building is. It's the anxiety I feel right before hitting the ground but I never hit the ground, lengthened and magnified a thousandfold.

-sincerely

mike

The Perfect Quote

So if any of you know me, you know that my memory is somewhat of a... unique thing. For those of you that don't know me, simply put, my memory is about as consistent as my classes are useful. I also can sometimes have quite the speaking... experience, akin to butchering the English language with the cut and paste function. These two things combined, sometimes make me quite the story teller, in the sense that I should just stop talking.



You may be thinking, "Wow this kid must really suck," yea, pretty much. However, I can remember quotes from movies like its no one's business. Combine this talent with my uncanny ability to use quotes from movies people haven't seen, my formidable memory, and mastery of speech and you're left with some pretty hit or miss situations. Every now and then however, my true talent and only one of my disabilities will shine through. A beautiful moment where I apply the perfect quote to people that haven't seen the movie (or don't recognize the quote) and it still makes everyone laugh. I have to share one of these experiences with you now.



So I was in a room with 3 people I've known for a total of 5 minutes and one friend I haven't seen in 3 years. Needless to say, it was a pretty awkward situation seeing as some of other people in the room didn't know each other either. First, there's one thing about my diet over school breaks you have to understand -- its made up entirely of as little solid food as possible and as much Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper/Pibb Xtra as I can fill my stomach with. Its what keeps me pretty. This understandably, forces me to make deposits to the porcelain bank frequently, I even have a card--only two more punches and I get to wet the bed. That being said, I used it as my scapegoat to escape the awkward as hell situation. To avoid even more awkward energy in the room, I delicately vomited the words "Do you have a bathroom?" to the guy whose house it was. This guy, obviously high, starts with "uhhh... downstairs and you make a... left? then a..." so I cut him off with this deal sealer, "Oh yeah, room with the toilet!" and make my way out before I could laugh. As I left the room everyone started laughing -- it was magnificent, I'm sure a baby was born somewhere. A cute baby, not one of the really ugly ones. Phew, I almost ran out of bread for that crumb trail. Hope you were more fortunate than Hansel and Gretel and could follow it.

I could die happy.

On Suspensions, Science Fairs, StudCo, and Excel

I can't even begin to explain how sucky of a month this has been for me. It's like the wrath of God is bein' poured out all over everything I do and think. It's like God hates me or something, like me and Him got in an argument and I must have said "bring it bitch" or somethin' like that because he sure as hell is bringin' it every second of every day. Let me see where this month began and where it has progressed...

February 25th - Nathan's Apartment
This incident didn't directly "involve" me, but it most definitely affected me. So, I live in Nathan's wing and he and I have a very close relationship like my gay mentor or something (lol), and when he said he was quitting and that he was leaving I just lost it. I mean, Nathan is
 probably one of the most influential people I have ever had in my life. He was always there to talk 
things out, to listen to my problems, to tell me when I was being absolutely ridiculous, etc. Finding 
out that he wasn't going to be around anymore was just to much. He's obviously still here but at
the time, the stress and emotions that arose from it were very real and the effects are still existent.

March 5th - IJAS Deadline
So, I've competed at the Illinois Junior Academy of Science regional and state fairs every year since 7th grade (so three years total). Seniors that have competed as long as I have get a lot of scholarship opportunities from the organization and that's my ultimate goal.  But anyways, in light of all of the stuff that I had to do then, and continue to have to do now, it's really been difficult finding the time to dedicate to doing a project and committing the time to work on a presentation. The IJAS Region 5 Fair at NIU is April 5th, a little under two weeks away. I've never been this close to a deadline and not had my paper done. I should be done with my display board by now.

March 5th - A Meeting with Big Bondi
Okay...if you're reading this, you probably are already on the up and up with the news at IMSA and have probably already heard about the prank phone call to Sabrina. Yea, yea, yea...long ass story...not in the mood to go into it. But basically, the same morning I met with my psychiatrist (another blog altogether), I get a phone call to go to security. I had to explain all that jazz and what-not, not the most fun I've had in my life.

March 7th - My Cat Dies
So, I don't fit Hemingway's idea of a man, I'm way too sensitive for that so to hell with it. The title basically says it all. My cat, that I had since she was born, died. We don't know how, I just know that she died because my sister sent me a text message. I know right? What a way to find out...

March 6th to Present - Excel Applications
I'm an Excel student. I had to go to Excel last summer and even though it took up three weeks of my summer, it was one of the best experiences of my life and I wanted with so much passion to be able to give back to the program. I wanted to make the same impact that the Excel tutors were able to make on me. I had a kick-ass application I can honestly say and I was invited to do an interview. But in light of my (at the time) current disciplinary situation, I was not given the opportunity to be a tutor which totally sucks. I've never been that upset about getting declined for something. But as Vonnegut says..."so it goes..."

March 12th to March 17th - Disciplinary Hearing and Suspension
So as a result of my prank phone call, I had a suspension hearing with Bob Hernandez. The hearing went well and everything and I only received a one-day suspension. It wouldn't have been that bad if it wouldn't have affected Excel the way that it did. 

Ongoing event - Student Council and the Upcoming Elections
I'm running for Student Council vice-president. I'm surprised that I feel comfortable expressing so many of my difficulties in light of the upcoming elections but I've never been the kind of person to hold things back because I was in the spotlight. Anyways, I'm running against Cati Crawford and Andrew Ericson, my roommate. I know! Real freakin' convenient!? As if I don't have enough turmoil with him, now we're competing against each other for the same position on StudCo. It's aight though. May the better man, or woman, win. 

Concluding Remarks
So, I've just ranted for like 30 minutes about how much my life sucks. It may seem very selfish but in reality I'm not. It's just about time that I vented a little. Everyone has to express their emotions every once in a while or life would be boring as hell. Anyways that's all 
I have time to say right now. My bed is calling my name. Goodnight. 

i hope this isn't too ubiquitously easter-y

I just saw a commercial where a chocolate bunny hops over to a peanut butter jar. They begin to cuddle, which means the bunny is rubbing his nose to the jar, and then BAM. There’s lovin' music and steam everywhere. The announcer's saying some almost clever innuendo as apparently chocolate peanut butter eggs float on the screen.

When I was a little kid, I took commercials like this to heart. In the middle of the night, I'd sneak downstairs and rub my chocolate bunnies on the jar of peanut butter (having no idea that I was facilitating sweet, sugary porn) hoping for the magic appearance of steam and pseudo babies. Obviously, I was sourly disappointed, sitting in my pantry with nothing but some stupid chocolate and peanut butter. After I got to thinking about the commercial and the memory, I realized how stupid I was. Wait, no, how stupid the commercials were.

I’ve never seen a chocolate bunny who had the parts necessary to lay an egg or get laid or something, and I’d assume that rabbits make baby rabbits, and peanut butter makes ½ of this, so since when do prenatal birds (sort of) get involved? It probably has something to do with the stork. So not only is our chocolate having sex with my favorite condiment, but they’re having bad, three second sex. There was no strokin’ (check out Oleh’s video); there was just steam.

What is this teaching out children? Bad science and bedroom skillz? Something about how Jesus isn’t important anymore? I really don’t know, man, but how does this make me want to buy peanut butter eggs?

easter sunday.

Apparently, on Easter Sunday some years ago in my aunt's church in Taipei, I became a Christian. There was no elaborate ceremony involved, no fanfare or holy proclamation; just a small assembly of the congregation gathered around me and the pastor as she held my hands, closed her eyes, and whispered some vows that would forever embed Jesus Christ in my heart and soul.

In all honesty, I bear little recollection of the moment. I only vaguely remember the dim lighting of the room, the tidy, somber attire of the spectators, the fluffy, golden hair of the woman who stood in front of me. A mixture of Chinese and English, a brief smattering of applause, my aunt taking my hand and leading me outside.

In subsequent visits to Taiwan, my aunt never fails to remind me that I am now a Christian. But I don't think I ever felt the piety inside me, the joy and enlightenment that are supposed to come with a newfound religion. Am I still a Christian then?

Apparently, Easter Sunday just passed yesterday. I was unaware of the fact until this morning.

Secret Pockets

We have half my mom's family over here (all Chinese, if that plays any significant role in this) telling us about secret pockets and their usefulness, and how we should keep about our person a decoy purse, etc. (We're going to New York/Baltimore/Boston for a few days, college visiting.)

It kind of makes me laugh, because we were walking around in Chicago yesterday and they were totally chill about it.

from my aubergine colored room

Today is Monday, and I've already been asked at least a half-dozen times what I "got" for Easter.
Is that what Easter's come to? Another day for getting gifts? I thought Easter was supposed to be one of the most meaningful days of the year for those who believe in it. But if it's just come to be another commercialized holiday, I don't really feel like I'm missing out on anything. Bring on Passover.

I'm wearing tights today. Not leggings, but actual, convertible, black ballet tights that I pulled out of my dance bag this morning from amongst the leotards and shoes. The feeling's comforting, like an old friend, as creepy as that sounds. So yeah, spring break is good.

Easter thoughts

I'm technically Russian-Orthodox so I think my Easter was a couple weeks back or something, but the family celebrated yesterday and it was a pretty good time. We don't make a huge deal out of it but we do have an "Ooh, looook, the Easter Bunny came and left you a bunch of things!" tradition for my little sister (she's 4), so I get to help supervise while she runs around looking for the stuff that my mom scattered around the house.

For the most part, it was the usual fare: some coins, some candy, a bubble necklace, those pills you can put in a cup of water and they turn into dinosaurs, etc. She was pretty pumped about it. I helped her find a pokemon keychain but quickly told the 4-year-old that the Easter Bunny "probably left that one for me," heh. Mom was kinda weirded out (pfft, parents! They just never understand hilariously ironic humor) but my little sister was down with it so I got a sweet new keychain out of the deal. Score.

There's always a couple of things for me on purpose in there too, because my mom's nice like that; some of it kinda makes me wonder though. If I receive a hairbrush identical to the one my twin sister gets and it isn't a joke, it may just be time for a haircut. Soon.

-Nick

(p.s. )

i woke up today.
after this, i don't really remember any of the pointless details, but all in all, i decided to find out what blogs are and how to write one. so, i typed in "how to write a blog" into google.
after following the directions off "A Beginner's Blog Publishing Guide", and ordering a 12 Step Blog Improvement Programme for 6.99 on Amazon, I realised that my previous post lacked some serious ace.
but don't worry - i will make it up to you. everything you need to have in a good blog (wink wink, kevin crews) is in the following paragraph.
So, my life has become comically preposterous. I woke up humming

The surrogation of my mornings is only confirmed by the lack of pink marshmallows in my cereal, and Barack Obama is Muslim.

(oh yes, and i almost forgot):

xoxo,
thom

p.s. free tibet

A Fortuitous Post

"Fortuitous" is a SAT vocab word I learned today.

My mom gets fairly upset when she catches me awake in the dead of the night. Like now. She also has an overactive bladder. No, she doesn’t wet beds, but she does get up about five times a night to go to the bathroom. So as I’m typing this, with my face illuminated from the computer screen, I’m also intently listening for the sounds of a roused parent.

It’s funny (interesting, not haha) how much better my feet feel in bed without socks, versus with socks.

I already had an argument today, with the father. It was about whistling. He told me it would be in my best interest to break my “vulgar and indecent habit” of whistling. Apparently, I am offending all of my friends and teachers every time a whistle of mine falls upon your ears. For that offense, I am truly sorry.

Reality Check

So. In the world of Indian family parties, it's customary to call your parents' friends "auntie" and "uncle" based on gender. Don't ask me why. I have no idea. But essentially, everyone's just one big happy family.

I'm a big fan of little kids. They're cute and cuddly and adorable up until that point where they turn like, 9, and suddenly develop an attitude and think they're better then the other 6 billion of us trying to chillax here on Earth too. Anyways, I was at one of these random Indian family parties this evening, and this cute little 2 year old gets really hyper and starts running all over the place. Then he picks up a glass of water and starts running towards me. Of course, the water goes all over the place. His mom asked him what he was doing, to which he replied, "I was getting a glass of water for Uncle!!", pointing at me.

Want to boost my self-esteem the next few days? Kindly inform me that I dont' appear to be a hairy, middle-aged man. Thank you.

my first easter

i'm jewish, but i celebrated easter today--well, if you can call going to my grandma's retirement community and having brunch a celebration. despite a fairly entertaining confrontation between the old man and the high school aged server about the lack of smoked salmon alloted in each portion, i will not write about my 'celebration'.

instead, i wanted to respond to a moving note by zack maril: i am turning 17.

zack said some important things, and since i always like to deal with my problems by laughing at them, i figured i would attempt to lend a helping hand in the only way i could. some comic relief.

so, i dont know if anyone has read this, but david sedaris's voice makes it. this is a youtube clip of david sedaris reading 'jesus shaves', and i thought it would be appropriate.

i'm

only here for a little bit of time. and, if this doesn't sound sad enough, i'll go with "i'm only here for my last few days with all of you."
ummm i've never had a blog for more than a few days, so we'll see what comes out of this.
i don't have any stories or shit like that to share with you yet, but they will come.
and if you are interested in what the last days at imsa are like, then i'll give you a little taste of them until you yourselves experience them.

letters from the wasteland

I live in Kankakee. It's about 60 miles south of Chicago and it's getting a lot closer to being a suburb than it really should be. Nobody actually knows what Kankakee means because it doesn't actually directly correlate to any other word. A quick Google or two told me that Kankakee can mean "low land", "swamp country", "wolf-land", or basically whatever you feel like you want the meaning to be. Kankakee is in a couple kind of famous songs that you probably haven't heard because it rhymes very easily and has a jaunty feel to it.

I think maybe I'm here to remind people that there is life outside of the IMSA bubble, and there is life post-IMSA, both things which are pretty easy to forget when you don't go home for a while. And I'll try and do that.

Enjoy your break.