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Preview of the Aquarius set:

My life can't be any more bleh than it already is. Everything's rolling so slowly yet so fast. I have 9 more days of high school before I'm moving to join the big world. I thought I was supposed to enter the "big world" when I turned 18, what a joke.

I'm super happy that I'll be in Hopkins this fall, but I can't help but think, what if? What if I don't live up to the standards? What if I procrastinate more than I already am (senioritus: full blown)? Everything's a big what if, but I can't live life thinking of the future. At least not too much.

Best moment of the week: Someone asked me, "So are you Asian or are you Chinese?" Well, dugh. I'm both? Poor girl seriously thought China was a country. HA!

However, I am pretty excited that it's been sunny these last couple of days. Ta!

A poem for creative writing class. Criticize it and give some compliments too. :)


First Time Reading Grimm’s Fairytales

Still,
shudder,
stop!
A sudden
hush.
“Shush!”
Eyes widen,
stilted
silence.
World shut.
Dreams died.
Close the book.
Disney lied.

fahRANce?

BLOG TIME!

From weimoner8: "so, when the video ended, an ad came up that siad "How Gay is Your Husband," and I thought, hmm, that's a tricky question. I would get a husband, but that would probably mean he's pretty darn gay 'cause I'm a guy and all. So based on that, my husband would have to be pretty close to 100% gay, I supposed."

Technically yesterday was but today is so much prettier so I'm dubbing TODAY the 1st beautiful day of the year. :)

Er... I've been playing around with the dollmaker (yet again). I absolutely love the dress that the doll is wearing on the left. I would die to find that kind of dress in the store. And the shoes??? Need I say I love heels with bows at the toes?

This mock definition was taken from the draft Sarah of the online orignal fiction work Trouble Starts With a Q by Myrika.

ASIAN OVERACHIEVER: This specimen of homo sapiens is of Asian descent; it is also known as "an overwhelmingly excellent student" but perhaps unflatteringly referred to as "nerd" and "geek." While this humanoid may have black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes, it is often hidden behind a pair of glasses and an anxious, single-minded ambition to outshine other homo sapiens it considers to be racially inferior. Its natural habitat is the academic classroom with other students, but perhaps because of said ambition, it does not get along well with fellow Asian overachievers since they consider each other rivals. They have been known to fight to death over things such as: class rank, grades, GPA, SAT, ACT.

Once removed from the classroom, the specimen has been known to display shock and confusion. It often cannot think for itself - this is due to the strong strain of Confucian tradition found in every overachiever's genes. One will usually find a pair of powerful parents ever pushing the overachiever towards higher academic honors and family glory. The specimen tends to mature late in life, often mating after "graduate college" but always in wedlock and always with those of Asian descent. It should be noted that this has not been scientifically proven, but there seems to be some perceptible divisions within the community of Asian overachievers, hinting at an odd fashion of selective mating. The Korean breed, for instance, will never reproduce with the Japanese breed.

See also, "DOCTOR" and "ENGINEER" and "LAWYER" and "SCIENTIST."

I had such a great laugh over this. Partially because it's so true (especially when applied to me). I can think of a few other people that this applies to as well.

Note: I got my grades back from Semester 1. I still have a 4.0GPA and is now the only senior with a 4.0. (YES!)

Conversation as logged on my computer by the application Pidgin:

Conversation with vietguy105 at 1/25/2009 11:05:02 PM on infowithheld (aim)
(11:05:02 PM) VietGuy105: asl
(11:05:49 PM) Annie: I'm 6000million years old, asexual, and I live among the lilly pads
(11:06:17 PM) VietGuy105: how big are your breasts, do you shave down there?
(11:07:39 PM) Annie: I'm not human. I am a no entity. Therefore I have no physical form. By some heaven sent miracle I've been given invisible fingers that can type on a keyboard.
(11:08:04 PM) VietGuy105: what school do you go to ?
(11:08:31 PM) Annie: I am 6000million years old. I don't go to school. Dugh.
(11:09:48 PM) Annie: dear dear poor mistaken human. you seem to assume I'm a girl.
(11:10:07 PM) Annie: what if I was a guy? are there such things as breast measurements for guys?
(11:10:25 PM) VietGuy105: you are a girl
(11:10:39 PM) Annie: are you so sure? and besides. I'm a no entity. I have no gender.
(11:10:42 PM) Annie: and I'm asexual
(11:10:59 PM) VietGuy105: you go to ehs
(11:11:41 PM) Annie: err... sure...
(11:11:49 PM) Annie: everlasting heavenly space
(11:12:55 PM) Annie: well Mr. VietGuy105, I seem to have lost my spacial order of things.
(11:13:09 PM) Annie: my neutrons seem to have misaligned themselves again
(11:13:46 PM) Annie: I need to pick up my copy of pseudoscience and analyze the matter at hand.
(11:13:50 PM) Annie: Goodbye.

My screen-name has been changed but his hasn't.

I love messing with poor suckers who are looking for dating conquests online. I have no clue how he knew that I go to EHS, probably from my livejournal or my myspace. Whatever. I don't think it's myspace though because my myspace HAS my age, sex, and location. I think I freaked the poor guy out. lol. Well, at least I know he won't bother me again.

As I woke up this morning, I had completely forgotten about the inauguration. The night I had a paper I needed to finish. As soon as I got to school I was surprised with the fact that the inauguration was this morning! I went through the rest of my day waiting patiently to hear his speech and then after his speech, to see my high school marching band march by the new president. I was obscenely proud that the Evergreen High School marching band got picked to be in the inaugural parade.

This evening, as I was watching KGW news at 7PM, they asked their viewers a question: What do you think about President Obama’s inagural speech? I had to reply on twitter. Knowing twitter, you could only post so many words, posting more characters was not allowed. Originall I wrote: Like everyone else, I feel awed by the extent of this historical event. President Barack Obama has definetely lifted the hopes of the American peoples. As a teenager, I feel an overwhelming sense of hope. His inagural address made me feel cared about and taken care of. My future couldn’t be in better hands. I was way over my word limit so I finally cut it down to: As a teenager, I feel an overwhelming sense of hope. His inagural address made me feel cared about. My future couldn’t be in better hands. At about 7:20ish, my response got featured on live television. I was so stoked!

I know that I will remember this day for years to come. I’ve lived through many historical events, the handing over of Hong Kong back to China, the 9-11 attack, the War on Iraq (and other middle-eastern countries), the economic turmoil, the 2008 Chinese Summer Olympics, and now this: The inauguration of President Barack Obama. God bless America. God bless the world.

Anyone want to edit my joke of final essay? I hate doing it. I hate it. Period. This sucks. Life sucks. Someone bite me.

A Merging of Two Worlds

A young girl’s memory of her birthplace
My fondest childhood memory of China is, surprisingly, of going grocery shopping. Grocers weren’t necessarily stores. More often than not, they were roadside stalls, the biked carts of nomadic traders, and very small alley stores. A collection of these ragtag sellers in a specific location formed the People’s Markets . They opened every day, rain or shine. For a group of people who didn’t know each other very well, they were very good at arranging themselves for the convenience of their buyers; meat was sold in one section, fruits and vegetables in another, and miscellaneous items in another. Items were always fresh. Fresh cut or fresh picked, ripe, colorful, and fragrant. Customers swarmed the road to shop, talk, sample, yell, barter . Vendors called out deals, urging various shoppers to examine their products. Many of the customers were on good terms with the sellers and when it was a slow day, the customers would halt their expedition to talk with a favorite vendor.

Here, the adults met with their friends. Mothers met with mothers to exchange child rearing tips. “Oh? Hui-Hui won’t finish her rice without a Coke? That’s bad for her digestion! Take away her toys since she’s being so naughty.” Grandmothers and grandfathers gathered to talk about their grandchildren over a game of mahjong. “Hui-Hui has grown so much! She’s going to be going to prep-school soon.” Husbands met with other husbands to acquire wife handling techniques. “When she gets into one of her moods just let her rant. Nod and make like you’re listening.” Gossip reigned supreme; little ladies clutching their purchases stopped to exchange juicy bits of information with their friends . “Have you heard? The lady that lives down the hall from me is getting a divorce.” We, children, listened with weary eyes, but more often than not we darted from our caretakers to play hide-and-seek among the merchandise with each other.

The children were as much a part of the organized chaos as the adults were. As a young baby I was strapped onto my mother’s back, but as I grew older I graduated from the backseat to the front seat. At two years old I either got carried in her arms or walked beside her legs. My mother would grip tightly to my hand as my feet paddled to keep up among the crowd. Things were big, bold, beautiful , and sometimes a bit smelly. When my mother wasn’t watching me, I would deliberately step on discarded pieces of vegetables to hear them crunch beneath my feet. I played with the other children, darting between the apples and oranges in a haphazard game of tag, while my mother talked with her friends and we all generally had a good time. Going to the marketplace wasn’t a chore, it was a pleasure.

A young girl’s impression of her new home
America introduced me to many new things but it also changed what I loved. My first time in an American grocery store unsettled me. My mother took me to a small Asian specialty store in downtown Portland. When I asked why it was all inside a building, my mother had to explain that in America people didn’t shop in People’s Markets. Inside , the lights were dim and everything smelled funny. The meat was precut and placed in foam plates covered with shinny smooth wrapping. The spices were prepackaged and labeled with strange letters. The fruit and vegetables didn’t smell good and looked a bit dead. Everything was priced and organized meticulously. The sheer amount of aisles, all long and straight, had me dizzied. It was strange to see so many different products in one place.

As the years went on I realized how robotic everything was. In a giant Food 4 Less, I observed the curious ritual of grocery shopping. Most shoppers had lists; they zoomed right to what they had to buy and didn’t stop to examine the other products. Everyone clogged the way with giant yellow carts filled to the brim with groceries. It seemed like everyone’s diets consisted of prepackaged junk like Doritos, Ramen, mass prepared factory bread, and refrigerator frozen meat . None of the customers stopped to chat with the uniformed workers. Children simply didn’t misbehave. Playing hide-and-seek among the fruits and vegetables was a big no-no. I concluded that shopping was a weekly event instead of a daily event. Who wanted to go grocery shopping? No one, it was a chore. It wasn’t very fun, I don’t blame them.

A young girl’s journey through school
I entered America knowing no English. I had no one to teach me and my education in China hadn’t included English. My mother tried her best and bought us a television. Every day I was instructed to flip through the channels and soak in what I could. Soon, I discovered channel 10 and fell irrevocably in love with Sesame Street and Bill Nye. I kept watching because the colors on Sesame Street were pretty and Bill Nye was funny when he started blowing up stuff. Channel 10 became the default unless my mother was trying to watch the weather reports. Her English wasn’t much better than mine. She knew the basics, but the rapid English the big yellow bird spoke flew just as quickly over her head as it did mine.

I entered kindergarten with a minimal knowledge of English. I knew ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, and ‘thank you.’ Thanks to Sesame Street, I could sing the English alphabet but I couldn’t comprehend the letters. A television could only teach so much. I sat near the back of the classroom while my mom explained to the teacher in broken English that I probably wouldn’t be able to understand her English words.

I sat in class like any other good student, but I couldn’t help but notice how the characteristics of American superstores also prevailed in American classrooms. (obviously this paragraph isn't done)

Sometimes it angered me that I couldn’t understand my teacher and I often felt isolated. On the first day of school, the girl who sat next to me tried to ask me my name. I remember her saying strange words and repeatedly pointed to her name tag. Eventually, I realized she was asking my name and telling me hers. It was all very Tarzan and Jane. The others soon realized I couldn’t understand them and for the most part, left me alone. During breaks, I would sit in the corner with the puzzles and watch longingly while the other kids went and played house with the dolls and teacups.

Eventually I grew frustrated because I couldn’t understand and I really wanted to play in the dollhouse with the others girls. I started studying the language from television and from books I would borrow from the library. The first word I taught by myself was from a small white book with gold binding. The word was ‘duck’: d-u-c-k. I was so proud of myself. Halfway through the first grade I started speaking fluent English. My teacher, Mrs. White, noticed and encouraged me to bring home classroom books. It was then that I grew to love learning. I reveled that I knew the difference between ‘w’ and ‘c’ and I could string words together to form ‘happy’ and ‘sad’. Though I didn’t make my first friend until the second grade, I never had another Tarzan and Jane experience.

---

Teacher says I need to connect the second part of the essay, my education, with the first part of my essay, the marketplace, since it seemed like two separate essays to him. GAH!!! WTF!!! He should have told me this last Monday when he was SUPPOSED to have all our drafts handed back with his comments. Instead, he gives it to me Friday. I didn't have time to do it Friday, Saturday, Sunday, or Today (dance, volunteer, and work). WTF. I hate my life.

ANGST

I'm angry!!!

Well, what have I been up to since my last post? Nothing much. Freaking over finals, taking pictures, going to dance practice, having fun, partying, learning to hyphie. Does Miss. Papaya’s life ever end? Er… no.What’s hyphie you ask? Well, it’s very common place at parties. According to urban dictionary:

1. hyphie
The West Coast/ Bay Area’s way of being crunk.

It’s actually pretty fun once you start doing it. At first it seemed really alien and thrashy. Haha. Once I got into it… mi-gosh, it’s better than caffine. -drifts off-

Senior grad party is… not looking good. Each ticket is about $50. I don’t see the point in paying $50 for an average party when I can either spend it all night at Chuck-E-Cheese. Imagine, a group of friends in prom dresses and tuxes at Chuck-E-Cheese crawling around the ball pool or going down the slide. XD I imagine it’ll be amazing.