After discovering that Bartlett Hall (an undergraduate residence cafeteria) serves all you can eat with many different ethnic food stations, I went there again tonight for the second time.
Honestly, I was famished. These years of living by myself has not been good to my stomach. So when I saw these different food stations, my eyes shone with the greedy light of a hungry wolf and my stomach growled with the feverish pitch of a howling wolf.
This is why I chose to sit in the most inconspicuous corner at the end of the cafeteria hall, with my back facing the aisles. Such that NOBODY would be able to see my devouring process.
Think of a pack of wolves tearing apart the carcass of a little bird. Think of a crocodile swallowing a bull. Think of the Amazon’s piranha searing the fleshes of a little boy swimming in the river.
Here is what I had:
1. Half a slice of cheese pizza
2. One bite of BBQ chicken pizza
3. One beef taco
4. A standard salad
5. Half a plate of turkey meat with craneberry sauce
6. Half a cup of Mountain dew
7. About 12 pieces of Fries
8. One bowl of Chili
10. One scoop of strawberry ice cream
11. One scoop of vanilla ice cream
12. One cup of decaf coffee
The only redeeming factor out of this is the exercise I got from making the several back-and-forth trips to refill my plate (as I said, I sat at the END of the cafeteria hall, so indeed it is pretty far from the food station).
Sigh.
Filed under: Random
“I know how to play this game. There’s just one last huge hurdle to overcome. I’ve been trying my best to figure it out and I think what it comes down to is I needed to believe in myself a little more. So now when I play I’m putting myself out there more and really putting myself on the line. The stakes are higher for me but I’m okay with that. I’m so focused on winning and to get that victory I have to give it everything I have. There’s no holding back anymore.”
Filed under: Random
I had the EXACT same dream for a second time.
This is the first time that the same dream occurred twice. Well, actually, with some changes in the details, which reflect my post-dream sentiments after the first time. But the ending and the resulting post-dream reaction are the same.
So the dream took place in high school. I was selected at the last minute to be the leading lady for a play similar to Phantom of the Opera, because the cast was impressed by my rendition of “Think of Me” (yes, I remember clearly how I was busting my voice on the wide stage) I was shocked, I was flattered. But since the performance was supposed to be moments later, I wondered how I would have time to memorize the lines.
And so on the day of performance, I ran to the backstage. Somehow my older brother was there. I was nervous.
The part about forgetting the lines was quite blurry. All I remember was the panic of not knowing the lines. I kept asking or thinking ” But I don’t know the lines!” I remember I was still frantically reading the script before I came out to the stage.
The ending is unknown. All I know is that I was panicking for not knowing the lines. (All I have is that one song which I can sing).
Filed under: Random
Recently I’ve been addicted to Fox’s new series, named “GLEE”. In it there is this goal driven girl named Rachel. In the latest episode, she said she wakes up every morning at 6am (to the following song), and by 6:10am she would be on her elliptical, staring at her latest goal sheet. (to the following song).
That is definition of being driven.
Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride
Nobody gonna slow me down, oh no
I got to keep on moving
Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride
I’m running in a one touch ground, oh no
I got to keep on moving
When I was in Berkeley, I had some friends who had taken Intermediate Microeconomics with David Card, and they had often talked about how this professor kindled their passion for economics. Curious about how this professor could inspire people around me so, I went to his talk on how to do research in economics.
At the end of his talk, I went up to him to ask a question that has been bothering me. My current research approach. This is timely because I have been struggling with my thesis proposal these weeks. My adviser has been tough on my proposal, and said, “You need to go through that struggling period.” And struggled I did.
Anyway, so I asked David Card, given a circumstance like mine (I will not bore you with details here), how would he go on. He asked the following question: “Is the observation unit an agent who maximizes?” (You see, a maestro will ask questions of such specificity). He gave the answer.
I exited the room, sort of moping.
But it was very nice to have heard him speak today. He, the guy who inspired such passion for economics for Jessica and Anderson!
Sunday morning, my two aunts took me to the cemetery where Grandma was buried.
There, I observed the follow scenes:
1. a 30-ish mother, hugging her 8-10 year old kid (who was writhing in her arms, suggested that he wants to go somewhere to play), seemed to be talking to a grave, which had a little American flag next to it. The conspicuous absence of the father made me think that perhaps it was the grave of the father. Later I went by, and saw that the buried person was born in 1967 and died in 2005.
2. a group of people, aging young to old, picnicking next to a grave. Sun umbrella, juices, barbaques. It was a large gathering. A jovial one.
3. another group of people, larger gathering again, picnicking around a grave.
4. 3 hispanic/white men, with shaved heads, gathered around a grave which is just off the road. There sportish cars parked next to the curb. These 3 men are in the prime age (probably late 20s – 30s).
5. A father, and a toddler in a baby car. They were sitting next to a grave.
6. Inside the funeral home office, a middle age (late 50s) Asian woman, and her adult son (looks to be my age), arranging the funeral care for someone. Her arms in her son’s.
****
Seeing these scenes made me feel uncomfortable. Strangely, that feeling was a feeling of shock. It’s not like everyday that you see these things, where there is a conspicuous absence of one member of the party. And here, you are again reminded how common death is, and how variable is the circumstance around death.
Suddenly, I felt I am the lucky one. And Grandmother, was certainly a very lucky old woman.
Filed under: Random
Sometimes when I walk toward the main campus sometimes at around 5pm, as the sun as sets, and people coming from the opposite direction, against me, here is what I felt:
I enjoy a university campus so, so much.
As I closed the door behind me, and walked down the moist steps of the library into the drizzling night, I felt a weariness in me, so heavy that the 3 books in my hands felt like they weighed 100 pounds.
It was 10pm on a Friday night, and I was the last of the people to leave the library, and walked among the diligent or the lonely to the last of the buses that are leaving the library. It was drizzling, and I felt alone and tired.
Yet, in the bus, there sat those other people, many of whom wearing medical uniforms. The radio in the bus was tuned to this channel that plays old songs. It was playing “Mrs. Robinson.” Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio. A nation turns its lonely eyes to you…
As the bus rolled along the curb, the radio played “Since I fell for you.” When you just give love, and never get loved, you better let love depart…..
The bus dropped off the passengers, one by one. On this Friday night, we might ask ourselves why we were sitting with each other on this lonely bus. But at this point, our bodies were too tired to allow any other thoughts, but thoughts of home. In the end, I was the only passenger on the bus.
The bus approached the corner of 55th and South Hyde Park (my corner), and stopped at the corner just as the traffic light turned red. As I stepped off the bus, I turned to the bus driver.
What radio channel is this?
You like it, do ya? (He smiled broadly, with a little surprise in his tone) I think it’s 93.7
Yes, I do. Thank you. (I returned a smile as broad, but tired)
I stepped off the bus into the drizzling rain; my eyebrows locked from the droplets of water. The traffic light turned green. Just as the bus was beginning to resume along the road and we parting in our ways, the bus driver sounded the bus honk — I looked up at his dark face through the window; he gave me a salute and a broad smile– and I, in repartee, gave him a wave and broad smile.
And then I strode off into the quietness of the Friday night. But now, with this little brush of repartee, I trotted home with a little lightness, and marveled at how an awful day even at the end of it could still be turned around by a little smile. That honk and salute just made the moon glowed a little brighter on this dim night.
