Most notably, I now enjoy a regular sleeping pattern. If I happen to try to stay up much later than usual, I can’t. And if I should try to sleep in past my usual wake-up time, I can usually only go for maybe 1–2 hours more than I usually get. My eating patterns, too, have become regular. Gone are the happy days as a teenager when sleeping and waking up could be done upon a whim and eating occurred when there was ever food.

It makes me wonder too, then, about my mental changes along with these physiological ones. I wonder if I’m more mature? I was always a bit of a stick in the mud to begin with anyway so I can only wonder if I’ve gotten more boring. Being old might explain, though, my sometimes habit of being cantankerous.

I suppose a little-known fact about me is that one of the nicknames my parents have given me is “old man.” From a strictly Confucian philosophical point-of-view, I’m not so sure that that’s a bad thing.

Funny you should ask! Ever since I was a toddler, I’ve been very close to my grandparents, particularly my paternal grandmother. Because both my parents worked, she would take care of me as a child.

Precocious as I was, she never became exasperated with me. Instead, she gave me nearly every freedom possible (i.e. television remote privileges). I have her to thank for my aptitude with televisions; experience pushing all the buttons on the remote systematically (pushing each one once, then pushing it again so as to ascertain the effect – my first foray into empirical knowledge!). Unlike other children who bawled when told to take a nap, I would feign sleeping and, once certain that my grandmother was sound asleep, creep out quietly to turn on the television to watch Sesame Street or the Big Comfy Couch.

I’m a little sorry to say that I never asked my grandmother about her life until these past few years. She’s always offered words of wisdom but only recently have I asked her what life was like for her. She continues to inspire me and she loves me unconditionally. She’s my rock!

She’s told me stories of heartbreak while parenting my dad and his three sisters, stories of gruelling work back in Shanghai (in order to care for the burgeoning family) and stories of enterprise, of how she and my grandfather started a store from scratch and made enough money to send my dad and his sisters overseas for universities (and even helped with a down payment for their houses!).

She never learned how to read or write but always encouraged my dad and his sisters (and now, my brother and me) to study hard in school.

I wrote a Facebook note about my grandmother once, here it is (the grammar is a bit stilted, in hindsight, but the right emotions are there):

Today something happened the likes of which may or may not ever happen again. Those who know me realise that my grandmother brought me up since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.

I learned about Chinese traditions through her and she always treated me to Sugus or White Rabbit candy, Chinese treats I never gave much thought to. To me, she was this wonderful grandmother who never seemed to age a day. She would walk daily, strolling around the school after delivering me to class and after picking me up. She’d cook lunches and breakfasts and, when the need arose, dinner. When I was nervous or tired or unhappy, she’d be there, willing to listen. She just never aged, at least in my eyes.

But today it all changed. I look upon her face to realise she was old. Lines marked her face, lines of sorrow, lines of joy. Her eyes, once sparkling with youth,showed the slightest hint of the dullness of old age. And I realised, with great horror, that as she grew older and learned about my likes and dislikes, I never learned enough about her past and who she was. So today I resolved to do that.

As it turns out, my grandmother was born in Shanghai, the youngest of a large family. Born in the 1930s, it was the Great Depression for the former part then…the Sino-Japanese War for the latter. She speaks bitterly when she remembers that her father was killed by Japanese soldiers, understandably unable to ever forget that atrocity, and remarks sadly upon her mother who had to work harder after his death. Some of her siblings had married, by then, so they helped out. She remembers fondly of a zoo nearby and of celebrations on holidays. Running to and fro, selling freshly picked mandarin oranges, homemade umbrellas, bamboo and straw sandals, she fondly remembers selling her homemade merchandise to help support the family during the war.

In her 20s, living in Shanghai, she reminisces about pulling rickshaws that were so heavy she felt like her back would break. But, she also recalls, it was all worth it as she had begun to have a family to support.

Years later, she moved to Hong Kong where she worked, unable to read or write, for eight dollars a day. She and my grandfather saved up enough money to open a shop where she sold homemade drinks, food and rented the area out for eager people willing to mahjongg. Six people, she remarks, six people to do laundry for! She jokes about how much laundry there was — six people, and each of them wore multiple outfits too! One for school, one for sleep, and a couple to go out on the town in. Every day, I’d wash them by hand, she tells me.

She remembers more. She sent my aunts and dad to Canada to study — education is possibly the most important gift she could give to them; without education, what would they do? She told my grandfather to work night shifts as well, while she took care of the house. She remembers his unwillingness to work at night to pay for my aunts and my dad and told him that if he didn’t work, she would. Of course, she laughs, remembering how my grandfather hopelessly tried to take on all the domestic duties of cooking, cleaning, laundry, watching the shop, etc. So he, begrudgingly, continued to work night shifts while my grandmother took care of, literally, everything else.

As years past, my grandmother decided it was time to purchase a house in Winnipeg, where my aunts and dad studied. It’d be nicer, she had decided, to have a real house, rather than renting out space and all. A space of their own. So she picked up her roots and moved to Canada. One of my aunts married, so she decided to pay for her house too, after all, married couples enjoy their privacy, right?

Then she looks at me solemnly. She tells me to study hard, respect others and to believe in myself. She advises me to honour my parents and to do my best at everything I can do. Study hard, she says, because it will greatly determine my future.

The thing is, she doesn’t realise something. Her kindness is really what’s determined a lot of who I am. Not knowing how to read or write, or speak English, she managed to raise me into the young person I am today. Her kindness and spirit is a part of me. And I’m regretful I didn’t learn all of this before.

And as the smell of her moisturizing lotion lingers in the air, I wonder what more I can learn from her about life, love and learning. There’s no more time to waste.

It reminds me of a quote I once read.

“Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profundity. Kindness in giving creates love.”
- Lao Tse

I’ll simply have to study hard, make notes and spend time doing the practice problems. I even borrowed Primer of Genetic Analysis: A Problems Approach for extra problems to do in order to practice. I hope it will help.

I’ll post my crib sheet here later for anyone who might be taking the course in the future; perhaps it will be of some use to someone else.

Nevertheless, I have BIOL 335 with Dr. Berezowsky again to which I may look forward and Les Misérables at the Arts Club Theatre on July 17th as well! I’ve heard rave reviews about it and I’m really looking forward to it as a brief respite from the obligations of AMS Minischool, SUS, BIOL 335 and other duties.

Father’s day is coming up which reminds me of “The Best Day” by Taylor Swift, a really sweet and happy song. It makes me smile everytime I hear the guitar in the beginning!

Just to mention, I’ve changed up my blog a little. The Last.fm plugin stopped working after I updated WordPress to 2.8 so I replaced it with my CiteULike feed – now you can admire my geekery! I read a wide variety of scholarly articles so hopefully you’ll find something of interest there.

Also, I’ve installed the CommentLuv plugin in lieu of the OpenID one – everytime you comment, you have the option of including a link to your latest post! Consider it my thanks for commenting – when people comment, I feel a little burst of sunshine inside.

Back to studying! …And contemplation about Harper’s Island!

The Crossing Card:

Me: *commenting on character on the show* Why is that old lady on the street?
Dad: She’s picking up garbage! Hong Kong has lots of these people.
Me: But why? What about her family?
Dad: What about her family?
Me: Shouldn’t they take care of her? Her children?
Dad: Who says she has kids?
Me: Well, if she had children, they should be supporting her.
Grandma: That’s right!
Dad: Well, they’re all poor.
Me: Still! Even if they’re all poor, they have to stick take care of the elderly!
Grandma: That’s right.
Dad: Okay. I’ll stop working today and you take care of me, got it?
Me: …-_–
Grandma: Look at you! You don’t get anything! *brandishes stick at Dad*
Me: =D
Dad: Look at you smirk! >=(

I guess I inherited my cheekiness from my parents.

I remembered an incident from my childhood today. I couldn’t have been older than 6 at the time and I had just fought with my mum about something trivial. It reached a fever pitch when my mom told me that if I didn’t behave, she wouldn’t like me anymore. I paused for a moment, trying to think of a solution to the dilemma and calmly stated that, “If you don’t like me, I guess there’s not much I can do about that. I won’t like you either if you don’t like me.” She stormed away so I went into my room to read my favourite book to calm down. A little later, I wondered where my mom has run off to so I looked for her. I found her in the ensuite of the master bedroom, brushing away tears of frustration. “Why are you crying?” “Because you won’t listen to me.” “Well don’t cry anymore, I’ll listen.”

How strange that I didn’t throw a temper tantrum or anything, that I merely remarked on a logical solution to the conundrum. Not long after my birth, a Chinese fortune teller told my parents that I was the reincarnation of an old man who had passed away. The running gag in the family is that I must have kept much of the essence of the old man, especially when I’m cantankerous or grumpy.

And just a riddle-me-this, can anyone figure out the common thread linking the following three?

• “Say my name, sun shines through the rain”
• “I should be crying but I just can’t let it show”
• “But we tried to fight it”

After finishing a breakfast with my family, I headed over to Metropolis at Metrotown a tad early, playing New York Times Crossword on my DS to kill the time (the joys of which I have recently rediscovered). I was the first one in line (that’s never happened before!) and probably looked insanely dorktastic while getting my Star Trek tickets. A showed up shortly thereafter and we partook of our usual poutine ritual.

We weren’t the first ones in the theatre and I was surprised to see so many people watching it, even after the initial rush of Trekkies and newfound followers. Nevertheless, we managed to snag some great seats. I was a pretty poor conversationalist at that time.

All in all, I thought it was a really cool movie! I’m partial to movies with plenty of action but there was also a lot of characterization in Star Trek (assisted, no doubt, by a rich and lengthy canon). The actors were well-suited for their roles, I thought, and appropriate comic relief was dispensed.

I was pleased to see Sylar…Zachary Quinto as Spock – it was really fitting! In Heroes interviews, he’s said for a while he’d like to play Spock if a movie ever came out so I suppose this is a bit of wish fulfillment for him. As for Chris Pine, I hadn’t heard of him before but he’s certainly got the momentum to propel him into more leading roles. I wonder if he wears contacts in order to augment his naturally vibrantly blue eyes or if they really are that blue.

I just also have to say that I’ve always been amused by the uniforms that the characters on Star Trek wear and the movie wasn’t an exception; what’s up with the uniforms? Is there a reason why they all look…odd? Is it supposed to be futuristic? Maybe I missed the boat on this one.

At any rate, the movie was filled with explosions and guns and flashing lights, just the way I like it! I give the movie an 8 out of 10; really quite worth the watch.

I won’t get to comment about Angels and Demons as G was waylaid but it’s alright; I’m sure there will be another opportunity to watch it. I ended up buying more Agatha Christie (Death on the Nile and Three Act Tragedy) and I’ll be reading those en route to work tomorrow.

From a very early age, I had already begun to imagine that I would have to pick something to do in life, that my life required some sort of teleology, some sort of purposeful existence. That I existed was not enough (though I rather joyously explored my existence by nursing my infant brother who only came into existence after me), I knew that I needed to be something, to do something.

My first inclination was to become an artist; when I was five, I boldly declared (paintbrush, dripping red tempera paint onto the linoleum floor, in hand) that I would be an artist. I paused to ascertain the effect of my imposition on the world of art. Assuredly, with what I now know was a chuckle, my teacher patted me on the head and swiftly repaired to cleaning the “art” I had left upon her spotless floor. “Justin!” she must have imagined in her French accent, “you have soiled my floor!” When I brought home my artistic endeavours, my parents were good-natured enough that they did not laugh at me in front of me at what was certainly a formative moment, but rather, they silently chose not to display my art on the refrigerator.

Given up hastily on art (for this! Art, I turn my back – there is a world elsewhere!), I busied myself upon the verdant field with the world’s most popular pastime, soccer. With my stubby legs, I hobbled about the field, kicking and bumping into others, uncoordinated and haphazard. Of course, probability was in my favour; out of the umpteen games recesses I spent chasing after that elusive ball, I scored a few points. My efforts weren’t lost on my friends; while attending the birthday of my friend Leslie, I was ushered into a makeshift gypsy tent, cloaked in some perfume smelling like rosepetals and cinnamon. His sister, having recently purchased a book on Tarot and a deck of Tarot cards, fancied herself a fortune teller, a diviner of the future, and told fortunes to all of us. I was destined, she relayed to me in a voice thick with affected solemnity, to become a soccer player. My ethnicity notwithstanding, I was excited and repaired to the field to play more soccer. Eventually, I grew tired of being handicapped with (what I assumed were abnormally) short legs and gave up on the sport altogether. That and because I was repeatedly scolded for returning home with grass stains on most of my clothes.

By now, I was a happy elementary school student, excited to explore the world. I realised early on that I had had a penchant for writing, a predisposition for word play (how joyous that day when I was taught the word “alliteration,” I fondly recall – the teacher had asked us for examples and I came up with “pink ‘’potamus,” something I imagined was rather clever). I allowed myself to mimic my favourite authors in my writing; these were the days before children were liable for copyright infringement. An incapable illustrator and a poor penman, I could at least spell with a 99% accuracy rate and write in grammatically correct sentences. A writer, I thought, why not? I enjoy writing. And there is such a plethora of books out there, I could assuredly spend my life publishing my own books. After I received some praise from my teachers for my creative writing, I was offered a mentorship with Steven Galloway in creative writing. While he has assuredly forgotten about the little Asian boy who he was tasked with educating, I have never quite forgotten him. “How much do authors make?” “Oh I’d say writers make less than janitors.” He smiled sheepishly, probably chuckling at his candidness. I blanched at the thought. My dreams of being a world-class writer had been hopelessly smashed. I searched elsewhere.

Journalism! Yes, I would be a jet-setting journalist, I thought to myself as a pre-teen. What could be better? I am paid to traverse the world’s exotic locales, documenting human interest stories, writing about famous people and meeting VIPs. I would be so sophisticated and savvy. My dad protested. Again, my ethnicity notwithstanding (for I had not yet seen FairChild television and its all-Asian cast; I had only seen Connie Chung on primetime television alongside non-Asian reporters), I imagined myself one day as a famous journalist, one who could expose the truth and show humanity unto itself. I eventually learned that journalists hardly ever get to be so glamorous and few ever get big breaks. I hastened towards another career prospect.

Having at this point reached adolescence, I firmly set my mind upon becoming a lawyer; having verbally scrimmaged with my parents on many an occasion and (in my mind) won. Yes, I knew that this time, I had picked the right career path. And what could be more noble than law? I fancied myself something of an amazing rhetorician, beating down criminals in court and winning the high approval of my peers. I realised that this would not work soon after my parents began sending me to my room for being argumentative. Arguing, I learned, never earned anyone anything good. Leave the lawyers to their conflicts, I thought, I’ll learn to keep my mouth shut and perhaps I’ll stop being grounded.

I realised, by now, that ethnicity was indeed a factor, that I could attempt to leverage my Asianness and Canadianness for a career in foreign diplomacy. Having been previously enrolled in French immersion and Chinese school, I imagined myself stepping out of my limousine into warm sunlight, personal assistant trailing me. I would walk down red carpets into dignitaries’ homes and enjoy tea, coffee and biscuits as we chatted about ways in which our countries could join in mutual solidarity. We would part on amiable terms and I would go home, perhaps to prepare to watch the opera or to present at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. But the numbers got  in the way. How many countries in the world require a Canadian-born, English-speaking, Asian foreign diplomat? Certainly, I would never be deployed to Europe, Africa or South America and my knowledge of Asian languages was scanty at best and unintelligible at worst. My French, after all, was far superior to my Cantonese. I gave upon this dream too.

At this point, I was taking senior sciences at high school, a year behind my friends who were in the enriched sciences/maths stream. Aha, I proclaimed, I would become a doctor (the sentence that every Asian parent and grandparent wants to hear). I enjoy science, I particularly love biology and I want to do something noble for the world. Yes, these were the days when wanting was enough and the vocabulary consisting of “grade point average,” “MCAT” and “interviews” hadn’t yet been developed. Doctor Yang, I thought, has a nice ring to it. And how glamorous! “Out of the way! Doctor Yang needs to get to the operating room stat,” the nurses would cry as I raced to save a dying man’s life. By the time first year ended, this dream was firmly shut out of my mind.

So here I stand. Upon the precipice between the pile of discarded childhood dreams and the great unknown. Now, I really should have a gameplan; I must have had some foresight as an infant, already planning for the future. For once in my life, I’m not quite sure what I want to do for the rest of it (a daunting thought) and I doubt I’m going to figure it out in the next few months.

I arrived at Crystique, slightly breathless, but the salespeople were very kind. I think they must be, seeing everyone buying beautiful gifts for their mothers – I asked for their recommendation and they were more than happy to oblige. It’s really nice to see people working in retail who aren’t surly or mean-spirited (*cough* Please Mum *cough*) but hey, I’m biased.

G and I will embarking on our photowalk at UBC, weather permitting, during an unscheduled break during my workday. I also have to print off posters so I wonder if she’d be a sport and let me print them off…Copyright is so darned expensive though, don’t I get a break for being an AMS service coordinator?!

Thanks to everyone for the input about my bloggercard design (see that? I made up a new word!) – I’m rather fond of it, mostly because I used Helvetica Neue as the typeface! I’m a bit of a dork for typography (I kern fonts by default in Microsoft Word) and I love Garamond. And I’ve said this before but it does bear repetition, I implore anyone reading this to never use Comic Sans. Even for comics, there are better typefaces nowadays. Please, just let it die.

I noticed that Windows 7 Release Candidate has been, well, released unto the masses. I think it’s highly dubious, however – once the timer runs out, you have to reformat entirely? I don’t like the sound of that, I like to keep my files and things just as they are, thank you very much. Why couldn’t they have integrated some of the nice parts of Windows 7 into Vista? Oh wait, that’d make too much sense! But I won’t harp on about Microsoft – I’m equally comfortable in Mac OS X and Ubuntu and yet I still manage to resist the urge to be a fanboy of either.

I’m still not done reading Third Girl but it’s finally gotten interesting. Mrs. Oliver got thwapped over the head and went to the hospital while Poirot does what he does best – reflect and think. I suppose I’d be a rather dead easy suspect to wind up, just push a few of my buttons and I’ll be talking all day long. I do have a rather short temper, that could be my downfall! I don’t suspect I’m up for murder though…but still.

I ended up watching Take the Lead (towards which I am partial because Youthink gave me a press pass to review the movie when it first came out!) while I was busying myself with the SUS budget which took me the better part of the day to complete. I made it from scratch using an old version of the budget so I didn’t get the luxury of copying and pasting the pertinent data. Ah well!

I notice now that I have a good many number of pages on this blog (FAQ, About, Schedule, etc.) but I wonder how many of them are actually useful…if you’re reading, please let me know in the comments.

Woke up decently early today and had a quick brunch with my grandma. She’s not looking well at sorts today at all so I hope she feels better. I found out later today that she’s actually feeling ill so I will be staying home tomorrow to tend to her. I do wish she’d more willingly attend a doctor’s visit – it’s very important! I don’t make it a habit to buy groceries (I hate picking groceries because I invariably choose the worst fruits, vegetables, etc.) but if she needs anything, I will dutifully fetch them. I do hope she’ll be alright.

I spontaneously decided to go to Richmond with P today to buy the tea set for my mum for Mother’s Day. It just so happened that plans with V didn’t work out so we headed off. At Aberdeen, we bumped into a whole bunch of people! V, T, M, T, A, S, J – they were all there! I said hello briefly and went on my way – I’m a tad awkward and I didn’t think it decorous to linger where I hadn’t been been invited. I wonder what they were up to – they were all eating lunch, I suspect! P had herself a matcha ice cream and I treated myself to some takoyaki.

I hope night market opens soon! I love snacking on typical Asian fare (though it’s all assuredly unhealthy and high in cholesterol, starch and fat). J has a takoyaki machine but I think others would make it much better than I could. I don’t suspect it’s very hard to make though. Takoyaki makes me think of Card Captor Sakura (I’ve just finished downloading all the episodes and the two movies!)

I ended up buying a tea set for my mum so she can show it off to houseguests when they drop by. My dad will probably be enlisted to make the tea anyway.

P insisted that I buy a cherry blossom set instead but my mum’s allergic to cherry blossoms and I didn’t like the cutesy look of pink anyway. I think understated elegance (i.e. boring) is always best!

For my grandma I’ll be buying a Swarovski flower figurine (she really like flowers) in the coming days. I think I like the rose that they have, but the tulip or the forget-me-nots (my favourite flower) are quite nice as well! I’ll see how I feel when I’m in the store. Evidently I’ll want to bring someone along for a second opinion.

I punched the basement stucco ceiling today in apparently neglect of the height (or lack thereof) of the ceiling. My hand is currently bloodied and messy. Pros? I look like I got into a barfight and won. Cons. My hand is currently minimally functional. Tricky. Very tricky.

I’ll be dropping by work in the next while to work on stuff that requires my attention.

1. Page of Swords
2. Ten of Cups
3. Queen of Wands
4. Six of Swords
5. The Moon
6. Eight of Cups
7. Strength
8. Ace of Wands
9. The Tower
10. Eight of Pentacles

I’m standing on the cusp between one fortunate time and another, surveying my situation. I’ve stepped away from a deception but will be regretful about something later on. There is a sense of loss, but that will quickly move past. I see myself as being in a good position and others see me as ambitious and ready to take on new tasks and responsibilities. I should be prepared for a sudden change. I can look forward to hard work and self-improvement through school and work.

Pretty typical, all in all.

• BIOL 200 – This course was actually quite interesting (considering I’m into cells and all) though it was a little poorly communicated exactly what was needed to do well. My section (Berger) did catastrophically on the section-specific midterm so we were scaled up. I’d advise regular studying for this course – it’s a lot of concepts and processes to understand.
• BIOL 201 – I really disliked this course for the sole reason that what was taught was not directly translated into examinable material; far too much material was expected to be gained by doing the problem sets. It almost seemed like lectures were extraneous.
• CHEM 233 – Difficult but rewarding if appropriate (i.e. lots) time investment is allocated for this course. It’s easy to fall behind so stay ahead by studying early and often.
• CHEM 205 – Straightforward and simple – there aren’t any tricks to this course. Learn the material, and learn all of it. Practice the problem sets, they’re harder than the actual exams.
• CHEM 235 – Fun and easy but deceptively tough on marking. Take the time to watch all the pre-laboratory videos and study hard for your written final.
• ENGL 221 – Easy, peasy and fun elective course. Covers Romantic era to modern-day literature. Should be popular with those who dislike older literature.
• ENGL 348 – Absolutely amazing. This class is by far my best class at UBC – sympathetic instructor, enlightening class and inspiring people. There isn’t a lot of work either, just walk in with an open mind and do attend as many classes as possible.
• ENGL 357 – Enjoyable readings and a great instructor made this one breeze by. I wish it were longer but I’m happy with the fair marking overall.
• PSYC 100 – Biggest mistake ever – this course sucked my soul from my body and left me an empty shell. Entirely rote memorization – the exams test on ridiculously minute trivia. Would not recommend to anyone who has a pulse and a brain unless it was absolutely necessary. UBC Psychology, work on your pedagogical development! Doing those psychology studies was fun though; especially for credits.

I woke up a bit earlier today to have breakfast with my dad and grandma. It’s always nice spending time with them; I find that I’m typically out of the house for most of the time during the school/work year so meals are good family times.

Afterwards, I promptly went to campus to return my boatload of books on collaborative authorship and the Augustan authors (evidently, I received 88 on my paper and 90 on my exam where I wrote two essays  — one on the character of the Rake and the other on the character of the Coquette through the Restoration and eighteenth-century). I then met with J where I was a tad on the garrulous side, talking about OpenCourseWare and First Year Seminars. I know he’s still looking for an Associate Vice President Academic and several commissioners so I’d look out for those opportunities. J is driven, smart and diplomatic – I think he’s poised to effect real change this year. I hope he reaches out to S and J for their great ideas though.

Afterwards, I bumped into S at the Minischool office where we’ve got…let’s say…a pickle to sort out regarding bookings for Fall courses. While it will be a physical nightmare (can one of the prerequisites for my assistant be that s/he must be able to lift their own weight in wooden stages?), I’m crossing my fingers and praying that the bookings people can help us out. I found out that she might be heading to Edmonton which saddens me a little, but she’s doing what she’s always wanted to do so more power to her. We joked a bit, had a free lunch courtesy of the AMS (who says there are no free lunches in this world? mine had penne carbonara today!) then parted ways.

I went to go purchase my BIOL 334/335 textbooks which were exorbitant but thankfully K has assured me that I may borrow her set for the summer. I get to return my books and get my money back! Hurray.

All in all, not a bad day at all. I’ll be spending my day with S tomorrow doing Minischool turnover stuff. I’m still waiting on A to finish his turnover so I can begin Director of Finance duties at SUS.

Seems like I never take vacations.

On a happy note, I found a video of “My Boyfriend’s Back.” It brings back memories of ballroom lessons with L. Weren’t those fun, L? See the video after the jump.

Little known fact about me is that I really dig classic rock and roll (by classic, I mean 40s, 50s, 60s and maybe 70s). I used to have a playlist of those good ol’ sock hop songs before I promptly deleted them for fear of appearing too dorktastic. 

I must digress at this point to mention that I am an avid houseworker, I enjoy housework. it’s very relaxing, very therapeutic. There is something so soothing in the back and forth of a Swiffer broom, something sublime about the vacuum. And rearranging things into neat, orderly arrangements (or otherwise creatively hiding what can’t be organized) is just great. I also reorganized all my financial documents and have a new binder for them. Hurray!

As I was cleaning, I was re-watching anime shows I had long since forgotten (Card Captor Sakura? InuYasha? Dragon Ball?). It was really cool. JF watched CCS too! She’s so cool.

So then afterwards, I had a light dinner and assisted my parents with an executive email carpet bomb (EECB) which I had previously used with Dell (which resulted in my case being sent to the Global Escalation Team where it was handled by an Executive Support Resolver). I’m finding they work amazingly well (but should be sparingly used). If anyone needs help, I’m happy to offer you some guidelines. Happy shopping!

On the thought of shopping, hurray for BMO. I won’t go into details here, but suffice it to say that they’re clearly hard-working and diligent. I am most pleased.

I will be sitting down for tea and talks with Johannes Rebane on Tuesday. Does anyone have anything they’d like me to mention to him?

Summer Reading List:

• Snakes in Suits by Babiak & Hare
• Blink and Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
• Anybody Out There by Marian Keyes
• Silent Spring by Rachel Carson
• Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Austen & Grahame-Smith
• The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe

Nothing really happened today – I’m surrounded by the soft hum of my computers and piles of study material. The curtains are drawn closed, thank you very much, I don’t think staring outside into the gloomy rainclouds will do me any good. I still have a pile of books leftover from my ENGL 357 research paper – I should go return those.

My brother came home today from leadership training. It was quiet, too quiet, in the house without him. I wonder how he found it? I think I read something about advanced kayaking on one of his itineraries. He was so thoughtful – he clipped me a few coupons before he went. I wonder if I’ll get a chance to use them? I’ll have to remember to check the expiration dates on them.

I watched Desperate Housewives from 9-10pm today. It’s a luxury, considering that my exam is tomorrow but I don’t mind. I’ll get by this exam, I think.

I spent some of my breaks reading blogs of people I know and sifting through their words. I want to know more about people, I find. Everyone’s got a story; I want to read them all!

All this studying has made me terribly melancholy. I hope when exams are done that the sun is out and I can “sport in the wind.”

My parents brought me home brunch and dinner today – sometimes I wonder if I should mind eating takeout meals alone – whether they’ll be the norm when I get older. I do enjoy family meals but my schedule is just prohibitive sometimes. I hope I won’t have to eat too many takeout dinners alone. Though it’s sometimes quite nice – gives me time to think and to muse…I do that a lot.

I’m currently listening to “My Skin” by Natalie Merchant. It’s nice and soothing. I’d best be off to study more.

Edit: Is there anything Youtube doesn’t have? See what I mean after the jump.

She details Michaelis-Menten kinetics in rather painful detail.

So I took a pre-emptive break (pre-emptive because the break would have snuck up on me anyway) and gobbled down the food with glee while listening to Rogue Traders.

I guess I’ll be staying up late studying again tonight.

I can share the introduction for my ENGL 357 paper now, I’ve handed it in:

Particularly in the current post-Romantic scholarly milieu, Inge notes that literary academics continue to “maintain the traditional image of the author as an individualist up against a material world, trying to create something pure and unsullied” (623). Stillinger adopts an even stronger position, noting that contemporary scholars are guilty of reifying the author as a lonesome prodigy, of subscribing to “the romantic myth of the author as a solitary genius” (202). Others, such as Foucault and Barthes, have attempted to instead banish or suggest the death of the author, severing the connection between authors and their works (Stillinger v). Adherence to either image, the solitary author or the dead author, is largely incompatible with attempts to study literature of the Augustan era which, according to Griffin, was characterized by “[a] higher incidence of collaboration…than at any time in the history of English literature” (1). This frequency of collaboration, continues Griffin, “can tell us something important about the literary world that the Augustans inhabited, a world different from our own, and requiring that we approach it with properly adjusted critical preconceptions” (1), that is to say, preconceptions that do not presuppose the myth of the solitary author or the absent author. This paper, then, seeks to investigate the ways in which redefining existing paradigms of authorship may lead to meaningful insight into new ways of studying literature of the Augustans, particularly that of Dryden and Pope. Moreover, this paper will attempt to trace patterns of collaboration by attempting to identify the types of literary collaboration, based upon authorial intention and motivation, prevalent in the early and late Augustan periods.

I noticed Dr. MacKenzie making faces of consternation while I was writing my exam…I hope it wasn’t because he was reading my paper!

By happy chance today I was really hankering for some butter chicken. Ended up eating it for lunch and having a Starbucks Doubleshot on Ice afterwards (thanks to L’s influence).

I’m delighted by my new set of pyjamas. They’re silk! How luxuriously sumptuous of me. And I didn’t even pick them (as if I have the time or patience to pick what I wear while I sleep)! They came from Hong Kong by way of visiting relative. How thoughtful! And my dad is making me some ribs for midnight snacking as we speak! Most people who know me realise that if I’m hungry at night, I simply don’t eat. That is the secret to my thinness.

Today my grandma and I had a most interesting talk. Apparently way back when, in Shanghai, some of my ancestors were humble straw sandal weavers. I thought to myself: how exciting! Liu Bei from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms was also a straw sandal weaver and he became to be a great and beloved leader. Totally cool! Such humble beginnings – I cannot ever forget that I am not some prince – that I don’t deserve any sense of entitlement. Everything I work for, I work for on the shoulders of my ancestors.

As it turns out, I got the AMS Minischool position! Now I must pick between being an AMS Councillor and the AMS Minischool Coordinator…hm…

Now the best is behind me, I’m off to go study madly for CHEM 205/BIOL 201.

Edit: Just watched a really cool TED talk by Erin McKean on what Hamlet called, “words, words, words”. See it after the jump!

“If you love a word, it becomes real.” – Erin McKean

I know there must be something that makes me feel empathy. I feel it everyday, when I look upon painful images of needlessly slaughtered children in Darfur, when I think about my life of sumptuous consumption on the same planet where infants die daily from preventable diseases for lack of medicine or hospital care. It pains me to see the elderly struggle along in their elderly lives, forgotten and neglected, the detritus of an ever-accelerating society. I wonder if I should grow old like them and slowly, slowly, surely, surely, draw to a leisurely, unexpected, abrupt stop?

I woke up bright and early today, entirely uncharacteristic for me at any time of year. I must be acclimatized to the 8am classes – I think this is a good change. After eating a brief breakfast with my family (during which I saw S! I wonder how fares his biotechnology program? He’s always so busy.), I hopped aboard what I presumed to be a 41 UBC bus. Of course, I had fallen asleep and we reached Dunbar and everyone hopped off the bus. I woke up and in my drowsy haze, I wondered why everyone was waiting outside the bus…and I slowly made my way out to realise it was a 41 To Crown. How irritating! Holiday schedule, I should have known.

And after finishing some perfunctory tasks at work, I realised that every food outlet within a walkable radius had closed for Easter so I dragged myself to the Village to buy some food. I guess the walking was good for me – I hate eating at MacDonalds. The iced coffee was good though, so compliments to the line cook for that.

I’m only knee-deep into my paper for ENGL 357 but I really should been up to my neck in research. On the bright side, I’ve brought home lots of research to sift through so I can rearrange them to form a cohesive paper. I’m so excited! I better do it quickly…and there’s the issue of the reading questions! Agh!

Picked up my ENGL 348 paper from Dr. Sirluck’s house today. It was delightful! I would have lingered a little longer, told Dr. Sirluck that she is an amazing professor and a magician. That she has utterly impacted my philosophy of English literature beyond former recognition. And I did not. I politely took a brownie from the plate of pastries that she proffered, glanced at her curious cat and uttered a few nervous pleasantries. I ran off rather quickly.

An A for my paper! Hurrah, I am certainly excited for the rest of my exams now. I feel I can really take them on!

Back to studying and preparing for tutoring…

Today I spent a good portion of my afternoon at Aberdeen with P, dining upon typical Asian fare (chicken wings, calamari, takoyaki and egg waffles), discussing our lives. It was really liberating! Sitting there, planning trips I might never take – talking about plans I’ll never really make. And then I realise, I just don’t have time.

So here are my priorities, in order of importance:

1. Family
2. Academics
3. Self
4. Friends
5. Extracurriculars
6. Money

Unfortunately, with the way things are going with my schedule for the coming year, here’s how my time will be divided, with the following assumptions:

• I will be taking a full 5-course load with at least 1 laboratory. I will spend an additional 3 hours outside of each class on homework, studying, etc.
• I will be attending at least 2 committee meetings, 1 SUS council meeting and 1 AMS council meeting (averaged over two weeks) per week. Additionally, I will spend at least another 3 hours on Director of Finance duties.
• I will spend 20 contracted hours per week on AMS Minischool duties and 4.5 hours on tutoring.
• I will have 7 hours of sleep on weekday evenings and 10 hours of sleep on weekend evenings.
• I will spend 2 hours per weekday in transit.
• The leftover time will be split 75:25 between family and friends respectively.
• I will, evidently, not find myself in a relationship. =P

Pretty daunting, isn’t it? I’m probably going to get significantly less sleep than that and I’ll be slacking away hours that are supposed to be devoted to other organizers.

“Oh my god. I am a Buddhist monk. Do you know what the Buddhist monks do? Let me tell you. When the Buddhist monks are done prayers and temple for the day,do you know what they do? They clean. They fix. They go into the surrounding villages and they clean that which is dirty and fix that which is broken. They go and make the world a better place. That is their spare time. They pick up fallen snails and put them back the right way! They pick up snails. And tortoises, they pick them up and put them right again. Tortoises! And that’s me. Do you know what I do in my spare time? I do work. I look for work to do. I do what need’s doing. I clean! I clean my desk. And I look for things to learn, things that make me better, more efficient, smarter. That is what I do. I am a Buddhist monk! Spontaneity is unacceptable. Things have to be planned out. I can’t very well go and just do something. It’s gotta be planned, preferably at least 24 hours in advance. I can’t drop everything, tell everyone, “Oh hi, I’m going out now and I won’t be back until an undetermined time. Bye now.” I can’t do that. Spontaneity doesn’t work for me, I can’t do that. I just can’t.”

I’m impressed. I ought to write for Grey’s Anatomy! I could totally write for Meredith, the veracity of the above statement notwithstanding (and, in all likelihood, true).