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I haven't been able to sleep very well at night lately, even if I only got four hours of sleep the previous night. And what's weirder is that I wake up earlier than I'm supposed to wake up. Like, everyday in the past week. I don't know if it's because I'm stressed or what.
Things I've got to do (SIGH)
-go to Ulta (my coupon expires today)
-meet up with Vis group to film
-read through classmates' stories
-watch an experimental movie for Ethnic Studies
-write a paper on that movie (by Wednesday)
-find semi-decent video art (by Thursday)
-read a couple of articles (by Thursday)
-PLAN A CLASS SCHEDULE FOR NEXT QUARTER
-FINISH THE LAYOUTS FOR HIGH SCHOOL CONFERENCE PROGRAMS
-NOT TO MENTION THE SHITLOAD OF WORK THAT'S DUE ON 10TH WEEK
fuuuuuuuck
I just want some free time.  I hate carrying around this WEIGHT, just thinking about all the work I have to finish.
God I really can't wait for Thanksgiving.
Oh yeah I have to find out how am I gonna get home............................
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| My roommate starts drawing something and keeps asking me for colored highlighters, which I don't have.
"This is something we really shouldn't have forgotten?"
"What?"
She holds up a poster with our suitemate's name on it.
"Wait, what? I don't get it...is it her birthday or something?"
"Yeah"
"OH!...how did you find out?"
"I was talking to (insert suitemates' names here)"
"WHAT THE. Where have I been all this time?!?!? I'm like in another world right now"
"You really are...you're never around anymore!"
(loudly) "But it's not like I can do anything! How do I get all this work?!?!? I'm not even a science major!!!!!"
What I really wanted to say:
WELL
I HAVE OTHER PRIORITIES YOU KNOW
THAT'S WHY I CAN'T GET BACK TO OUR APARTMENT UNTIL 7PM
SHIT
YOU KNOW WHAT
YOU SHOULD BE DOING SOMETHING
NOT SLEEP 14 HOURS FOR THE ENTIRE HOLIDAY
YOU WOULDN'T SURVIVE WITH THE WORKLOAD I HAVE
AND I'M NOT EVEN A SCIENCE MAJOR LIKE YOUR PUSSY HUMAN DEVELOPMENT MAJOR
okay I probably wouldn't say that last part, and no offense to human development majors because y'all are cool
but my roomie needs to move her SNL-watching ass off the couch/chair/bed.
P.S. I watched a free screening of Jason Reitman's (director of Juno and Thank You for Smoking) new film Up in the Air featuring George Clooney. It left me really depressed and I got chills towards the end.......the main character was just so very lonely...felt a bit familiar.
Anyway I'm in the right mood for writing my super depressing sweatshop worker story. Seriously, at midnight, I was writing and when I thought of some dialogue and events to add, I got chills and I just wanted to stop typing. I couldn't really sleep well.
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This is why so many people own pets. To prevent this kind of feeling.
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| This girl was saying that she calls herself Taiwanese, not Chinese, because she's "not Communist".
*bangs head*
UGH! well just because I'm Chinese doesn't mean I'm a Communist and just because my relatives in China live in China doesn't mean they're Communists. Why did my parents and relatives immigrate to America in the first place? And even though they immigrated to America, why do we consider ourselves more Chinese than American?
You can appreciate culture without adhering to a government's political views.
Government does not equal citizens, especially in Communist countries
in other news, the APSA retreat was fun! got to know more people. hopefully APSA events will make newbies more open-minded
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| Here's the character sketch I wrote for my big Fiction Writing final, which is basically an 8 page story.
Everyday, for Five Years
Zu-Li brushed the few strands of her dark hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. She slid the back of her hand across her sweat-drenched forehead as her other hand grabbed a long green piece fabric from the pile next to the sewing machine. She immediately pushed the folded fabric under the needle of the sewing machine and leaned in closely, pupils fixed on the green material. Her foot softly pushed the pedal and the machine made a slow drone that blended into the hums of the other sewing machines within the room and the small fans that lightly blew the warm, humid air back towards space’s interior. Only a second after, Zu-Li put more pressure onto the pedal and the machine whirred loudly. She pushed the fabric through the needle more rapidly and when the stitch was done, she held the fabric in place, removed her foot from the pedal, and quickly pulled the fabric off the needle. Zu-Li held up the material, now looped into a sleeve, and checked to see that her stitch was straight and properly closed. After a quick inspection, she then threw the sleeve into the box to her left. She stretched her neck back until she heard it pop, followed by the screams of the supervisor, “Why are you so slow, stupid?” The puffy bags under Zu-Li’s eyes twitched as she lowered her eyelids. She squinted towards the clock that flashed in red numbers, 23:34, and next to the time read the quota, 1965, and the actual amount of shirts that were made, 1882. Zu-Li sighed heavily then pulled out another green piece of material from the pile.
Afterwards, first person POV
Finally, I have a few hours to do nothing. I always forget how good it feels to lie in bed. Of course, I prefer my own bed back home. I’d rather sleep on my house’s floor than here in the dormitories. The stench here is still intolerable, a mix of sweat, vomit, and rotten meat. Oh, that’s right, I forgot to eat today. When was the last time I ate? Let’s see, it’s about half an hour past midnight and I started working at 5AM. I don’t think I had breakfast...that means the last thing I ate must have been that terribly bland chicken broth for yesterday’s supper. I didn’t find any chicken, or even bones, in that broth. Just salty water. The meals I cooked back home were far better. Do I still remember how to cook? It shouldn’t be that difficult once I have to handle a stove and kitchen utensils again. That’s a good idea, the first thing I do once I get home, and after I take a long rest for a few days to make up for my lack of sleep from the last three years, I’ll cook a good meal. Even better, I’ll cook my son’s favorite meal. Ming-Yun always loved fried rice. Such a simple dish but it’s a luxury compared to the salty water soups here. Oh, I can’t wait to go home! Two years seem like so long when I say it out loud. The past three years felt like an eternity. But really, I’ll be celebrating just two more Lunar New Years in my mind, and then I’ll be sent back home. I could have avoided all of this, though. The supervisor was right; I am stupid. Not stupid because I kept taking mini breather breaks today. Stupid because I came here in the first place. I am now positive that if I continued working at Auntie’s shop, I would’ve collected enough to pay off Ming-Yun’s tuition. But those words on the contract were so appealing. “Send one family member, the whole family will get wealthy.” I totally fell for it. I thought I would work at a beautiful American setting, like how Hawaii and Hollywood looked on television. But really, I signed up to be imprisoned for five years. And what have I made? Nothing. I work everyday just to get out of this damned island. And I continue to work just so they won’t take even more away from me.
Crying myself to sleep again, like a baby.
End. for now.
Symbolism: Did you pick up on the quota number? 1965, the year the Immigration Nationality Act was passed. It made immigration laws more lenient but um, supposedly, it's still really hard to get in America. I mean it took my relatives ten years of planning/paperwork until they were able to actually fly to LA. The Chinese Exclusion Act was passed in 1882 and the name pretty much sums up its purpose, to exclude Chinese laborers from getting in America and prevent Chinese laborers already in America from gaining citizenship (or a wife...I'd prefer not to explain because I don't understand the reasoning behind that law).
Zu-Li's name...Zu (足)=foot, Li(力)=work. I wanted to make her name Gong Li (uhh don't know the exact characters) because I thought that name portrayed "work" better but Gong Li is the name of this famous young-looking actress who is actually as old as my mom (wtf?!?!? She played 20-year-old Hatsuomomo in Memoirs of a Geisha!). Ming-Yun...uh I don't really know what his name means haha but I had a meaning for it. Oh, "destiny"? I don't know why I chose that name haha. -_-
So I have to write an 8-page story based on that and my workshop group who reads my stories is excited to read mine buuuuuut ummmm yeah they shouldn't be too excited because I'm not a good fiction writer. If you know a lot about sweatshops and sweatshop workers, tell anything you know about those subjects, please! Honestly I don't know much.........
P.S. I still dream but I forget them in the morning. I hope that means my nightmares are going away......
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