liTtOxaZnxaNgELx's Xanga

Feeling

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 21:46:16 GMT

This is why so many people own pets. To prevent this kind of feeling.

One Nation

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 07:15:14 GMT

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

Stranger than Fiction

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 19:28:53 GMT

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......

A feeling inside of me threatening the life it belongs to

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 19:32:52 GMT

It's a lyric from Anna Nalick's song Breathe (2AM)! Not me being emo and writing poetry in my head or anything.

Anyway, I've been getting a lot of nightmares recently. No kidding. At least once a night. Maybe that's why I don't want to dream during my sleep anymore. And right now, I'm really shaky and I kind of want to cry because I don't know why I dream about these things. I woke up breathing heavily...and I'm really scared. My nightmare was that bad. I think I need to calm down...I'm quite stressed even though I thought a bunch of weight was lifted off my shoulders after midterms. Which is true but now I have other things to do.............calm down, Lucy................

We All Like Free Things

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 18:47:26 GMT

Especially UCSD students.

Dreaming of a Dreamless Slumber

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 20:59:38 GMT

Seriously, I don't want to dream in my sleep anymore. Beatles dreams were nice but when I wake up, I don't feel like getting up because my stupid dreams either make me too happy, make me too sad, or make me think too much. Last night I dreamt that I placed a bid on eBay without even thinking and today, I bid on an item. I also dreamt about something really really bad...I hope it doesn't happen..........

Do popular kids know they're popular?

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 22:58:31 GMT

I know it sounds like a childish question but I've always wondered...

I kind of want to get some responses like "yeah, we do." xD

A Darker Shade of Yellow

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 19:02:01 GMT

If you know me well, you probably know that I'm more "Asian" than most Asian Americans...Asian not in the sense that I am extremely frugal (well, I am) and speak in Chinese to other people (which I don't). But my family is REALLY traditional. The man of the house shouldn't be questioned (though I argue with my dad a lot), only family members should be trusted, we have dinner with each other almost everyday (includes my relatives who don't live with me), we have "assigned" seats at the dinner table (my dad gets pissed when I sit in a different seat)...and so much more. I guess being in a traditional Asian home is to be in a really family-oriented home. My family has few friends and connections since we mostly rely upon each other.

This definitely is a downside of being super Chinese, which I discovered as I grew up. The first time I was allowed to go to my friend's house, I was 11 years old. I always hear about these stories of kindergarten friends visiting each other at their houses that are like two or three miles apart. Not I. Back in Rosemead, I visited like two or three school friends, but they were my neighbors. This was a very very Chinese thing to do. When my mom was a little girl in Guangzhou, she knew her neighbors' kids well and went to their houses, but not so much to any of her other friends' houses (other than her best friend's) outside this bubble.

So how does this affect me? I'm used to being alone. I don't mind being alone. I'm shy. And I'm socially awkward. When I talk to others, I don't really like to talk about frivolous things...like about cute guys. Well, I guess fashion is frivolous but I like talking about things that actually have an affect on my knowledge and interests (have I offended anyone yet?)! So I guess in a way, if these people and I don't share a hobby, I don't know what to say to them. My apartment mates, for example. They love going out and doing things. I love staying indoors and...I don't know, read magazines and blogs and watch television and old movies. When I see them and ask them were they went I'm just like oh, how cool (I guess?). Just now, I saw my apartment mate who broke her collarbone downstairs covered in a blanket, watching TV. I told her that she looked sick (I TELL IT LIKE IT IS, YO) and she was like "Now my feelings are hurt." She was probably kidding but I didn't know how to reply to that. I just let out a tiny laugh and went about my business.

Also my family, being so Chinese, isn't really into risky business. Like the LEAST BIT OF RISK. The .001% chance that you will die on this rollercoaster NOPE SORRY NOT GONNA DO IT. 30 miles per hour?!? TOO FAST. I've become SO conservative because of them! I like that I refuse to drink or smoke but I won't try new things! If I want to go somewhere as far (or close, depends on how you view it) as Los Angeles with my friends, my mom will definitely get concerned. If I'm going to hang out with a group of guys, she'll ask me to find a gal friend to bring along. I don't know if I ever blogged about this, but once, when Jenn and Arial came over to my house to pick me up for an impromptu movie night, I ran outside. My dad even let me out the door. And we were off to Jenn's house. My mom called me and yelled at me louder than I ever heard her yell. When I called back, my mom and dad said they didn't want me to come back home, that I could just live at Jenn's place. You can imagine how much I cried when I was with Jenn and Arial (and Jenn's mom and brother)...so embarrassing.

And of course, living in a bubble is not complete without a possessing a corrupt sense of humor. My family members don't joke around with each other so much, so I blame this for my almost nonexistent sense of humor (it's either nonexistent or SO HUGE that I offend people quite easily...and I have offended people!!!!! A LOT OF PEOPLE!). My family's sense of humor was quite caustic...it's like, are you trying to hurt my feelings? As a child, I sometimes cried when an aunt or uncle would make fun of me, thought they only meant to kid. So when I joke around, I can go too far.

Anyway, sorry for this Asian emo babble...I wrote a story last week about being at the hospital when I was three for my appendix surgery and I was reminded of being really Chinese when I wrote that my dad gave me something he called "ice cream" but it was really a popsicle. I also used to think a leg was called a "foot" and peas were called "green beans". Thanks to my parents...

Speaking of fiction writing, I noticed that all my stories are downers. Nothing bright, cheery, funny, and uplifting. It's just like writing Xanga entries.................

Mad at Myself

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 06:52:45 GMT

Because I suck at dodgeball.
Because I didn't help my team at all at dodgeball.
Because the girl from the other team called me a bitch.
Because when we asked the girl who got a nose bleed whether she was alright, the girl next to her said "NO! SHE'S BLEEDING." She didn't see me get pegged in the face...
Because I GOT PEGGED IN THE FACE. My glasses flew off. Why do I even try to play sports? The other team was nice, though, and apologized, saying that I took it "like a champion".
Because I just fo und three nail colors I really want from a somewhat expensive nail lacquer brand. IT'S JUST COLOR ON YOUR NAILS WHY THE EFF AM I BECOMING SUCH A GIRLY GIRL?!?!?
Because I let that eBay lot get away.
Because I probably won't get that ring I really want for a cheap price. I found it at a fob store in Life Plaza for $10...wtf? You can buy five on eBay for $9.
Because I'm a terrible frugalista (fashionista who is frugal, obviously). Read my previous post about my Gap ordeal. I fail at haggling. I always give in. Plus I have four new items on my MUST HAVE list.
Because I spend too much money. Not as much as a lot of girls I know but I'm exceeding my own limits.
Because I'm not doing my homework.

Precious Bodily Fluids

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 02:30:21 GMT

Ugh what an interesting day, in a bad way.

I went to UTC's Gap store today to exchange my anorak for another one because the one I got over the weekend, however much I love it, had a tear on the hoodie and a HOLE in the collar. I hate myself for not looking closely at the stuff I buy before I actually buy it. I went over there and told the lady I wanted to exchange it. Maybe I shouldn't have given her my receipt (but she asked for it!) because she was like "Over the weekend, there was a discount so you'll have to pay $9 more today..." NINE DOLLARZ?!?!?!? WTF! True, I got my jacket at a GREAT price, and that's why I was so happy that I got it! So I was like uhhhhhhhhhh and I tried to tell her "but the one I bought was damaged and I just wanted to get a better one" but she said she didn't have the authority to determine whether I didn't have to pay more or not. I worked up a sweat trying to talk her into letting me just take the new coat because I freaking paid for it already! I took out a couple of Gap coupons I had and she applied the one I could use but I still had to pay $2 to exchange. I was like okay whatever and I paid her. She apologized but still!!!!!!! So stupid...I should've just checked for damages on the clothing earlier...of all the jackets, I had to get the crappy one.

And just now...well I'm not sure if it's okay that I talk about it but it's really bugging me.

So during the APSA meeting, people who were running for board and had to be elected had to give speeches and answer questions. One candidate in particular wasn't talking a lot and he was really really quiet. He usually isn't so this was quite strange........during the speeches, I asked a guy for his pencil and I started drawing an eye on a piece of paper because y'know DRAWING IS WHAT I DO! I've been drawing for no reason since I was 3! I get restless when I sit down for too long so that's why you'll see me draw during lectures. I started with an eye because I dunno, I always draw eyes. Maybe it's something symbolic but I don't want to interpret that right now. And then I started drawing a face, sort of messing up on the nose and cheekbones. I kind of liked how it turned out in the end but I flipped the paper over to continue listening to what the speeches. Then I flipped my paper over again and I heard someone laugh from the front of the room. I saw that the quiet candidate was looking at the floor, towards my drawing. When the next question was asked he was like "To be honest, I'm really depressed and I know I'm boring you all." I'm not sure what he said after that but he basically said he couldn't answer anymore questions and he was just going to leave. As he left and everyone clapped, I wanted to cry.

On a better note, I finally talked to the Communication undergrad adviser today and I think I'm finally going to declare a major.

*P.S. If you've never heard about "precious bodily fluids", watch Dr. Strangelove. Maybe you can explain the movie to me because I still don't get it.