I Am

A human, firstly, obviously.  But I think even my shallow self can go a bit deeper than that.

Colleges essays are adding more and more pressure as the deadlines come ever closer, and the topics were, to say the least, dull. Perhaps UChicago's were interesting: "'History is everything they are not telling us' - who are 'they' and what are they not telling us?" "You are you and your ______." but then again, UChicago is rather infamous for their interesting essay topics.

But constant revision on my essays with topics like, "What is your best trait?" and "What has affected you the most?" has actually made me reconsider the depth of such prompts. Yes, they're still dull and somewhat boring to answer, but they do bring to mind questions I've never really considered before, simply because the topic was never thought to be important enough to give time to. Now, I feel that I order to answer these topics in a unique and truthful way was to - you know it - create lists of everything about myself. At first, they were about stuff that would actually matter to the colleges: age, interests, grades, etc. etc. but then I got a bit carried away with all the smaller bits of my interests.

Where to begin?

I am homo sapiens (not so sure about the sapiens part all the time), of the cryptic female gender. I am at a typical about-to-graduate age, with two eyes that cannot agree on what ethnicity I am - pick white or Asian, eyes, and stop compromising. I am right-handed, size 6 1/2 shoe size (though they used to be size 7 - no, both those sizes are women's - my feet literally shrunk) and 5' 4" (I also swear I used to be 5'5"). I am an ordinary student, who could be extraordinary if I put in the time, and a documentator of the movie reels in my head.

I am the singer of the shower, the blanket of all couches, and the climber of (mostly) all trees. I am the avid reader, the dedicated artist, the sufferer of perfectionism, an ostrich when I sleep, and a laugher of lame jokes. I am a teasing flirt with my best friends (if you are reading this, "person," you know who you are), a hater of the Twilight movies, a lover of all things Harry Potter, and a group-triggered chameleon.

I am a girl who has fallen out with her Oriental side (but still knows enough to recite the Chinese zodiac - in English and Chinese. Ha!). I am lazy when allowed to be so, but wildly passionate and loud when with best friends. I am somewhat clam-like, though I won't go so far as to say that I am a pearl inside. I am mostly conservative with clothes (death to skirts) and I dislike standing out on a daily basis. 

I am a soccer player (AYSO) and have been a horse rider since I was two. I started lessons when I was three, quit after a year due to moving, and then started again in 6th grade. I am now the lessor of a beautiful but sassy horse named Fancy Dancer, who listens to whatever I say, provided she's either tied up or I have treats in my hand (but Big Mama (she's a mama!) does have her moments - she enjoys head-hugging). I am a volunteer at my local Humane Society, a piano player, a Chinese tutor, and a victim of many, many tickle attacks. 

I am a Gryffindor, of Poseidon, a Hoot Owl, a part of the Cumbercollective, of District 4, an elf, and a Sherlock-without-the-intelligence, but with all the awkwardness. I am a naturalist, a gelato-lover, a heavy sleeper, a self-proclaimed water elemental, a gossiper, and "the blue in your back alley view, where the horizon and the rooftops meet."

I am the fire rat, the fox, the willow, a K'ank'in, a diamond, the falcon, a Mesha, the tiger, Osiris, the kangaroo, the honeysuckle, an Aries, and many more, if only I could find more zodiacs. I am loyal, a curious cat (sometimes the proverbial one), respectful, and at times I am unable to voice what I want to say. I am blunt, honest, bluntly honest, an easy smiler, and a person who is constantly derailing from track to track. Can you tell?

I am independent.

I am observant.

I am transparent.

But not by the dictionary definition. If anything, I am the opposite of transparent in that way.

This is hopefully the last majorly personal blog I will write. I'm not even this open in real life - I guess it's the false sense of security the Internet gives me. After this, reader, you will know practically all there is to know about me.

Except, of course, everything else that is of actual importance that I didn't put on here. 

“Who are you?"
"No one of consequence."
"I must know."
"Get used to disappointment.”
― William Goldman, The Princess Bride

Blind Eyes Wide Mind

I don't usually like personal organization. I have one folder threatening to fall apart because of all the Econ stuff I've filled it with, and a cluttered desk with multiple stacks of  binders and papers at least 1 foot high (and yet I still manage to remember in which stack I put my ACT confirmation sheet - take that, organization). Possibly the most impressive example is my horizontal closet strewn across my bedroom floor. I deem to clean it once every two weeks, but in the meanwhile, I just kick a clear path to my bed and remain satisfied.

But projects - God forbid one aspect is out of place. If I emulate some artist's painting, like I am right now with Delacroix's Lady Liberty Leading the People, I must grid my sheet and the copy to perfectly trace the outlines. Each line must be straight down to the last millimeter, lest the squares be wider at the top more so than the bottom and skew all my proportions. Posters and presentations must be carefully planned out - not only the content of text, but color scheme, division of information, font size, chronology, alphabetization, general balance, etc. etc.

I suppose I am a perfectionist after all, albeit a little lacking in will and uniformity at times... which I guess means I'm not really a perfectionist... but I still worry over the smallest of things... I'm not going to over-think this. I'm a quasi-perfectionist.

So whenever my organized side takes over (rarely as that happens), I do enjoy the opportunity to look at myself and iron out the little pieces of me that hide, hidden for the most part, in the folds. Basically, I create lists. I create lists of things I like, things I don't like, favorite music, blah blah blah, best Halloween costume ideas, ranking peers in order of importance, the best peeled fruits compared to their unpeeled counterparts (grapes win, hands down, even though it's such a pain getting the skins off. Oranges and bananas don't count, really). It's nice to know there are some certainties in life.

(none of these are in order of importance)
And so, List I:

Things I Like:
1. Sitting high up in spacious trees.
2. Listening to music that has such a powerful beat I can feel my chest vibrating/sub woofers.
3. Good friends who laugh when I do awkward things instead of looking at me askance.
4. Food.
5. Eyes without a uniform color (coughgreeneyesarebesteyescough).
6. Harry Potter EVERYTHING.
7. Hugging someone who's wearing a squishy sweater.
8. Riding cantering horses with arms outstretched (horses give you wings, not RedBull).
9. Books of the fiction genre.
10. Singing as loudly and as off-key as I can when no one's home (and around certain friends).

Things I Don't Like: 
1. Conspiracy theories.
2. Stepping on seaweed in the ocean.
3. The nickname "J-Money."
4. Butter that is cut away in wedges or at the corners instead of in a straight vertical line that preserves its shortening rectangular shape.
5. Men who insist on sitting with their legs spread wide like they've got something there.
6. People who laugh obnoxiously loud when trying to look cool, but end up sounding like braying donkeys.
7. Writhing maggots (if you get this I love you - C&H).
8. People who text during the best part of my favorite movie/show.
9. Crying babies and children in general.
10. Drivers who don't use a turn signal.

Obligatory likes/dislikes out of the way. Now lets see...

Favorite Snacks: 
1. Goldfish
2. Nutella
3. Strawberries and sugar.
4. Popsicles.
5. Those Asian jello-things with bits of aloe cubes.
6. Chips - doesn't matter what flavor as long as it's not Original (usually).
7. Tea with buttloads of sugar is totally a snack.
8. Ice cream.
9. Various dry cereal.
10. Toast.

Prettiest/Most Interesting Plants: 
1. Jasmine (bonus for smelling so good).
2. Tree of a Thousand Stars (look up serissa foetida)
3. Baobab
4. Hibiscus
5. Black Bat Flower
6. Bleeding Heart
7. Welwitschia Mirabilis (I had to look it up to spell it)
8. Waterlily.
9. Oxalis
10. Green Jade Flower

Best Books: 
1. Harry Potter.
2. A Wrinkle in Time.
3. Tales from Outer Suburbia.
4. Percy Jackson anything.
5. Eragon - first book only.
6. Call of the Wild/White Fang.
7. The Fault in Our Stars.
8. The Hunger Games (I finally caved, it is pretty good).
9. The Mists of Avalon.
10. Zoobiquity.
(11. The Little Prince - I had to add it on)

Best Random Trivia:
1. The world's termites outweigh the world's humans 10 to 1.
2. Pope John Paul II was named an honorary Harlem Globetrotter in 2000.
3."Queue" is the only English word where you can remove the last four letters and have it still sound the same.
4. Pinocchio is Italian for pine eye (Pino is Italian for pine, Occhio is Italian for eye). Mindblown.
5. Cat urine glows under a blacklight.
6. There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar.
7. There are 366 dimples on a regulation golf ball.
8. Polish is the only word in the English language that has two completely different meanings based on whether the first letter is capitalized or not.
9. The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket.
10. "Benkinersophobia" is the fear of never receiving your Hogwarts acceptance letter.

Best Songs (I'm definitely leaving out a lot here, and this list fluctuates constantly):
1. Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen
2. Wake Me Up - Avicii
3. The Lightning Strike - Snow Patrol
4. You Need Me, I Don't Need You - Ed Sheeran (mainly because of the last lyric)
5. Charlie Brown - Coldplay
6. Rain - Priscilla Ahn
7. Sailboats - Sky Sailing
8. If My Heart Was a House - Owl City
9. Some Nights - Fun
10. How I Became the Sea - Owl City
11. Bonus - Someone Like Me - Ylvis. Because I had to, that song cracks me up every time.

Let me just say that there are so many other Owl City songs that I didn't put here. I restricted it to two, otherwise the whole list would be Owl City, and/or Snow Patrol.

The Most Useless Inventions:
1. Glow in the dark sunglasses.
2. Pedal-powered wheelchair.
3. Double sided playing cards.
4. Portable chin rest.
5. Two-person sweatshirt
6. Butter in a chapstick-like container - a "Butterstick."
7. Picnic pants.
8. Small portable fan that attaches to your chopsticks and cools your noodles as you eat them.
9. Revolving ice cream cone.
10. Dehydrated water.

Ok, so that last list I had a bit of help from the internet. But see? Crazy lists of random things to prove I'm organized - not a waste of time! I limited all these to just 10 per list, otherwise this would be going on forever. Usually they are much longer; it was so hard choosing which ones I liked the best, especially for the songs.

If you're wondering what the title of this post is, and thinking it doesn't relate, the context actually makes sense - just think about it. There is meaning behind it, and it's not just a pretty and mysterious caption. I don't think I'm the kind of person who tries to hide behind misleading veils.

And because I was extra unproductive yesterday, I have two videos to share today. The better one is last, but that doesn't mean the first song isn't also really cool. It's just because the feeling the second one leaves you with is much like saving the tastiest part of dinner for last - you can walk around for a long time afterwards, still tasting it on your tongue.

That was the best analogy I've ever made.

Calling the Maker, by Aimee Allen

Contre Temps (a short film)

Synthetic Constellations

It was the wind in winter's ribbons that took me up with the roman candle. I shielded my wide eyes from stinging iridescent lights, my neck craning and stretching back. Colored stars - golden, violet, crimson - fell shining like cosmic palm fronds, rushing for the silver mirror below, flashing, crackling before winking out and fading into smoke. Each firework was my chariot, each burst my burning waterfall, each roar of the cannons my wild laughter. My breath came in time with the sparks above. My heart was shaken into rhythm by the tremors, like a tremendous pulsing sub woofer.

Imagination grew wings, flippers and legs all at once. The fire, well, it consumed - drew everything together in once blazed moment.

[inhale] Boom.

A steep precipice falls away beneath my feet, golden brown and crumbling. Dry, cracked fingernails scrabble behind me for purchase, toes gripping the edge like a vise. Nothing much above but a sky the color of someone's eyes, clutching a precious nugget. The cliff opposite, streaked with dusty rust and plum shades, fades in and out of focus - a tree growing and bursting into boulders that went raining down - the side swelling slowly as some force tunneled from the inside - a set of jagged cracks speeding in outline until it crumbles, inside out, releasing a [exhale] red-tailed hawk. Dark wings stretched, growing in span, becoming Mother Nature's Blanket of Night, peppered with hummingbird holes. One flight feather, falling away from a limb, spiraling down, buffeted, slowly swirling in elongated fashion towards me. My head feels light, as though gravity decided it no longer wants me. It's getting closer. Boy, you could knock me over with a -

I go tumbling down with the boulders, that innocent barred feather swinging back and forth after me.

[inhale] Boom.

I sit at the end of the long line. We are crammed against the wall in a bleak carpeted waiting room, with gray pencil cacti placed unceremoniously in three corners of the room. The only source of light is an unshaded fluorescent bulb, hanging from the ceiling. Its harsh light cast shadows on our [inhale] taunt, drawn faces. In the last corner there is an unassuming steel door. We all start as the doorknob shifts and a nurse enters the room. She scans a long checklist, looks up, and calls out my name.

I follow the woman through the door into a [exhale] stainless steel room. Varied instruments lie on a sleek silver tray. A man with a dark shock of hair greets me with, what seems to me, false cordiality. He shakes my hand and guides me to a chair. He eyes me calculatingly as he pulls out a small syringe. I think, I hate needles. The man smiles icily, and tells me not to worry - a sharp, jabbing pain; he had stuck me in the arm with that needle, and my vision swims. 

I wake up in a shifting, ethereal world. I can't make out the glimmering lights around me, though they hover just out of reach. I try to blink, and discover [inhale] I can’t. My peripheral vision tunnels, as I move what felt like my head all the way around to see. It was dark, the space reaching outwards, and I start to feel a sense of claustrophobia when a beautiful French door - false gold gilt - appears in front of me. I desperately clutch at the handle and stagger through. 

The door slams shut with a snap, and I am suddenly hovering uncertainly over a roiling, tumbling mass. Everything in black and white. I turned my head with painful slowness, and saw that a craggy black rock looms in front of me. It seems to exude light through its blackness, feeding the small fig tree clinging to the surface. I am drawn to that pathetic tree, but the longing scares me. I turn, [exhale] urgently sweeping my eyes left and right, trying to find an exit out of this horrid place, but that small tree, glorious in its uselessness, follows me. I run, somewhere, anywhere, but that tree keeps following me. I can’t stand it.

[inhale] Bo[exhale]om.

A vast expanse of blue grassland extends to the horizon, dotted here and there with gnarled trees and bushes. Clumps of dark heather bends before the night wind, sending their whispering voices along with the breeze as it moves between the leaning stems. Above the grassland, stars twinkle coldly down from high in the heavens. Their hazy bed of indigo velvet stretches across the roof of the world; everything beneath it bears its color. The full moon [inhale] silvers the edges of  indistinct objects, so that the whole of the grassland looks as though it has been brushed across the top with shimmering dust. Everything is silent, save for the blithe wind, who continues to tumble its way across the dark grass, rustling the heather as it goes.

                 

At the farthermost edge of the horizon, I watch silently as [exhale] a slight purple glow appears, steadily arching its back to fill the indigo sky with a crescent streak of violet. The crescent pulls up a slight line of green as it ascends, who in turn drags with it the muted colors of pastel orange and red. The new colors gaze out across the blue and silver grass, shake out their bright robes, and toss them across the sky. They paint over the shadowy grass with streaks of pink and orange, reaching out with their arms until the sky is a glorious blaze of golden and crimson rays, heralding the way for the sun. It's not until I feel its warmth that I realize I'm shivering.

[inhale] Boom. 

[exhale]

The great finale starts, a ricocheting mass of gold fountains, green sparklers and screeching rockets. I shake the hair out of my eyes, cheering with everyone else. Whatever force possessed me slips away, my images dissolving like morning dreams before I remember they even existed. Does this happen a lot? Do others experience this mental flight? I can't remember; my heart's still vibrating, beating in time to the synthetic constellations above .

[inhale]

Let me light the last fuse.

--

 

Just a song that's been stuck in my head a lot as of late. Explicit - i.e. one F-Bomb. Just in case though, if you care.

Human After All, by Twin Atlantic.

You do not know how hard it was to not choose "Fireworks" by Katy Perry. 

[exhale]

Stuck in Subpar

Surround yourself with who you want to be. Isn't that what they all say? Strive to be your best, improve upon yourself, keep reaching for the stars.

Problem is, I'm short on both height and supply of stilts.

(Heads up, this is a narcissistic rant.) 

Lately (more like the past 7-8 years) I've felt that I've always been average at everything. Piano? I pick songs up unnaturally quickly, but get those drunk-on-Red-Bull butterflies whenever I perform. The result: I contract my whole body in nervous anticipation at recitals, completely screw up because my hands are cold, stiff, and shaking , then spend the next few minutes listening to perfect performances. Art? I can draw better than most people, yes, but everything I create is just, for lack of another fitting word, average. There's no realism, dimension, or meaning in whatever I draw. Originality eludes me; the paper remains flat, the perspective and colors are ordinary. Subjects are shallow, and if they aren't, it's probably already been done before.

Shall I continue?

I started riding horses when I was three, took a long break, and have now been riding for nearly six years. But only recently have I made any breakthrough progress, and that's only managing to keep my seat stable during my horse's Pepe le Pew canter. The only blue ribbon I've gotten in a competition had only one other entry, and I've entered roughly 4 competitions. What else could I say is a "talent?" My more-extensive-than-most knowledge of nature has gaping holes in it. I may know some stuff, but nowhere near enough to be a real aficionado. I'm an average student, with average scores - literally. I only have 2 GPAs throughout my entire high school career: just above Honor Roll and 4.00.

The point of all this self-pity and ranting is that I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do when I grow up, or in the short term, which subject I want to major in. What does a person who isn't special in anything do? My parents try to subtly push me towards art, but screw that. I have a cousin who's an art major, and she's had too much trouble in the job department for me to want to go there too. I used to want to major in English, back when I wrote short stories about fairies (only later did I call then faeries) who were discovered in watermelon leaves and small elf-men who just wanted to be understood, but now I've discovered that the only lucrative and stable English major jobs don't exist, and I tend to shy away from instability.

A.k.a., what am I going to do in college? What do I want to be?

I know that very few people have their lives together at a young age, and that all the people who survived that phase smile nostalgically and say that "not knowing is half the fun" - ha. That's ridiculous. It's awful not knowing whether or not I've got a plan that will keep me in the comfort I've grown accustomed to. I used to have mild insomnia when I was a little kid; I find the bouts returning to me as I stay up every night, torturing myself with fantasies of everything that could go wrong - no college will accept me, or the only one that wants me is the worst college no one has heard of, or I'll earn a degree in a field no job wants, or I'll get stuck in a job I hate... All my friends are applying to prestigious colleges with the certainty of getting in. I'm applying to prestigious colleges and safety nets and praying I get into at least one.

I'm sorry, those of you who are thinking that this rant went too far and personal. But I did say this was my online diary. I'm exhausted trying to be polite and happy-go-lucky all the time. I feel guilty complaining about the littlest thing in real life. Everyone needs to vent at one point - maybe multiple times. I'm sorry that you think I'm just a little girl in the First World, complaining about how she's not going to get in anywhere, when she has the chance at education. But each society is as different as, say, a golden poppy and a jasmine vine. The sun-loving poppy, being drought-tolerant, still requires water, but in a range much smaller than the shady jasmine. Each has a class of too little, just right, and too much water - otherwise translated to lower, middle, and high society. If I were simply grateful for where I am now, I wouldn't go much farther in life if I choose to continue living here - which I do. I'm sorry that you think I'm overreacting, that I'm complaining, hoping for some attention - that's the last thing I want. I don't want anyone to notice me, I don't want to stand out with everyone's eyes bringing the blood to my cheeks. That's why I'm saying it here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Such are the words from the people who solve their arguments by bowing their heads and quietly dissolving.

I wish 2013 would end. I don't want to worry anymore, I want the apps to be done with, I want to know that whatever happens, I have no more control over it. I want to stop feeling that my failure of an exciting life is transparently clinging to every word in every supplement, essay, and personal statement. Fine, I'm average. Moving on.

So my ending question: what is depression like?

It's like drowning, only you can see everyone around you still breathing.