I once wrote about seeing snails at the library courtyard - click here to read the post. But that's certainly not the only place in my town where you can see some snails.

When I was in elementary school, there were some snails among the bushes. I can't remember too clearly what I had done to them in the past, but I am sure it was not something particularly nice. (Even now I still don't treat bugs and such critters very well...Someday they're all going to take revenge on me.)

One day, when I was walking home, not that long ago, I heard this cracking noise. I looked back and saw something crushed on the sidewalk. I fear it may have been some unlucky snail slowly making its way across the block, only to be squashed under my mighty foot.

To avoid another occurrence, I kept my eyes on the ground in front of me. Unfortunately, that didn't work either. I was late to realize that the light had changed and that it was time to cross the street since I was being looking around for snails.

On the weekend, my mom told me that there was a snail in front of our house, so I went over to investigate. I took a few pictures of the snail. Then I attempted to prod it with a stick so it would shrink back into its shell and I would be able to move it somewhere else. (I had hoped to be able to keep the snail as a pet, but I didn't know how I would take care of it...I don't even know what snails eat.) But the snail kept trying to stick its head back out not long after each time that I poked it. I guess it realized that I wasn't planning to kill it after a while. I managed to get the snail to crawl onto a fallen leaf (well, it was really more a clump of needles, like what you would find on a pine, fir, or something of that sort) and moved it to a pot that was not currently being used to grow a plant. But when I went back outside later on, the snail had left. Besides some trails on the ground (from when it was wandering on its own, undisturbed by me), there was no trace of it.

It really goes to show that "slow and steady wins the race". Despite their slow, slimy, oozing way of moving, they can still sneak off if given the chance. They're pretty stealthy after all. But in the end, it isn't enough to save them. Snails are cooked and eaten by people. It is a sad fate (and also one that I cannot comprehend).

Labels: accident, death, destiny, distraction, elementary school, fine dining, food, house, library, moral, moving, pet, post, revenge, skills, snail, sneaky

As the STAR tests are coming up, I have been going over some released questions from previous years to try and refresh my memory of the various subjects. (STAR stands for Standardized Testing And Reporting. It is a test taken in California.) I was rather concerned about science especially, because the last time I took the science STAR test, I didn't score as well as I had hoped. And my science teacher had said it would cover science from grades 5-8, which was of great concern to me since I don't really remember much of what I learned in elementary school anymore. All I can remember are vague names and ideas, like Ohlone (a Native American tribe, if I remember correctly), the Revolutionary War, and something about the organs of the human body. I keep thinking of the word spleen, for whatever reason, but I have no idea where it is, what it looks like, or its function anymore.

I was going over the language arts released test questions, and there was a part from How I got to Be Perfect, written by Jean Kerr (at least, that's what I think, I was rather confused by the content of the heading, but anyways).

"The dog that gave us the most trouble was a beagle named Murphy. As far as I'm concerned, the first thing he did wrong was to turn into a beagle. I had seen him bounding around on the other side of a pet-shop window, and I went in and asked the man, 'How much is that adorable fox terrier in the window?' Did he say, 'That adorable fox terrier is a beagle'? No, he said, 'Ten dollars, lady.' Now, I don't mean to say one word against beagles. They have rights just like other people. But it is a bit of a shock when you bring home a small ball of fluff in a shoebox, and three weeks later it's as long as the sofa.

Murphy was the first dog I ever trained personally, and I was delighted at the enthusiasm with which he took to the newspaper. It was sometime later that we discovered, to our horror, that - like so many dogs - he had grasped the letter but not the spirit of the thing. Until the very end of his days he felt a real sense of obligation whenever he saw a newspaper - any newspaper - and it didn't matter where it was. I can't bring myself to go into the details, except to mention that we were finally compelled to keep all the papers in the bottom of the icebox."

I find it rather interesting reading the stories from past STAR tests. It seemed like there was quite a bit about the dangers of the sun. There were advertisements for sunscreen and how to apply it, as well as advice for how to avoid being damaged by UVA or UVB rays. I don't put on sunscreen as often as I should...Although I may not get sunburns that much, it is possible that I'll end up with skin cancer and wrinkles, which are both problems that don't show up right away. (Then again, my skin already has problems and my hands are quite wrinkly - although I was told that had to do with my hands being small so the skin is not stretched as tightly across my bones)

This morning I was thinking about something that I hadn't thought of for a while. It started out with me wondering if someday I should take Oral Composition (though the idea was soon dismissed in my head, for not only do I still lack confidence in my public speaking abilities, I also would be behind those who had taking Oral Comp in 9th grade, and anyways I was planning to take Photography soon as I had the chance). And then I remembered that I had seen a kid in PE who looked kind of like someone I used to know. I would always stare at the back of his head until he turned around so I could see his face. And even though it was impossible for him to be that person (since this boy was in a lower grade) I always waited and looked, and was greatly disappointed. I wonder why? I guess I'm still really stuck to my past. I wish I could have those carefree days back again. I haven't seen a person who I was friends with in elementary school for so long. Perhaps he moved...But I am sure he must still live fairly close by, for I thought I saw him at Target once. (If you want to see people you know, go to Target, the library, or the San Francisco Airport. I've seen many acquaintances at these three locations.)

Labels: beagle, dog, elementary school, familiar, friends, health, interesting, memories, memory, moving, newspaper, people, recognize, science, score, skin, STAR testing, sunlight, training, wrinkles

This is a phrase that I learned from orchestra, which I used to take back in 6th grade. I think it was on a wall hanging that my teacher had.

Music didn't used to be a big part of my life. Sure, I'd always heard classical music and the sort of music my dad listened to (John Denver, the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Kenny Rogers, Lionel Richie, and so on). And I started taking piano around the age 5 or 6. But at first it wasn't a big deal for me. It grew in importance only after time passed.

We would take music just maybe once or twice a week in elementary school. Mostly we sang, but occasionally we got to play the drums or xylophones, and I always loved that. I thought it was fun - it was something I didn't get to do often, unlike piano, which I had to practice everyday, and I was frustrated by playing piano. I had already accomplished my original reason for starting, which was playing the song Fur Elise (it's really not that hard a song, but it's pretty famous). I was not too good at controlling my temper (and I'm still having trouble in that regard...) so sometimes I would get violent and try to punch the piano or scratch it. Usually resulted in me getting hurt. One time I got mad at Bach (sorry, Bach, but I can't say I'm the biggest fan of your music) and tore part of my book. Not a good idea. Now I can't really put it back together.

I wasn't really a prominent singer either. I suppose I wasn't the worst (no matter what you think, there are always people better than you and always people worse than you, simply because we're all different, and anyways, how good your life is also depends on how you perceive it) but I wasn't the best, either. I mean, I couldn't hit certain pitches and I just really hate it when I'm trying to sing something and it sounds off tune and messed up. I suppose maybe if I practiced very seriously I could improve it, but I'm a lazy person, and anyways I wasn't really considering a career as a singer.

But in seventh grade, I started to listen to music. If you've watched anime, you've probably noticed that there are opening and ending songs, and there's also insert music you might hear during episodes. After a while I started a playlist, and that's when my exploration of music really accelerated. I didn't even listen to English songs much before, but then I started listening to music in Japanese, and even a little in English and Korean. (No French yet, I'm afraid, but maybe someday I'll try it out)

I didn't used to enjoy playing the piano so much, but now I do. I feel like it's a way to unwind at the end of the day by hearing something nice that you yourself worked hard to create (by practicing all these years). And it's a good way to relieve stress, at least for me. I think music is how people who can't necessarily put their thoughts into words express themselves.

I feel guilty because I used to be so mean to my piano. I was often frustrated by not being able to get a certain part right or not being able to play loudly enough (my hands were small - and they still are - and I didn't have much muscle strength). It seems funny now, because I hear the younger students of my piano teacher have trouble making a loud sound on one of her pianos, but I thought it was fairly easy. I suppose they'll be able to handle it when they're older.

My piano has always been there for me, ever since I first obtained it so many years ago. It's always been sitting in the same spot, patiently waiting for me to play it. If I were to tell my problems to it, there is no risk of the piano telling anyone else or being repulsed by what I say. (Though it might look a bit funny, if I were talking to an inanimate object. There are psychologists near my house, after all.) That does make me concerned, though; if I go to college and I can't live at home since it's far away, what can I do about the piano? Should I have it moved? (But if I lived in an apartment or dorm, it'd probably take up too much space.) Or do I have to give up playing the piano? The latter choice seems painful. (I don't want to have to buy a stand-up piano just for when I'm away from home, however, so I don't see what I can do about it.)

Not long ago, I read a bout called A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban. It's not a difficult book to understand, but I thought it was pretty nice. What piqued my interest was that the main character plays the organ. I've never played the organ and have always thought of it as an antiquated instrument seeing as I've only really seen it in old churches and other historical, touristy buildings. Apparently, the organ needs to be turned on and various rhythm styles (this leads me to think it is actually kind of like a keyboard...). I've never met anyone who has played the organ, so I'm really curious about it.

Labels: a crooked kind of perfect, anger management, anime, bach, best friend, book, challenge, college, expression, fur elise, instrument, moving, music, organ, piano, school, self, singing, strength, stress

Well, kind of in the literal sense, and kind of not. On Christmas Day, I was spacing out and I noticed something unusual on the ceiling. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a crack...In fact, a pretty long one. I am not sure how long the crack has been there. It could be new, it might've been forming over the course of several years. But what I do know is that it's a bad sign.

Our house is not new, that is for sure. My mother says it was built in 1945. It was remodeled once, but that wasn't recent, and it wasn't us who remodeled it anyway. My dad says the insides of the house are getting ruined and sometime we're going to have to either move out or redo our house from scratch. I hope that won't happen, but you can't prevent the inevitable; fate works in strange ways. When I mentioned the crack to my parents, my dad said it would probably be okay (at least for now) while my mother said, "Okay, let's remodel the house now." I don't want to move away (unless it would be to some far, exotic place like Australia, or France, or Italy, or the Hawaiian islands) and I don't want to tear down my house...But now that I think of it, that would give me a good opportunity to try apartment living. I've been wanting to live in apartment because I figure it would be interesting, and it would be good to have neighbors close by and a swimming pool that can easily be accessed. I really don't understand why people always want to buy a house so badly. Is it wanting to call something your own? Or do you just want some privacy?

Recently, my dad told me about the difference between the way houses are built. There are slab houses and houses with crawl space. If your house is a slab house, then it is built directly on top of a concrete foundation. The pipes and other things are in the concrete. If your house has crawl space, then there is some space between a foundation and the house. The space is called "crawl space" because if your pipes break or something, you can crawl under the house to fix them. If you have a slab house, then there is no crawl space, so you're in big trouble if your pipes break - you'll have to blow up the concrete. But if you do have crawl space, then you run the risk of termites. My house, in fact, probably has termites.

My mom and dad both watched a Chinese drama. In the drama, a couple wanted to buy a house. They don't have much money, so the wife asked her husband to borrow money from his parents. But the husband didn't want to do that since his parents are poor and he would feel guilty. His wife grew angry, saying she was tired of him making excuses about his family. They already had to take out a loan for a large amount of money that had a high interest rate, and the down payments took the help of neighbors and friends. My mom complained, "Why do they want to buy a house when they really can't afford it?" Why indeed.

On Christmas Day, I visited my parents' friends' house. My parents' friends' son is visiting (he lives in Seattle) and he brought his dog along with him. His dog is a Shetland sheepdog, I believe (at least partially, maybe he is mixed with some other breeds). The dog looks quite different from the last time I saw him. He seems to be bigger and has a lot of hair, even though my parents' friends insist he was already like that. This time the dog was a lot friendlier to me than last time. (Or maybe I'm better at dealing with dogs now. When I was in Australia, I got to interact with my mom's friend's dog...) He watched me whenever I tried to eat something (of course, animals find human food to be MUCH tastier) and let me pet him and even tried to lick me. (I really don't understand why a dog would want to lick you, not that I really mind or anything, but it's not like I taste good....DO I?!)

My mom was reading the newspaper (in Chinese) and there were some pictures of some objects. I guess it was some recommendations of things to buy. There was lipstick that has seven colors you can use...Isn't that like one of those pens with many colors? Wow. The most interesting thing, though, was the key hider. It was supposed to look like a sprinkler on your lawn or one of those outdoor lights. Actually, you can put your keys in them, so if you forgot your keys, you could have a spare key outside. But I think that's dangerous. Any ill-minded person who reads that newspaper article will know where to look for someone's keys and would be able to break into your house...

Labels: apartment, chinese, crack, crawl space, disguise, dog, drama, food, house, key hider, lick, lipstick, money, moving, newspaper, old, risk, shetland sheepdog, slab house, termites

Today, I had my third encounter with someone who had I believed to have died - er, moved away. I saw him twice before. The first time, RaHa (Those are the first two letters of his first and last name, to protect his privacy, I suppose) had stopped his bike and was doing something. I think he was going to use his cell phone or maybe he forgot something or perhaps he was counting cars. I have no idea. The second time he was on his bike, pedaling home presumably. This was interesting, because where he was going signified he went to my school, and I had not seen him at school. (In fact, we thought he had moved away before entering middle school) And then I saw him today, in the lunch line, and the lunch lady was telling him what he could get at the salad bar, since he didn't have enough $$$ or some other problem. So now the truth has come out: THE DEAD TRULY CAN COME BACK TO LIFE.

Recently I have found out about two websites, FMyLife and MyLifeIsAverage. Let's not mention what the F stands for in the first website. Anyhow, both these websites contain little "stories" from people. It's usually negative things on FMyLife and just weird things on MyLifeIsAverage. I came up with my own, though I am not planning to submit it to either of them.

Today, I was in my classroom minding my own business. I looked out the window and saw a girl walk by. She was holding a toilet seat and looking at it.

Actually, I think that toilet seat is the hall pass for one of the classrooms... (Whether it is a real toilet seat I am not sure about) And I remember it was a helmet of some sort that was the hall pass for orchestra/band. All my teachers this year have very ordinary hall passes, though. What a shame.

My history teacher mentioned something today which I wish that I had been able to put in my previous post "the bond between parent and child". He said that people tend to raise their kids the way their parents raised them. Even if you may deny it, saying "I'm going to be nothing like my parents!" it often turns out that you are like your parents. My teacher himself came up with a prime example. When he was young, he would wrestle with his father for fun. His father would say, "Get off my back, Evelyn!" and then Mr. Brown would say, "I'm not Evelyn, I'm *insert his name here*." This happened again with Mr. Brown and his son. His son wanted to play horsey so he climbed on top of his dad's back. Then Mr. Brown couldn't resist saying, "Get off my back, Evelyn!" and his son said, "I'm not Evelyn, I'm *insert his name here*." By the way, if you don't understand "Get off my back, Evelyn" it's apparently something in a movie, which I haven't watched.

Labels: children, death, fmylife, get off my back evelyn, hall pass, history, lunch line, method, moving, mylifeisaverage, parents, return, school, seat, toilets

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