I'm not sure if almost being attacked by a goose counts as bad luck. It does look like, however, that it's a part of a series of unfortunate events, because I hear that bad things come in threes.

For one, our garage is having issues again. Whenever I try to get the door to come down, it stops partway and then tries to go back up again. I have to keep clicking the button on my garage door opening device until it finally manages to get all the way down. ...And even then, the garage door still tries to go back up. I'm thinking that the Rin/Len Kagamine song called "Remote Control" should have its lyrics rewritten to complain about my struggles with the garage door. I've even taken to going out through the front door (gasp! I pretty much never use the front door unless guests are over) just to avoid dealing with it. I'm worried that someday the garage will try to open on its own while I'm not around, and someone will come in and steal my bike. (This has happened before. My dad had his bike stolen many years ago, only it wasn't from the garage)

As for the other bad thing, it happened to my mother. We've always had issues with chairs and the legs of the beds in our house. Many times I've gotten up at night to use the bathroom and ended up stubbing my toe against a chair leg. It's happened so much that I suggested getting a bed with special legs so that you won't kick it (I saw an ad for it in a magazine), though as usual my parents weren't paying attention. Well, now my mother was walking to the bathroom at night and her toes hit a chair leg really hard. She didn't think it was a problem that night, but the next morning it hurt a lot and she couldn't walk properly. Turns out that she's fractured a bone (or bones) in her pinky toe. It'll take six weeks or so for her to recover.

What a bummer. Just the previous night we were thinking about going swimming sometime soon. Looks like I'll be swimming solo. There's practically no chance that my dad would ever agree to go swimming. When we were in Hawaii a couple years back, my mom and I were drifting out in the ocean...My dad, on the other hand, paced back and forth on the beach, an angry expression on his face. Barely got his feet wet and had only a sunburn to show for it.

But I guess it'd still be nice to go to the beach sometime. I'd like to go swimming in the ocean again. It's really salty and makes the undersides of my arms sting, but it's still...both relaxing and strenuous at the same time. A vacation-y sort of exercise.

I suppose in the end I can't enjoy it as completely as I used to be able to. At this age there's too much to worry about. I have to study to take my SATs, and these days it seems colleges expect you to get really serious about some extracurricular, and spend your summers on a job or internship or volunteering or something...It takes the fun out of the things I enjoy, being told by college prep people that I have to go make money or enter competitions with my hobbies. I never should've written Stanford and Harvard down as colleges I want to go to, because it's not true...Sure I'd like to go there, but that's not my goal.

Then I end up wondering why I'm so afraid to aim high. Maybe it's fear of failure; that has always worried me. Maybe I'm trying not to do whatever everyone else is doing again. I know it's silly of me to do - just because something is popular doesn't make it bad. But I feel like I can't just go along with the flow without thinking it through first. I think that I'll lose what makes me unique if I follow what other people are doing. Sometimes I don't want to be like other people and sometimes I do. I don't really know who I want to be anymore.

Labels: bike, broken, college, family, garage, garage door, goose, individual, injury, problems, remote control, SAT, song, stress, summer, swimming, theft, toe

I've been having lots of dreams over this past holiday season. Not really dreams that make me happy, though - I seem to have more and more nightmares these days. When I was younger, I was a major worrywart, though now I slack off a lot more and have a "whatever happens, happens" mentality. Can't say it's a good thing, because even if I might have a blast during the day, my sleep will be haunted by the fears that I've buried. My winter break's coming to an end, and it's rather depressing thinking that I have to go back to the tiresome daily grind again. One of the earlier dreams was about going back to school...except it was far stranger than I'd imagined it would be.

I assume that I returned to my high school, considering that in the dream I "knew" that I had 7 periods. But I had science first thing in the morning, even though it's my last class of the day, and there was a strict lady with short hair and glasses instead of my teacher. And one of my friends, who is not in my science class, was sitting near me, and her cell phone rang in class (which is impossible! She doesn't have one). I didn't have a locker, so instead I put down my backpack on the ground and was rifling through it when another friend of mine came along and told me, "I heard there's a great dessert menu!" (Since when would school lunches include such things?) I said that it sounded great, but I wasn't sure if I should eat it (I'm bound to overeat if I have too much tasty food around). She insisted, "What is food for besides eating?"

The strangest thing by far was PE. There was no locker room to change clothes, so we went into a building that looked alarmingly like a supermarket. Boys and girls all changed in that room, no privacy at all. And in the swimming pool, some guys were just fooling around, and then they must've challenged the dessert friend from earlier, because she got really fired up, saying "OH YEAH?!" and swam at a demonic speed.

I had another, shorter dream, where I was at my elementary school campus, walking with a friend I met in middle school and one who moved away when I was in 5th grade. We passed by a huge pile of brown stuff, which was apparently camel poop.

Last night's dream was weird, too, and it involved the friend who was in my dream's science class. Some of our friends had gone off during the school lunchtime to go to a nearby 7-11 and buy some food, so we decided to go too, after they'd left. But I was having difficulty getting out of the school, and could not find a way out except for trying to crawl under the barbed wire fence (luckily, there was a driveway that we walked down instead). But we didn't go to the 7-11; somehow we ended up at some other stores, one of which was a GameStop, and my friend went in and started admiring the TV screen, which was playing some Japanese commercials for video games. I don't remember what happened next, but somehow we ended up at my house, and I started to panic when I realized we were running out of time and had to get back to school. I suggested that we go out the front door and just walk back to school, but my friend, oddly enough, became very angry with me and insisted we go back the way we came. Problem is, I had no idea how we'd gotten to my house in the first place, so I followed my friend, and there were two men in the house. They went over to a wall, and one of them reached his hand into it like it wasn't solid. And he must've found a doorknob, because a door formed, and he opened it. We ended up in the outdoors, in a place full of plants (which I now suspect might've been a different version of my backyard). I don't remember anything else, as I woke up right then.

Dreaming's pretty hard work, even if it sounds like such a lazy activity... I wake up tired every time I've been having dreams. I guess it's because in a way you've been awake all night long - running around, talking to people, living an entire other life.

Labels: 7-11, camel poop, cell phone, changing clothes, dessert, dream, fantasy, friends, lazy, life, new year, night, PE class, school, slacker, sleep, strange, stress, time, worry

You would think that, since video games are supposed to entertain you, they would relieve stress, rather than causing more of it. But I've certainly had my share of worries due to the games that I've played.

Every day, I check up on my Animal Crossing: Wild World to see if it has rained in the game. (If you've been keeping track, there is a previous post of mine which speaks of this, so bear with me if you've already heard of it.) Over the years I have cultivated a grand garden of flowers in my town, which I am very proud of it. And as I always tend to get too attached to things, even those that may seem trivial, I can't part with it, not after I've spent so much time and effort keeping the flowers alive. I've grown tired of having to take care of them, day in and day out (the ones that are brown and dying must be watered, so that the next day they will be healthy again).

I have already let go of Nintendogs. That was a bit easier because the worst that could happen would be the dog running away (they don't die, nor do they ever mature. Rather unrealistic). The dog would surely come back after a while. In this case I would not lose my house or anything like that, so I wasn't particularly concerned.

Eventually I expect I'll abandon Animal Crossing completely, either because it falls off my list of priorities or I finally come to terms with loss. But even though I already know what will happen, I can't help but be saddened by the future.

During my 6th grade year, I went to a makeshift YMCA daycare after school, located in a place called the Multi-Use room where school announcements and assemblies take place, since I wasn't trusted to walk home by myself and my parents wouldn't be able to pick me up until 5 pm, sometimes 6, in most cases. I would finish whatever homework I could (we could use the school library if we needed textbooks). At first, in the beginning of the year, I might sometimes run around backstage and play hide and seek, but after a while we were told not to go backstage anymore, so that put an end to it. We also played some games, like Apples to Apples. It can be quite fun if you have enough people. (Unfortunately you need four people to play it properly, and in my family there are only three if my mom would actually agree to play. So I never get the chance to play it.) But as the year wore on, one of the two people in charge of this YMCA would bring in his Nintendo Gamecube more frequently, and we would play Mario Kart Double Dash or Super Smash Bros. Melee or this X-Men game. I did have a good time playing the video games, although it meant I was that much more impatient for them when I wasn't playing.

I did hear some exciting news recently. There's a new kind of Nintendo DS coming out - it's called the 3DS, and so the graphics will be quite nice. There are games on the way, too, like Nintendogs + Cats. Because of the camera built into the 3DS, the dog will actually be able to recognize your face. And there's also a new Animal Crossing that looks nice. The characters you can make are now taller and thinner (I was never too fond of the chibi-ish, short people). I'd really like to try these games out, so I guess I'm going to have to get a 3DS. But this also makes me wonder if I'll even have the time to play them.

What really spurred me on to write this post was the problems I was having with my Sims 3 today. I was notified that there was a game update available for the Sims 3 World Adventures (an expansion pack I had purchased), so I decided to update it. After that I figured I should try to play the game. But then I was told that my expansion was not compatible with my base game. I waited for it to update, but it didn't do anything. Eventually I started rooting around online to see what I could find. It seems that other people were having the same problem, too. I finally figured out that I ought to download a patch to my Sims 3 game, which fixed the game launcher, so I should be able to play now (it has finally stopped telling me my game is incompatible and everything is showing up as usual). I was really worried there thinking I might have to uninstall everything (although I was prepared for this, and backed up my files on my external hard drive). I'm so glad that it's been fixed now.

Labels: 3ds, animal crossing, apples to apples, backstage, games, garden, memories, nintendo ds, nintendogs, patch, pride, problem, routine, sims 3, stress, wild world, YMCA

The title of this post may confuse you. What I'm trying to do here is play on the phrase, "Like father, like son" or "Like mother, like daughter".

On Saturday, I had two piano recitals to attend. My piano teacher has a lot of students, so she has two recitals. Most students only perform in one recital, except for a few exceptions. In the afternoon, I was number 18 in the lineup and played the song Nocturne in F Minor, Op 55 No 1. I left for home after my performance so I could relax a bit and eat dinner before returning for the second recital. When I arrived back at the church (we always have our recitals at a certain church, I suppose you can rent it for performances, seeing as it has a piano), I saw some people coming out of the church and standing in the parking lot.

I saw two girls, and I think they were probably sisters. They were both wearing a jacket sort of thing and dresses. Also, both of them seemed to like swinging their legs around. One girl swung one of her legs back and forth, while the other girl did some movements that looked like kicks. o_o;; I suppose sisters behave alike. I think my mom and aunt are similar in ways too.

Sometimes I wonder what my sibling(s) would be like if I had any. Would my sibling, like me, favor my father's genes, or my mother's? Would my sibling be a mix of my parents? Or would he/she look like neither? What kind of interests and personality would he/she have? Would we get along? Would we fight all the time? Would we barely talk to each other?

As an only child, I think of how things could have different if I hadn't been an only child. People who do have siblings oftentimes think that it must be nice to be an only child. You don't have to share your toys, or if you're a younger child, you won't have to deal with getting hand-me-downs (well, unless they're from other relatives or something). And your parents' attention is focused on you, you, you. You are, however, your parents' only posterity, and their expectations rest on you solely (though I hear sometimes oldest siblings still feel the burden of being expected to do great things, at least in the case of someone I know). I'm just fortunate that my parents are not as driven as some parents. One of my classmates said her father threatened to disown her if she didn't get an A in math.

But sometimes, even if you're an only child, you might still feel like you're being compared to someone. And in that case it's even harder than being compared to a sibling. If you're compared to your siblings, at least you know what you're up against, but if you're being compared to an imaginary, perfect child, or to all other successful people in general, it's a lot harder.

I used to feel like I was being forced to be someone, to be "smart" and earn a lot of money, but after a while I began to realize the pressure mostly didn't come from my parents. Some of the pressure came from seeing other students and their ambitions, but in fact, I believe I have created some of the stress upon myself, too. I often seem to have an angel and demon on my shoulders - the angel says that I must stop getting distracted, and focus very seriously on my work - while the demon says, "Oh, just a few more minutes won't hurt. You have to have some fun." And then I end up in anguish for having cheated myself by not listening to the angel and not achieving my potential. When I am upset over a test score, it's not exactly the grade that really bothers me, but the feeling of having failed, and not done as much as I could have and should have.

Well, back to the topic of being an only child...This may vary from person to person, depending on personality and a person's experiences, but I think only children are probably more likely to get lonely. I personally feel like I might be closer to or more reliant on my parents, as they are the only real family I have (I do have grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, but I don't see them much), and so I feel the absence of their presence more deeply. (Sometimes I even thought I wanted to die at the same time as my parents or before them so that I wouldn't need to feel the pain from their deaths.) I wonder if this is just one of life's many hurdles. After all, no one ever said life was easy (or did someone?).

Labels: absence, ambition, comparison, failure, family, life, like father like son, only child, perfection, piano, pressure, problem, recital, relatives, siblings, similar, sister, stress, theory

CORRECTION: Whoops, this is actually the 299th post. My bad.
This post marks 300 posts in this blog. It's amazing how much I've been able to write over time, and I'm glad that I got this far. I hope you've enjoyed the ride too.

I thought I had better back up some of my posts on my computer, in case Blogger ever blinks out of Internet existence or my blog accidentally gets deleted or something like that. I was looking through my posts and I realized I had used the title "Walking on the Moon" twice. Oopsy. I try not to ever repeat post names, but I unintentionally do so... I guess this is what happens when your quantity gets too big. As for the quality, I hope it has not gone down over time. When I look back at some of my posts, I think, "Oh, that was a fun time, but it feels like so long ago." There are some times when I don't have much to write about, like the post "Ansel Adams", when I was lacking for inspiration, and it was a drag to write the post. (I felt like I should write something, to prevent me getting rusty from less practice writing) And there are also times when I have so many things to write about, I'm churning out posts everyday and I feel like I'm on top of the world. I wonder if I can grasp that feeling again.

There's something I'm always wondering about, and that is my appetite. It seems that even if I eat too much at one time and get full, later on I'll feel hungry again. (I might not really be hungry, only as soon as I see something yummy, I feel the urge to eat it.) I guess I have to ration what I eat since it seems I will always get hungry at certain times regardless of how much I ate earlier. This is rather dangerous and makes me feel like a fish or something. I bet my fish would keep eating beyond their capacities if I gave them a ton of food. (That's why I tend to "starve" them by only giving them the bare minimum at feeding time. I don't even feed them daily.)

While I was walking home today, I overheard a girl talking about how her dog had vomited. (Sorry to give you that mental picture if you were eating) I kind of thought about how people really still behave a lot like animals. I've heard dogs can sneeze and cough too (not sure about cats), like us. Both animals and humans scratch themselves when they're itchy. And we certainly do vomit as well. In the end, no matter how humans try to control and dominate and become "civilized", they're still animals.

I remembered something today that I hadn't thought about in a long time. When I was in elementary school, I used to go the YMCA daycare on the campus after school, where I stayed until my parents came back from work and could pick me up. There were sometimes questions we could answer, for instance, since I mentioned itches earlier, there was once a question, "Do you scratch an itch or itch a scratch?" We would write our answer on a slip of paper, as well as our name, and put it in a plastic box. Then, one day, one of the people working at the YMCA (we called them "leaders"), would randomly pick out a piece of paper where the question was answered correctly (I believe it was sorted for correct answers first), and then the person or people chosen would get a prize of some sort. It feels like a long time ago now.

Even sixth grade seems far away. I still have plenty of memories, but they gradually become fuzzier over time, more surreal, more distant. After a while I end up thinking, "Those were great times. And I'll probably never have them again." I still enjoy things in my daily life. But it's rather clouded by all the knowledge of the world you get, because when you're young everything's fresh and simple, everything is clearly defined. The lines get blurred when you're older, unless you can still keep that innocence, and I long for those days when things were not complicated. I don't know if I can have that kind of life again. I think that you don't realize how nice it is to be young until you get older.

I feel worn out of having to deal with stresses and concerns, and that's why I want to retire. I'd thought that if I didn't have to work any longer, and be able to focus my attentions on the little things, things that I want to do but don't get around to doing, things would be easier. Maybe they would be, and maybe they wouldn't. I'd still like to see for myself. And I don't want to wait more than fifty years for it.

Labels: 300, appetite, blog, complicated, fish, food, innocence, inspiration, life, memories, old, retirement, scratch an itch, simplicity, stress, time, walking on the moon, winner, YMCA, youth

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

I know, my previous post, "Blood is Thicker than Water", also mentions thickness, but really, this title is fitting, so I am using it nevertheless.

Not that long ago, one of my pencils disappeared. I had only started using it recently. It wasn't really a great pencil - in fact, it was a Disney Princess pencil featuring Belle from Beauty and the Best - but I hate to lose pencils since they go to waste. I was giving up on finding it when I noticed a pencil on top of a supermarket flyer. It was the very pencil I thought I had lost. And my dad doesn't go around circling what he wants to buy on supermarket flyers, so that left one culprit - my mother.

This isn't the first time she took a pencil when she saw it lying around. I found two pencils of mine which I also thought I had lost in the room of our house that is her home office. I just wish she would ask me before she uses them. It's annoying, thinking that I've lost pencils when in reality they're hanging around the house, all because my mom wanted to borrow them for some reason or another. I guess she thought I would be annoyed if she had to keep asking me to lend her pencils, but still, having my writing utensils disappear mysteriously is really not convenient.

What really bothers me the most, though, is when people borrow things from me and don't return them. It happened in elementary school - I lent a girl my scissors and I asked for them back, but she didn't even remember having borrowed them. I eventually found them in the classroom. Then I went on a trip to a bowling alley with my class and a classmate wanted to buy a drink, so he borrowed some money for it. He never repaid the money (I don't know whether he would remember after all these years anyways).

And I had a repeat of the incident I mentioned about the scissors. In French class, we were making sachets in December. Sachets are basically little pouches with something scented in them (like potpourri). These can be left someplace, like in your clothes drawers, to make things smell better. A classmate borrowed my scissors to cut string, but she didn't return them. The next day, I asked her if she had my scissors, but she didn't seem to remember that (just like that girl a few years back). So I had to go into the classroom scissors box to find mine.

I wonder if I should just stop lending things to people. It's kind of a lose-lose situation. If you lend something and it gets returned, that's the one good outcome. But if you lend it and it gets lost, that's bad for you, and you'll lose trust in other people. And if you don't lend something, then people will think of you as stingy, since you have things but don't want to share them. (Sharing is caring, so goes the saying) Maybe I should require people to give me a compensation for lending which will be returned to them when they return what they borrowed. (Like how my science teacher will lend you a pen if you give her one of your shoes. That way you won't forget to return it, unless you want to hop around all day on one foot.)

I guess there's really no perfect solution to anything, though. You can choose to make yourself happy or you can choose to make other people happy...(You're lucky if it's the same thing)

That reminds me of something Thomas Jefferson apparently said. Because of Jay's Treaty (look it up, like on Wikipedia or something) France felt like the USA was taking Britain's side, so the US needed to repair its relationship with France. John Adams, the president at that time, asked his vice president, Thomas Jefferson, to go to France and work things out. Jefferson would have been a good choice because he was a Republican (Republicans at that time were supporters of France, whereas the Federalist Party supported England), and Jefferson was a respected man. However, he refused. Adams got upset, saying, "Aren't we supposed to be friends?" and "But you're the vice president!" and probably also said something about how he should go because he is vice president and not let the fact that he is the Republic party leader be an influence. But Jefferson said, regarding the role of vice president and the role of head of Republicans, "They are one and the same."

George Washington had said that political parties were bad, that they would cause unnecessary divisions and disagreements. Politics in general seems to be quite a mess sometimes. (No wonder my mom doesn't really like politics...) I mean, it got so bad one time that Aaron Burr, who was supposed to be Thomas Jefferson's vice president, actually shot Alexander Hamilton. (Hamilton had kind of convinced people to turn against Burr, thus making Jefferson president instead of Burr) And the US presidents end up with grey hair and wrinkles from their stressful job. I wonder what their true motive for getting into politics is, then. Do they hope to make a difference? Do they want prestige?

Labels: aaron burr, borrow, france, jay treaty, john adams, lost and found, money, motives, party, pencil, politics, president, republican, scissors, shoes, stress, supermarket, thief, thomas jefferson

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