Mis Deseos

I've been very busy lately, although if you ask me with what exactly, I'll have a hard time pinpointing what I've been doing. If you ask my parents, they'll tell you that I've been coming home at midnight (exaggerated of course, since every hour after 10pm is midnight to them) every night, despite their nagging (and they only nag because it's the holiday season and they have time off of work).

This year, because of something so mundane I've forgotten how it even begun, my mom and grandma have been in a longstanding feud with each other, which is why I have had to split my holidays between the two of them somewhat unevenly - unevenly because my grandma entices me with food and good company, whereas my mom doesn't.

I guess it's for this reason that christmas didn't feel like christmas at all this year. Even though my family never has technically 'celebrated' christmas, I've always woken up with the same kind of tingly feeling on christmas as I do on my birthdays - that tingly feeling that this day is special and magical, that day in the year where you're not allowed to worry about anything at all. Deep down, I also hoped that this mundane feud between my grandma and mom would be, through the magic of christmas, resolved (as it always does in those cheesy christmas movies).

Alas, I'm old now so that christmas 'tingly' feeling I use to have as a kid is gone now.

Speaking of kids, I've also had to work in a couple of mornings this week, and I noticed something strange. I was marking today and got into a casual conversation with one of the girls - when suddenly, halfway through the conversation, I realized she was talking to me about her personal life. It kind of made me miss being a teenage girl and with teenage girl drama, but also, I was very - no wait, extremely - happy she was telling me about her life since that meant she's comfortable with me.

It's cute. The other week another kid asked for my contact information so he could ask me for help with his homework during the week (since I only see them once a week) and I was completely flattered. They also call me by my name more, rather than just addressing me with the anonymous 'miss'. I told them to address me by my first name, since Miss Ann sounds weird, and even weirder, Miss Ong (shudder). Plain Ann is best, it suits me more, unlike Owen who insist they call him Mr. Ju (ha, Owen is hilarious).

Ok, so ending this post by telling you guys how freaked out I was after watching The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. What freaked me out was how gory and graphic the movie was, even though I knew what was going to happen since I read the book beforehand. After the movie, I was highly suspicious of everyone around me, especially on the TTC. The last thing I'm going to be is mutilated into a million pieces and stuffed in a garbage bag, with the only clue to my murder being an ambiguous verse reference to Leviticus about sweet aroma.

But to be fair, I get freaked out easily.

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Stickers, Tea and Chocolate

Pictures from the Girls Bible Study (a.k.a GST) last Tuesday. I know I said I would post these pictures up on the LH website, but I'm going to post it here as well:

Stickers (for Tabi and me, don't ask), chocolate and tea.

The lighting was really bad ... but Ariel's a good sport and let me take a picture of her.

This picture was not set up at all ...

Nor was this ...

Or this.

Selina was also there, but she refused to have her picture taken so I took a picture of the view outside the window instead.

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Counting Up

Is 17 too old to get to know someone, when you've lived with them for most of their life? I use to think that as long as you share the same parents with someone you automatically understood that person, but now, maybe I need to add something else to the equation. What does it mean, anyway, to share parents - does it mean you share having to put up with them as well? And by sharing parents, is it the same thing as sharing a taxi driver, or sharing teachers? It's a funny thought, to share your parents with your siblings, it sounds like something you would say to a two year old who's about to be a big brother.

I've never cared much for this sharing business though, just as long as we could still be a team at the end of the day against them. Am I too old for this now? But its a type of self protection you make when you're a kid- they don't understand us, but it's ok, I understand you. It doesn't last forever though, years of being in different places break down this self defense, and sooner than later, you realize that you no longer understand them. Well then, if I don't understand you, does that mean we're no longer a team?

So then I ask, am I too old for this now?

15, that year we won the lottery and the router was broken. It was still ok, we spent the summer coughing up sawdust in the heat of the family room.

16, this part is hazy, where was I? Absent in my own misery.

17, the present. What happened tonight, that made me wonder about our old team? The holiday season? No. School? Maybe. In the end, it's probably because the taxi is not in service.

18, 19, 20 - am I just going to keep counting up?

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Portly and Innocuous

Portly and innocuous (for the most part), the squirrel doesn't have much of an objective. Why would it? Fat and self-minding - they mean well. All they want to do is eat and not get killed on the road.

"Idiotic squirrels," some would say, "Call animal control, this one needs help, it's actually eating garbage."

Uncarnivorous, scuttlebustling about on their own tiny business, not one of your great antagonistic creatures, no dinosaurs or jaguars they.

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Black Canvas

I creeped around the neighbourhood tonight to take bokeh pictures of christmas lights. I was really paranoid that someone would yell and accuse me of being a voyeur, so I sneaked around trying not to be seen (as if having someone sneak around in the dark with a giant tripod and camera not suspicious at all).

Blue christmas tree.

I told Amy Tang there was a full moon.

She said, "No, the full moon was on Friday. There's a chunk missing."

I looked at it again and said, "Looks full to me."

Once part of the Earth,

Now part of the sky above,

Sits the Moon to watch.

As I was taking these pictures, I realized that sadly enough, this is how I see light without my glasses on.

And a couple of cars honked at me, I'm not a voyeur, I swear T.T.

"Ahhh! The bush is on fire ... !"

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Eugene's Photobook

Ever since I discovered binder rings and photopaper, I've been on a photobook rampage and have been itching to put together one. Since Eugene is leaving soon, I satisfied my itch volunteered to make him a photobook.

I made his photobook on Saturday, but I won't be giving it to him until tomorrow. (Blogging this now in hopes that he doesn't read my blog, haha).

Here's how I made the photobook:

First, I had to stalk Eugene on facebook and save a bunch of pictures. This part was easy.

I tried to find at least one picture of everyone, and the only picture I could find of Del was of him in Africa. I guess my stalking skills needs a bit more work.

Finding a picture of Hannah was hard too, she's like a camera ninja.

Next, gather supplies. These are binder rings, which has been the most inspirational thing I have come across in a while. So many possibilities!

I decided to use cue cards since they're sturdy.

Since this is a Canadian themed book, I had to add glow in the dark snowflakes. (Courtesy of Martha Stewart.)

Then I printed off a bunch of random definitions and words to decorate the book with.

Glue them all together, holepunch, and voila! Instant photobook.

Here's the finished product:

This is my favourite page. So cute! (I'm talking about Ariel, not the bears.)

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Mind Blow Moment

This morning, I had the hardest time getting out of bed, which probably has something to do with the fact that I've slept in all of last week, and begun to grumble and complain about the fact that I had to be on children's service. I was so unwilling to serve kids that I got up just to double check and see if I was actually serving - a large part of me hoped I had read the schedule wrong.

Sounds terrible, doesn't it?

I don't really know why I signed up for children's service, all I remember was having this nagging feeling all summer long about it that kept on saying, "Do it, do it!" (actually, I had a lot of nagging feelings last summer, but that's another story). I kept putting off actually signing up for children's service, especially since I kept giving myself excuses like, "I'm terrible with kids, they're only going to eat me alive!"

And then I found out that Eddie and Johnny were serving kids, which made me feel terrible, since I know neither of them are good with kids, but they're still doing it. Good thing Tabitha was so willing to jump in the bandwagon with me, or else the kids might have actually eaten me alive.

Today, though I complained and didn't want to get out of bed, I was glad to be with the kids because they're cuter every time I see them, and they make me happy. I don't really know how to show my affections toward them though, I can't exactly hug them because they're short (and because I have this thing about close body contact) so I just end up patting them on the head a lot. One kid fell asleep in my arm yesterday - it was such a mind blow moment because:

1) I was surprised that kids actually like me

2) He trusts me

3) It was just a really cute and happy moment ^^

I was so happy to receive this bit of affection from a kid that I found myself telling my grandma about it this evening, which is weird because I don't really tell her these sort of things (talking about church in my family is kind of taboo).

Hopefully, this will teach me to be more patient :P

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6 Steps of a "Fool-Proof" Strategy

'Tis the season to be stressed.

Usually, November is the month when I have a million essays to write, and since it's the last day of the month, I'm going to celebrate by not writing any essays today (and blogging instead).

Over the course of my undergrad, I've developed a "fool-proof" strategy when it comes to essay writing. I know a lot of people have their own methods, some write their essays the night before and get awesome marks (*coughHannahcoughYong*), while others finish it the week before hand and spend the week before its due to revise their essays and get awesome marks as well. Anyway, I put fool-proof in between quotation marks because it doesn't always work and I don't always follow it, but nonetheless, it's the only strategy I have developed.

Ok, so hypothetically, my strategy is:

1) Get essay topics, pick essay topic, research.

2) Talk to professor about said research and get the ok to start essay.

3) Write essay like a beast, have it done at least two days before its due.

4) Get Peter to edit essay (Peter is my handy dandy editor).

5) Hand in essay.

6) Sleep easy.

Sound simple right?

But what actually ends up happening is this:

1) I get the essay topics, pick the topic, think about it a little bit, and then forget about it until I realize I haven't started on the research and then research frantically.

2) Realize researching took too much time, and come up with a loose essay outline. Go to see my professor, where my outline is basically massacred and torn apart. I leave the professor feeling dejected and hopeless, realizing I will never get this essay done. This past semester my professor actually told me to re-start my research and pick another topic all together, and because of this, I didn't have time to get to see my other professors to think talk about my other essays.

3) Write essay(s) like a beast, staying up late at night and sleeping in the next morning, skipping church meetings and end up watching 11 episodes of How I Met Your Mother and 9 Episodes of the Big Bang Theory, not knowing how any of this happened. Plus, I start having Ted's voice narrate my life in my head: "Kids, have I ever told you that one time in November of 2011 when I dreamt that Sheldon yelled BAZINGA! when I manage to completely fail all my essays? And then he proceeded to talk on and on about why on earth people would even waste their time studying literature."

4) After having managed to finish my essay a day before its due, I email it to Peter asking if he could edit it ASAP. The day it's due, I sit by my laptop all day waiting for him to email me back with my edited essay, all the while imagining end-of-the-world-doomed scenarios of what would happen if I don't hand in my essay in time. When I finally receive his email, I read over the edited version and thank God for Peter.

5) Hand in essay. This part of my strategy always goes smoothly.

6) Sleep easy. I never have problems with this part either.

So lesson learned: just because you have a strategy and plan doesn't mean everything will go smoothly and accordingly. And also, I vow to start step one of my plan sooner next time (I make this vow every time).

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Bittersweet

A lot of weird things have spurred up this week, and I've come to realize that sometimes, good intentions can end up disastrous.

Recently, I had the good intention of planning a small get together for Johnny's birthday, and I had the good intention of only inviting his close friends but somehow along the way, my good intention turned sour.

On that note, I've had the good intention of keeping my thoughts about other people to myself, but again, somewhere along the way this turned sour because I was trying to work the problem out with myself, thinking all the while that it's my own fault for having negative thoughts about people.

I've heard from two different people in separate occasions now that Satan will do anything to stumble people, and in this occasion, I suppose he was using my good intentions to stumble people. It's kind of ironic. It's also ironic how being involved in the community of the church is the sweetest and hardest life to live at the same time. It's sweet because you grow to love each other, but it's hard because you have to love each other.

This entire situation reminded me of my chronic problem of a being a friend dropper. When I get to the point of extreme annoyance with a friend, or when I find myself in a relationship with a person who causes me more grief than necessary, I either 1) verbally take out on them or 2) stop talking to that person all together.

I've lost many close relationships this way. Truth be told, I don't regret doing this, since I feel like it's unfair for me to have to put up with relationships that cause me grief, but I know this isn't the right method to go about it either. Plus, these kinds of relationships are exhausting emotionally.

But of course, I'm talking about relationships I have had with people outside of the church. Friendships you build in the community of the church are tricky, because you have to kill your pride and let yourself die a bit so that situations don't explode and affect everyone else. It's also tricky because you have to look at things in a three dimensional way, as in, you have to take the entire problem into consideration, and not be consumed by your own point of view.

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Quiet Corners and Cookies

The best place to sit at Gerstein is on the very top floor, at the end of the long study hall right next to the window. If you sit here long enough, you can watch the sky get darker throughout the day, and if you're bored enough, you can count the minutes someone spends sitting at the bottom of the random giant statue on top of the small mount of a hill. For me, it's all about the squirrels. I just sit here absentmindedly staring at my book, until a squirrel scurries along the fallen leaves to perk up my attention again.

It's usually either the hardcore napers or the hardcore students who sit here though. I've watched people march all the way to the end, plop themselves down on a chair and nap. Then I've witnessed people sit here for 12 hours straight studying. It's always either extreme.

I discovered this spot when I had made the bad joke of going on an unofficial reading break from church activities because I had too many things to get done for next week, so I found this quiet corner to ease my panic. The sunlight, the happy drooling napers, the hard working students, and plenty of squirrels to stare at - I guess it really doesn't take much to appease me.

Anyway, I was reminded yesterday of what happened on Sunday when Tabi and I were on for Children's Service. A few weeks ago when we were over at Colin's place, he gave Tabi and I two boxes of cookies which we saved for the kids, and I was recounting the story to them in a more exaggerated and whimsical way (party done to entertain them so they won't get restless).

Me: Kids, you're all very lucky today because Tabi and I have a friend who works in a giant cookie factory! And he gave us these cookies because we're friends!

One kid's response: Can you make friends with someone who works in a chip factory instead? Because I like chips better and I don't like cookies. I want chips next time!

Note to self: Go to the friendship store and find a friend who works in a chip factory. Got it.

Generally though, the kids are cute and well behaved. Just make sure you don't give them glue to play with.

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The End

Last post for the Happiness Challenge!

Nothing exceptionally happy happened today, which is a tragedy because I was hoping to make the last post for this challenge epic. In fact, I was in a severely sour mood this afternoon and kept on complaining about how boring my life is (let's just call it retail withdrawal because ever since I quit Sears my life has been boringly unstressful).

So tonight as I was crossing the street, this random tall and lanky asian guy was waving at me. I must have stared blankly at him for ten seconds before saying, "Ryan!"

To which he says, "no, his brother ... Matthew."

Woops. I guess I should feel guilty because I just put him in that awkward situation I'm in every time someone says, "Annabelle!" And I have to lamely say, "no, just ... Ann." (Sometimes I'm too lazy to correct them and just pretend to be Annabelle.)

Anyway, back to the story. So Matthew is my brother Matthew's friend, and for the sake of avoiding confusion and just for this post only, I'm going to refer to by brother as 'Muscle Man' (a very fitting nickname). The last time I saw Matthew was when he was a puny little kid. He's been friends with Muscle Man for a long time, and back then Matthew would always be over at our place with his brother, Ryan, causing havoc. One time they had a water gun fight indoors and I was severly upset at them.

Matthew just seems very grown up now, running around with his girlfriend and working 50 hours a week. I suppose my encounter with him just made me feel nostalgic.

Before parting he said, "I want to be like Muscle Man. He's my inspiration."

I just thought to myself, "great, another kid who's aspiring to be like Muscle Man." Being brothers with Muscle Man, I hear this a lot, which is probably no surprise. I've caught Clement, and sometimes Johnny, say this often enough. "Muscle Man! We must work out together!"

Something else that made me feel nostalgic, but really shouldn't since it hasn't happened yet, is the thought of my own convocation, which I probably will have to skip out on. Gloom. I realized this tonight when my proff cut class 45 mins short (a pity since I was just starting to get into The Waste Land) because convocation just ended up and a mad amount of people started chattering and filling up UC and we couldn't hear over their voices.

Have I talked about something epicly happy yet?

Today I finished Leviticus, and the only possible explanations as to why I finished it within a week are:

1) This is a testimony to how much I commute.

2) I've been well trained by U of T to trudge through dense and boring literature.

Is this a happy enough thought? If not short of epic .... ?

Oh well. I guess now that the challenge is over, I'll go back to blogging once a week. We should think up of a new challenge soon!

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Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

I was feeling very dejected this evening, as if all my hard work had gone to the pits and had plummeted, and the reasons for this being:

1) I feel like I have little support.

2) I am the type of person who is hyper sensitive to everything people say - or not say - and unfortunately, I only catch on to the negative comments. I'm also hyper sensitive to people's lack of action.

On the commute back home tonight with Armin and Annabelle, I unleashed my multitude of problems to them, to which they simply answered, "don't worry about it."

Sigh.

Ok I won't worry about it, it's just hard when I'm emotionally invested in my problem.

Happy thought: that I'm happy I have good friends like Armin and my sister who will always be there to remind me not to sweat the small stuff.

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Digging Deeper

I have a two day reading week this week, and Armin was kind enough to throw some wise crack jokes my way, you know, the typical "some arts-sci student decided not to come to class today, he told his friends, and his friends told his friends, next thing you know it's national skip day for you guys."

Har, har.

So I had a bit of free time today (ok, more like a lot of free time), and was feeling bored so I read a good chunk of Leviticus. Not surprisingly, I was very confused, but not about the oddly repetitive rituals of how to check for proper leprosy and skin diseases, which was actually interesting because I got the impression that the Israelites were a hairy bunch, but about why God would think that we, humans of the 21st century, would care to read this.

Does anyone even have leprosy anymore? It seems like such a mythical, far away skin disease that no one in North America really has to worry about.

Then, because I really did have a lot of free time, I brushed up on Ruth since we're covering it for GST tomorrow and realized why God would possibility put Leviticus, with all it's weird obscurities, in the bible. See, Leviticus lays down the laws of do's and don'ts. It's very black and white. You do this, sacrifice this lamb, you have this disease, sacrifice two turtledoves, you accidentally drink blood, sacrifice a cow.

If we didn't have this dry background information about the Israelite society, later stories of prophets and women like Ruth would loose its significance. In Ruth chapter two, Ruth tells Naomi she's going to glean the fields since it's barley harvest season in the land of Bethlehem BUT Ruth is a Moabitess, which means she's a foreigner. Why would the Israelite's let a foreigner glean in their fields?! It's because in Leviticus it lays down the law that foreigners and those in need are allowed to glean in the fields of the Israelites.

And why did God lay down the law that foreigners are allowed to glean in the fields of Israelites? It's so Ruth would meet Boaz and have a magical love story, duh. Ok, I'm partly kidding. Ruth happened to be gleaning in Boaz's field, out of all the other fields out there, and Boaz happened to notice her, out of all the other people there.

According to Titus, "... never complain for everything in our lives happens as it should be."

Though Ruth could have complained many times, she didn't. The laws laid down in Leviticus eventually were able to cover Ruth and provide for her.

So lesson learned: Leviticus is deceivingly more profound than it appears to be on the onset. It's all about digging deeper.

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Dump(l)ing Party

Although I'm Asian, I really don't do anything Asian related (majoring in English is as unconventionally Asian as you can get) because I'm super white washed. I usually don't mind when people speak Mandarin or Canto in front of me even though I don't understand it since I'm used to it, besides, when you live in Toronto, you're bound to come across many different languages you don't understand.

My coworkers at Sears used to hate this, and found it extremely rude, especially when customers or other coworkers would start conversing in another language in front of them. At work right now with the kids I teach, there's a big emphasis on only speaking English in the classrooms, especially in front of the teachers since we don't understand Korean, because it's extremely rude. I do agree it's rude, but honestly, sometimes you just can't help but want to shut other people out of your conversations. I wholeheartedly sympathize with people when they do it, especially in a group setting. Besides, sometimes things are better explained in other languages since English can't adequately explain it.

So Heng kindly hosted a dumpling party for some of the girls which I was super happy about since it's my first dumpling party. Tabi sent me a text message the other day saying, "I'm excited for the dumping party!" Gotta love auto-correct.

Hannah and I had trouble making our dumplings look like dumplings though, since our dumplings ended up looking like empanadas. My parents went through this phase at one point in time where they were in the business of making and selling empanadas to various Filipino stores, and would always forcefully employ me to help them. Maybe Hannah will host an empanada making party one of these days, I'll bring my parents empanada maker.

Heng's parents are really nice, and I can't believe Heng's dad remembers Matt when he was still a little scrawny kid. That was at least five years ago. Heng's mom kept feeding us and insisted we drink wine. I love cute, doting parents. The best part was that they seemed genuinely happy to have us over, invading their kitchen and dining space.

This is one of my favourite things about having a church family, where people are just genuinely open and happy to have you in their home. One day, when I have a kitchen of my own I'm going to invite a bunch of college aged people over to make dumplings (or empanadas).

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Disney Princesses

I love Disney Princesses and I'm just as completely mesmerized by them as I was when I was a kid. I found this on the interwebz:

ISN'T THIS JUST STUNNING?!? I love the realistic interpretation even though I'm a die-hard fan of old school Disney animation. In fact, it's all thanks to Mulan that I learned to draw Asian eyes (hence learning to draw realistic interpretations of myself, haha).

I'm not sure what it is about princesses that I'm so mesmerized by, I suppose it's because there's always something so tangible about the world they live in even though there's always the singing mouse and dancing teapot. They just lived in such a happy go lucky world, where emotions were somewhat black and white, and of course, in the end they always ended up with a dashing someone, but that all becomes secondary when you really think about how their hair always looks fantastic, their skin never sags, the fact that they never got tired or seem to need to use the washroom and how they always wore such pretty dresses.

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Emasculating Halloween Cupcakes

I was hurriedly marking essays today (and because I happen to the be the master at procrastination I ended up with 35 essays to mark) and realized that I'm a lot harsher to the girls than the guys.

Dwelling on this thought, I realized that I apply the same thing to some of my female friends as well. Why am I so much more condescending and harsher to girls?

Happily, I realized that guys, and people in general, probably do this as well: that people will tend to be more judgmental to someone of their own gender.

For my students, I don't know why I do it. Perhaps it's because I know what their potential are and when I see them slacking off, I get frustrated. Or perhaps it's because I don't like it when girls define stereotypical images of women through their actions - you know, passive, reading floofy romantic literature, exhibiting a generous amount of cuteness. Where are the hard, unbending, willful girls?

Anyway, I realize there's a fine line between modern conceptions of women who are emasculating and women who are passive and meek.

Ok I don't know what the point of this blog post was, I think I just wanted to rant.

On the side note, I've been eating a lot of left over halloween cupcakes recently.

Yeah, you just need to know that.

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Fragments

Is it better to stay or run away from our problems? Life is so fragmented that even our problems are chopped into pieces.

Happiness. chop. Problems. chop. School. chop. Happy again. chop. More Problems. chop. Even More Problems. chop chop.

But even problems aside, life is still fragmented. On the subway we're separated from what's happening outside of the steel bullet we're in. What's the weather like? I don't know, I think it's raining. What station are we at? Not sure, we're passing by the city so quickly.

On itunes, it's all about singles instead of full albums. Our text message inbox displays fragmented conversations with ten different people. In school, the different classes we go to chops our days into one hour, two hour, three hour classes - each about something different.

What's happening with the war? Not sure, it's so distant and far away. Don't you watch the news? I would, but there's so much fragmented information for me to read first. You know, during WWI everyone was involved. But it's the 21st century we're in now, Kim Kardashian just got divorced.

But maybe it's better if my problems were fragmented after all, that way it'll stay just like that, a fragment, and not all consuming.

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Pleasant Odor of Fat

Ever since GST yesterday, I've been thinking a lot about faith. It's something so basic and yet, I had such a hard time comprehending it and even remembering the basic facts about it.

Essentially, during GST our discussion led to random tangents of whether faith could grow or not. After we dispersed, everyone seemed to have consulted someone else about the topic: Jenny asked her dad, Ariel talked to John, Tabi asked Clement and Selina said she'd ask Ian. Anyway, it seems like I was the only one who didn't bother asking anyone, and the probable reason is because I am stubborn and wanted to find out the facts for myself.

Actually, I've been beating up myself for not reading the bible on my own time for a while now because of two reasons:

1) Everyone in literature alludes to the bible, and by reading the bible myself I would be able to understand these allusions better, such as whenever Blake refers to Isaiah. (I've recently had a change of heart about Blake, he isn't that bad after all.)

2) I would have an answer to give if someone asked me a question that's based on actual biblical facts.

Today I begun reading Leviticus, since I figured I should pick up where I left off when I finished Exodus last winter. I was forewarned that Leviticus is dry and boring, which it is in some ways, but I figured that if I read it with a smile and enough caffeine in my system I would get through it (now that I think about it, this is probably how I had a change of heart about Blake).

So in the midst of reading about atoning for sins through animal sacrifices, I came across this verse:

Leviticus 4:31:

He shall remove all its fat, as the fat is removed from the offering of well-being, and the priest shall turn it into smoke on the altar for a pleasing odor to the Lord. Thus the priest shall make atonement on your behalf and, and you shall be forgiven.

Call me weird but when I read this verse I burst out loud laughing. I was trying to imagine what the smell of fat was like, and how it could be a pleasing odor in any sense. An image of a giant nose sniffing the fat odor popped into my head and I thought, "wow God has a sense of humor."

I told Ariel this and she told me this is not literal, and I agree, it's most likely figurative. Still, I'll stick to my giant nose interpretation since I feel like it gives God a sense of humor.

So lesson learned: don't think too much when reading the bible, read it with a light heart and take it in as you understand it. Personally, I don't think the bible is very complicated at all, it's just our own thoughts and personalities that make it complicated. But if you really don't understand something as you're reading it, consult and ask someone if it's really bothering you. I'm planning to read the bible more than once, so if I don't understand something now, I won't dwell too much on it because when I read it for the fourth, fifth, sixth, or tenth time it'll gradually become clearer to me.

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Slight Amnesia

I don't even remember what happened on this day, I've had it for so long in my drafts that I can't recall any of it. Let's just say the sun was shining, the squirrels were not dead, I packed a good lunch, got some readings done, went to the Eaton Center, read a bit about Ruth, questioned faith and stayed awake in class.

I do remember singing along to this song though:

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FAITH - A nominated short film for the Pan Pacific Film Festival 2011

I started writing this post off in class but got distracted by the professor. Typical.

It's halloween today, and for the first time in years I didn't plan anything halloween related! I must either be growing up or getting boring.

I saw this today before going to class and thought I'd share it with you guys. It pretty much made me happy because I was thinking about it all day. The script is based off of a story that I've heard before, and I'm sure you've heard it as well. It's one of those well repeated christian faith stories. I just like how it's acted out and the director added some of their own touches to the story.

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Money from the Tooth Fairy

I realized tonight I haven't been eating properly and that I've skipped too many meals this past week. It finally got to me and I had a massive mood swing. I took it out on my blackberry, since it was lagging just when I was texting something important, and then eventually it decided to die. I made up with it after I took out the battery (for the tenth time) and it recovered. I guess we just needed time apart.

Anyway, the reason I've been skipping meals is because I've been too busy running around. Doing what exactly? Good question, I'm not exactly sure. I suppose I just don't get hungry, and I usually don't get home until 10:30 pm, which is too late to eat dinner so I just go to bed.

I'll try eating healthily this week. I just find eating really tedious and time consuming at times, especially when I'm on campus all day.

Happy thoughts happy thoughts -

I came home today and found cash on my desk. I'm pretty sure it's from my dad because he's been using my Visa to pay for some of his bills, which is really an insignificant amount of money. He usually writes me a cheque to pay for it, but as a favor I never cash it in since it really isn't that much. I feel guilty now though, maybe I hurt his feelings by not cashing in the cheques. I'll just happily pretend the money is my long awaited cash money from the tooth fairy for all the unnecessary teeth I've donated to her. (I don't know why I get really uncomfortable receiving money from my parents.)

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Training Sessions and Awesome Car Rides

Today was a really random and long day.

I spent a good chunk of the day at a leadership (me, a leader?) and mentorship training session so that I would be well prepared and equipped for the after school program at x middle school (I've temporarily forgotten the name). It was long and somewhat tedious, probably because they made us do a bunch of silly games like skits and pretend classroom scenarios.

Not surprisingly, I was one of the youngest people there. I guess I'm just one of those lucky ones who has found their life long calling at the tender young age of 22 - which to be precise, is to torture kids with what I think are useful life skills (but others may think otherwise). I had forgotten that we were supposed to bring business cards with us to the training session so we could keep in touch with the other coaches. I lamely tore up a piece of paper and wrote my name, email, and phone number on it to hand out to everyone.

I met a lot of interesting people though, like this first year med-student who wants to switch out because it's too hard. I was baffled while talking to her, since she was talking as if it was an everyday occurrence to get into med school and then switch out. I guess she must just either be really smart or really nonchalant about life.

Needless to say, I have very mixed feelings about this program at the moment. There are some really important life skills in the binder that they dumped into my hands that I'm excited to use on the people around me, but I'm also afraid of the mess I've gotten myself into. What if I royally mess someone's life up and accidentally insult a kid and then have that kid grow up with low self-esteem and hate me for the rest of their life? It could happen.

Happy thought of the day? I guess Ben, Vinay, Eddie and John's random karaoke session in the car ride made me happy.

I also really like driving people home since really good conversations come out of car rides. Annabelle and I usually drive Christine home, and I've gotten to know her more through the little conversations. Also, if we didn't drive Eugene home last Saturday, I would have never known his salvation story otherwise.

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The Pad Thai Incident

I woke up this morning feeling sore and as if I had just had conquered a mountain last night, even though yesterday evening consisted mostly of chopping, grinding, and frying. Lately, I feel like I've been getting tugged and pulled at every direction, and I have this feeling things will start to mellow down. At least I hope. One thing I learned from this is that Korean Dramas are not that far fetched after all, and yes, people will go crazy and do unexpected things because people are, well, people.

Let's just call yesterday the 'Pad Thai' incident and leave it at that - and maybe one day I'll reveal the full glorious story of how I'm never going to look at pad thai the same way ever again. Unless it's curry.

Well anyway, I'm very pleased that yesterday's dinner is over. I hadn't realized how much it was weighing in my mind until afterwards. Now I can focus my mind on whatever drama decides unravel in front of me, I'm getting used to it.

p.s.

I know I promised to share a picture of the disaster last night in my previous post, but it was too much of a disaster and I didn't have time to take a picture.

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Old Friends and Dead Poets

So maybe I exaggerated about not having any friends in my classes. Earlier last month, I discovered that Jessica, this girl I went to jr. high and high school with, was also in my class. I tried to avoid her because I didn't feel like socializing, but she eventually spotted me and said, "Oh my god, Ann! What are you doing in this class?!"

Turns out this entire time she's in the same program as I am. I knew she was at U of T (power of facebook) but I thought she was in a different program. Jessica isn't bad at all, even though I tried to avoid her. We met in gr. 8, or was it gr. 7? Anyway, she was the new kid and one day I said hi to her in gym class and that very afternoon, she followed me home from school, since we only lived a few streets away from each other. It became a routine for us, everyday after school she'd come over to my house, we'd drink coke, and sit on my bed watching t.v. while doing 'homework.'

It all ended when she eventually got a boyfriend and started hanging out with him instead. Now that I think about it, it's actually really amusing.

So that's it, funny how we're in the same class now. Last week she asked for my notes, and since I've been taking notes by hand, I've been typing it all up to send to her, which is not a loss on my part at all because I needed to review my notes anyway to write my essay.

Our professor assigned us to do an essay on what we think about Blake's writing evolution. If my professor didn't think so highly of Blake and I didn't care about my grades, I would write my essay on how I think Blake is immature and childish, and never really evolved, but rather just became more angry and flustered with his ideas. Anyway, as you can see, I don't have much hope for dead poets.

Tonight a bunch of people are coming over to my place for dinner. My mom told me to make Pad Thai, which I agreed to do to appease her, but what she doesn't seem to remember is that this is my first time to make Pad Thai. She's already managed to hype it up to everyone who's coming. Oh boy. I'll make sure to take a picture of it and share the disaster with you guys.

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French Vanilla

I think I've semi-forgotten how to write a normal blog entry, since I feel like everything I've been writing lately has been too abstract.

So I think I'm getting sick. I use to pride myself for having a super tough immune system but two weeks ago I caught a cold for the first time in years, and now I feel like a fever is creeping up on me. I blame the rain and the cold weather, then again, it is flu season after all.

I'm typing this up at the Gerstein Cafe (why am I always at Gerstein?). I was at Timmies buying a French Vanilla for myself, and on a whim bought one for my sister in case she was at Gerstein as well. As I was walking, I spotted her through the window and saw her in the cafe so I went in and surprised her with it.

She was really happy, and I'm glad I made her happy.

So now she's eating dinner and I'm here typing this up, feeling crappy because of the rain, and spying on this super touchy Korean couple. This is the first time I've seen a super touchy Korean couple. Not apologizing for being creepy.

And I'm skipping class tonight. It's ok because we're only doing the Waste Land, which to me the is like Henry James' the Beast in the Jungle. Everyone talks about it so much that I feel like I know everything about it even before reading it or being lectured on it. One day, I hope I will be able to write something as weird and obscure and abstract as the Waste Land so no one will understand what I'm talking about until after I perhaps die (posthumous famous is the best kind of famous). Maybe if I get a fever I'll be able to accomplish this goal.

Let's see what else ... Oh yeah, so my blog entries have been late lately not because I haven't written anything, but because I've been saving them as drafts since I was unhappy with them, and then I'd go back to it later and try and edit it until it sounded just right. Tonight I decided not to care if my posts sound crappy or not, I'm just going publish them as is, it takes too long to edit every single one of them and care. Still, it feels bad publishing a bad piece of writing. A small part of me always dies on the inside.

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Sense of Smell

The other day Taylor Swift was on the radio advertising her new perfume, and she said something along the lines of, "Certain scents always brings back memories!"

Then I thought, I wonder what it would be like to smell like Taylor Swift? Would I then smell awesome?

Side note: Before any of you start wondering, yes, I am a fan of Taylor Swift because she's cool. And since I'm already confessing, I admit I'm also a fan of Lady Gaga, LMFAO, Gym Class Heroes, Rihanna (even though her latest album sucks), Maroon Five, Hedley, Katy Perry, Bruno Mars, Adele ... etc. As you can see, my taste in music is very mainstream and very top 40, which I don't care to be ashamed about, I'm simply too lazy to listen to Indie music.

Anyway, back to smell. I like how certain types of odors remind you of someone, and every time you come across that fragrance you're reminded of that person, or how certain types of odors remind you of lost and forgotten memories. It's always like that with me.

But what happens when you can't smell someone?

Smell like something that would make someone want to smell and re-smell, and then check a million times over and more, until the smell runs out and they'd have to re-smell you all over again.

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Double Hook

Lying in bed, wide awake from having mistakenly drank too much coffee, wondering what to blog about. My internet died, as it always seem to do just when I'm about to be productive, so I'm writing this with old fashion pen and paper (and typing it up afterwards). Although nothing seemed to make me happy today, if I think hard enough, I'm sure I'll be able to come up with something. I suppose I could always stick to the usual weather type happy, as in, "I'm happy it didn't rain today." On that note, I could also say, "I'm happy I had company with me when I had to wait for half an hour for the bus since I missed the other one by two minutes." Then, I guess I could also say I'm happy I have friends to study with at Gerstein tonight as I was slaving away with my essay proposal. And although I've been slacking off with my blog posts, I could always be grateful I have people asking me what happened to them.

I guess there really is a double hook. You can't catch twice the glory without twice the fear. You can't twice the mundane without twice the excitement, you can't catch twice the sadness without twice the happiness. It's the same with being unable to understand righteousness without understanding twice the sin and suffering.

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Streetcar

On the streetcar someone is speaking French. The driver asks, “Montreal?” To which the man laughs in response and asks a question of his own, “does this go down to Dundas?” With the answer he gets off, sure that he’s lost himself.

After him an elderly couple walks in. The man let’s the woman sit first near the window and the young couple near the back takes no notice, too busy making plans of their own when all the plans they need to make are in front of them.

There’s a baby wailing, and a toddler looking out the window, his eyes wide with wonder at the street passing by him. His parents explain in rapid Mandarin the scenery. “This is Chinatown,” I would imagine them say, while hushing the baby, “and we’re on a streetcar. We went to eat at that restaurant, remember?” The toddler can’t recollect, and instead says, “streetcar! Look!” as another streetcar passes by him.

A stranger beside the family chuckles, and makes faces at the baby. The baby is fat and stops wailing for a moment, mesmerized by the strangers attempt at making friends with it.

Outside, pigeons eat crumbs on the floor, squirrels attack people and seagulls loom around on street poles so that their feces fall on innocent pedestrians. Even they’re interesting to look at. It’s a concrete, messy, sticky jungle that’s easy to ignore and easy to pass by, unseen.

But what of it? Should we turn a blind eye to it or be mesmerized by it? Should the streetcar ride just be like all the others, or should we take notice of the people around us? What stories do they have to tell? Perhaps maybe we’re all content to just happy strangers living side by side.

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Ephesians 2:1-10

In that big book that God wrote for us - no wait, maybe I'm talking about real life, well anyway, real life is close enough - there are dead people walking. They died because they killed themselves, or wait, did they die because they were too sinful? In any case, they were alive - as in, in that dead state they were in, kind of like zombies - buzzing around in that thin, sticky, addictive, air they breath. It's that spirit that makes them feel alive, a walking dead. In the book, which is suspiciously like real life, perhaps it's a non-fiction book, these zombie type people were us, gratifying the cravings of our flesh, drowning in the cravings of our desires and thoughts.

And then God, the protagonist in this book, saves us, the walking dead, with His superpowers of mercy, grace and love with Christ. Potent stuff. Then He picked us up, dusted us, and seated us with Christ in the heavenly realms. He did all this so that we would be so impressed with what He's done for us so that we would tell all the other walking dead - to tell them of the immeasurable kindness shown to us, and to talk endlessly about His mercy, grace and love, because these are His cool superpowers and deserve boasting of its own.

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White Pants in October

Life is big and if I just talk about anything it'll be too broad. I suppose you'll want to hear what made me happy today? Well that's broad too. If I talk about all the wonderful, fascinating, minute-by-minute details it might kill your bandwith. If I examine every skip, every smile, every happy hand gesture, every happy bite and every sigh - well we can start with the texts, then the caffeine, then the realization of my fantastic dream and how my shampoo smells really, really good, and how my bangs are actually behaving today.

How I caught the bus just in time, and having the bus driver smile back. How I got to work just in time and printed everything just in time and how the students arrived just in time. Lessons ran a bit late, but that's ok, because that means it was a good lesson. Tired faces, slow fingers, eyes in a daze - hoping to get a reaction, an answer, squeeze that imagination out, oh well it's Friday after all, I'll repeat myself next week again.

On the way down I played ten games of solitaire and won none, eventually settling at staring out the glass window to watch the blackness whiz by, a flash of light to keep me staring every now and then, while I had Surfacing opened in my hands. Maybe I was too eager for my eyes to concentrate - Eglinton, Summerhill, Rosedale - how would the Conversation play out?

A happy hello here, happy hello there, throw in how are you here and there. How were your midterms? Sorry for the offense, I didn't mean to offend, really.

Eventually everyone scuttles along, and we're hurried outside thinking about food. The group splits into three and the Conversation begins with the fourth split over hot drinks and willing tongues. After several analogies and with comforted hearts, we're satisfied. Physical food this time?

Oh but it's a crisp October night, and we're thinking about how the bus came just in time, how the students behaved, how we felt like skipping, how we got our work done and how we had the Conversation - maybe it's time to dwell with the things that matter in the present. How do you do? How's the banana? You know, if I wanted to give you a list of three things, I'm going to start off with the story of how I wore white pants that one day. I hope this won't be covered in cheese afterwards.

Hours later here we are, reminiscing on happy thoughts of a happy day. Tomorrow you'll tell me something new, I'm sure of it, because you're sure of it. But if we're actually sure of something, are we sure we're sure?

----

Sorry if this is weird. Truth is, it's 4:29 am as I'm typing this and I'm going to tweak the time so it will say 12:59 pm. I got home after midnight and was late as is, so I stayed up a bit longer to type this. This is me babbling.

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Much Ado About Nothing

Last night, I was recounting what happened during GST on Tuesday with Annabelle and she said, "is GST really even that necessary? Is there there a need for it?"

I got annoyed she said that because she assumed GST was some kind of women's support group when in reality, it's a bible study. Besides that, I've taken making GST work to heart.

This morning during commute, Annabelle said she was having lunch with Vivian, this new girl at LH, and because her comment from last night was still lingering in my mind, I thought out loud: "maybe instead of GST I should just have individual lunches with the girls, that way I'll make time for everyone."

But as soon as I said that I realized how dumb it sounded. I have time to spare but I don't have that much free time.

Anyway, thinking about this led me to a revelation. Now that I'm in fourth year, I have lost interest in making friends in my classes (and Annabelle kindly pointed out that it's sad that Elton is my only friend). To be honest, I used to care about meeting new people in my classes, and usually my friends and I coordinate our schedules together, but somehow, this year we failed to do so. Which was fine by me, because I figured I would just make new friends, but I just became too comfortable thinking to myself.

And then I realized that my lack of interest in socializing probably has to do with the fact that I feel too burdened by all the people I tell myself I have to care about. The reason I care so much about GST is because I think I have to care about all these new girls and the fact that I can't even attend LH on Fridays is a major barrier. In essence, I felt stuck.

But besides the girls at LH, I find myself constantly thinking about my students, my brothers, my aunt recovering from surgery, my grandparents, Amy Tang and how I really have to talk to her more, my relationship with Ariel and Tabitha, what Kirsten blogged about last - then when I realized that I didn't even ask Selina how she was feeling/doing after her car accident, I felt super guilty that I didn't care more to just even send a text. I also have a mental list of people I've made angry and have to perhaps make amends with: maybe John, maybe Ariel, maybe Hannah, maybe Colin, maybe Jennifer, maybe Jacob, maybe Eddie ...

Sometimes I tell my phone to just shut up. Stop blinking, I'll get to you when I want to.

So happy ending: Annabelle said, "you know, I'm only having lunch with just Vivian."

My reply: "who do you think I should have lunches with?"

And she says, "I don't know, just pick one person. You don't have to care about everyone."

Dude. Honestly, my sister is right. I just have to pick one person. So what if my heart can't expand that much or my thumbs text that fast? Plus I'm very awkward when I talk to people anyway. I just have to rely on God to do his thing.

Ok, this blog post is too exposing for my liking. Feel free to leave verses in the comments for me to read.

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Pineapple with a Touch of Eccentric

My mom came home with seven of these colourful Japanese knives that completely freaked me out. First of all, whose idea was it to make knives in happy, rainbow colours? As if your food would magically taste better if it were cut with an effervescent pink knife?

It's like, "this tomato tastes scrumptious! Is it because I used the fanciful green knife or the whimsical purple knife tonight? I can't remember! Oh well, tomorrow I'll try out the frolicsome red knife and see how my chicken will taste!"

My mom then told me to cut the pineapple - which by the way, has an entire story of it's own - and as I was cutting it, she waved the colourful Japanese knives and said, "stop! Use these knives! They're a lot better."

I freaked out and said, "Stop waving them! Stop waving them!"

Seriously. You do not wave knives around. I guess I should confess now that I have this fear of sharp things, especially knives. I become very uneasy and cringe when other people are holding knives, probably because I know that at any moment they can cut me open and have my guts spill out. Pointy things scare me.

Matt witnessed the entire scene and bursts out laughing, "mom what are you doing? She's scared of knives!"

To which my mom replies, "woops! Sorry I forgot."

Thanks mom. I'm glad to see that my fear is not valid enough for you to remember.

So the pineapple story. Sometime last month, my mom bought a pineapple, and because I was feeling particularly helpful that afternoon, I volunteered to cut it. My mom was extremely pleased - probably because she believes my fear of knives will prevent me from ever learning to cook - and ever since then has been buying one pineapple after another for me to cut. I've become somewhat of an expert at cutting pineapples now so you'll know who to ask if you ever need a pineapple cut. I'll be sure to bring my eccentric yellow knife to match the pineapple.

Anyway, this is what happened today. It's not particularly happy but hopefully this will make someone happy to read.

It's still raining outside and it's going to be raining for a while. I woke up this morning and found an umbrella hanging on my doorknob. Not sure who put it there, but I'll bring it with me on campus tomorrow and see if anyone needs it.

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Represent

Too tired to write anything coherent. Here's a list of things that made me happy today:

1) Alligator Snaps turned into bollywood - turned into '80's inspired - turned into robot dance.

2) When freshness leaves, you're left with intimate companion in the form of Ruth.

3) Jealousy can be easily fixed through a text, sometimes with the help of a certain banana.

4) Mushy couples who can't get enough of each other - because when you're in luv, it's hard not to want to talk to that person. You'll understand one day, I'm sure.

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The Art of Sleeping In

Sitting in Gerstein at the moment, and I just witnessed Elton ninja kill a flying, yellow bug with his binder.

Smack!

It’s poor splattered body lay dead and dismantled on the table and his binder. The death of this bug is amusing because the smack snapped our heads out of our books (in my case, my macbook).

Mondays are the best days for sleeping in. When you sleep in during the weekend, it almost seems indulgent since you know there are a lot of other things that need to get done, but sleeping in on Mondays is perfect because you know it’s Monday – the start of a new week – and already you deserve a break.

I recently encountered this Chinese essayist named Liang Yuchun who wrote a piece called “The Priceless Moments of a Spring Morn: Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow, #1” and when I read it, I totally empathized and understood what he was writing.

Basically, the piece Yuchun wrote is in defense of the art of sleeping in. He writes:

“Where else, except in art, can we find all the consolations associated with getting up late? Even now there are many people who do not appreciated the advantages of getting up late. This, too, proves that it is an art, for only art is ignored in such a manner.”

Eventually, the supposed form of getting up late as ‘laziness’ became a type of meditation for him, even suffering through hunger, just so he could perfect the art of sleeping in.

I found this brilliant. I’m the master of sleeping in, as I’ve blogged about countless of times before. What I also found interesting was that Liang Yuchun is from the Fujian province and was an English Specialist in some Western University. The coincidences are uncanny. I wonder if we’re related somewhere down the line.

Lately though, sleeping in has caused me to pray. I’ve caught myself waking up in prayer and wondering how that happened a few times already. There are a lot of things going on in life right now, and my life is starting to resemble a Korean Drama, but prayer is keeping me grounded.

Alright, back to work. Turns out I have to redo the student reports I did over the weekend because the parents want something more substantial although I felt I did a thoroughly substantial job.

Here’s one for the team …

---

Oh and it turns out this is my 300th post, not the other one. Woops. False alarm. I had a 'draft' post that I never published sitting around, and blogger counted it as a post. THIS is officially my 300th published post.

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Teamwork

Not much to say about today. For some reason, Sundays have always been a very busy day.

Tabi and I were with the Group 2 kids for Sunday School class. I kinda blew it with the lesson since originally I had something harder prepared because I expected to be with 7-8 year olds, but when I met the kids I realized 6 is much too young to understand the first chapter of Joshua in more detail than the bare minimum of what happened.

It's no secret that I'm terrible with kids. I'm awkward and expect either too much or too little from them, so it was a good thing Tabi was there. I just took her example and followed how she interacted with them. I've always thought that praising kids would end up spoiling them, but after today I realized kids need to be praised or else they won't listen to you. It's a win-win situation.

Besides serving together with the kids, Tabi and I wrote a play for Children's Night at the church at the end of this month. I'm not much a play writer, but I think this play was pretty funny because it has the perfect formula for instant laugh out louds: a llama, gangster chickens, Harry Potter references, and 100 sheep.

Oh and random side story: I was putting the snacks away today in the kitchen and I was in too much of a hurry because I swung around too fast and hit my face on the cupboard door. Ouch. I still have the red mark on my face. Hope it doesn't bruise.

So happy thought of the day: teamwork. I'm glad I have Tabi by my side to write plays and serve kids together.

---Edit---

I just realized this is my 300th blog post on this blog. Yay for 300 posts and 300 more to come!

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Saturday Mornings

It means lounging in your pajamas, sipping hot coffee, and looking out the window to welcome the sun. It means getting up late - but not intentionally, because we all tell ourselves that Saturday will be productive - and eating last nights left overs (in my case it's cold pizza).

Today specifically, it means finishing up the script, it means writing monthly reports for the students, it means sending out emails, it means getting half my intended readings done, and it means a bible study at night. What it no longer means is getting up at the bloody early hour of 6 a.m. to go to work. Those Saturdays are over.

But what I really like about Saturdays is having my family at home. It's nice to see Annabelle outside of Gerstein once in a while, because even though we're sisters, we don't really see each other outside of campus. And it's nice having Aaron in his room, blasting weird, loud music, causing Annabelle to shout, "TURN IT DOWN" every five minutes. And Matt is just Matt, saying random cocky stuff, acting weird by washing the dishes for me, and telling me how much he loves his program (probably because 90% of the people there are girls).

Happy picture of happy hamster:

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