Archive for June 2011

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How to Write a Sentence

The other week in the not-so-interesting life of retail, someone lost Stanley Fish's book, 'How to Write a Sentence.' Since I work at the multi-talented department of the store, the book landed in my department since we also happen to be the lost and found.


By the way, working in lost and found department makes me scratch my head in wonder at the kind of stuff people loose and never claim. There are things like blackberries and ipods, to car keys, house keys, jewelry, purses, wallets, underwear, glasses, soiled baby milk bottles, birthday presents, the New Testament translated into Hebrew, etc.

By far, besides the NT Hebrew Bible, the most interesting thing I've come across is this book. When I saw it lying there in the lost and found drawer, I squealed in delight and said, "it's Stanley Fish!"

Who Stanley Fish is: Stanley Fish, according to my professor, is the highest paid literary critic. When he apparently came to U of T as a guest lecturer, my professor was impressed by his ability to give such a long response to a question that he managed to answer the question without actually answering it, thus avoiding answering questions he doesn't know the answer to. He's super clever and has reflected his life's work on Milton.

Seeing as how I'm the only overtly excited English Major at work, I instantly grabbed the book and begun reading it, hoping that whoever lost it wouldn't come and claim the book. Whoever it was that lost this book must appreciate a good sentence as much as I do, and is probably very devastated that they lost this book, but their loss is my gain.

I waited a couple of weeks, and just as we were about to empty the lost and found and donate the items, I claimed the book and took it home. So, question is, how do you write a sentence?

In the past two weeks, I've been teaching the kids different kinds of sentence structures, and now you guys are lucky enough to hear the short version of my fascinating lectures, hurrah!

Just like pokemon's, sentences start off simply. There's the Simple Sentence:

I like cheese.

Which has one subject and one verb and is a complete thought, which is also known as an independent clause.

Simple Sentence can evolve into Compound Sentences with the help of Coordinating Conjunctions:

I like cheese, so I ate cheese.

Which has two verbs and two subjects and two complete thoughts.

But then sometimes, Simple Sentences and Compound Sentences can evolve into awesome Complex Sentences, with the help of Subordinating Conjunctions:

Although there are different kinds of cheese, I will not bear prejudice towards any and like them equally.

Ok you guys get the point, sentences are cool and awesome. As you can see, anyone can write a sentence, but writing a sentence that takes people's breath away is a different story. Have you guys ever seen a sentence where you had to do a double take and re-read it, just because there was something more than words to the sentence?

"They are subjects or objects or actions or descriptives or indications of manner, and as such they combine into a statement about the world, that is, into meaning that one can contemplate, admire, reject, or refine."
-Fish

Personally, I like collecting sentences in my head, which is counterproductive since I forget them, so I'm trying to get into the habit of taking note of them in my blackberry. Some notable sentences from authors that I've collected:

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense."
-Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone

"Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice."
-One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

"One day, as Cunegonde was walking the grounds of the castle, in the little wood which everyone called the park, she caught sight through the undergrowth of Doctor Pangloss giving a lesson in experimental physics to her mother's chambermaid, a very pretty and tractable little brunette. Mademoiselle Cunegonde had a natural aptitude for the sciences, and she noted breathlessly the repeated experiments to which she was witness; she saw clearly the doctor's sufficient reason, both the effects and causes, and she returned home very agitated, very thoughtful, and very much filled with desire to be a scientist, reflecting that she might yet prove to be the sufficient reason of young Candide, who might turn prove to be hers."
-Candide/Optimism, Voltaire

"Such was the death of that imaginative gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, whose native place the author has not thought fit directly to mention, with the intention that all the town and villages in La Mancha should vie with one another for the honour of giving him birth as the seven cities of Greece did for Homer."
-Don Quixote, Cervantes

(p.s. sorry for the nerdy post, the reason I'm publishing this days after I wrote it is because I had to wrestle with myself to publish this because it seemed too nerdy. I will dedicate this post to Ariel, since she's the only other person I know who's excited to read Fish's book.)

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Wayne

Usually in the mornings, I hitch a ride with my mom and sister when they leave the house around 7:15, which means I'm an hour early for class most of the time. Sometimes, what ends up happening is that I walk Annabelle to SickKids, where she's doing research for the summer, in order to waste time.


Last week as we were walking, I spotted a homeless man sitting on the edge of the sidewalk reading a book. I usually don't like to stare at homeless people since I consider it rude, but I was curious to see what he was reading, and as we got closer, I realized he was reading the bible.

This morning, instead of walking to SickKids, Annabelle and I sat around Tim Hortons and she told me how she begun a conversation with the same homeless man. Turns out that his name is Wayne, and that he moved to Toronto from the East Coast. When he arrived in Toronto, he found himself in bad company and ended up on the streets. After a while, someone preached the gospel to him and turned his life around. He got saved and joined their church.

He lives in an apartment with his wife/girlfriend (this information was a little vague) and their little son, whose picture he tucks in his bible for safe keeping. Wayne loves his son and would do anything for him, so it astounds him just how painful it must have been for God to have to give up his son for us. Wayne was apparently really passionate when he talked, and was very knowledgeable about the bible (seeing as how he reads it everyday), but the part about his story that got to me is that every Wednesday, he would help his church hand out food to the homeless.

The irony of it just astounds me. Here we have a homeless man begging on the streets everyday to give his son something to eat, and he himself goes out to give food to other homeless people. Doesn't this just boggle your mind? It just makes me think and re-evaluate what I've been doing with my time.

Here I am, not homeless, but when was the last time I used my time to give to others in who are in need? But someone like Wayne, who has nothing but pure love for his son and God, just automatically gives his time, which is crucial and essential to him, to help others who has nothing as well.

Hopefully, we won't have to loose everything first like Wayne, in order to begin helping others. Hopefully we can learn to give now.

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Hamsters, Last Names and a Rabbit

Today I realized that whenever I'm tired, I start comparing people to hamsters. I've been busy doing stuff lately, so I've been super pooped and lacking some serious sleep.


I was over at my grandparents house tonight for dinner, as is my weekly ritual, when I thought out loud: "Ama is like a cute hamster." Ama is what I call my grandma, so I was basically saying that I thought my grandma looked like a hamster. When I thought of why I said this, and why I would even make a comparison between my grandma and a hamster, I realized that I do this a lot when I'm tired.

I guess the next time I compare you to a hamster you should take it as a compliment, since hamsters are basically the embodiment of the word cute itself to me. I used to have a lot of hamsters, but they kept on dying, so I swore to never own a hamster ever again and bought a rabbit instead.

Anyway, so since I'm taking a Chinese Culture and Society class for the summer, I've taken it up on myself to investigate my origins. I interviewed my grandparents tonight and asked them a ton of questions they didn't know how to answer, but I was just mainly curious about how my great grandparents decided to move to the Philippines.

A few posts ago, I mentioned that I didn't know where my grandma was born. Turns out, she was born in Philippines and that my great-grandparents moved there when the Communist Party begun their regime. According to my grandparents, at that time a lot of people from China moved to other countries for the same reason, such as Singapore, Malaysia, Philippines, and as in the case of my one friend, Pakistan. I'm guessing they just chose the Philippines as some random luck of the draw.

In Philippines though, like Manila where I was born, they teach you Mandarin in school but most of the Chinese people speak Fukien so I'm curious as how this happened. Is it just because most of the people who migrated to the Philippines were from the same province? I would think so but Wikipedia is not giving me awesome answers.

I'm encouraging my grandparents to write down everything they know and make a mini autobiography. Or maybe I can write it for them. I just want to collect everyone's last names and see if I can trace it back to relatives I might possibly have in China. (Like my great-grandparents last names are Ko, Lim, Dy/Go Seng and Chua.)

Admittedly, this Chinese Cultural and Society class is a bit depressing at times just because the path China took to where it is now is depressing (or maybe I'm just reading all the wrong stories).

Two pictures:
Drew, the last hamster I owned before I vowed to never torture another hamster again by being it's owner, in a shoe:

And this is Henry, posing as a loaf of bread. Henry has facebook, you guys can add him:

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More than You can Fantom: Haiku

I love you more than

Yesterday, I love you more
Than you can fantom

Drowning in a chain
Of forgetfulness, don't want
To wait to be found

Can you show me how
Far the East is from the West
In your great mercy

King of creation
Glory to the Lord on high
Wonders beyond us


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Salt and Bread

I bought a folk tale book the other week when we had GST at BMV, and ever since then I've been absorbed reading it, partly because folk tales have ambiguous meanings that are not always clear at first.


One of the stories that caught my attention is a Swedish folk tale about a king and his three daughters. This reminded me a lot of King Lear, only this has a happy ending and isn't a tragedy and actually gives a good explanation as to why the king tests his daughters of their love.

Anyway, I wanted to share it here with you guys because sometimes, we take people's words of love for granted, and misinterpret their meanings. When we show appreciation to people we value and are rejected by them, we often don't understand why. To them, your appreciation might be something so basic as salt and bread, that they don't care to think of it as something genuine and misinterpret your meaning. Only when your appreciation is gone do they realize its significance.

Salt and Bread

Once upon a time there was a King with three daughters. The two older girls were jealous of the youngest, whom the King loved dearly, and they spent their time and effort trying to destroy the King's love for her. They tried to win special favours and privileges from their father, never missing an opportunity to suggest that the younger girl did not return his affection. Their evil jealousy wouldn't let them rest. At last, the King became troubled over the rumors he heard from the older daughters. He even became suspicious of the youngest girl. One day when the three daughters were with him, he could not refrain from putting their love to the test.

So he asked the oldest girl to tell him how much she loved him, and she replied: "I value you, my father, as God in heaven!"

Her answer pleased him. He then asked the second daughter the same question, and she replied: "Oh my father, I value as my own life!"

This answer also pleased him. He turned now to the youngest daughter, asking her how she would describe her feelings.

She answered: "Oh my father, I value you as salt and bread."

The King was startled by this reply. Then he became angry that she cared no more for him than the humblest things on a poor man's table. His anger turned to fury that his youngest daughter, on whom he had lavished so much affection, thought so little of him in return. And he ordered his servants to drive her out of his house. They did as they were told, and took her into the woods and abandoned her. Now, at last, the two older daughters were happy.

In the woods, the youngest daughter was miserable and frightened. She cried when she thought about the home and the father she loved. She could not understand his anger, nor why she had been banished. She wandered about the woods helplessly, and at last, in fear of the wild animals, she climbed into a tall tree.

Another King from another country happened to be hunting in the woods at the moment. As he rode his horse, he heard his dogs barking with excitement at the tree where the Princess was hiding. He looked up and saw the beautiful face of the unhappy girl. He spoke to her kindly and asked her to come down.

They rode back to his castle, where he fed her and warmed her. Overcome by his kindness, the Princess poured out her story. The king was impressed with her goodness and asked her to marry him. The girl had fallen in love with him and agreed.

Invitations were sent out to the neighbouring kingdoms. When the wedding day came, the royal guests arrived, among them were the young Princess' father and her two sisters. They did not recognize her, so sure they were that the Princess had disappeared forever in the woods.

When they took their seats at the banquet table, wonderful food of all kinds were set before the guests. But none of the food was salted, and there was no salt on the table. Neither was there bread.

At last the girl's father could not refrain from commenting, he said, "I don't understand, but it seems to me as if the two most precious things are missing from this feast."

"Ah?" the Princess, now Queen, replied. "What can you be speaking of?"

"Why," her father replied, "salt and bread."

"Yes," the girl said. "They are among the most precious things we know. And once because I valued my father as highly as these things I was driven out of his house and into the woods to die."

When her father heard these words, he was over come and recognized her. He cried with joy and embraced her, thankful and happy that she was alive. He begged her for forgiveness and for his misunderstanding of her words of affection and for his having driven her away.

As for the older sisters, they were sent to the woods and nothing was ever heard of them again. No hunting Kings had ever come to rescue them.

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Bald Spots, Dramas and Exploitation

I was in the kitchen making instant noodles, after a long day of being queasy, when Matt proudly comes in holding a shaver and declared that he was going to cut Aaron's hair. Right from the get go I could tell this was going to be a bad idea. Either Aaron was going to loose an ear or he was going to end up bald, the later being what ended up happening.


The shaver came with a video that instructed people how to cut hair, and as I finished up my instant noodles, I eavesdropped in at Matt's first attempt at cutting hair. "What is she talking about? Do I take the clip off or keep it on? This is too hard!" but despite his complains, he still went for it.

I later went to Aaron's room to check on the progress. Hair lay all over the floor and Aaron was touching the obvious bald spot on his head, while Matt was at the other side of the room apologizing.

I couldn't help it. As much as I tried to be supportive, I burst out laughing.

My brothers are the exact reasons as to why I think some guys make terrible decisions. Just last week, I stayed up until three in the morning listening to their takes on what girls want. According to them, there are two things girls are attracted to:
1) Guys with confidence
2) Alpha males

And even though they asked me what my take on this was, they didn't take heed to a single word I said (probably because I'm their older sister and they see me prancing around the house in my natural state on a daily basis). In any case, I love my brothers and they're super entertaining to live with. I'm sure Aaron's hair will grow back soon.

Moving on:
Teaching today was really entertaining. It astounds me as to how kids of the same age can be at completely different levels of learning. So one of the classes I was teaching today had three kids, and because I considered them to be more advanced than some of the other kids, I decided to be tougher on them and really tried to get a discussion going on.

Needless to say, the discussion ended up on Korean Dramas.

Basically, today's topic was 'how do movies and television influence people's behaviour?' So I was telling the kids how when you watch another cultures drama, the tendency is that you want to learn the language as well. I was like, "English dramas would influence people into wanting to learn English, and if I wanted to learn Korean, I would watch a lot of Korean dramas."

(They were confused at first, because they thought I was Korean and thought it weird how a Korean person wouldn't know how to speak Korean. I think it's cool how they just assumed I was Korean :D)

Actually, it's interesting to see how Koreans react to Korean dramas. For us non-Koreans, it just seems entertaining, but to one of the girls, Korean dramas are annoying and stupid.

They tried to pry out which Korean dramas I watch, but I refused to tell them incase they deem me uncool for watching lame dramas. But now I know their favourites:

1) High Kick
(the drama with Chansung from 2pm in it)
2) Boys Before Flowers

I'll use this information to my advantage and impress them with references from the dramas.

So that was the result to my attempt at having a good discussion going on. In a way I think I succeeded since I managed to engage the kids into what I was saying, but also, we seriously diverted from the original topic.

But I can't help it, it's like I'm just too curious about their culture. Like today, I was one on one tutoring a kid, and instead of helping him write his essay, I ended up making him teach me how to say grandma in Korean, which according to him is just like saying 'hi' and 'money' together so it just sounds like himoney.

Yeah, I'm suave like that, exploiting kids for free Korean lessons.

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Words of Love






And some HP:



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So Because I'm Asian You're Asking me to What?

Hello Blog,


Today I finally had some time to sleep in, since for the first time in a while I have nothing to do today. I woke up feeling refreshed, thinking that it must at least be 12 in the afternoon. I turned over and looked at my cellphone to check the time when to my surprise, it was only 8.

So what better thing to do than blog since I'm fully awake?

Yesterday, a guy asked me to see Kung Fu Panda2 with him, so I lied and said, "I already saw it."

By the way, if you ever lie about already seeing a movie, make sure you know what it's about first, because right after my lie he asked what it was about. Busted. Anyway, good thing this was all done over text, so I had time to think of another lie.

During GST yesterday, Lynette's friend, Noor, heard me tell Selina about the guy asking me to out, and she jokingly said, "Is that supposed to be racist?"

I thought about it for a second and said, "No I don't think so because he's half asian ..."

Then that night while commuting home, Annabelle was in a particularly chatty mood, so I decided to tell her about the Kung Fu Panda2 guy and to my surprise, she said the exact same thing as Noor. That's when I realized that wait, maybe there's some truth to what they're saying. Did the guy just ask me to see Kung Fu Panda2 with him because I'm asian?

What do you guys think? Or maybe he just really likes pandas and Kung Fu and Jack Black?

Anyway, the way I see it, if he really wanted to appeal to my asian-ness he should have asked to study, a.k.a nerd out, together, since most asians are better at studying and than at Kung Fu. Plus he's not doing too well in the course we have together, so studying will benefit him more than watching a movie.

Just saying.

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Daydreams, Lies, and Trouble of Toilet Paper

Daydream:

Toilet Paper spends his time daydreaming about being used on the toilet. He wants to be in the bathroom enjoying the company of Toothbrush, Toothpaste and even Plunger, who can be a little stuck up sometimes.

Toilet Paper is highly jealous of the Book in the bathroom. The Book is supposed to be in the bedroom while Toilet Paper should be in the bathroom, happily wedged into the wall by the Toilet Paper Holder.

"Life is unfair!" Toilet Paper says with pure angst.

Toilet Paper blames his predicament on Tissue Paper, who's not doing his job properly so Toilet Paper has to pick up the slack. Just last week, Toilet Paper was used in the following ways: four plies to clean up the spill, two plies used to blow your nose with, one more to stick up your nose, and three plies to pick up the dead spider. Rumor has it that next week he's going to be used to for a Mummie Making Contest.

And what did Tissue Paper do?

"I'm only for when you actually need me," Tissue Paper explains, "like when people come over and need tissue and stuff. You can't expect them to use Toilet Paper do you?"

Inside, Toilet Paper is dying. He longs to be used for his intended purpose.

Lies:
Toilet Paper has told a lie. In order to impress Cashmere Toilet Paper, Toilet Paper has let go of all modesty and lied saying, "Hey babe, I'm the most economic of any economic Toilet Paper there is. You see Plastic Bottle over there? One day he'll be reincarnated into someone as awesome as I am. Yes it's true, I'm 100% recycled: half water bottle, half old shoes."

"Half old shoes? Wouldn't it be more economic to give the old shoes to people who need them?" Cashmere Toilet Paper says dubiously.

"Any old thing can be a shoe, not everyone can be Toilet Paper," Toilet Paper explains.

Cashmere Toilet Paper scoffs him and rolls away. Toilet Paper is left by himself feeling stupid, wondering why he just said that.

Trouble:
Toilet Paper is troubled. He just finished watching a documentary on TLC about a woman who eats toilet paper and now he's afraid of the person he lives with. It's bad enough he's wasting away being used on things a toilet paper should never have to do, but now he's also afraid of someone eating him.

Toilet Paper quickly comes up with several defense tactics to avoid being eaten:
1) He will disguise himself as a pencil holder
2) He will pretend to be a lamp
3) He will clone himself and sacrifice his clone

"This way, no one will ever eat me," Toilet Paper says to himself. "I'm actually quite clever for a toilet paper!"

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Sorry for the randomness, but the truth is, I've been meaning to blog about toilet paper for a while now because I've always thought it was interesting how at home, we use toilet paper for everything (probably because we get it in bulk from Costco). Tonight, a moth flew in my room and I smacked it with a book. After using toilet paper to pick it up, I decided to blog about toilet paper.

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In Defense of English

Generally, there are several misconceptions about English Majors:


1) That we're lazy
2) That we're lazy
3) That we're lazy and read a lot

When you stop and think about it, have you actually met a lazy English Major? Wait, before you answer that let's look at the facts:

1) Ariel has 4 jobs
2) Lynette is super busy all the time
3) Jessie is juggling three other majors/minors

I admit that I have my lazy moments, but my lazy side has been taking some abuse lately. My relationship with my pillow and bed has been strained, since we've been spending a lot of time apart because I have been working a lot of morning shifts for the past few weeks. Hopefully, I'll get time to mend this relationship soon.

The only reason I'm thinking about this is because as I was teaching today, I realized that there are several prejudices against English Majors because it's presumably thought of as easy.

A fellow teacher commented: "I wanted to major in English, but I didn't like the literature part. And I'm not good at writing essays."

To which I thought: huh? I wonder what he was planning to do, maybe he thought majoring in English would be like biology where there's a lot of memorizing involved.

(Remember children: it's i before e but not after c)

I just laughed at him because what he said was technically funny. What annoys me is that people think we're all hippies lounging and partying around with no ambition. Psh. Nothing could be further from the truth. Deep down, we're all ambitiously thinking of new critical theories to triumph over the last theorist and start a new era of post-post modernism.

Ok I don't know what the point of this post is. I just wanted to empty my head before I went to bed so I could wake up bright and early in the morning to go to work. Hoorah :/

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Life and Death of an Invisible Dog

Last week while in the car with John, Selina, Johnny and Amy Tang, I accidentally mortifyingly revealed that I once had an invisible pet dog named Pou-Pou. It slipped out after I lost a moment of consciousness.


Basically, John spotted police cars and said, "look it's the po-po."

To which I automatically said something along the lines of, "that's the name of my dog."

"You had a dog?"

"An invisible one..."

The cat is out of the bag, I'm unfortunately crazier than you guys probably thought. But one good thing came out of this: now you guys get to read the story behind my invisible dog. Hoorah.

The short lived life of Pou-Pou began and ended when I was in Grade 5. Just the year before, I had moved to a new school, so the teachers were unconvinced of my French skills. During French class, instead of participating in the same lesson as the rest of the kids, they put me in a corner and made me read a series of small French books that ranged from different levels of difficulty.

I found this tediously boring, especially since I found the books easy to read and I brushed through them quickly. When I was nearing the end of the books, I decided to slow down because I preferred sitting in the corner by myself reading than participating in the lesson, so I began to copy the pictures in the book and doodle them. That's when I came across a French dog named Zou-Zou.

Zou-Zou was a pink, female dog. I thought she was cute, but at the time I thought, "pink is a stupid colour and I don't like the name Zou-Zou. I am going to change it to Pou-Pou and make it blue instead." (Yes, Pou-Pou was blue and male.)

So that's how it happily started. I began doodling Pou-Pou everywhere in different scenarios with different facial expressions. And since Pokemon was the big hype at the time, Pou-Pou became my pocket dog and I argued with people that he would make a good Pokemon.

I would be like, "Pou-Pou is better than Pikachu. Pikachu says 'pika-pika' but Pou-Pou says 'po-po' which is cuter and that is why he would make a good Pokemon."

Man, I was such a dork. I'm surprised I even had friends.

Anyway, so Pou-Pou died in Aaron's birthday party that year. Aaron basically had this massive birthday party, and someone gave him white putty that would harden when dried. I decided to make a 3D Pou-Pou, and he lost his effect afterwards. I would stop imagining Pou-Pou in my pocket (because he was my pocket dog) since I knew he was at home, all 3D-like on my desk.

And that's the story. Thinking back, I was 9/10 when this all happened, which is a little bit late and immature for a 9/10 year old to be doing. My 10 year old cousin certainly doesn't have an invisible dog, he's too busy playing basketball all the time. Or maybe this was just the beginning of my odd imagination, after all, I did start reading HP when I was in Grade 5.

Nota Bene: And this is precisely why I don't freely give the link to my blog to just anyone. It's so I'll be able to keep track of who knows about my invisible dog, and that I'm not just exposing myself to everyone (though techinically I am because this is on the internet). There has to be a mutual trade of embarrassment and exposure of ones odd quirks. Sorry if this creates division or a sense of inclusiveness.

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