Archive for September 2011

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Grammar Nazi doesn't Ballroom Dance

Hullo Blog, I haven't forgotten you. The truth about my absence is because:


1) I got lazy and stopped carrying my laptop around campus (have gone medieval and begun writing my notes with pen and paper).
2) I got really discouraged and realized no one reads my blog, but then I came to the realization that no one reads great literature when they're first published anyway (not that anything I write here has any literary substance, but this is the only consolation I could come up with).

So life has been boring lately. Because my weekends are free from the evil clutches of retail that has managed to enslave me for years, I don't know what to do with all the free time I suddenly have, so I've been mousing around the library on weekends. This isn't so bad, because this means I'm on top of my readings (for once), but this also means my life is uneventful, dull, and completely nerdish.

Maybe I should take up a new hobby, like ballroom dancing or something.

Also, I've been editing a lot of essays lately, because people have wild assumptions that I'm fantastic with syntax, when I really don't know anything about it and have just been consulting my "Grammar for Dummies" book. There's a huge downside to this. Because I've been thinking hard about prepositions and pronouns and adjectives and adverbs, I suddenly find myself nitpicking every little thing I write, and as a result, become paranoid I'm grammatically incorrect all the time. And to top it off, I find myself unconsciously correcting everyone's grammar.

I really don't want to turn into a grammar nazi. I'll be anything else: crazy cat lady, crazy ballroom dancing lady, crazy nerd woman who gets paler by the weekend because she spends every weekend in the library - anything but a grammar nazi. Can you just imagine how annoying it would be to be friends with a grammar nazi?

You: Me and my friend are going ballroom dancing.

Grammar Nazi: You meant to say, my friend and I are going ballroom dancing.

You: Ok... well we're planning to waltz.

Grammar Nazi: Waltz what? You can't just waltz. You mean you're going to do the waltz, or perform the waltz? And that's an incomplete sentence, the subject and verb pair doesn't match up coherently.

You: Yup, and this is why we're no longer friends.

Yeah, let's hope this doesn't happen.

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Adventures with Poetry

So this year, I'm unfortunately stuck with several poetry and prose classes. My dislike for poetry has made me stay away from it as much as possible, but I guess I can't entirely avoid it. For one class, my professor's office hour happens to be at 8:30 a.m, which seems entirely unreasonable because who in their right mind would get up that early to discuss poetry.

But, because this year I decided to be a keener (better late than never), I went to see her this morning since I wanted to discuss a book she recommended us to read on the side, aside from the assigned readings. This book is 329 pages of dense reading, and after labouring through the first two chapters, I wanted her advice on what to focus on.

To which she says, "you're an English Specialist, you should be used to thinking a lot. Read the entire book."

READ THE ENTIRE BOOK? That's her advice?!?

Our meeting was very short. After she told me to read the book, I expected her to at least talk about it, but she didn't say anything else and just smiled at me. I guess I'm agitated because she assigned extra reading that she's not even going to cover in class, and she won't even discuss the book with me.

Ok, I'll stop complaining and read the book and try not to kill it. At least I won't have problems falling asleep.

Side story: as I was typing this my professor walked pass me and I freaked out. I half expected her to reprimand me for not reading the book (which I have open on the table) or ask me what I'm doing on my laptop.

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First Week of Classes

As I was getting off the bus last night, I procured an unintentional injury to my thumb. I was busy talking on gchat on my bb, when, as I was getting off the back doors of the bus, my thumb, and only my thumb, got caught between the doors. How this happened, I have no idea. So I acted nonchalant about it, pretending that I wasn't feeling excruciating pain at the moment, but as soon as I got a few feet of safe distance away from the bus stop, I began to yell, "my thumb, my thumb!"


Poor Annabelle just stood there looking at me like I was crazy, she couldn't understand how I could have possibly injured my thumb like that.

My thumb is ok now, although it's still traumatized by the experience. At least I got a good laugh from it, because if you can't laugh at your misfortunes, all you'll be feeling is pain.

So classes has officially begun and I am not excited about it. I was actually late for my first class, which unfortunately enough turned out to be super small (about 15 people). My friend, Elton, was saving me a spot which he described to be, "in the middle of the room, near the back," but what he actually meant to say was: "beside the professor where everyone can see you come in shamefully late on the first day of class."

And the only reason I was late was because I was in the bookstore stuck in line for 20 minutes, surrounded by a bunch of excited froshies buying school supplies. Speaking of froshies, I'm determined to help them out as much as I can, especially when they have dumfounded looks on their faces as they helplessly try to navigate themselves with large campus maps (as I did this morning).

Anyway, getting off topic. So back to my friend Elton who seems to be unable to properly pinpoint his position in a room. For some reason, Elton is now super determined to get into a grad program, whereas before his only life goal was to graduate. It's an ok goal, but now he's taken it upon himself to badger me about my studying habits. He's like, "you have to study hard, and make sure you do your readings. You need to improve your studying habits ... blah blah blah."

Good gravy, Elton is such a dad (he actually has 2 kids).

From what I recall, I studied super hard in the summer school course we took together this past summer and I even made super extensive study notes. Grr. But I guess it's good that he's badgering me so much, so I can feel accountable to him when I don't put my time to good use (like blogging early in the morning when I told myself to do my readings).

Ending this post with my traditional list of goals for this upcoming school year/the next eight months in general:
1) Study Hard.
(Easier said than done).

2) Be a good mentor.

3) Help out froshies.

4) Finish marking essays on time.
(For the kids I tutor. I am determined to improve their writing skills by at least 50%.)

5) Be a better friend and not ditch people.

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Dangers of having a Smartphone

When I first got my blackberry, I was very wary of it because I knew about the dangerous pitfalls I would fall into. I've heard accounts from other people with smartphones who have been completely consumed by their phones, to the point where they've lost touch with all human connections (ok, I may be exaggerating a bit).


Although it took some time, I eventually became very attached to my bb, because I slowly discovered all the cool stuff I could do with it, plus it was practically attached to my hip so I couldn't help but bond with it.

Lately though, I've been discovering the downfalls of having access to my email and other social networking sites at all times. Besides the fact that it continuously drains the battery life, having email on the go makes me feel tied to an invisible string. And weird thing is that receiving continuos emails makes me want to send more emails, which in turn makes me receive more emails, and so on. It's like a vicious cycle.

Some emails are good, like keeping in touch with long distance friends (more personable than the usual 'how's life going for you' on facebook) but more often than not, I feel like I receive emails I'd rather not be getting.

So which emails are those? I get a lot of emails from work, reminding me of all the things I have to do, which is ok because it keeps me on top of things, but reading these types of emails while I'm out socializing ruins the moment. Also, I'm volunteering at Kids Now Canada, which I receive a lot of emails from as well, telling me to get my police check, sign this form and that form, come in for this session and that session. But the worst kinds of emails that makes my stomach churn are emails from my professors, because I always feel like I'm about to receive bad news.

I always feel like emails from my professors will go something like this:

Dear Student,

Due to the fact that your essay sucked so much, I'm going to fail you.

Sincerely,
Professor Horror

When in reality, emails from my professor are to remind me of an impending essay I have to do (still bad news, but not as bad).

Anyway, classes start next week for me. I want to get it over with because right now, it feels like a bandage I just have to yank off and get the pain over with. That last week before classes start always stretches on and on, and it's hard to enjoy when you can't stop thinking about the fact that your life for the next eight months (or more) will be full of stress.

Ce la vie...

Oh and I had this seriously random dream the other night where I was drinking purple drank. In my dream, after drinking large amounts of purple drank, I became so nonchalant and unmotivated for life that I just lay limply there and missed work, hence getting fired. Man, I wonder what Freud would say about this.

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Montreal Trip Part Three

Instead of munching on awesomely delicious crepes with Scarlet and Emily, I'm stuck in the hotel because it's raining like a beast outside and I forgot my trusty umbrella in Toronto. So I decided to blog.

Today we went to the Olympic Stadium, because no trip to Montreal is complete without a visit there even though I've been there a couple of other times already. We went into the Nature Conservatory, Botanical Gardens and Insectarium as well.

I feel like my family is getting annoyed by being cramped up together for so long. My mom and my grandma are like cats and dogs when they argue. One thing I've learned from this experience is to never pick a side because I'd end up on dangerous grounds, so I've decided to do the most Canadian thing and be the mediator between the two.

Speaking of being Canadian, I've noticed that a lot of Quebecois are very patriotic to Quebec and have the Quebec flag hanging from their terrace instead of the the Canadian flag. Rarely do you see both flags hanging at once.

Ok so on with the pictures of my last day here:

Aaron and Matthew chillin on the bed.

Outside the Olympic Stadium. Annabelle decided to sprinkle fairy dust around the place for good luck.

Waiting in line. My grandpa likes to wink.

Me as Kirby.

Annabelle getting attacked by a two headed snake.

We found a giant egg and decided to pose in it because we're Asian and we couldn't resist.

This is how Matthew was born, with his arms wide open, ready for trouble.

Annabelle was born as a diva.

And Aaron is born on his stomach.

Cracking Aaron open.

Scrub-a-dub-dub.

Super Saiyan powers.

Matt lost his clothes, luckily there were giant leaves around to help shield our eyes from his hideous nakedness.

Giant salad (Hannah would be horrified).

Not surprisingly, a lot of people were getting married at the botanical gardens as well. It seems like everywhere I turn there's someone getting married here in Montreal. Maybe Montreal is some sort of cheap Paris-esque get away?

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Montreal Trip Part Two

Being cramped up in a hotel room with my family is driving me insane. At this rate, I'll have had enough family bonding moments to last me for the rest of the year.

(As I'm typing this, Matt and Annabelle are wrestling, and Aaron keeps on blabbing about his dreams.)

We didn't do anything eventful today. We started off walking around old Montreal, which really isn't that interesting in the daytime. There was a surprisingly large amount of people getting married today, so we kept running into families taking photos of each other (but maybe this shouldn't be too surprising because Montreal is full of old churches).

There are also a lot of tourists here walking around with maps, which is good because I feel less like an outsider. I find that people in Montreal are willing to show you around though, it's like they like navigating English speaking tourists through their French signs. The one not so interesting things about Montreal streets is that they're all named after saints.

More pictures for your viewing pleasure:

Annabelle saw a monkey through the glass shop picture and it reminded us of Matthew.

In the evening, Annabelle and I went out for dinner with Scarlet and Emily who also happened to be in Montreal for the weekend.

Scarlett and a finger puppet.

Emily and Elmo.

We went out to eat at some restaurant in Old Montreal. We ordered a pitcher of sangris.



Asian flush.




After dinner we walked back to the hotel and ran into Amnesty International doing a performance of some sort on the street.


Ok that's it. I'm going to go bed because the sangris made me super tired and sleepy.

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Montreal Trip Part One

Marriott Hotel is being cheap and is only offering us 24 hours of free internet, so I decided to blog before my time is up.

My fam-jam in Montreal has been eventful already. On the way here we had problems with the GPS, got caught speeding on the 401, and listened to Adele's CD ten million times. Although they offer a variety of French inspired food here, my mom decided to take us to an expensive French Pho place for dinner.

Here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure:
(Click on pictures for larger view)

I folded a towel into a sheep head thing and Matthew gladly posed for me, complete with duck lips.

Text happy thumbs.

Annabelle and Aaron.

Aaron being thoughtful.


Aaron and I.

My poor, tired grandparents. I sat beside my Grandma the entire trip here, she attempted to teach me Mandarin and lectured me on the dangers of traveling to Africa by myself the entire time.



Annabelle curling her eyelashes.

I offer no apologies for being a dorky loser.


Ok time to go shopping, hopefully the stores are still open. Will update more tomorrow before my free internet runs out!

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Teeth Agony

Today, I went to the dentist and although it was very mundane, I am going to blog about it anyway because I feel like I haven't been blogging enough lately. My oral hygienist, whose name I always forget, never has anything bad to say about my teeth because like a lot of other things in life, I seem to be immune to cavities.


My oral hygienist is actually a customer at Sears. I didn't recognize her without the surgical mask on, and thought she looked familiar when I ran into her at work. She was like, "you don't recognize me? I clean your teeth!"

For some reason, I thought that was a highly intimate thing to say. It felt like she got close and dirty with my teeth (which she technically has).

Anyway, my teeth and I have a long history together. I feel like I've endured enough oral agony so that nothing else will compare to the pain I've had to suffer through because of my teeth.

Growing up, I've always had a complex with my teeth because they were so crooked they stuck out in whichever direction they pleased like gravestones in a graveyard. While everyone was complaining about having to have braces, I was the only kid who wished for braces. When my sister, whose teeth has always been perfect, was got braces I thought it was the most unfair thing in the world. Her teeth was already perfect, and they were going to be even more perfect with braces.

Eventually, my grandparents granted my wish for braces. I was so exalted that I didn't think of the consequences of having metal stuck to my teeth, slowly and agonizingly shifting and straightening everything into alignment. Let this be a learning for all of you kids: there is always a price to pay for beauty.

But the years of having braces prepared me for when I got my wisdom teeth pulled out. By then, I didn't even feel anything anymore (or maybe it was just because I took in an excessively excessive amount of pain killers).

Anyway, if this blog post has to have a point, let it be this: if you put yourself through enough pain, eventually you won't feel pain anymore.

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