VIII : Upon Returning

The windows XP sample picture. Home. I come back here and I try to bring with me the LA-ness that I garnered through all those times at school and around the place. But, I realize that I still revert back to this home-self, sheltered and dependent. I let myself be like the young swallows that have just learned to fly but still return to the safety of the nest and be fed by parents. I still become dependent, listening to all the tips in life that my parents seem to have lots of. Yet, never before have I asked personal questions to my sister, but I started doing more of that. Never before have my parents talked to me about so much of their worries, and I am listening more intently to them now. I still hate interrupting people when they're talking. Today, I was talking to a friend's mom over the phone to set up a good day to drop off items for my friend (that I will take down to school with me next week), but my dad was also waiting for a very important phone call for an interview. I did not want to interrupt, so I wanted to quickly set up a good day. But my mom stood in front of me, looking urgently at me and waving her hands gesturing to interrupt and switch phone lines so that we would not miss my dad's important call. I couldn't find the right timing however, and my mom got very worried we would miss the call. Somehow, I felt it would be okay if I finished my phone call, and it did go well. We did not miss my dad's interview call. Still, my mom told me there are times when I will have to interrupt someone, and she said it in a way that made it sound like I made a mistake. That still has not changed. However she lets us know what we could have done differently, she makes it sound like what we did do was a mistake. I have returned to this sheltered life momentarily.

I come back to this city and I wonder if I really want to keep returning. There have been drastic road changes, new buildings and new shops. And still, I cannot think of anywhere to eat at if I want to eat out. What is here are memories that I find myself still looking back on. Are these items I have left behind precious enough for me to keep? Or will my memories be enough? Sure, the items bring back those memories, but do I really need them? Do I mind if I store these memories deep away? As I was cleaning and sorting my bedroom stuff again, I went through so many flashbacks, and I wondered, if I keep some of these things from those far away times, does it mean that I won't be able to move on? Gifts, notes, and clothes. They are space-eating memories that I would not have remembered if I did not see those items again. Good? Bad? How do you decide?

VII : Writing

I used to think I hated writing because I was never very good at it. I was wordy, and still am. I couldn't think of the right words to use to express exactly how I wanted the reader to feel, and I still am. But I've come to realize that, just because I may not be able to say everything I intend to say in the first try, it doesn't mean I should hate it. It's like not giving up even if you suck. bluntly stated. Something that clear is too casually said though. How to present the right words without adding any fluff that can cause confusion?

When times get tough, I keep trying and even if the results are far from what I expect and hope for, I keep trying. Trying to improve. Trying to surprise. Trying to make happen my imagined results.

I tried. But I admit, I tweaked it a tiny bit already. Not much. Just added "imagined." Imagine a story...
and write. My personal statements for UCSF have really gotten me to think of the events in my life. How was I when I was little? What did I think of myself and what did others see? What were the turning points in my life? Do they still affect me today? What happened? How did specific people change me to whom I am now? It's all amazing to see myself develop, like I'm reading a book and seeing how the main character develops. Amazing. But it's too bad my writing is so full of unnecessary words. I like it, but it's because I can picture what I attach to my words. After tweaking, who knows if readers would be able to grasp that same picture as well. Hopefully.

Writing isn't all that bad at all. If only I had more ideas.

VI : No problem

So, I called Santa Clara County Office of Education's Special Education department to ask if they were willing to help out FCSN's Adult Day Care Program in the South Bay. I said, "I was wondering if the special education department could help out. Like, distribute pamphlets to high schools." and the lady on the other end of the line asks, "okay... how much do you want to donate?" and I was like, "no, not donate. I meant, like, handing out FCSN pamphlets to increase awareness for FCSN." and she replies, "okay... how much do you want us to donate?" and I respond, "Umm, not money. I was wondering if the special education department could pass out pamphlets to increase awareness. To high schools or parents." and she goes, "okay... hold on." and she transfers my call to another person. who happens to be out of the office. already. It's not yet 5pm. They close at 5pm. I have no idea who she directed me to, but she just said, "hold on" and I thought she was going to come back on the line. But she had transferred my call. *sigh* It's okay. I'll be back tomorrow. If I have the guts to. I don't know why I have a problem with talking to people over the phone. I much prefer in person or by e-mail. Phone... somehow is difficult. I stumble. I cannot come up with the right words. Maybe because the receiver would never know my facial expressions. And I cannot put together my words clear enough in an instant. And e-mails let me structure sentences the way I want them to sound. With a few editting. With phone, all that good facial combination or tweaking is not there.

But it's okay.
Picture I drew in the middle of first summer session (Phys 151: Mechanics and Thermodynamics). no problem. She had no idea who I was. Heck, she probably thought I was a random salesperson-type of caller. But no problem. I'll call again. I have experience now. I didn't before.

Earlier in the afternoon, I had physics lab (for Phys 152: E+M) and it was actually quite fun. At the end, I wanted to try to determine my weight by using the load cell (a force transducer). I tried to balance myself sitting on a board that dangled from a small metal block that had a circuit to it to measure the corresponding voltage. Failed a few times, which resulted in my feet rising upward and me falling backward to the ground, and fellow classmates shocked at my attempts. "Oh no! Are you alright?" no problem. I want to know my weight from this thing! I try again. "I want to see this," another classmate says. Woot, surprised ya. I found my balance! But 4V? That corresponds to 1kg! ... I should not have held on to the metal block while finding my balance huh. I probably was pulling upward very hard. So I try again. Fail. No problem. A fellow classmate helps me up. Love. Excitement in failures. Furthermore, playing with liquid nitrogen once again was thrilling. Crumbling liquid nitrogen-ed tape-balls was awesome, like crumbling fragile pieces of fat, flattened, and crunchy instant noodle, if those even exist.

No problem with finding fun during physics labs. No problem with calling strangers to ask for their help. No problem with redirecting me to another person without telling me you will. No problem. I will just try again.