Hm Love

Summer's been very relaxing. Even after recovering from the effects of Grad Night, I have gone on napping binges this first week and a half of vacation, as if I am compensating for all the sleep I've lost during my six years at Oxford. The greatest part about this summer is that there is no summer homework. As I've come to find out, those assignments are hardly worth any worry - and don't count for much of your grade anyway - but even my favorite escapist outlets like Madden 2003 and Kobe highlights on Youtube failed to shove unfinished Lively Art of Writing assignment out of my head last year. In the middle of breaking off on a 20-yd run with Michael Vick, I would be reminded of the elements of the full thesis, and that immediately deflated my excitement. Anyway, I am looking forward to my first stress-free summer in a long while.

One of my goals is to stop being so laid back. I've been wondering whether the label of Southern Californians as carefree and nonchalant is true, and all I can say for sure is that it seems an accurate description of me and people I know. It can be usually seen in the simple things in our daily lives: answering e-mails, returning phone calls, hanging out with friends, eating lunch together. There have been too many times when a friend sent me an IM while I was away, and I conveniently forgot to get back to the person. Too many times I've forgotten to reply to e-mails, too many times I've replied "maybe" to a friend's invitation and not given an update, too many times I've come late to a gathering because I had "something else going on." In some ways, I think Oxford has worsened my problem. Because there is so much work to do and so many deadlines to keep track of, we seek some sort of leeway and moments in unthinking vegetative state in other areas of life. But of course, that's no excuse, and I have to keep in mind that forgetting my obligations may make my life easier but other people's lives hell. I am going to start making sure that I am more prompt, organized, and respectful of others.

And well, the other reason I mention this is, you figure this is the sort of thing you have to master before you pursue something like, oh, let's say love. If you think about it, love and relationships are all about commitment and obligations. Especially if you are a guy. Aside from tasks like showing up to dinner on time and returning your girlfriend's calls (usually a wise thing to do), women expect you to respect the way they do things, to listen to their discourse on life, and make personal sacrifices for "us". This isn't anything unusual; any time you coexist with someone, you naturally learn to yield and compromise for the other person. Now I would imagine this dramatically ratchets up in intensity once you get married, and thus the reason why I'm planning to choose cohabitation instead.

But while we're on the subject of love... I keep wondering if it exists or not - even though the question doesn't really have a practical application. I used to think I was in love. I liked a girl for something like 3 years, and I thought the relative permanence of it made it special. At the time I appreciated her for who she was. But then things didn't work out and then I went through the coping period. The refractory period, if you will. But then a couple months later, I felt ready to "love" someone else. What the fuck was going on? That was when I started questioning love.

I tend to believe that what we call love is actually lust in disguise, an attraction that serves a biological purpose. Is there a way to tell the difference between love and lust? Many people who claim to be in love defend their feeling by saying they appreciate their significant other's personality rather than appearance. But just because an attraction runs deeper than skin, it doesn't mean an upgrade to love is warranted. Lust is a device for both survival and perpetuation of self through offspring, and finding someone with a suitable personality seems to aid both. In other words, personality is a factor that increases a partner's appeal just like wealth or good looks, and I see true love transcending any appeal of sorts.

I will, however, defend love for the following reasons. First, just because human beings are animals and share the same primitive instincts, it doesn't prove we are able to channel only the biological attraction associated with animals. We do have a more complex nervous system, one that has seemingly made religion and morals possible. Love could be another exclusive creation of our brain (but of course, so could be our psychological need to craft a word such as love). Secondly, many people have portrayed love as a kind of spiritual redemption, a definition that I honestly like. By learning to love another, human beings are able to reconcile with their own shortcomings and moral failures, and they come closer to achieving that permanent peaceful state of mind and knowledge of self that are so elusive yet desirable. They dedicate their lives to elevating the soul of their significant other, and doing so is emotionally and psychologically fulfilling.

As you may imagine, me being a soulless bitch and all, I have never personally experienced this however much I appreciate the definition. If this definition were true, though, it would be possible - and deemed necessary, in my opinion - to love more than one person in your lifetime. That's because presumably, it would take time and experience to learn to love someone properly. But that makes me wonder, does everyone have an opportunity to practice this kind of love and undergo spiritual redemption? I would think you would need to find a significant other who presents that opportunity for redemption. In Marilynne Robinson's Gilead and Bernard Malamud's Magic Barrel, the two authors hint that one needs to be have suffered to take part in this redeeming love. So does that mean love cannot be possible between people who don't understand suffering? Also, I wonder if one would need to have prior knowledge of this definition of love to even know to seek it in life. Without the aid of religious teachings or works like Gilead guiding us along in this journey, is it even possible to conceive of the deeper love? Is this love natural - and necessary - like language?

It's hot nowadays.

Graduation and Grad Night

I came home from grad night at 6 in the morning today and slept until 4 p.m., which is two hours ago. What a crazy two days.

A brief summary:

Senior Breakfast: Scrambled eggs and potatoes a.k.a. the entire meal minus bacon were terrible. But the senior video and open mic part 2 made up for it. An's speech was hm humbling and Jennifer Choi was hilarious as usual. I got the "most likely to take over the world with intelligence, wit, and humor" class award along with a package of army men. I think if I took over the world, the first thing I would do is demand my own massage parlor and then visit different parts of the world. For some reason, I keep thinking I would like multiple concubines but I wouldn't know what to do with them.

Graduation: I was anxious for no particular reason. I'm glad I didn't sign up for a speech because I would've been too nervous to deliver it properly, and the people who did deliver speeches did an awesome job. Jake and James provided a great opening punch with their interplay, which started with Kanye West's "Amazing." Peter was sincere and poised, Lauren humble and proud, and Anaoshak ooh'ed the crowd with his slight at the basketball team record (I heard Meloche praise the placement and rhetorical efficacy of the comment afterward).

After the ceremony, I took a lot of pictures with friends and tried to smile as often as possible. It felt good to shake hands and give them a pat on the back. And then I took some pictures with my entire family, which I hadn't done in many, many years.

Grad Night: I used to play mini golf quite frequently so I enjoyed reliving those memories. My putting skill was still intact and I sank several shots from the edges of the course. Erik Carpio lost something like four balls in a row because he tried to hit some of the props (lighthouse, windows of a mansion, etc). I played laser tag for the first time and it was ok. I wish the system kept track of my kills and deaths for bragging rights, but it was still pretty fun to run around sniping people. The whole maze setting with the pulsating music was entertaining. Arcade games were kind of boring just because I don't really enjoy racing or shooting games, and I also sucked at the mini bowling. I find it troubling that I can't even roll a ball straight.

The highlight of the night/morning was undoubtedly the hypnotist. One of the first things he said when he introduced himself was that he was a certified professional. I laughed because that's like saying you are certified in kicking ass or being a bitch, but I was intrigued nevertheless because I had never seen a "live hypnosis show" as he called it. I actually thought about volunteering for the heck of it but I figured I couldn't be hypnotized without a chemical aid. When the show finally started, the guy droned on and on about relaxing and going to sleep. Deeper and deeper, your worries and problems are melting away, blah blah that shit. Surprisingly, Kathleen was out in maybe two minutes. She was slumped forward with her head hanging down. Most of the volunteers- Rachel Burley, Boawen, Gerard, Peter Nguyen, and of course Albert- were not hypnotized but they decided to stay up there anyway and go along with it. Albert's acting was hilarious.

The two people that I confidently believed would not be hypnotized, however, did. Jake and Vaibhav. The hypnotist told Jake to make sure no one laughs, and he started getting angry at all of us. He was completely serious the whole time and took care of the situation the way I would expect him to in real life. I know he was not acting because knowing him, he would not have been able to hold back his laughter. Then in another sequence, the hypnotist told the volunteers to laugh at everything he said as if it were the funniest thing they had ever heard. Jake laughed the way he normally does - and even said out loud "what a funny motherfucker" - but there were clearly signs of derangement or an unnatural compulsion of sort. As for Vaibhav, when the hypnotist pretended to give out lottery tickets for a $80 mil jackpot, he started crying when he realized he hadn't won. And when told to show off a new Ferrari to a hot girl, he put on some hilariously grotesque face expressions I had never seen before.

Anyway while all of this was absolutely hilarious for the most part, I couldn't help feeling uneasy and at some moments, terrified by my friends' behavior. The thought of being able to control somebody like that is frightening. I still stick with my belief, though, that it is possible to "fight off" hypnosis by remaining skeptical and alert.

Graduation

So tomorrow is graduation. It's ridiculous how quickly time passed. I can honestly remember my first day at Oxford like it were yesterday. Well not all of it but I remember coming home exhausted and having to take a nap. And then the next five years are a blur in my memory. Junior year was painfully long and so was much of this year but it's all over. I think many people will agree that it's unexpectedly a bittersweet feeling. As close as I've felt to my classmates, I was never really fond of Oxford and wanted to move on to college as soon as possible but I think I will actually miss this place. For me, the only thing that matters now about my past six years is the people I've met. I'm going to try hard to keep in touch with these people. Talking to my old friends and hearing what they are up to is one of the few things that gets me excited.

Let's see, senior week was pretty fun. At Sunset, it was nice to hear from a lot of people during open mic, and nice to hear that most of them leave with positive memories of Oxford. Thanks to Boawen, Tara, and Charlie for the letters - I will keep those in a safe place. At Senior Recess, I relived my semi-childhood days with a game of Jailbreak. I never knew a volleyball court is the perfect arena for this. The net is just high enough that you can reach up and drop the ball but it also allows the opposing player enough time to get it if he's quick enough. And at Senior Drive-In, I played some basketball with the guys. Highlights included me blocking Dho and Will Nguyen, Kristin actually joining us for a game, and then a halfcourt shootout with very very large stakes that was actually never agreed upon (not consensual). Anyway good opportunities to bond with fellow classmates.

This just occurred to me. Me leaving Oxford with an overall positive impression feels similar to forgiving someone. On paper, my experience at Oxford isn't probably all that great. But just as you inevitably forgive your friend's bitchass behavior, you somehow learn to soften and let things pass, perhaps even feel good about it. I am not too sure if this coping mechanism is a good thing. On one hand, it is helpful to not dwell on bad memories and stagnant relationships. But on the other, you are lying to yourself. You reinterpret your experiences with a bias, a bias not simply resulting from the fact that you are living your life and thus tend to look at things a certain way, but a bias intended to make good come out of bad. What your friend did is wrong, and you have every right to spurn them. It is your friend who should feel bad about the whole situation, not you. But you end up forgiving the person anyway whether it takes days, months, or years. Justice is not served. But oh well, justice is rarely served anyway.

Prom

When my dad dropped me off at the empty parking lot next to Park Prive, I felt sick to the stomach for an odd reason. I had a pretty bad ache like I was reliving my appendicitis but the parallel that came to mind at the time was Roy Hobbs in The Natural. I was like Roy crouched next to the bed with naked Memo, doubled up in strange pain and falling into some abyss.

The first person I saw when I finally found my way to the party was Mr. Williams. He seemed confused that I was both arriving late and bent over in pain. Seeing him relieved me though. I also got to meet his girlfriend who was a very nice lady. I wonder if Mr. Williams is nervous about proposing to her. They already seem settled down like a married couple and would complement each other well.

I walked into the dining room and saw some different foods laid out on the table. Mostly veggies. The consensus of the people I talked to was that the food was horrible. John Suh wanted me to quote him saying, "I feel like a rabbit." The dessert also disappointed many because they were expecting cheesecake and instead got these small cookie things.

I apologize for my vanity but I made the biggest fashion statement among the guys. My new Air Force One's. Lots of people complimented them including Mr. Hoshi and two waitresses. Will Nguyen dusted off my shoes twice. As for the girls, many of them had picked out pretty cool dresses. Kelsy's and Katia's looked good.

My biggest complaint about the whole event was that there was no refreshment table. I wanted to mostly sit and drink, and they offered me neither. I also complained about their iced tea initially but after taking a couple more sips, it got better. Like girls at the club.

Considering how spacious the entire venue was, the dance floor was minuscule. People forced their way in as close to the middle of the pulsating mass as possible, and they floundered about, rubbing elbows and other parts. Compared to the dance at COSMOS - and dances at other high schools - it was pretty clean, though. People were in good spirits despite the crowded quarters, and the DJ seemed to be playing the right songs. If he played some DJ Premier or 9th Wonder though, who knows, I might have gotten in on the action.

I mostly chilled out with a glass on top of the giant rock behind the dance floor. I felt sluggish for much of the event and frankly that rock was the only place outside I could sit and watch the moving appendages.

As I lay there, I kept trying to observe and find something interesting about the whole affair so I could find an angle to my article but I couldn't do it. Instead, I kept thinking about myself. Somewhere along the way, I had a revelation about why I did not ask her to the dance. She was the only person I could have asked. If I had gone with anyone else, I would've had to greet her with a smile or polite hello as we catch each other's eye at the dinner table or run into each other on the dance floor. And as I dance with my date (who, many people tell me, would simply be a "cool friend" I enjoy spending time with), I would feel the pang of the other's absence streaked with envy, disappointment, and guilt for feeling so. So not only would I feel dissatisfied, but I would also ruin my date's night in more ways than those prescribed by my usual behavior.

So what if I did ask her? And managed to convince her friends beforehand that I was a worthy partner for the night, posed no threat to her current and future reputation, and could do a decent job of making it all fun for her? That would've been a good way to start. But there is no end in sight. What can I possibly accomplish by taking her to prom? We may become closer friends, which is what my logic wants. But I would soon be overwhelmed by the flowering of that tormenting emotion that is impossible to predict or control. If I had a great time with her at prom, it may have pushed me over the edge. Ruined my last two weeks of school. The Roy Hobbs parallel somewhat applies here?

I wrote this post hoping I would discover an article idea but this is fail. I wish I had a basketball court at my house.

So, Band-Aid was today. Overall I enjoyed the show (it was my first concert experience haha), and I thought the bigger lineup worked out well even though some parts dragged a little. Some notes:

-I didn't realize how popular AJ Rafael was. I had never heard of him until today. And I didn't understand why the audience broke into cheers during the first song. He was taking parts from different songs maybe? Anyway I felt like a parent at a Disney movie.

-Kris Mark's singing voice was several pitches above the average male voice frequency and never came down. His speaking voice, though, was much much lower.

-PushPushPull. I had a hard time appreciating their music because I kept getting distracted by the dude on the guitar wearing the U-neck shirt. I had never seen anything like it. It was more like a tanktop than anything else. He was clearly the "pull" in the trio.

-Seriously. The other rock band in the show. The guy that immediately caught my attention was the violinist. But uh he quickly abandoned his instrument and descended into the depths of heavy rock, also wearing less and less clothing as the performance went on. Lead singer was enthusiastic to say the least.

-Poreotics. I didn't understand why so many people headed for the exits after AJ Rafael's number. I mean it's not like a Laker game where you have to beat the L.A. traffic. Where's the love? But the dance trio handled all of it well and delivered a great performance.

Yesterday the most ridiculous thing happened. A FML-worthy event. And Sarah Kim told me it's my blog-worthy event so now I am writing about it. We were having an after-school snack party / bonding event for Math Club. I went to Mrs. Gibb in the main office during lunch to order three medium one-topping pizzas at Dominos. I was planning to call them to place the order but when I went on their website to get the number, I saw that they had an online order option so I decided to give it a try. Once I got to the toppings page, I made a crucial mistake - I followed their directions correctly. Too correctly. I literally picked only one topping for each pizza. See the thing was, under the toppings, there was "cheese" and "sauce". Thinking they were extra toppings, I did not select them. Wrong. My friends in Math Club, upon opening the pizza boxes, were greeted to the horrifying sight of desolate bread mass sprinkled with dessicated meats. No cheese or sauce. Domino's got my order exactly right. But now here are my arguments why Domino's is in the wrong:

1) There is only one "cheese" option under the toppings. Meaning if that is indeed referring to the "basic cheese" present in every goddamn pizza, I am unable to order cheese as a topping.

2) "Sauce", the way Domino's defines it, is not a topping. The tomato sauce does not go on top of the pizza... so it's not a topping.

3) Pizza without sauce or cheese is not pizza. Period. Did they really think that someone would pay to eat the crust? I ordered pepperoni and Italian sausage so clearly I am not vegan. C'mon guys, learn to use your noggins.

4) There was no option for "bread" but they gave me bread. So obviously they believe a pizza has fundamental, inalienable rights that are quite obvious. Bread/crust being one of them. Sauce and cheese being the others they conveniently disregarded.

Breaking news:

MoNkEyfAcE917 (12:32:22 AM): when are you gonna blog about the pizza? haha
MoNkEyfAcE917 (12:32:31 AM): i was just reading your latest post
Surk14 (12:32:36 AM): i just finished writing it actually
MoNkEyfAcE917 (12:32:51 AM): ohhh
MoNkEyfAcE917 (12:32:57 AM): wow what coincidence

Coincidence indeed.

A couple weeks ago, while walking to the park in the evening, I discovered a pretty amazing sight - a sitting hummingbird. Because my mom has a sprawling garden in our patio, I have been able to see the hummingbird quite often since I moved into the apartment, but I had never seen one sitting on a tree branch. It was quite tiny, and I would have missed it if I had not seen it flying about from the distance. The sun was setting, and the bird sat on a high thin branch of a lemon tree that curled toward the hues of crimson and blue - it was really a beautiful sunset. As I went up closer, I saw that the bird's head was constantly twitching from side to side, probably keeping a lookout for a sneaky predator. I knew hummingbirds take these short breaks throughout the day because they use up so much energy when they fly, but I started wondering what that bird was thinking. Which thoughts would be within the hummingbird's intellectual capacity? It could be complaining to itself about how the life of flying for a bit and having to rest is fucked up. Especially if the bird is getting old and doesn't qualify for Social Security or Medicare. Well, maybe not complaining but animals often plan ahead to increase their chances of survival, and they could be thinking about their next flight already. Maybe the bird was thinking about its potential soulmate. It knows that the hottie hummingbird dining on daisy nectar on the next block (probably of Latin American origins) already has other suitors who are far superior, but he can't stop thinking about her. I mean those guys can stay in the air longer, drink more nectar than he can, and make cooler buzzing noises, but who knows? She may find his russet feathers attractive. All he knows is that he has to get married soon so that he can pass on his genes to his sons and daughters. Or maybe the bird was just admiring the sunset. He has a better view if he decides to fly, but then he would have to do a hurried corkscrew routine to make sure some cheap bitchass crow isn't waiting to devour him. Sitting on the tree branch would be much safer, and besides, the fragrance of lemons just gives off the right vibe for these things. A hummingbird sitting on the tree branch just chillin' out. Someone please roll up a blunt for this fellow.

Recently, I've fallen in love with massage. I've become stiff and inflexible over oh the last six years or so, and a lot of tension's built up in my back and neck. My temporary solution has been to ask Jonathan Chang for massages. That man knows how to give a proper massage. He is naturally gifted with strong, firm hands (reads like a WR scouting report), but his true prowess lies in his thumbs. Once he finds the stress spots, he presses gently and then makes graceful circles with varying force that really loosen the muscle up. After about a minute or two, I feel 15 years younger. All my worries and wants have disappeared, and endorphins surge from my pituitary gland. But I know I can't always go to Jonathan for massages because giving massage is a pretty tiring activity so I've been trying to find time to go to an official massage parlor. There are a few parlors around here, and I've researched prices and everything, but for some reason I can't muster the will to go. Part of the reason is that I have developed sort of an idealized vision of the massage parlor. Beautiful exotic women dressed in theme clothing (how much does the wild jungle mode cost?), fragrance of mango and perfumes satiating my senses, candles lit next to the massage bed... my god, a happy ending bitches! (Ok I am joking about the happy ending, completely serious about the rest) So for now, I have opted to watch youtube videos of other people getting massaged. I try my best to live vicariously but the pleasure just isn't the same.

Two days ago when Mai Anh and I finally finished working on our latest issue of The Gamut and went to press, it was about 9:30 p.m. I walked out of the English building through the back door toward the basketball courts and the soccer field, and it was completely dark except for the lights of houses. For a second, looking out at the vast field, I thought I was at the beach. The line where blacktop meets the grass reminded me of the edges of waves, and the night breeze had a salty, smoky incense to it. If you think about it, the presence of night is really an arbitrary thing. It just so happened that this planet Earth rotates around the Sun the way it does, and sometimes there is light where you are standing and sometimes there isn't. And it just so happened that life is possible on this planet, and humans are living on it. Now there is such a thing called nightlife, all because the two arbitrary conditions aligned. Somewhere else in the universe, other creatures are waiting for the bimonthly explosion of the natural Hennessy volcano. And the volcano shall spew in accordance with a lurid aurora borealis...

A GilbertArenas-esque announcement: I don't think I'm going to prom. Want to avoid the hassle and the bullshit.

Dream

Wow I don't update this often. But I just had this strange dream and thought I should share it with you:

I am at some woman's house and I see two fish tanks. One tank is ginormous and has one big stingray along with some small fishies. The second one has piranhas. I notice that the water level in one of the tanks is too high and I tell that to the woman. Then before I know it, all the fish are gone in both tanks. The woman explains she will follow my advice, but she also wants to renovate the tanks. Then I see the stingray out of its tank and I start panicking. As the woman prepares the ginormous tank, I look through this pamphlet that shows how to place the stingray back into the water once it has been out of the water. There are at least ten different scenarios and ten different ways to place the stingray back into the water. I finally find the right one and am overjoyed to see the stingray breathe in the water. For a long time, I admire the stingray inside the fish tank (I am inside the fish tank and underwater but can somehow breathe.) The woman comes inside the tank and starts creating these mounds on the tank floor. Then she places strips of kimchi on each mound, and I ask her why. She says it's food for the stingray, and I laugh my ass off even in the dream. I tell her that there needs to be finer sand for the stingray at the bottom of the tank and suddenly the finer sand materializes. The tank is complete. Next I find myself walking to the tennis courts at Central Park. I am pushing this cart that has my tennis racket on top along with the stingray. The courts are full and I patiently wait. A guy playing tells me some dude just cut me in line for the tennis courts. I look back and see a Latino guy who is also waiting. The guy playing confronts the Latino guy about it and I don't remember how it is resolved. I look back again and then I see Kie and James, the two instructors over at TSI Academy. James admires the stingray and tries to appease my fears that it has been out of the water for too long. At this time, I am panicking because I fear the stingray will die so I rush home and put it back in the tank. The end.

Here's the parts of the dream that I can account for:

-Aquarium/stringray: While talking to Joseph Chung yesterday, I realized that my dream job is to become an aquarium curator. I also just enjoy thinking about fish and other marine creatures. Recently I have been thinking about getting an aquarium.

-Layers of kimchi: My subconscious craving for my cultural food?

-Fine sand: On Friday, I examined the sand of the baseball field at Oxford and was impressed how... fine it was.

-Latino guy at tennis courts: My subconscious fear that I am inherently at a disadvantage in my pursuit of Latinas?

-Kie: I have repeatedly associated Kie with Stewwie Griffin, and I happened to watch a snippit of the Family Guy Show last night.

Haha does anybody want to offer a different interpretation of the dream?