Graduation, Holidays, and the Poetry Monster

I am gradu-ma-cated!!!

Well... OK, that's actually my award for finishing the co-op program, but I like it a lot better than my picture with the dean of the engineering school. Plus - I actually studied abroad with Dr. Shuman (pictured above, Associate Dean), and he is all around awesome. A man who buys you a Tsing Tao is always A-OK in my book.

It is still very surreal being out of school, especially since I didn't do the whole cap and gown shindig (our uni doesn't do a formal December graduation... we have to come back in May if we want the pomp and circumstance). But here I am, all requirements fulfilled, graduating with honors, and prepping to take on my new job in the next few months. Phew!

Anywho, it is the holiday season. I spent Christmas with the parents, which was relaxing (and that is all that will be said about that front :P ). Currently up in the Big Apple with Cindy and loving every moment. Obviously, haven't been very crafty in any sense, what with finals and getting ready to move out of my apartment, but now that an infinitely large chunk of time has been freed up for me, I should start being able to write more or... something.

Well, to tide you over, I'll leave you with a little something I whipped up a long while back. I wouldn't have thought to do this, but I showed it to C, and she posted it to every byte of web space that she calls her own.

Most of you should realize by now that I am a horrible human being. Still, I feel the need to preface the following link with a full reminder that I have issues:

Just Another Effing Day

^^^My sister's blog, with a guest piece done by me. I try not to be too apologetic because no one sympathizes with dirty fence sitters, but I do want to mention that:

1 - I wrote that in sophomore of university for a creative writing class, so hyperbole abounds
2 - It's not quite the way I feel about those situations now. The purpose was to go back and describe my thoughts at the time of occurrence, so those were me from ages 16-19.

So, yeah. Sorry and all that. But it is still f'ing funny, so learn to laugh a little.

Happy Holidays.

Cool Story, Bro(gue)

While out with a girlfriend, we were discussing why people usually don't approach me if they don't know me particularly well.  Her explanation was that I have a lovable, if rather prickly exterior, and with that I'd have to agree.  I have a pretty fiery inner dialogue that doesn't come out, or else I'd be shipped off in a white jacket.  But for entertainment purposes, I thought it might amuse you if I talked about my inner workings, starting now:

This semester, as I've mentioned, I decided to take Chinese level 1.  Now, before anyone asks, "Wait.  I thought you WERE Chinese," let me explain.  I'm a second gen Chinese-American, first one on both sides of my family tree to be born in the states (woo!)  When I was a wee girl, I had a toddler's grasp of the language, but that all changed on my first day of preschool.  I like to think that I was a pretty chipper 4-year-old, so when I met my teacher, I greeted her.  In Chinese.

The exchange may or may not have gone something like this:

Despite some contrary belief, English was my first language.

My teacher, not 5 seconds after meeting me, was concerned with my ability to interact with the other children.  She asked my mother if I spoke any English, to which, I sincerely hope my mother face-palmed.  Anyway, the end result was that my parents suggested to me that I only speak in Chinese at home.

Me, being the impressionable, stupid child I was, took this as, "NO MORE CHINESE." 

So I more or less grew up not learning the language.  I knew some words, but I couldn't carry a conversation.  If you've heard people speaking in Mandarin, you know it can have some harsh tones that make it seem like people are constantly angry.  So... you can imagine that dinners at home were occasionally awkward.

 

Anyway.  When I came to college, I was dead determined to take at least one Chinese course.  For 3 years, it never fit in my schedule (level 1-3 courses here meet 5 days a week - a bit hard to work around engineering cores).  This year, I finally managed, and I've been enjoying it very much... 

...All except for this tool bag and a half:

Divided face brought to you by South Park/Pac Man

I have a pretty low tolerance for time-wasters, so this kid ranks high on my list as people I would not mind disappearing.  He's unnaturally loud, reads through dialogues - rushed and forceful, gives constant unrelated answers, and has a voice reminiscent of nails down a chalkboard.

For awhile, I tried to zen-out when he talked and just let his words dissipate in the background.  That didn't work well.  Actually, the unfortunate result was that my mind started turning toward less helpful scenarios, ranging from the slightly violent...

 

...to the snappy.  I found myself wishing I could say things like, "Hey.  How about you give us all an early Christmas present and SHUT UP."

I usually just sit in my chair and break pencil lead, though.

But I got tired of blowing through graphite, and was starting to feel bad about how much I let this kid get on my nerves.  Yesterday, I started wondering if I'd be half so annoyed if his voice were just a little less irritating.  In fact, what if he had an accent like... oh... I don't know, a Scottish brogue.  Would that be any better?

You know.  Something more like this:

Apologies to David Tennant for being such a shitty artist.

So what happens when you supplant a pest for something a little more pleasant?

Problem solved.

Until the next.

Eighty Thousand Strong

If you think the above is a reference to my NaNo word count, you have too much faith in me (though thanks all the same!)  Unfortunately, I had to drop out of NaNo about a week in, due to actual things that I had to write taking over my life.

However, it IS in fact a word count, but for something completely different:

For those of you who pay attention to the little page tabs above, you should have some idea as to what that is.  Several years ago, I began work on my first serious novel.  Over Thanksgiving break, I made the final (hopefully) touches, and this week, I took it to the Espresso Book Machine at the campus bookstore and had it printed.  On real paper!!!

In other words:  HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE.

Well, ok, it's a bit of a cop-out, since I self-published.  My *real* dream would be for a legitimate publisher to accept my manuscript and for girls (and/or boys) everywhere to read and react.  Trying to grab a publisher's attention is a tough business (I've been trying since I was 16, believe me!)  Since I left for university, thoughts like that have been pushed way far out to the back, back, back burner.  In the future, I might pull on my big-girl boots and try again.  But for now, this will do just fine.  I only had so many made for my friends and family.  A limited first edition, you could say.

::Does a dance, and returns to the mill-wheel of engineering::

Until the next.