PaperQuest

Yesterday my notebook ran out of paper, so since it's the start of my spring break I decided to head out on a side-quest for another notebook. I guess my notebook didn't have enough to fulfill my constant flow of letters and words, unencumbered, numbered words; more pages and pages; pages for words; more words than I have ever heard. Fake things; real things; math; literature; on and on. 

    So I left this morning around 10 o'clock. The car didn't have much gas left, and because I didn't feel like paying for a refill and because the store was so close, I chose to go on foot. As I made my way down the street, I looked around. The day was bright and the weather cool, but a brown tint wreathed the horizon ahead. If there was one way to ruin a nice day, it was to be reminded of the displeasures of the current climate. 

    After about twelve minutes I walked through the front doors of the store. That heat... It was hotter in the store than outside. Annoyed, I hurried to the office supply aisle and scanned the shelves for the notebook. A pathetic selection of dusty notebooks that were likely second-hand leftovers were all they had, so I snatched three of the best looking ones and tucked them under my arm. 

    I checked out, placed the receipt in the bag, and strolled out into the now stronger sunlight as the automatic door made its wirr sound. On the way back I thought I'd be completely alone. I needed to be alone, for my mind was going crazy in anticipation. To my surprise and to my disappointment, I saw my cousin in the distance standing beside another girl whom I had no familiarity with. What was I going to do? I couldn't just ignore them—they were right in my path to the house.

    My thoughts consumed me while I treaded to where they were standing, acting like I didn't notice them from afar. My cousin perked up when she saw me. She waved with an expression of half confusion and half interest. 

    "What's up?" I began. In my mind I had no idea where this was going, but I figured a simple hello-goodbye couldn't hurt.

    "Not much, just hanging out with my friend," my cousin pivoted to her friend, then back to me. I didn't bother to look yet. "What are you... doing?"

    "Uh, I had to run to the store for some stuff," I said in embarrassment.

    "What stuff? Can I see?"

    She peered inside the bag as I opened it. "See, just boring stuff."

    "Oh," she shrugged. Then she turned toward her friend again. "This is my friend Cheyenne. I've told you about her before."

    Now I finally looked at her. So this was the "Cheyenne" that she mentioned before. She had wavy, reddish-brown hair past her shoulders resting behind her ear that was studded with diamonds. I stood close enough to see the constellation of freckles across her nose, and a pair of lightning blue eyes reflecting the sunlight of noon. Worst of all, I swear, her mouth, in an idle state, was turned up at the corners. I shuddered instinctively in terror.

    So what was the deal? I was forced to break the awkward silence that followed, and I was also suddenly aware that in examining her I was staring at her.

    "Nice to meetcha," I said finally. 

    Cheyenne looked up at me. "Silly."

    Her voice had sleep. A soft, husky edge to it, and it could be so sweet as to be horrifying. But there must have been some knife in her throat; her voice cut like a file at that response. I stepped back in defense.

    "What? What's silly?" I asked nervously.

    Suddenly she formed a cat-like smile and acted as though nothing was said at all. "Oh, forget it. What did you say your name was?"

    I told her my name. A bad feeling came over me, so bad that I knew that I had to get home right now. I gave a curt good-bye and sped-walked the rest of the way, checking with great certainty that the door was locked.

(A fictitious passage)

    

Composition Book

 So much depends upon

My blue composition book 

beaten with age and use

beside my pen.

Oh, it rests, but soon

I'll dig with it.

What's Your Yam?

Put yourself in the shoes of the Invisible Man in the "Yam Vendor" scene you discussed yesterday. If you found yourself away from home, tell me about a food that would evoke a similar experience for you, and why it is significant to you--is it connected to a particular person, place, and/or event? What would it help me understand about you and your story?  

Slicing the tape that binds the box shut to reveal the bento inside is enough to take me “back, back.” Every summer when I was a little kid, my family visited relatives in the gorgeous island of Kauai, Hawaii. Some of my earliest memories are of the entire family getting together by the sparkling waters of Poʻipū Beach, grilling or enjoying Hawaiian bentos after a great day on the water. The bentos have an assortment of rice, half a hot-dog, potato, fried chicken, beef, macaroni salad, fried shrimp, and other things I can’t put a name to. If nostalgia was a food, this would be the one. It brings me a lot of joy, whatever joy is left in the world, to see my younger cousins from California experiencing the island for themselves for the first time, just like me and my previous generations did years ago. Admittedly it isn’t the same anymore (the island is overrun by tourism more and more each year), but I feel Kauai is as impervious to change as it can be. After reading Invisible Man, my “yam” constantly reminds me of how much you really don’t know what you have until it’s gone. 

Unlike the Narrator, eating the bento in Kauai would have strongest effect rather than in a random place. In a way it puts my mind squarely into a temporary visit of a second home—one that I rarely visit anymore. Nevertheless, as soon as I take the first bite lying on the blanket next to the ocean and the humid breeze begins to hit my face, it feels like nothing else in the world matters, and all my worries drift out into a calming wave...away and away.

Picking a Side → What I really didn’t expect

 Well, I’ve got to say, this blog has shifted over the past week. I've started to use a pencil and eraser, which is something I never thought I’d do. I always told myself that I hated pencils–hated the feel, the sound, the smell, the effect on the paper. But, after giving it another shot, my opinion has significantly changed. I bought a pack of U.S.A. Gold #2 Pencils yesteryear and tried it out, and now I’m hooked. The dark, rustic graphite stands out on the page as you glide your pencil across. On top of being a good core, the pencil is extremely smooth. I used to dislike pencils because they couldn't come close to the smoothness of any ballpoint pen, but now I feel as though it’s unfair to compare the two; you’ll obviously never experience the same feeling. Even though I prefer blue ink over greyish color, the earthy smell and scratchy sounds that emanate from your desk makes writing with a pencil worth it.

Back when I was in elementary school–around eight years ago–I used to be obsessed with pencils. Admittedly, more than an eight-year-old should be. My teacher had a system of pencils in which each student would receive their own, brand new, Dixon Ticonderoga Pencil that had their student number written on a piece of tape, wrapped around the top part of the pencil near the ferrule. The good part? You could ask one of the teacher’s aid (that attending the neighboring middle school) for a new, fresh pencil anytime you needed. I loved this system. I would constantly overuse or ruin my pencils just to ask for a new one, simply because I loved the feeling of a fresh pencil that was long and had an untouched eraser. I seemed to be the only kid in my class who cared about pencils that much. I remember stealing fresh pencils from other classes too: one time I sneakily tried to stand in front of it so I could snatch it off the desk from behind my back, but I’m pretty sure one of the kids saw it happen anyway. In other words, I was a fanatic for a long time throughout my early years of school.

Now that I’m back to using pencils, I think I’ve rediscovered why I loved them so much years ago…

Spam Vs. Bacon

 Yesteryear as I was eating at a Hawaiian-Themed restaurant, I noticed that the eggs with Spam were more expensive than the bacon. I always thought Spam was the cheaper option, so I did some research to find out that it actually is. The reason it’s slightly more at the restaurant was likely because they provided more pieces of meat. There was a slightly heavier amount of Spam than bacon, which causes it to be more expensive, even if Spam is just mystery meat… Or is it?

I love both meats, so it’s honestly hard to compare the two and figure out what’s better. Spam has a slightly unique flavor that can’t really be described or compared to any other meat. Technically, according to the company, Spam is made out of “pork with ham meat added”. It’s not really mystery meat, but I don’t really get a pork-y taste. Regardless, the salty, juicy flavor is perfect with a side of eggs and rice. The same goes for bacon. The smoky, salty flavor is perfect on a Saturday morning, even if it’s not that healthy for you. Oh, and the crunch is better, too.

If I were to choose one, I’d say that bacon goes better with slightly more things and smells more appetizing than spam. 

Either way, both are delicious. 

Remembering March/April...

We're almost halfway through the month, and already this March has absolutely not lived up to the last.

I felt a weird contentedness and an overall sense of elevated spirits last year, excited by my growing passion of writing in this blog and the track season that was in full swing. I think I feel less happy now because I'm realizing that my childhood is about to come to a complete halt, and the real world is about to hit me like a truck, as cliché as that sounds. Also, the weather has been pretty shitty (annoyingly hot), so I'm not able to post about the rain again. 

Here's a journal entry for my AP Lang class I wrote last year in April (which I know isn't march, but it's relatively close): 

The Google Doc File

Funny but only to me.

Today at another track meet one of my plastic water bottles opened up in my backpack and got everything inside soaked. Thankfully, it was disgustingly hot today (at least for a Californian), so most of my stuffed dried off pretty good after letting it sit in the sun. 

This has happened to me so many times before, it's not even funny. I think the cap unscrews just enough when I shove my track uniform and shoes in my bag with all the half-closed water bottles. As expected, all of my papers in the folders are only wet at the bottom. Seeing this, however, takes me back to the last time I was in Kauai and my aunt carried the iron from her hotel to a relative's house. The water inside the iron spilled all over the bag, making her book and her daughter's book have the same looking water stain as me.  What an odd way to get your stuff wet. At the time I thought it was kind of funny. My aunt didn't even seem too bothered by it. Today when I saw this happened to me again, I shrugged my shoulders with indifference and laughed internally in pleasant memory.

Liberty Paints

 KEEP AMERICA PURE

WITH 

LIBERTY PAINTS

Here's some notes I took in class about Chapter 10. Probably my favorite chapter in the novel (besides Ch. 13), and one of the best I've ever read. I was re-reading it and got sucked into the paint plant all over again—that's how well done it is.

Another panic

Yesterday on my way to school, I started to go without plugging in my iPod into the aux cable. At a stop sign, I fumbled around for it in my pocket and tried to shove the cable in, but for some reason it wouldn't budge (you can probably hear the internal "fuck!" through the screen). I pushed harder, but of course that didn't work either, so I gave up and went the rest of the way in silence. Now parked I shined a handheld flashlight into the hole, revealing a tiny piece of metal lodged in the bottom of the jack (now an audible "fuck!"). 

I spent the next few minutes hitting the iPod against my copy of Invisible Man to get it out until it finally relented and flew out. I have absolutely no idea where that metal was from or how it got in the jack, but for a minute I got scared this iPod would be done for.

This shuffle is probably one of the few things I really don't want to lose. I know people think it's "performative" or "doin' too much" to use an iPod instead of your phone, but this thing is small, doesn't need service, has its own battery, and just works. Apple Music has disappointed me lately with the unfortunate destruction of the radio and the new interface, so now I only use it on my computer and when I want to wear AirPods. 

No, I'm not trying to be different. I simply like this product for what it is.

Review: DJ & Arthur New Hope Episode 2

This a fun part 2 to the series they started a few weeks back. I especially like the perspective changes and the fact that we literally move into DJ's subconsciousness to fight enemies and ultimately level up. It reminds me a lot of the final part of EarthBound where you enter Ness's mind (Magicant). In my eye, the monsters he's fighting and the experience he gains is from his own internal conflicts and "monsters", and the leveling up after he awakens can be interpreted as a symbolic growth of overcoming said internal challenges. If you take it literally and in the context of the story on its surface, he's just fighting a monster in a dream world to get more EXP, like an RPG game would normally entail. However, the fact you can run with both ideas makes the video more enjoyable. Even if this was unintentional, DJ's quote of "I don't like killing, I really don't. I hate hurting things that have feelings and lives," can further illustrate the notion that although overcoming your greatest internal conflicts is altogether great, sometimes it helps to realize the root of the issue and the fact that the process may not leave you feeling glorious. In the case of DJ, his triumph came at the cost of having to hurt another "living" being, which could be diminishing the symbolic representation of his childlike self (plush dolls and video games).

If this isn't the case, then it also works to say that he merely defeated a monster in a fictious game. Indeed, the entire premise of the series more or less diffuses the inner passions for video games and skit-making to YouTube, and I believe seeing it all only in this light is perfectly okay, too.

Thank you DJ and Arthur for making this second part. Meantime I'll sit tight for a part 3.

New! Super Mario Desk 2: Yoshi's Island

I got a hand-me-down desk today that a family member wasn't using, thus I completely removed my old black desk. This one is white and a great deal smaller, but it gives my room more room and somehow finally gives me space to have a paper and keyboard in the same space. I can finally do physical homework with a keyboard in front of me. As I'm writing this I'm procrastinating on my chemistry homework. 

This is pretty much all I have to share today. 

Math Books and "Calculature"

You can infer from my most recent YouTube post (https://www.youtube.com/post/UgkxcWlsbQ-UTqbLsD7ipZcJYUlmtPIhrzZ6) that I'm sort of looking over the next concepts of math. And perhaps the only, only thing that is appealing about opening this book is the gloss of the pages. 

So I scrapped that and left the book siting open on my desk. Later at a track meet, a friend (who's in BC, super smart) helped me understand how to do it a little bit better. Another (BC) teammate told me that learning stuff from a textbook is hard because it often makes easy concepts sound/look much more difficult than it really is. That made sense. When I looked back through the book at the theorems and definitions I already know, the verbiage and notation were pretty confusing. 

This isn't to say learning via a book is impossible, but maybe it would help to use it in conjunction with the limitless (pun intended) online resources. Or, you know, just register for a college class if you want.

If you're going to be a senior in high school someday, I'd strongly recommend taking AP Calc and AP Lit concurrently if your school offers it. That way you can say you took "Calculature". I know some students get ahead in math and take Calc before their senior year, but at the very least, I think that AP Lit should strictly be a senior course at ALL schools. 

As a bonus, here is the math my friend did during the meet: 

IIRC the question is on the left side, and anything that seems like nonsense is because it's other work from other questions or just explanations.

Don't accidentally

 Don't accidentally spill some 6M hydrochloric acid on your finger. It feels like pineapple on your tongue, on your finger. It should make sense to you why it feels like that. Still, scary!

A thought that rushed in and intertwined with me

Isn't it so characteristically American to gawk over Fridays? I guess I'm feeding into that—and flexing my American muscle—since recently I've thought of how satisfying the past Fridays of this year have been.

After admittedly being thrust into a zero period by a mistake of my own fault (that still angers me to this day), the world nearly crumbled around me. I couldn't bear the thought of being forced to wake up early for something as repulsive as math, let alone calculus. Despite my complaints and childish protesting, I did have to be the one that drives themselves to school to do calculus at seven in the morning. 

Looking at it now, it's really not that bad. I drag myself out of bed at around 5:50 AM to give plenty of time to eat and drink coffee, leaving the house at about 6:55. Every morning, without fail, I squeegee the dewy windows of the car before heaving my backpack into the backseat. Then, I plug in the iPod shuffle into my auxiliary cable, flick the seat heaters to full blast, and clutch the parking brake down as it disengages with a click. Normally I would scoff at a methodical, rigid routine like this, but the fact that it hasn't really changed at all is the only source of comfort I get from this zero period. No, I'm not autistic, I just like stupid shit like this that I can think about later.

Twisting between the windy heights is a rare time to let my mind wander as I stare at the yellow line dividing the empty street. I love the distinct sound of the car's engine only audible in the quiet side streets. Maybe this is the only reason that makes me want to go to zero period to learn about stupid derivatives. 

Fridays, on the other hand, are a nice change of pace. It's the only day of school I can sleep in, since school doesn't start until 9:00 AM. 9:00 AM! In my case, it's a weekday that has the faint taste of a lazy Saturday morning (another defining feature of this blog and my channel). I love seeing the sun almost fully risen when I wake up, and I love being the last person to the leave the house.

The drive to school is energetic and void of that dreary morning sky. An elementary school near our home is about to start, so naturally it makes me happy seeing all the families walking to the school with their children tagging along. When I arrive to school, the parking lot has a "high-schoolly" bustle and a good mood that's absolutely missing on a 7:00 AM Monday morning—obviously. Once I'm done saying my hello's and jumping between the passenger seats of cars, I head inside to the busy quads of the school just as the first bell rings...

I can almost feel the weekend.

I get it: my little pleasures of life are soon to change when I get hit with the reality of the real world. Still, allow me the time to enjoy it one last time like all my other peers.

A video...

My revelation on what to write about today came to me this evening. I just saw a video on YouTube that angered me a bit.

It was of some chump who ranked popular extracurricular activities in high school on a scale of 1-10 based on how good they look on an application. Already, the premise of the video is extremely generalized and reeks of clickbait. How is it possible to casually rank random, unorthodox extracurriculars on a frustratingly simplistic scale? (It's not). Chump, we're not ranking someone's looks. You're ranking activities with depth, layers, and complexities you didn't bother all to mention in your 1 minute video.

The chump claims they collected this information "based on years of direct conversations with admissions officers, thousands of real application files I’ve analyzed, and repeated patterns I’ve seen while helping students earn spots at top universities", but what I fail to understand is how the vast amount of alleged data they've gathered is adequately packaged into a one minute video and reflected across the mere 8 activities mentioned in the video. Regardless if her "advice" is good or not, it is misleading and shady to make a video essentially slamming some extracurricular with a simple line like "almost every above average student is in it". What if they've done considerable work while in it? What if they were in other activities alongside it? What if it was the only thing their school offered? None of this is considered, and the activity is simply ranked at a 3/10. I don't think it's fair to dismiss an activity you find generic or "boring" because a lot of people are in it. Again, even if it is generic, there wasn't enough in the video to discuss the layers or why it may be considered that way. Looking at it as a whole again, I don't understand the point of this video. Are you trying to instill fear in people that did 3/10 activities and cause unnecessary anxiety? Are you trying to brag about yourself by ranking activities you likely did at 10/10? Or are you just trying to make money and be an influencer?

One might argue that a smart, capable student (who obviously wishes to go to an Ivy League) is probably able to deduce that the specifics and exceptions are missing, but that doesn't dismiss the fact that the video itself is wholly unrepresentative of the true process of fleshing out one's extracurricular choices and how they choose to display that on the application. Seriously, what normal student looks at some stupid video from a chump on the internet and decide "Duuuuuuuuh... Guess I'm not doing that..."? (I hope you're able to tell that I'm being facetious).

Unrelated to this, you probably suspect that I disagree with a lot of the push to race for top colleges. If your portrayed journey on that application is untrue to yourself, your identity, and your being, then what's the damn point? Many of the comments on the video focused on the fact that you should do what you like and what truly represents you, because you shouldn't waste your years doing otherwise. I know some are going to disagree with me on this. I know that for some, getting into a dream school is pretty much their only purpose in life from birth to senior year, and whatever happens after is...unknown. That's okay. Please continue to have your opinion.

This is a short rant that I wanted to do just from that video. I think it goes back to the issues of short-form content that plenty of people have noticed, and in this particular case the unnecessary glamorization of college admission and this sort of mentality of one-size-fits-all in being admitted (This is this chump's entire online persona, and probably their personality for that fucking matter. For god sake, there is more to life than this, and really who are you as a person when you're suggesting people essentially give up their soul in a not-so-obvious-but-obvious manufactured "blueprint" of college admission journeys instead of just letting them grow themselves? Wow, it's ironically the most backwards and controlling thing to suggest something like that when the chump's supposed purpose is to encourage students to authenticate themselves and show that to colleges.). The fact that it's allowed to be up and circulating is kind of disheartening.

Above all else, be careful what and especially who you listen to—even me.

My Reliance on Coffee

Have I not made it clear that coffee is a huge theme of this blog and my online personality? If not, I'm here to drill it in again.

It was just one of those Mondays, because today I left the house for school without my coffee. With my luck, this was only apparent when I was well past the "point of no return" from home to the school. Cue the audible sigh. I know that this is probably the most minor first world problem you've ever heard in your life, and I hear you saying "Quit your complaining", but honestly this morning sucked without it.

I am obviously well beyond addicted to coffee, so this morning felt extremely sluggish and irritating. Coffee gives me this little kick inside me to make me actually (sort of) want to go to school and pay attention in class. It was all too noticeable when I didn't have it; today I felt lazy and bored in class.

To make matters worse, the effects of my lack of caffeine carried on throughout the day like an annoying little parasite. I had a headache the entire day and a much higher appetite than usual, since I guess coffee curbs your appetite as well. Knowing the demoralizing effects of a coffee-free life, I think I'm going to keep drinking it and turn a blind eye to those who claim it's bad to be addicted to it at my young age. 

And tomorrow morning, I'll be sure not to forget it this time.

Procrastinating

As I procrastinate my assigned text, East of Eden, I've been practicing some of my own writing (usually in the form of prose) while watching videos and browsing online resources on creative writing. I'm both surprised and not surprised at all the complexities within creative writing. 

I like to draft up contemporary fiction short stories for nobody to read but myself. They are flawed, horrible, and probably embarrassing, but it's a good way to see how the things I learned can manifest themselves on the page. Like a bit of a caveman, I'm writing them with pen and paper. To be honest, this isn't something new that I'm trying now––I've actually been doing this for a while since I first tried my hand (get it?) at creative writing. I have an entire folder on my computer titled "Creative Writing Projects" where most of the drafts and copies are handwritten at first. I vowed that the folder should never see the light of day, but I doubt that anyone will be able to read my shitty handwriting anyway.

Frequently I hear the argument that handwriting slows down the process significantly so that you can think more about what you compose on the page, and that by not using a computer, you're less tempted by all the distractions that can pull you away from staring at a boring looking Google Doc. For me, though, physical writing allows me to easily share my work with the one of friend at school who I'm comfortable sharing my shit with. Plus, I feel more accomplished having a few sheets of written paper that I made organically versus a screen that has no tangibility or sense of "realness"(?) to the work. 

Some online say that writing by hand caused them to refrain from erasing or changing work too much while drafting, but even when I write by hand, I still find myself crossing out words, sentences, and sometimes paragraphs as I draft. By the time I reach the bottom of a page, it looks like a chaotic mess of ink. I don't find this troubling, though. Other manuscripts from famous authors like F. Scott Fitzgerald show intensive crossing out and erasing, which is basically the same as if you're pressing delete or ctrl+x on a computer. But again, it's more intentional and permanent; you will forever see the points in which you are doubting your self or where you significantly reworked a scene. The good thing is is that it's never truly gone like it would be on a computer. 

None of it's bad. Part of the creative process, I think, is fucking up a lot and fixing it and fucking up even worse than what you did before and realizing you should've left it...etc. Whatever method of writing or drafting of a creative project that works best for you is the best.

"There was no possibility of taking a walk that day"

Except that there was a possibility.

It's been sort of warm where I live during the day (In February!), so to escape the gradual stuffiness that builds in the house, I've been taking walks at night. By around eight to nine o'clock, the air feels thoroughly fresh and chilly. It wouldn't normally be that nice to walk during the night in shorts, but after being irritated by the warm weather for the entire day, the cold weather is extremely refreshing. I know it's a little mundane and cliche to talk about the weather, but the heat creeping up this early in the year has definitely raised some alarms for me and others. Regardless, I move on and brush it off like most things. 

There is no rhyme or reason for suddenly going out at night for walks; I guess I felt compelled to wind down looking at the houses and the neighborhood and wondering who lives there and what they're like. I prefer it this way. There's practically nobody out, especially since my neighborhood has a lot of families with young children. Why in the world would they be out at nine o'clock at night anyway? 

So it's me with my thoughts and some music as I let my body drift aimlessly and languidly throughout the streets. I relish in pure solitude that lets me think and think and think. About anything, really. Think about life. Think about school. Think about my friends. Think about the music. Think about writing. Think about the books. 

For those that love to be with their thoughts in a cool breeze, evening walks may be for you.