Dear Mr. David J. Studley,
You don't know me, but I'm the girl who was using the Bank of America ATM machine next to yours today around 5:45pm and singing Hide and Seek- Imogen Heap to herself under her breath. Sorry about that...it was playing on the radio in my car.
Anyway, you left your debit card in the ATM! I waited around for a while, but you never came back, and I didn't know what else to do. So, I wedged the card underneath the door of the bank, since it was closed. Hopefully one of the employees will see it on the floor Monday morning, find your contact information, and return your card safely to you. Meanwhile, I hope you're not too worried, and your wife/family/friends aren't giving you too hard of a time...everyone makes mistakes! At least I can definitely sympathize...although, you must have had a lot on your mind if you didn't hear the ATM machine beeping loudly and continuously when you neglected to retrieve your card at the end of your transaction.
Please be more careful next time!
Best,
Jennifer
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Cans and Can'ts
A has convinced me to start making lists on our blogs.
6 Things I Can't Do
1) I can't whistle. (Excuse: It's not for lack of trying...I've had so many whistling lessons that resulted in my poor exasperated instructors finally giving up, after I continuously blew gusts of silent wind into their faces for an hour.)
2) I can't twist my tongue into cool shapes. (Excuse: I think it's genetic.)
3) I can't sit still. (Excuse: I really have no excuse for this one...short attention span, I guess. There are just too many interesting things to look at to stay still!)
4) I can't watch "Dumbo" without crying. (Excuse: That part when Dumbo and his mom link trunks through the bars of his cage...it's just too sad. I cry every time, without fail.)
5) I can't tell directions; in other words, I'm a terrible driver. (Excuse: I always read in the car when my mom drove me places. I also have a hard time telling right from left...I have to make an L with my hands sometimes.)
6) I can't say good bye to people I love. (No excuse. I just have the hardest time doing it...it's my biggest weakness.)
6 Things I Can Do
1) I can roll my R's. (How: I don't think it's genetic...maybe my mom taught me when I was really little.)
2) I can say "I love you" in 10 different languages. (How: I learned from people.)
3) I can recite the 50 states alphabetically in one breath. (How: In Challenger elementary school, we sang the Fifty Nifty song every day, and I eventually memorized it and found out one day that I could sing it super fast in one breath. I thought everyone could do it, and I didn't realize this was a rare/special skill until I mentioned it on "From The Top," and they made me do it on national TV a million times.)
4) I can type 148 WPM. (How: I played Text Twist a lot.)
5) I can tell you what pitch almost any sound is; in other words, I have perfect pitch. (How: Learning music at a young age? I feel like perfect pitch is acquired, not inborn, even if it's acquired before you're old enough to realize it.)
6) I can make really nice homemade cards. (How: Well, anyone can do it...it just takes time. I don't think I've given someone a store-bought card in the last...5 or 6 years? Unless it's Christmas, and my mom is handing me a pile of Hallmark cards to address to 20 different relatives.)
6 Things I Can't Do
1) I can't whistle. (Excuse: It's not for lack of trying...I've had so many whistling lessons that resulted in my poor exasperated instructors finally giving up, after I continuously blew gusts of silent wind into their faces for an hour.)
2) I can't twist my tongue into cool shapes. (Excuse: I think it's genetic.)
3) I can't sit still. (Excuse: I really have no excuse for this one...short attention span, I guess. There are just too many interesting things to look at to stay still!)
4) I can't watch "Dumbo" without crying. (Excuse: That part when Dumbo and his mom link trunks through the bars of his cage...it's just too sad. I cry every time, without fail.)
5) I can't tell directions; in other words, I'm a terrible driver. (Excuse: I always read in the car when my mom drove me places. I also have a hard time telling right from left...I have to make an L with my hands sometimes.)
6) I can't say good bye to people I love. (No excuse. I just have the hardest time doing it...it's my biggest weakness.)
6 Things I Can Do
1) I can roll my R's. (How: I don't think it's genetic...maybe my mom taught me when I was really little.)
2) I can say "I love you" in 10 different languages. (How: I learned from people.)
3) I can recite the 50 states alphabetically in one breath. (How: In Challenger elementary school, we sang the Fifty Nifty song every day, and I eventually memorized it and found out one day that I could sing it super fast in one breath. I thought everyone could do it, and I didn't realize this was a rare/special skill until I mentioned it on "From The Top," and they made me do it on national TV a million times.)
4) I can type 148 WPM. (How: I played Text Twist a lot.)
5) I can tell you what pitch almost any sound is; in other words, I have perfect pitch. (How: Learning music at a young age? I feel like perfect pitch is acquired, not inborn, even if it's acquired before you're old enough to realize it.)
6) I can make really nice homemade cards. (How: Well, anyone can do it...it just takes time. I don't think I've given someone a store-bought card in the last...5 or 6 years? Unless it's Christmas, and my mom is handing me a pile of Hallmark cards to address to 20 different relatives.)
Lady Chatterley's Lover
Favorite Quotes:
Perhaps the human soul needs excursions, and must not be denied them. But the point of an excursion is that you come home again.
Logic might be unanswerable because it was so absolutely wrong.
Then one afternoon came Leslie Winter, Squire Winter, as everybody called him: lean, immaculate, and seventy: and every inch a gentleman. Every millimeter, indeed! And with his old-fashioned, rather haw-haw! manner of speaking, he seemed more out-of-date than bag-wigs. Time, in her flight, drops these fine old feathers.
His hand passed over the curves of her body, firmly, without desire, but with soft, intimate knowledge. As she ran back home in the twilight the world seemed a dream; the trees in the park seemed bulging and surging at anchor on a tide, and the heave of the slope to the house was alive.
"Once you've been really fond of a man, you can be affectionate to almost any man, if he needs you at all. But it's not the same thing. You don't really care. I doubt, once you've really cared, if you can ever really care again."
Perhaps the human soul needs excursions, and must not be denied them. But the point of an excursion is that you come home again.
Logic might be unanswerable because it was so absolutely wrong.
Then one afternoon came Leslie Winter, Squire Winter, as everybody called him: lean, immaculate, and seventy: and every inch a gentleman. Every millimeter, indeed! And with his old-fashioned, rather haw-haw! manner of speaking, he seemed more out-of-date than bag-wigs. Time, in her flight, drops these fine old feathers.
His hand passed over the curves of her body, firmly, without desire, but with soft, intimate knowledge. As she ran back home in the twilight the world seemed a dream; the trees in the park seemed bulging and surging at anchor on a tide, and the heave of the slope to the house was alive.
"Once you've been really fond of a man, you can be affectionate to almost any man, if he needs you at all. But it's not the same thing. You don't really care. I doubt, once you've really cared, if you can ever really care again."
Sunday, August 22, 2010
the Magic of Live Music
On the phone with M on her first day of college:
"There's a pianist here who had her Carnegie Hall debut when she was eight! I mean, geez! When I was eight, I was just sitting around, picking my nose!"
HAHAHAH.
I went to John Mayer's concert at Shoreline a few nights ago. In my humble opinion, I think a main difference between classical music and popular music these days is, experiencing a live performance for classical music (like going to a concert) is usually better than experiencing a recorded performance (listening to a CD or the radio). Whereas, in popular music, the artists sound better on recordings than in real life. In general. Owl City opened for John Mayer, and it was pretty disappointing...I usually like their songs, although they all sort of sound the same. But seeing them live was such a boring experience. I couldn't appreciate the lyrics (their strong point, for me), because it was so loud that the words were indistinguishable. They didn't have much of a presence, and the quality of music-making was kind of non-existent, since apparently most of it was pre-recorded (LAME).
Then, John Mayer bounded on stage, and my heart sighed a million sighs of relief. Real music at last. He is one of the few artists of the day I believe is infinitely better live than recorded. The spontaneous and incredible guitar solos, the sweat flying off his face, the IMPROV...there was one part when the saxophonist in his band (Bob Reynolds) was improvising a lead-in to their next song. It was the most tender and intimate sound, the notes fluttering out of his instrument soft and light and sensuous, like white butterflies or little neck kisses, one after another. Beautiful. After a while, John Mayer walked over and started improvising with him, each of them intertwining his own thread of notes with the other's, as it blossomed into this organic, round climax...until the recognizable tunes of the next song finally spilled out, like a heaving sigh of satisfaction.
His band is amazing, too. Especially the saxophonist. Pheww...be still, my heart!
"There's a pianist here who had her Carnegie Hall debut when she was eight! I mean, geez! When I was eight, I was just sitting around, picking my nose!"
HAHAHAH.
I went to John Mayer's concert at Shoreline a few nights ago. In my humble opinion, I think a main difference between classical music and popular music these days is, experiencing a live performance for classical music (like going to a concert) is usually better than experiencing a recorded performance (listening to a CD or the radio). Whereas, in popular music, the artists sound better on recordings than in real life. In general. Owl City opened for John Mayer, and it was pretty disappointing...I usually like their songs, although they all sort of sound the same. But seeing them live was such a boring experience. I couldn't appreciate the lyrics (their strong point, for me), because it was so loud that the words were indistinguishable. They didn't have much of a presence, and the quality of music-making was kind of non-existent, since apparently most of it was pre-recorded (LAME).
Then, John Mayer bounded on stage, and my heart sighed a million sighs of relief. Real music at last. He is one of the few artists of the day I believe is infinitely better live than recorded. The spontaneous and incredible guitar solos, the sweat flying off his face, the IMPROV...there was one part when the saxophonist in his band (Bob Reynolds) was improvising a lead-in to their next song. It was the most tender and intimate sound, the notes fluttering out of his instrument soft and light and sensuous, like white butterflies or little neck kisses, one after another. Beautiful. After a while, John Mayer walked over and started improvising with him, each of them intertwining his own thread of notes with the other's, as it blossomed into this organic, round climax...until the recognizable tunes of the next song finally spilled out, like a heaving sigh of satisfaction.
His band is amazing, too. Especially the saxophonist. Pheww...be still, my heart!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Jude the Obscure
Favorite Quotes:
It was curious, he thought. What was he reserved for? He supposed he was not a sufficiently dignified person for suicide. Peaceful death abhorred him as a subject, and would not take him. What could he do of a lower kind than self-extermination; what was there less noble, more in keeping with his present degraded position? He could get drunk. Of course that was it; he had forgotten. Drinking was the regular stereotyped resource of the despairing worthless. He began to see now why some men boozed at inns.
Haha, ouch.
"The Gospel of Nicodemus is very nice," she went on, to keep him from his jealous thoughts, which she read clearly, as she always did. Indeed when they talked on an indifferent subject, as now, there was ever a second silent conversation passing between their emotions, so perfect was the reciprocity between them.
"I know that women are taught by other women that they must never admit the full truth to a man. But the highest form of affection is based on full sincerity on both sides. Not being men, these women don't know that in looking back on those he has had tender relations with, a man's heart returns closest to her who was the soul of truth in her conduct."
"It is a difficult question, my friends, for any young man--that question I had to grapple with, and which thousands are weighing at the present moment in these uprising times--whether to follow uncritically the track he finds himself in, without considering his aptness for it, or to consider what his aptness or bent may be, and re-shape his course accordingly. I tried to do the latter, and I failed. But I don't admit that my failure proved my view to be a wrong one, or that my success would have made it a right one; though that's how we appraise such attempts nowadays--I mean, not by their essential soundness, but by their accidental outcomes...it was my poverty and not my will that consented to be beaten."
"Your generous devotion to me is unparalleled, Jude! Your worldly failure, if you have failed, is to your credit rather than to your blame. Remember that the best and greatest among mankind are those who do themselves no worldly good. Every successful man is more or less a selfish man. The devoted fail...'Charity seeketh not her own.'"
It was curious, he thought. What was he reserved for? He supposed he was not a sufficiently dignified person for suicide. Peaceful death abhorred him as a subject, and would not take him. What could he do of a lower kind than self-extermination; what was there less noble, more in keeping with his present degraded position? He could get drunk. Of course that was it; he had forgotten. Drinking was the regular stereotyped resource of the despairing worthless. He began to see now why some men boozed at inns.
Haha, ouch.
"The Gospel of Nicodemus is very nice," she went on, to keep him from his jealous thoughts, which she read clearly, as she always did. Indeed when they talked on an indifferent subject, as now, there was ever a second silent conversation passing between their emotions, so perfect was the reciprocity between them.
"I know that women are taught by other women that they must never admit the full truth to a man. But the highest form of affection is based on full sincerity on both sides. Not being men, these women don't know that in looking back on those he has had tender relations with, a man's heart returns closest to her who was the soul of truth in her conduct."
"It is a difficult question, my friends, for any young man--that question I had to grapple with, and which thousands are weighing at the present moment in these uprising times--whether to follow uncritically the track he finds himself in, without considering his aptness for it, or to consider what his aptness or bent may be, and re-shape his course accordingly. I tried to do the latter, and I failed. But I don't admit that my failure proved my view to be a wrong one, or that my success would have made it a right one; though that's how we appraise such attempts nowadays--I mean, not by their essential soundness, but by their accidental outcomes...it was my poverty and not my will that consented to be beaten."
"Your generous devotion to me is unparalleled, Jude! Your worldly failure, if you have failed, is to your credit rather than to your blame. Remember that the best and greatest among mankind are those who do themselves no worldly good. Every successful man is more or less a selfish man. The devoted fail...'Charity seeketh not her own.'"
Happy Activities, for the simple and innocent :)
Saratoga isn't the most exciting place in the world, especially fresh from your first years of college. But here are some simple little things I've been doing at home that put a smile on my face:
1) Taking Walks
Not only are there beautiful views, but I've concluded that taking a walk is the best quality time you can spend with a friend. Think about it, if you eat a meal together, you're distracted by the food. If you're shopping, you're distracted by the stores. If you drink together, you're distracted by the alcohol. And how are you even supposed to have a decent conversation at a movie or concert? Walks are perfect...you exercise, you bond, you talk, you look around and make observations if there's nothing to talk about.2) Go to IKEA!
As M said, it's like going to Disneyland! There's organized parking, a guided tour map, a day care, shows, a lot of walking, and the food there is way better. Plus you can lie on all the foam mattress beds.
3) Practice cooking steak.
Well, I actually just ate the steak, but it seems like fun to make it! It'll also kill a lot of time.
4) Go to the Book-Go-Round.
The most amazing discovery I've made in Saratoga...this place is a 3-minute walk from my house, and all the books/CD's/DVD's are under $5. I bought the Sound of Music video tapes for 75 cents! It's cozy, the workers are friendly, and it smells like books. You don't have to keep uncomfortably quiet like at the library, and you can donate old books you have at home that sit around collecting dust.
5) Go to a drive-in movie theater.
Yes, these still exist! You pay a few dollars, park your car, turn to the correct radio station, and watch a movie from the comfort of your vehicle (wait, there's only one "C" in "vehicle"??). You can eat whatever you want, talk as much as you want, fall asleep and snore if you want.
6) Find a secluded corner of a road with a great view and decently comfortable ground, and go stargazing.
Yesterday night and today early morning was spent watching the Perseid meteor shower. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I saw at least 8 shooting stars, and when they got scarce, there were the beautiful city lights to admire. Also, we spotted at least 8 deer on the way there! 
They weren't scared of the car headlights at all, but they didn't like the flash from our cameras.
1) Taking Walks
Not only are there beautiful views, but I've concluded that taking a walk is the best quality time you can spend with a friend. Think about it, if you eat a meal together, you're distracted by the food. If you're shopping, you're distracted by the stores. If you drink together, you're distracted by the alcohol. And how are you even supposed to have a decent conversation at a movie or concert? Walks are perfect...you exercise, you bond, you talk, you look around and make observations if there's nothing to talk about. As M said, it's like going to Disneyland! There's organized parking, a guided tour map, a day care, shows, a lot of walking, and the food there is way better. Plus you can lie on all the foam mattress beds.3) Practice cooking steak.
Well, I actually just ate the steak, but it seems like fun to make it! It'll also kill a lot of time.4) Go to the Book-Go-Round.
The most amazing discovery I've made in Saratoga...this place is a 3-minute walk from my house, and all the books/CD's/DVD's are under $5. I bought the Sound of Music video tapes for 75 cents! It's cozy, the workers are friendly, and it smells like books. You don't have to keep uncomfortably quiet like at the library, and you can donate old books you have at home that sit around collecting dust.5) Go to a drive-in movie theater.
Yes, these still exist! You pay a few dollars, park your car, turn to the correct radio station, and watch a movie from the comfort of your vehicle (wait, there's only one "C" in "vehicle"??). You can eat whatever you want, talk as much as you want, fall asleep and snore if you want.6) Find a secluded corner of a road with a great view and decently comfortable ground, and go stargazing.
Yesterday night and today early morning was spent watching the Perseid meteor shower. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I saw at least 8 shooting stars, and when they got scarce, there were the beautiful city lights to admire. Also, we spotted at least 8 deer on the way there!
They weren't scared of the car headlights at all, but they didn't like the flash from our cameras.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Love
If you've known me for a while, you will know that I am my grandpa's girl. It's been this way as long as I can remember; probably since I was born, he's adored me and I adore him. Every Friday night at 11pm without fail, I call him and we talk, usually only for 5 to 10 minutes, because he's afraid of taking too much of my time. Our Friday night talks have been a tradition, also for as long as I can remember. At home, my dad is the one who makes the calls, and then he hands the phone to me when it's my "turn." When I went to college, those 15 digits that make up his phone number became ingrained in my memory as I punched them into my cell every week. We talk about the same things each time: we ask if the other is happy, whether the other is exercising (sometimes I have to lie), and he tells me to be careful and never accept food from strangers or make bad friends etc.
My grandpa has three things that he loves to talk about. First of all, he loves recalling the times he spent with me when I was a little girl and all the games we played together...how I made him watch Barney over and over, how I would "drive" him to San Francisco in my toy car and make him buckle his seatbelt, and most specifically this one time when he fell asleep and I crawled upstairs and put on a pair of giant sunglasses. He laughs so hard every single time he tells that story. The second thing is this story from when he was living in Japan as a teenager, and some girl asked him out on a date, but he declined. He said that she was very sad, and to this day, he feels so guilty for rejecting her and would like to apologize to her. Never mind that she's probably either been married for a bunch of years or might not still be alive...it bothers him, even to this very day! That's how detailed my grandpa's memory is, and how much he considers other people's feelings. Finally, he loves to call me Diamond Jennifer, and he loves to explain why. He says that I am like a diamond--an ordinary rock on the outside, and the more you rub it and uncover it, the more precious it becomes and the more it shines, and you realize how rare it is. He's possibly the only person who thinks this, but it's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. He tells me this EVERY time we talk.
I hope that every person has someone out there who means the world to him/her, and vice versa. I am so blessed to be able to say quite confidently that I mean the world to my grandpa, and he means the world to me. Our lives are so different and moving in opposite directions. I feel like I'm reaching the end of my beginning, while he is reaching the beginning of his end...my life constantly becomes more complicated, while his becomes more uncluttered.
Love comes in many different shapes and sizes...the love between my grandpa and me is the simplest kind that I can think of. We aren't even very close in that there are many things about me that he doesn't know, and I am sure there are many things about him that I don't know. To be honest, I don't even understand 40% of the stuff he says to me. Chinese is neither of our best language, and we both have a pretty bad accent (his Japanese, mine English). We rarely see each other, and when we do, we are even more rarely alone, just the two of us. Usually we're surrounded by a vast chattering crowd of family (most of the chattering coming from my mom, of course) and a large amount of food. But no matter what, we somehow always gravitate toward each other, like two peas in a pod. I have so much admiration for and faith in my grandpa...I think we both pray for each other, in the same principle but for different goals. He prays for my success in the future, and I pray for his success in preserving the present. He is one of the healthiest people I know, never having gone to the doctor ever since he was a child, because he simply takes care of his body so well. When we hike, he's the first up the mountain with a spring in each step. I love the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and the way his hands are constantly making circular gestures when he talks. I love how he tells jokes that don't really make much sense and then laughs super hard afterwards, and I love how every once in a while he randomly turns to look at me, pats me on the shoulder, and goes "Oh! Jennifer! You are the best!" (in Chinese). If I could have one wish, it's that he'll be here when I get married. (Well, I suppose the wish that should come before that is that I will get married.) I don't know if there is anything in the world that could make me happier.
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