Ministry of Fear

Favorite Quotes:

It was a long time before they told him about the war, and that involved an enormous amount of historical explanation. What seemed odd to him, he found, was not what seemed odd to other people...the fact that we were at war with Italy shook him like an inexplicable catastrophe of nature. "Italy," he exclaimed. Why, Italy was where two of his maiden aunts went every year to paint. He remembered too the Primitives in the National Gallery and Caporetto and Garibaldi, who had given a name to a biscuit, and Thomas Cook's. Then Johns patiently explained about Mussolini.
Ha ha ha.

When he thought of her it was with an absurd breathlessness. It was as if he were waiting again years ago outside...and the girl he loved was coming down the street, and the night was full of pain and beauty and despair because one knew one was too young for anything to come of this...


"Is life really like this?" Rowe asked. Mr. Prentice leant forward with an interested air, as though he were always ready to abandon the particular in favour of the general argument. He said, "This is life, so I suppose one can say it's like life."


Her face looked ugly in the attempt to avoid tears; it was an ugliness which bound him to her more than any beauty could have done; it isn't being happy together, he thought as though it were a fresh discovery, that makes one love--it's being unhappy together.


She looked at him with a kind of middle-aged tenderness, as though they'd grown through love into its later stage.

Turning Point

Today, on the way home from Barnes and Noble, my mom was telling me how she is considering moving out of our house and Saratoga after Mei graduates. This isn't unexpected news for me, and it makes sense--it's not practical to occupy such a large space with only two people. Saratoga is, after all, the most expensive suburb in America (according to Yahoo News a couple months ago). But my parents' main concern turns out to be the stairs. They think a three-story house will be inconvenient and possibly dangerous for them, in the future. Then, it hit me that my parents are in their fifties, and while they exercise every day and maintain a healthy diet, the aging process of one's body is inevitable and can only be countered to a certain degree. When I come home during breaks, I view it as a reprieve from the exhausting whirlwind of school and independence, a chance to have someone else cook the food, clean the floors, take out the trash, and kill the bugs, for a change. But contrary to my parents taking care of me, has the time come for me to start taking care of them?
At the doctor's office, I was filling out some health forms, and my dad mentioned that he sort of has high blood pressure, so I read a brochure about that and wondered, "Should I start monitoring his exercise and diet?" It's such an alien concept...maybe because Mei is a lot younger than me, so I still see my parents monitoring her all the time, being Parents with a capital P, or the "tiger mom" as my mom calls herself now. But if I eliminate this factor and simply observe my parents in relation to me, I realize that the turning point is nearer than I thought.
It makes me sad, to be honest.
I know this is a natural part of life, but...it came too soon. It never really occurred to me to take care of my parents. Yes, when one of them was going through a stressful period, I'd be there for them of course. I'd take Mom out for a walk, or listen to Dad vent for literally hours, and just...be the best support possible. But those were always temporary reversal of roles, and pretty soon, we'd be back to, "Jennifer, did you brush your teeth today?" and "Don't slouch!" I can barely fathom the change as something permanent--checking up on them, instead of them checking up on me...nagging at them to eat well and exercise instead of vice versa. I remember talking to A about her parents last year. They are much older than the average college student's parents, so she is already thinking about their health care, insurance, getting a job near their house, visiting them and so on. At the time, I admired her responsibility and kindness, but it seemed very removed from my personal life...something far in the distance. I didn't imagine myself in her position anytime soon. I still don't think I'm in that position yet...I mean, today after dinner when I suggested going to Barnes and Noble, we were standing around in the kitchen with a huge pile of dishes in the sink, my dad says, "Fine, I'll do the dishes, you two can go now before it closes," and my mom goes, "YAY!" and dashes off to get her keys. I'm very used to seeing them this way--as the healthy, often child-like, cute little Asian parents...but the time IS nearer than I think. There's nothing morbid or depressing about it, I have to reassure myself--just a reminder to pull my own weight, especially when I'm actually at home.

Arts and Crafts

***Some more:

Taking a quick minute before V arrives to post some recent arts and crafts:

Activities of the home life:
1) getting my 8 hours of sleep, not from 2-10am like you'd expect, but from 11pm-7am. That's right, I'm waking up at SEVEN O'CLOCK.
2) growing my California tummy (what I call my stomach when I'm at home and in a perpetual state of great enthusiasm for food). California tummy = big and happy; Boston tummy = still big but usually sad
3) unlimited time to practice till I just can't practice no more. I think my family secretly rejoices when I leave the house, so they get some peace and quiet, but I don't care.
4) nature walks--the sunshine of my life, literally.
5) reading my sister's texts and coming up with brilliant ideas of ways for her to ask a very nice boy to Sadies. I didn't really participate in that kind of stuff in high school, so my inner teenager is now unleashed vicariously through my sister.
6) catching up on card-making!

CENTIPEDE PART 2

10pm Got home

10:02pm Centipede sighting

10:03pm Panicked, tried not to cry or scream

10:15pm Centipede smashing with fly swatter

10:16pm Recovery

10:20pm Thorough cleaning of apartment begins...take out trash (finally), do dishes (FINALLY), wipe stove and surfaces (FINALLY)

10:50pm Make dinner

11:15pm Eat...

No good. I can't wait to go home.

I love Japan.

                   

Gosh, I love Japan...from its overwhelming cuteness, to the extraordinary generosity and selflessness of its people, to its sheer unparalleled beauty. Pray for this amazing country.

Conrad, Shaw, and Joyce

More awesome quotes.
I should mention that I take the time to type these out, not because I'm bored and want to show off that I read stuff. It's because a) they generate great ideas, and b) maybe by catching some small snapshot of an author's writing and expression, you'll be encouraged to read a book that will change your life. Also, c) MAYBE someone out there has the same favorite moments of literature that I do, and we can telepathically relish in the deliciousness and intimacy together.
What is it about a certain passage in a book that moves me, that makes me nod and go "mm"? An illuminating realization, a description that puts a smile on your face, or oftentimes, a perfect depiction of something I have felt in the past but lacked the eloquence to articulate on my own.

From Conrad's Heart of Darkness-

No, I don't like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work,--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.


And the lofty frontal bone of Mr. Kurtz! They say the hair goes on growing sometimes, but this--ah specimen, was impressively bald. The wilderness had patted him on the head, and, behold, it was like a ball--an ivory ball; it had caressed him, and--lo!--he had withered; it had taken him, loved him, embraced him, got into his veins, consumed his flesh, and sealed his soul to its own by the inconceivable ceremonies of some initiation. He was its spoiled and pampered favorite.


It was a kind of partnership...and thus a subtle bond had been created, of which I only became aware when it was suddenly broken. And the intimate profundity of that look he gave me when he received his hurt remains to this day in my memory--like a claim of distant kinship affirmed in a supreme moment.


From George Bernard Shaw's sequel to "Pygmalion"-

Eliza...was instinctively aware that she could never obtain a complete grip of him...to put it shortly, she knew that for some mysterious reason he had not the makings of a married man in him, according to her conception of a husband as one to whom she would be his nearest and fondest and warmest interest...to those who have the greatest power of loving, love is a secondary affair...
Gosh, I hope not.

And from James Joyce's The Dead-


She was walking on before him so lightly and so erect that he longed to run after her noiselessly, catch her by the shoulders and say something foolish and affectionate into her ear. She seemed to him so frail that he longed to defend her against something and then to be alone with her. Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory.


Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, then fade and wither dismally with age...He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love.

I gotta say.

Watching someone you care about succeed at something you failed is a bad feeling. But watching that person fail at something in which you succeeded isn't much better.
"Yeah, I got the acceptance...wait, didn't you?" Not a happy moment, whether you're the one saying it or hearing it.
Why can't we all win?

Idea

You know how when you wear earphones, you can hear the sound coming from your iPod or cell phone or whatever, but others around you can't hear it? Well, I wish there were some sort of device you could wear around your mouth and speak into, so that only you and your correspondent could hear your voice. You'd never have to worry about bothering others or being overheard when talking on the phone in public.

Wouldn't that be cool?

Something I've Realized

How do you know if you should pursue a career in music?

a) you love it

b) you're really good at it

c) it's the easiest option for you

d) all of the above

I don't think any of these are the right answers, not even d, believe it or not. The right answer is,

e) you can't live without it.

To successfully make a living in music (or another profession where the odds are greatly against you, and the process is terrifying unpredictable), I think you have to realize that, you'd rather face constant failure in music than constant success in anything else. You have to be willing to take rejection, because chances are, you will be rejected...over and over and over again. Even the best of the best get rejected...what does that say about the rest of us? But, you have to love what you do so much that you can still find immense, irreplaceable joy, not just in playing music, but in trying again and again and again, even while you're constantly facing disappointment. Would you rather take audition after audition, rejected every time and not knowing why, and having to make the same recordings over and over, learn the same notes again and again, lock yourself in a jail cell of a practice room day after day to perfect five minutes of music? Or would you rather sail happily through life in another field...top of your class, getting prestigious internships, star athlete?
I told all this to my friend, while I was thinking aloud, and he said, "So...how is this supposed to make us feel better about rejection?"
Well, it's not. It's just something to be aware of.

You've got to love what you're doing more than you love yourself--at least for now. I think that's the bottom line.

Dickens and Tennyson

In accordance with my New Year's resolution, I've been reading while at the gym, instead of watching The Office reruns like I used to. It's a bit hard to read while bouncing up and down on the treadmill, because I keep accidentally skipping lines and losing my spot, but I still get a lot more done. Here are an assortment of my recent favorite quotes (DON'T skim the poetry!!! My eyes always gloss over anything in verse, by default, but these ones are SO good...):

From Dickens' "A Christmas Carol"-

Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room...wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being  a man of strong imagination, he failed.
Hahaha!!!


"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home, home!"

From Tennyson's "In Memorium"-

V.
I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.


But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.


In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold:
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more...


from XXIV.
And is it that the haze of grief
Makes former gladness loom so great?
The lowness of the present state,
That sets the past in this relief?


Or that the past will always win
A glory from its being far;
And orb into the perfect star
We saw not, when we moved therein?
...couldn't have said it better myself.

XXVII.
I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage
That never knew the summer woods:


I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfettered by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;


Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.


I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
So THAT'S where that comes from!!! I was so excited when I read it.

From XLVII.
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip
Their wings in tears, and skim away...


From CXXIV.
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answered "I have felt."
Right-brained, and proud. :)