Toy Story

Trying to explain to my dad why I was bawling after watching Toy Story 3 for the fourth time-

Me: Well, it's really sad because...well, first of all, the boy Andy--he's the owner of all the toys--is growing up.
Dad: Uh huh...
Me: Well, since he's growing up, he doesn't really play with his toys anymore, so they miss him.
Dad: Okay...
Me: Well, he's also going away to college...so he has to decide which toy to take with him and which toys to leave behind...
Dad: *blank look*
Me: I mean, wasn't it hard for you when you had to decide what stuff to bring to college? Or like when you moved to America?
Dad: I didn't play with toys.
Me: Okay, well weren't you sad when you left home??
Dad: I was sad, yes. But I didn't cry.

-_-    Never mind.

Evolution of Gift-Giving

First, there were the Santa days. To be honest, I believed in Santa for a VERY short amount of time...and during that short time, the idea of him scared me more than anything. One of my earliest memories is staying up on Christmas Eve--hearing a faint thumping from the family room, feeling sure it was Santa, creeping downstairs but then being too petrified to turn the corner and peek. (In retrospect, the thumping was probably my dad banging his leg on a table or something.) Once I entered elementary school, I secretly knew Santa didn't exist, but I pretended to believe in him anyway, so that I'd get an extra present from my parents. :) When my sister got to be a toddler, I took up the role of Santa, picking out special surprise presents, encouraging her to write a note to Santa and then writing a reply (complete with Rudolph's paw print), pretending to eat the cookies, knocking down a few things near the fireplace to add to the authenticity of Santa's visit, and so on. Being Santa was my favorite part of the holidays.
When my sister became a fifth grader, I figured she was too old to believe in Santa. It was for her own good, otherwise she might be teased at school. Besides, the previous year, I'd sort of messed things up...being way too excited about a new stereo we'd bought for her present from Santa, I made a mad dash for the living room while carrying the gigantic wrapped gift. It was so big that it obstructed my vision, and just as she glanced over from the next room, I accidentally ran into a wall and fell over. The next day she still acted surprised and overjoyed when she unwrapped the stereo...but I'm pretty sure she'd figured things out by then.
Then came the time of creative family gifts. I'm not sure how it started, but my sister and I started making a big deal out of our parents' birthdays. The first big surprise was probably when I gave my mom a giant birthday card one year. It was at least half her height and took me several days to make. For my dad's birthday, my sister had the idea of doing a puppet show. We made hand puppets out of paper bags, one puppet representing each member of the family, and we wrote a skit of daily scenes from our lives that highlighted my dad's idiosyncrasies and funny moments. Then we "performed" the puppet show for him on his birthday, from behind the couch of the living room. I don't know if my dad actually enjoyed it, but Mei and I had a LOT of fun doing it. Thus was born the tradition of performances on our parents' birthdays and Christmas. One year, we took a bunch of my dad's favorite songs, wrote a medley version for piano and guitar/violin, and changed the lyrics so that they were about him. Another year, my dad, sister, and I performed a skit about my mom--my dad played the roles of my sister and me, my sister played my dad, and I played my mom. My mom still says that skit is one of her all-time favorite memories.
But eventually, this got old. It was so much fun, but a) I ran out of ideas (the only thing left was to do a musical, and that was WAY too complicated...), b) I left for college and only came home a few days before Christmas, and c) I ended up being the only one who did most of the work...my sister lounged around and goofed off while I wracked my brain over various lyrics or lines or melodies. It started feeling like an obligation. So we stopped doing performances and just gave normal presents, but still made every effort to keep everything a secret. On Christmas morning we'd still be surprised by what we found under the tree, and in the days leading up to Christmas, we'd still be inwardly smiling, excited to see the looks on the others' faces when they saw what we'd gotten them.
Now, we have evolved to the most practical form of gift-giving. A couple weeks before Christmas, we make public announcements of the items we want. Then, we decide who will get what for whom. This year, my dad wants a baseball cap that he can fit in his pocket. My mom wants a coffee machine. I want a NY Times crossword calendar, and my sister wants the Harry Potter 7 DVD (Part 2). We decided that, since everyone only wants one thing, we'd each receive only one collective present from the family this year. I felt like this was too boring, so I said each person could opt for a "surprise" present if they wanted. Then, my mom piped up that actually, she already bought herself the coffee machine, so we don't need to get her anything at all.
On practical terms, until you're financially independent, you and your family basically share your money in one big pool, and getting your parents a gift is sort of the monetary equivalent of them buying themselves a gift. And, as Sheldon on the Big Bang Theory puts it, when you give someone a present, you are also giving an obligation. The receiver of the present then has to reciprocate with a present to you, and thus ensues a tiresome and stressful exchange until one party dies, leaving the other party one present richer. So, instead of this tiresome business of buying presents and keeping secrets, why don't we just each go out and get something we want for ourselves, for Christmas? Apparently, that is exactly what people in China do--they don't celebrate Christmas, probably don't even know what Christmas is really about, but they do have a holiday season, which they celebrate by shopping...not for one another, but for themselves.
I can't really say that this sort of practicality is greedy, nor can I say I'm sad that my family has become steadily less creative...from Rudolph paw prints to self-bought coffee machines, from home-made songs and skits to requested gifts we know we'll receive. I mean, I do miss the good old days, and I miss exercising my creative juices and seeing the surprised delight on my family's faces. But the good thing is, we evolved together; doing a puppet show or forging a note from Santa would just seem silly and forced for all of us, now. I imagine the great thing about being parents is being able to "grow up" all over again, with your kids. I think my parents had a great and giddy time doing all those fun things with my sister and me when we were young...and now we're all growing up, my sister and I for the first time, and my parents for a second time. Maybe we'll go through the cycle again when there's a new generation. Meanwhile, I'm eagerly awaiting a predictable but equally satisfying Christmas, and just as thankful as usual to be with my family for the holidays, celebrating the birth of Christ together. :)

Atlas Shrugged

It took me about 6 months, but I finally finished this 1069-page monster. Parts of it completely confused me, parts of it got me all riled up and angry at the world, parts of it made me grumpy and irritated at the author...but overall, I'm glad I read it. Even though this book is largely about industry, business, and self-promotion, I realized that most of my favorite quotes are the parts about love. Ayn Rand believes in valuing one's own mind and best interests above all else, and she uses these thousand-and-so pages to basically dismiss and spit on popular "morals," like sacrificing oneself for the greater good and spreading the wealth. I disagree with her on most things, but there's no doubt she put a LOT of thought and passion into her ethics, and I respect her for that. She also managed to create an interesting, even slightly touching plot to go with what essentially is a long-winded treatise of her philosophy (...more than I can say for Nietzsche). Anyway, here are my favorite parts:

"Are you saying," he asked slowly, "that I rose in your estimation when you found that I wanted you?"
"Of course."
"That's not the reaction of most people of being wanted."
"It isn't."
"Most people feel that they rise in their own eyes, if others want them."
"I feel that others live up to me, if they want me. And that is the way you feel, too, Hank, about yourself--whether you admit it or not."

"You still love me--even if there's one expression of it that you'll always feel and want, but will not give me any longer. I'm still what I was, and you'll always see it, and you'll always grant me the same response, even if there's a greater one that you grant to another man. No matter what you feel for him, it will not change what you feel for me, and it won't be treason to either, because it comes from the same root, it's the same payment in answer to the same values. No matter what happens in the future, we'll always be what we were to each other, you and I, because you'll always love me."

"People think that a liar gains a victory over his victim. What I've learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one's reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one's master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person's view requires to be faked. And if one gains the immediate purpose of the lie--the price one pays is the destruction of that which the gain was intended to serve. The man who lies to the world, is the world's slave from then on."

If you don't know, the thing to do is not to get scared, but to learn...

Editing

The art of editing is observing someone's creation, whether it be an article or story or research paper, finding the essential grains of his ideas, and arranging the words around it so that these ideas can shine clearly and brightly.Your job isn't to create new ideas, but to mold existing ideas, to make them as presentable and appealing as possible.
I used to want to be an editor. In fact, I vividly remember coming home one day when I was in second grade and telling my mom that when I grow up, I wanted to be the head of a publishing company. This seems like a pretty random dream for a seven-year-old...I think what happened was that I opened one of my books to the page that has all the copyright information, found the "c" with a circle around it to be very impressive and official-looking, and decided that being an author might be too much work, but being the person who publishes the author's book sounded fun. My mom got all excited and found me a writing tutor (who incidentally became one of my closest adult friends to this day). The editor dream didn't pan out, but throughout high school, I edited friends' papers for school, practice essays for SAT's, and application essays for college. Even now as a music student, I help out various faithful friends with their med school or grad school applications. Doing a successful edit gives me a tingle and rush, the same feeling I get when playing a fifth on the violin in tune so it rings, or getting full scores on consecutive rounds of Text Twist.
I realized today that editing actually resembles the aspects of music that I love the most. If you know me well, you'll know that I LOVE playing second violin in quartets. I don't know when this began, but it certainly wasn't (and isn't) because the second violin part is "easier." It's because often times, the second violin's job is to make the first violin sound good. It's actually quite a difficult task, because you have to match the first violinist, whoever he/she is, whatever kind of a person he/she is, and whatever types of tendencies he/she has, regardless of your own tendencies and style. You have to be a chameleon, and you have to be more interested in everyone else's parts as a whole than in your own part. The worst second violinists are the ones that are always looking for spots where they can shine. (On the other hand, the second-worst second violinists are the ones that are scared of the spots they're supposed to shine.) You have to be a chameleon in that you are good at supporting the players around you, but when the time comes to step up and carry the melody, you do it effortlessly and with ample presence. Most of my favorite chamber music (and music in general) moments have been playing second violin. It's my niche, where I feel confident I can do a satisfactory job.
If you know me well, you'll also know that I love playing in orchestra, maybe more than any other musical activity...but I do NOT like being the leader. I either like being in the last stand or being in a secondary role, like second chair or principal second. Being concertmaster is okay, as long as there is a conductor. (Last year when I was in a conductor-less ensemble, I absolutely hated being concertmaster...it was like being conductor, and that is the last thing I want or could do.) Some musicians find being in an orchestra constraining, because very rarely do you get the license to express your own personal interpretation. Most of the time, you're expressing whatever ideas the conductor has. Your job is to make his/her vision come true, rather than your own. I can see how this may be frustrating for some, but usually, I love it. I love the task of interpreting someone else's idea and finding a way to communicate it effectively to an audience. In a way, playing second violin, playing in orchestra, and playing music in general is like editing. You take someone else's idea, whether it's a writer or a composer or a conductor or a fellow colleague, and you see the good in it...you see the brilliance and originality and reason behind it, and you understand/respect it. Then, you use your own resources and inject your own personality, not in making it your own, but in translating it to a broader audience. It's a tough job--if done well, you might not get the credit, and if done badly, you may often get the blame. But the world needs editors, messengers, liaisons, translators...because, as great as it is to have geniuses with revolutionary ideas, they can't do it on their own. Most of the time, ideas need a push in the right direction, molding by the right hands into something accessible and beautiful and admirable.
I'm not a creative person...I don't usually come up with great ideas, but I can happily make someone else's great ideas even greater. :)

Arts and Crafts 4

 

 

 

 

 
Coming soon: a real entry with words.......

Nice People

Nice Person #1: A couple days ago, I was in a bathroom at school, and realized too late that there was no toilet paper in my stall...so I fumbled around and debated my next course of action for a while. There was a person outside washing her hands, but I was too shy to ask a complete stranger to hand me toilet paper...I thought I'd just figure something out after she left. But all of a sudden, she asked me, "Hey, do you need some toilet paper?" She must have noticed earlier that my stall had no toilet paper, or maybe she heard me rummaging around. Either way, it was so nice of her! She could have easily just walked out and felt no guilt/awareness whatsoever.
Nice Person #2: Just now I was home alone, sitting in my room eating Wheat Thins and watching The Nanny when I heard a knock on the door. I was almost too lazy to go answer it, but finally I did, and it turned out to be a complete stranger, someone who lives in our building and whom I've seen on the bus now and then. She was knocking to tell me that I had left my keys stuck in the door knob. First of all, wow I'm stupid, but second of all, that was so nice!! Again, she could have easily walked by and ignored it or not noticed it at all. Instead, she chose to knock on my door and wait at least 30 seconds for me to answer the door, just to help someone she'd never met before.
I love nice people. :)

Lord of the Flies?

There is a MASSIVE FLY INVASION in my Houston apartment. Today while cooking, R opened the trash bin lid, and a swarm of at least twenty flies came BURSTING out. After we spent ten minutes chasing down the flies and killing them by hand/flyswatter, we decided to devise a fly-killing trap (http://www.wikihow.com/Make-a-Fly-Trap). This took a while, and then we turned off all the lights in the apartment except one lamp, which we shone on the trap. For good measure, R put a piece of her curry chicken in a small bowl and placed it in the little cone of light as well.

We sat for a while, staring and waiting. In my mind's eye I'd pictured dozens of flies unwittingly flying into the jar as if being sucked in by a vacuum. Then, after they drowned in the warm sugary water, we would pick them out one by one and torture them (even though they were already dead?) and punish them for the extreme irritation they had caused us (this morning while I was practicing, I swear a fly flew up my nose...I mean, come on). But in reality, not one fly appeared. Even the chicken failed to attract them! When 15 or so minutes had passed, we were forced to sadly surrender and throw our little inventions away. As soon as we turned on the light, the swarm of flies were back, buzzing inches away from our faces, tickling our necks, and invading our bedrooms. So we spent another episode blundering around the room, pouncing at flies on the wall, clapping our hands at flies in the air etc. All I can say is, it's a sad sad evening when two 22-year-olds are made to look like complete lunatics/fools by a bunch of flies.

Parents

[12:36:45 AM] Sefen.Hsu: Well, dad left to taiwan. Boy, I finally get to have a good sleep tonight.  He was so loud last night when I went to bed. I don't think I get to really sleep for more than 3 hours.

:) Snoring...something to at least consider when choosing your life partner, eh?

?

If you set out to accomplish anything requiring a lot of effort against slim chances, there are two main things to consider: 1) do you have a natural ability for this activity, and 2) do you know how to work smart and work hard (in a way, also a natural ability)?
When I was young, I believed I had a natural affinity for music. During those shamefully boring home videos of my Suzuki concerts, among the auditorium packed with a hundred kids playing their violins, I'm the shortest, youngest one in the front row, moving her bow in the right direction at the right times with an effortless, relaxed smile on her face. Teachers' comments were always that I was a fast-learner. I didn't have to learn to be musical, to be affected by this harmony or that rhythm...it just happened, through no actual achievement of my own. To me, this isn't bragging--innate abilities like perfect pitch and muscle memory are nothing to be proud of; however, they are something to be cognizant of, to help one figure out his/her most beneficial path in life.
I got older and went out into the real world. I experienced the usual small-fish-in-a-big-pond phenomenon, realizing that there are some people out there with more natural ability than me. Not just some, but MANY...so, so many. It took a while to become accustomed to this, but eventually I adjusted my identity to being not the "talented" one, but the "hard-working" one. My idea was, if I can't be the fastest learner or the most natural musician, I can be the most diligent, prepared one. Even if I start out with a less stunning skills set, I can compensate by putting in that much extra effort. I learned how to (barely) hang on to the high level of achievement my peers attained with such ease...if they worked for three hours, I worked for five. If they prepared a week in advance, I gave myself a month. When we came out with the same result, I learned to be proud instead of bitter, and to value my hard work along with their talent.
Now at a new school and in the midst of a new communal personality, I feel like I'm experiencing a second small-fish-big-pond reality check. Not only are there people with more natural ability than me, but there are also people who work harder than me...MANY people, who work WAY harder. I generally took pride in my practicing methods and specific routines. In my old school, I'm pretty sure I was one of a tiny minority that practiced to this degree of thoroughness, bordering on ridiculousness. (Music can become a perfect activity for the OCD-inflicted, in many ways.) But now, I'm surrounded by people who all have this kind of work ethic as well. So what's left for me to cling onto? How do I compensate? I feel like I've reached something of a dead end, or like I'm a hamster on his mobile wheel. I'm running and running, but can I really get anywhere? What's left, besides natural ability and hard work? Luck? Confidence?

English

Apparently, a reasonable case could be made for spelling the word "fish" as "ghoti." GH from enouGH, O from wOmen, and TI from naTIon. Oh, English...

"The English language is a rich verbal tapestry woven together from the tongues of the Greeks, the Latins, the Angles, the Klaxtons, the Celtics, and many more other ancient peoples, all of whom had severe drinking problems." -Dave Barry