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Meandering thoughts of a Bay Area college student… be prepared for some bipolar vocabulary

It’s not fair.

iimage found atjinx.unixdaemons.com/artwork/suicidal.jpg

It really isn’t. I’ve played the Feather Theme for Forrest Gump for over half a year. I knew every note, every rhythm. I could alter the song to fit my mood. I could play at least three of its four pages with eyes closed. I’ve even added my own notes and little details to enhance the piece. I made my piano teacher cry. I’ve played it when my hands were drenched in sweat.

So why is it that when I step onto the stage, my eyes get blurry, my hands start shaking, and my feet become unsteady? Why is it that when I start playing, my memory begins to deteriorate? Why is it that when I start playing, my potential decreases into the potential of a six year old? I can play in front of friends. What the fuck is the difference!?

I was SO confident. I knew my piece so well I’ve played it half asleep. I wasn’t nervous, I was filled with determination and confidence… until I took my bow.

But I suppose I got lucky. My parents didn’t find anything wrong with my piece. I’ve made two mistakes as far as I can recall. But considering that I’ve been playing that piece for eight months, that is failure. Lucky I’ve played the piece with my eyes closed before. The black and white keys morphed in front of my eyes and I couldn’t tell the difference between a C and a G. My hands trembled and I had to play notes in the wrong finger sequences. You try landing your number five finger (pinky) on a black key when your hand is shaking three inches back and forth. I played my music in a way that I’ve never played at home. I pulled off a thumb-to-pinky cross over. My fingers went rampant. NOTHING went according to plan. I suppose making only two mistakes is a miracle, even though some of the notes bled because my foot was shaking so hard it couldn’t refresh the pedaling in time.

But the WORST part of that recital piece was the lack of emotion. Once I’m up there, I become narrow-minded, focusing on only bringing this piece to the very last note. My dynamics were gone. My sweeping crescendos, smooth and touching ritardandos… why the fuck did you guys leave me!?

In conclusion, I played the Feather Theme on autopilot, with faulty vision and wildly blurry hands. My one wish right now is to somehow redeem myself in front of another crowd… any crowd. Friends, family, the city of San Jose, all of California. I don’t give a damn if it was for a bunch of damn robot aliens! I just WANT… want to show the world how I really play piano. The retard up there with shaky hands isn’t me. He’s just some asshole I really want to knee in the fucking face.

And if you start talking to me about kids in Africa, I swear to God you’ll get slapped.

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Filed under: General

Nothing new…

My parents think I’m on drugs because I take afternoon naps. What the fuck?

This joke was too long to put on my AIM profile, and it’s too pro to pass up:

A New Zealander, an Aussie and a South African were all in Saudi Arabia, sharing a smuggled carton of beer. Suddenly, Saudi police rushed in and arrested them. The possession of alcohol is a severe offence in Saudi Arabia; they were sentenced to death!

After many months and with the help of very good lawyers, they were able to succesfully appeal their sentence down to life imprisonment.

Luckily, it was a Saudi national holiday the day their trial finished, and the Sheikh decided they could be released after receiving just 20 lashes each of the whip.

While preparing for punishment, the Sheikh suddenly said: “It’s my first wife’s birthday today, and she has asked me to allow each of you one wish before your whipping.”

The South African was first in line, and then said: “Please tie a pillow to my back.”

But the pillow only lasted 10 lashes before the whip went through. The South African had to be carried away bleeding and crying with pain when the punishment was done.

The New Zealander was next, and after watching the scene, said: “Please fix 2 pillows on my back.” But even 2 pillows could only take 15 lashes before the whip went through again.

The Aussie was the last one up, but before he could say anything, the Sheikh turned to him and said:
– “You are from a most beautiful country, your Cricket team is the best in the world, your footballers are terrific and your women are very sexy. For this, may have two wishes!”.

– “Thanks mate, your Most Royal and Merciful Highness”, The Aussie replies. “In recognition of your kindness, my first wish is that you give me not 20, but 100 lashes.”

– “Not only are you an honourable, handsome and powerful man, you are also very brave” the Sheik says with an admiring look on his face. “If 100 lashes is what you desire, then so be it. And your second wish?

What is it to be?” the Sheik asks.

– “Please tie the New Zealander to my back.”

Filed under: General

Holy—–!

May 27th, 2009. 10,000 views… 0_0

Totally rocks! I never expected this many… I would’ve been happy if this blog was uber secluded and obscure. It’s been a year and a half since I started this retarded blog… a retarded blog that’s always been there for me when I needed it most. Thank you everybody who’ve visited my blog at least once. Yes that’s right, I’m pointing at you! Look outside your window =P

And thank you friends who’ve seen my blog more than once. 😀 Love you all/allways/always.

Filed under: General

I never knew my family were such jackasses

Messing around with personal computer programs that belong to another person is messed up. Ungrateful losers. Not to mention that the person lent them the laptop in the first place.

And of course, we all know how valuable money is, how such a precious commodity it is. To joke around, saying that you’ll spend money for the sake of spending money is the most retarded thing I’ve ever heard of, let alone spending it on the most expensive item in the store. Sure it stimulates the economy, but I think it shows no appreciation for the fact that money is a hard thing to come by, that not everybody has it, and that the people that don’t have it will do nearly anything for that several hundred dollars that you plan to spend for

one
single
retarded
dress.

While it may be fine to spend lavishly once in awhile, losing money in order to spite someone is downright low, and just thinking about it makes me lose so much respect for you. I don’t exactly know how much my respect means to you, and I don’t give a damn. But at least you’ll know that there wasn’t as much as there was before.

After working in Kumon for over a year, I realize that money is something that you should be thankful to have. Money shouldn’t be a weapon. Money doesn’t even have to be for luxury. Money should be first and foremost your ticket to survival.

Now I know that you know better than that, that you’re probably saying this just to piss someone off, and that you know better than me about spending and saving. But once you put yourself in the other person’s shoes and have someone else threaten to spend your money for the sake of spending, you wouldn’t be in such a good mood either.

Writing this really makes me want to work again.

Filed under: General

Makes one helluva script…

T+1:15   (M)	What happened? What happened? Oh God, no - no!
T+1:17   (F)	Oh dear God.
T+1:18   (M)	Turn on your air pack! Turn on your air...
T+1:20   (M)	Can't breathe... choking...
T+1:21   (M)	Lift up your visor!
T+1:22   (M/F)	(Screams.) It's hot. (Sobs.) I can't. Don't tell me... God! Do it...now...
T+1:24   (M)	I told them... I told them... Dammit! Resnik don't...
T+1:27   (M)	Take it easy! Move (unintelligible)...
T+1:28   (F)	Don't let me die like this. Not now. Not here...
T+1:31   (M)	Your arm... no... I (extended garble, static)
T+1:36   (F)	I'm... passing... out...
T+1:37   (M)	We're not dead yet.
T+1:40   (M)	If you ever wanted (unintelligible) me a miracle... (unintelligible)... (screams)
T+1:41   (M)	She's... she's... (garble) ... damn!
T+1:50   (M)	Can't breathe...
T+1:51   (M/F)	(screams) Jesus Christ! No!
T+1:54   (M)	She's out.
T+1:55   (M)	Lucky... (unintelligible).
T+1:56   (M)	God. The water... we're dead! (screams)
T+2:00   (F)	Goodbye (sobs)... I love you, I love you...
T+2:03   (M)	Loosen up... loosen up...
T+2:07   (M)	It'll just be like a ditch landing...
T+2:09   (M)	That's right, think positive.
T+2:11   (M)	Ditch procedure...
T+2:14   (M)	No way!
T+2:17   (M)	Give me your hand...
T+2:19   (M)	You awake in there? I... I...
T+2:29   (M)	Our Father... (unintelligible)...
T+2:42   (M)	...hallowed be Thy name... (unintelligible).
T+2:57   (M)	You...over there?
T+2:58   (M)	The Lord is my shepherd, I shall...not want. He maketh me to lie down in green
		pastures... though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear
		no evil... I will dwell in the house...
T+3:15 to end	None. Static, silence.
http://www.aerospaceweb.org/question/conspiracy/q0258.shtml

Filed under: General

My homework break

For the first time in five years, I screamed. Screamed full blast several times and was rewarded with a raspy voice as a nice souvenir. Screamed with eyes shut hard and mouth open. Screamed with clenched fists and flexed muscles.

It

felt

so

damn

GOOD.

I thought that if I screamed as loud as I could, all the pent up anger from years past would fly out of my mouth and be forgotten forever. I thought that if I yelled, the weight of sadness and ferocity would be lifted from my chest. Truthfully, it didn’t leave any impression on me and I felt the same crappiness as I’ve been feelinge ever since high school. But it felt so fucking good! I felt my voice echo around the empty house and my blood vessels surged with adrenaline. I had a huge-ass urge to just break everything in sight. Instead, I just screamed again. And again. It felt great.

I went back to bio homework feeling invigorated and awakened for the first time in months.

Filed under: General

Les aspects meurtrier de la pièce d’un piano.

This week has been quite dull. I went to Nam’s house for a birthday party and went left at close to 4, where I had promised to be for another surprise birthday party. Two parties in one day really drained me out. I met a cousin of mine who went to Quimby and I made friends with another girl, who also went to Quimby. And I made friends with yet another girl who goes to a school in Cupertino. It took awhile for me to register this as we sat in one room and I listened to them talk about guys that I was the only guy. I think the heat slows down the way my brain thinks.

I really can’t wait for prom. It’s one big step out of the ordinary for me. I’m actually allowed to stay out as late as I want as long as there’s a limo giving transportation to and from prom. Hopefully we’ll go bowling. The day right after prom is my piano recital where I get the “honor” of closing it. Honor = anxiety/burden in my case. I’ve been a closer in the past and I admit that I wasn’t too hot, so my teacher gave me a break from it for awhile.

I sat back and watched other performers shine and my heart filled sadness and bitterness. When they closed, they closed with elegance, a sense of flair, a sense of professionality… the two times I’ve closed, I was hindered with shaking fingers that’d be a blur even before I touched the ivory keys. I face obstacles that I shouldn’t be facing in the first place, such as sweaty, slippery fingers, a shaking pedal foot, and a voice in my head that verbally abuses me. I think that voice is a defense mechanism, so my hopes never go up.

For me, however, the most dangerous part of a piano recital isn’t the slippery fingers that make you feel like you’re ice skating on nails. It isn’t the shaky right foot that’ll make a piece seem choppy. It’s getting lost. It’s easy to start off well, but when you think you play so well, you get wrapped up in your own magic, and your finger memory will just die on you, resulting in a tumble of notes instantaneously followed by a quick snap out of a bliss reverie into an unpleasant reality. Especially deadly when playing fast.

Anyways, this may be my last recital and I hope I’ll close with just as much elegance, flair, and professionality as the people before me. Don’t wish me luck.

Filed under: General

Vietnam War? My parents? LIES.

I broke my new year’s resolution promising myself that I’d blog at least once a week. Well, technically that was last year’s resolution.

I spent Mother’s Day at my cousins’ place, where we had garlic-y crawfish and other Asian stuff. It was good, but the amount of meat you get from cutting your fingers on the shells wasn’t worth the effort. We sat there, discussing drugs, prom, guys and girls, etc. Eventually we reached our heritage and the war. We sat on our own table in the kitchen and looked at our parents and grandmother eating in a seperate dining room, talking about colleges and us and all the typical stuff Vietnamese parents talk about.

And the thought crossed our minds at the same time: These are the people that survived one of the bloodiest conflicts in American history. My mom that doesn’t let me drive with friends because it’s “unsafe” was the same mom that snuck out of the country and past the Communist guards. My dad who first came to this country alone and lived off of dry Instant Noodles, or so they’d have me believe, has me take out the trash or wash the car. These people sitting at the table, grounding us nearly every week, from the short grandma to the laughing uncle lived through it all. And as we looked at them chatting and laughing, the only thing that popped into our minds was a big

WTF!

because these were the last people on the Earth you’d expect to be war veterans…

and that’s just something to think about. I sure did. It seems as weird as… the fact that most lipsticks contain fish scales.

Filed under: General

If this is real… I’m moving to Canada

…because there are such things as taking something “too far.”

Filed under: General