Bao's weblog


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


What do surgeons do if there’s an earthquake during an operation? Like, right in the middle of the operation, a 5.4 earthquake hits and it must be a crazy feeling. The patient is unconscious, put to sleep and is totally helpless under such dire circumstances. What then?

The first step is to push away all of the monitors that might fall on the patient. Makes sense.

The second part, which I find kind of eerie, is for the primary surgeon to put himself over the patient. The other surgeons put themselves over the main surgeon (there’s more than one people wearing green right?) and then for the nurses to put themselves over the surgeons. What’s the logic behind this? To protect the surgeon and patient of course. If it comes down to the worse, the surgeon must finish his job… alone. Whoa. I’ve heard people compare it as being in battle. You always protect the most important person.

This shouldn’t be true in a group of friends. A group of friends shouldn’t have a hierarchy. The main reason behind having a hierarchy is to establish a clear chain of command. Dictatorships have hierarchies. The military has an hierarchy. Should friends? In a group, everyone should be equal. There shouldn’t be an asshole lording himself or herself over the lower minions.

“Hey you. Buy me fries!”

“Burn in hell bitch.”

“What you say to me!?”

“.. I-I’m sorry for my totally unfounded outburst. I’ll be right back with your fries Your Mightiness.”

I had this brutal dream yesterday as my captain and I raced accross the finish in a flurry of white sails and a large, trailing wake behind our small, American sailboat. We placed first and qualified for the next round of boat racing in the Beijing Olympics! In only a span of a few hours rest, the next round began… and yielded the same results. The small American sailboat is the first to cross the finish line, leaving in our wake the sad, multinational competition that, really, isn’t all too much competition. Well, the captain was exremely happy with me and treated me to some Chinese food. (Well, it’s probably just food over there.) After paying for the bill, she got up, and returned to the hotel. I was about to follow suit when my parents came over.

“Bao, it’s time to go home. We have family over remember?”

Ah, the anger. The disgust I felt. Can’t they see that this may be the most important moment of my life? I protested. I argued. I compromised saying we must be back in Beijing as soon as possible. Then I stormed off in search for the officials to find out when the next race is. I went onto our boat. No dice. Odd, they should be there inspecting the boats. I went into a random shack… and saw a corpse, it’s face expressing horror and resignation. What could this mean?

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Three dreams worth mentioning…

Yesterday morning in the hours between one and eight occurred three dreams floundering in my mind, each filling me with a strong dose of adrenaline, fear, and extreme ecstasy. They were so amazing that I must tell people about it.

Watching Independence Day until one in the morning filled my mind with wild images of F-18s fighting it out with a lone, slab of curved metal hovering over what used to be L.A. Since then, it’s been me driving as far away with my Fremont friends as possible from the mothership hovering over the serene city of Milpitas in the later minutes of 9 pm. When will it move? When will it fire hell through it’s ass and incinerate the entire buildings in mere seconds? Thankfully, the aliens either just lost the will to fight, or they politely waited for our sedan to leave before destroying yet another tribute to mankind’s supremacy on Earth.

First dream subtely dissolved into a second one and I found myself in a desert base wearing a dark blue SWATuniform, black vest, and lethally clutching a P90… a gun. Umm.. yeah. More specifically…

that’s the gun. Haha, that kind of picture would be for guys with no life who’d unceasingly and loyaly sit in front of his monitor longing to get some. A nerd’s fantasy… I know what you’re all thinking (bastards). I’m SO not one of them. Gosh, I wish I was as strong as her though. I’ll get to that later, but in my dream, it required both of my arms to keep the submachine gun in check. Anyways, aiming and shooting at men wearing tuxedos and shades who are shooting back at you can give you quite a rush, real life or mental. Thankfully, I managed to stay alive until

my third dream entered. Now remember when I wish I was as strong as her? In my dream, I can say three words in one sentence while never being able to utter them in reality without attracting snickers and sarcastic remarks: I am buff! Now I’m talking lumps on the arms without even having to flex. And god, they felt firm. Ohh, soooo firm. Like seriously! When I saw Nam in my dreams jealously eyeing my arms and sporting a look that clearly broadcasted a loud WTF into the general vicinity, I could only think about keeping them this buff until the end of summer when I see the surprised looks on all of your faces (especially Eddie’s). Needless to say, I failed dismally and I woke up, closed my eyes, anxiously squeezing my sorry excuse for arms and thinking NO! They’re gone!

Ah well, at least I’m up to eleven pushups now.


Filed under: General, While I sleep, , ,