Tag Archives: life

Association


This is written in one shot. Stream of conscious, boom, random, kind of, but something I wrote nonetheless. Not the best, but … ok.

In scholastic bowl, for completely random in-the-dark guesses, for whatever reason, we have a tradition of guessing “Smith,” which is pretty much never right, but it is a constancy we sit back on. It feels good: Smith. It does, but never right. Smith, and if you have watched The Matrix, you would recognize him as the one who compared humanity to a virus. A virus with a host of mother nature we are, and always feeding and begetting, replicating, reproducing, duplicating. One. Two. Four. Eight. Semelparity, exponentially, big bang, and consume we do. Like the fire in Stravinsky’s Firebird, from a small flame to one that is whirlwind cymbal dramatic, trombone blasting, piccolos screaming into the timber sparks and bombast dust. Mankind. Smith. Evolution. Only needing enough to replicate. and so we replicate, limited by not us but the medium in which we live in. Limited not by us. No, we are limited by our egocentricity, or perhaps, the heliocentricity, virus unable to spread outwards of the sun. Be we do anyways go above the heavens in some sort of self-proclaimed apotheosis, whether it is by our egos or whatever, we answer, perhaps with something completely random like a firebird. this is why as mere mortals of the Scholastic bowl team, we answer and we are wrong with “Smith,” and we’re ok with it. Because, we’re just human.

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3 Types of Students


Applying to colleges made me aware that there are 3 types of students.

The first are students who don’t care about grades, only going to school because it is mandatory. The second are students who care only about grades, only trying in school because in the process of getting into college it is mandatory.

The third are students who don’t want to care about grades. They want to learn things and express things and make things for themselves rather than for the system. Without sounding too pretentious, I think I am in the third group, a very noble group to be in indeed.

Dope-ass Queen Alexandra’s Birdwing


//Wanted to write something for funsies. Whipped this up. Don’t take it too seriously. (:

If you have ever seen a chrysalis opening, you know that there’s a delicate click before a butterfly emerges.

If you have ever wanted anything to go right in your life, you’ve probably pursued ‘the click.’ Some use ‘a click’ to describe suddenly getting an idea like math or economic theory, but this is ‘the click.’

And to me, ‘ the click’ is of worshipable significance.

It’s a nonphysical entity that compels me to change into somebody anew, an idea, an inception, if you will, that attack the cells in my body that aren’t a part of this transformation. It’s like I was an ass-kicking autobot all along, undergoing this deceptive transformation, and all along, a chrysalis turning into a dope-ass Queen Alexandra’s birdwing, all along. It’s like, “Neo, you take the red pill –you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes,” but just then, I turn into an autobot and kick Morpheus in the face, and I take neither pill.

The click is giving myself control, finding new reality. This idea is crazier than turning into an autobot and kicking Morpheus in the face because this idea is the truth.

And truth is, most people can’t handle the truth. Truth is, everybody is somebody, smart, beautiful, agreeable, creative, entertaining, inspiring. But some don’t see it within to come out of the chrysalis. But to those that do, they are the autobots, those that change form and make a god damn difference.

And truth is, ‘the click’ is the first step to making this difference; in a world filled with blue and red pills, I suddenly realize that the inception is the inception, the matrix is the matrix, and the decepticons are the decepticons.

To click is to connect myself with reality, the best reality I can ever dream to become. ‘Click.’ And, truly, become a dope-ass Queen Alexandra’s birdwing.

Future in an Egg Shelled Seat


Forward: I haven’t been writing much; more will come in the future. Here is a short I composed a while back. This is just fiction, totally sensationalized. Have a great day! (:

———

I look outwards.

My local library recently remodeled one of its sectors into this new hip thing, and I’m sitting, curled up actually, into one of these egg shell seats. There is a futuristic, ultraslick aura that I don’t know yet what to make of. I mean, the ceiling tiles are porous metal sheets with streamlined lighting. The flooring is this swanky neon that is characteristic of clubs and video game rooms. Speaking of which, there is a video game room, attracting little kids like moths to a light. It is not an natural attraction, moths to a light, phototaxis inducing something that is unable to control, and likewise, the little kids, eyes reflecting the light and seductive obedience, arguing who gets to play Madden next, right here, weirdly, in the center of enlightenment. In an egg shelled seat, I am sandwhich between the the porous metal sheets and the swanky neon flooring, sandwiched between the two slices of what I can only make out is the future.

The kids playing the video games, a couple making out on the geometric shapings of a sofa, and I can catch a couple of swears on the television on some hip reality TV show. And as the middle schooled students, shamelessly flinging their bodies over the iMacs like starved hyenas, I ask myself: Is this the future of the library?

Kant said that doing the right thing for the wrong reason is just as bad as doing the wrong thing. I remember the times when little boys and little girls went to the great white building, not with a passion for the swankiest ‘learning environments’, but for a bulgy-eyed excitement for books.

I look inwards.

I saw there is a girl. I, like the seat I am sitting in, am only a shell, and without the yellow and white core to give me definition, I did the only impulsive thing.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she returned with a tussle of hair. Suddenly, I remember from Friends that 90% of your body’s pheromones are secreted from the head. She had a sophisticated look, with one of those very soft looking scarfs. She, like me, was also applying for colleges in a white eggshell seat. She, like me, was also sandwiched between the future, between the the porous metal sheets and the swanky neon flooring. She, like me, while the world was shifting into something chaotic, is attempting to stand still, resting in her own egg shell seat, upon her future.

“Hey, want to go grab a coffee or something?”

“Sure.” She smiled, and we stood up from our egg shelled seats, moving past the future, us moving while the porous metal sheets and the swanky neon flooring only stood still.

Life is a game, a reflection


I am living a game, a complex stimulation with a balance of structure and exploration. It is play. It is freedom from structure, and yet, I am making it purposeful and fun.

Life is a game, and I am playing it.

A game:

1) must be played voluntarily

Sure, there are goals of life such as to make money, be a great husband or wife, make a difference, etc, but the fundamental aim of the game is to have fun, the undeclared sanctity. Have fun with your job, love your husband or wife, believe and smile at the difference you’ve created. To be coerced to play is to violate this sanctity. One who must play cannot play.

2) is about exploration as much as playing

The framework of a great game spawns interesting strategy and limitless exploration. The best games have an excellent balance of structure and exploration. By exploring, we can be great and interesting, but never perfect. Like chess, we can only be ‘very good’ at life.

Never has there been so much seriousness in having fun and exploring. And, in the end, isn’t that what life is all about? Determine the goal, love the goal, love life, and, most importantly, have fun.

College admissions and affirmative action


This issue is discussed in “Justice”, Michael Sandel’s popular political philosophy course.

According to wikipedia, affirmative action refers to policies that take factors including “race, color, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or national origin” into consideration in order to benefit an underrepresented group “in areas of employment, education, and business” usually justified as countering the effects of a history of discrimination.

Giving the advantage based on cultural differences rather than merit in colleges admissions. Is this injurous to justice? I know there is a definite disadvantage for me in applying to some colleges–according to the New York Times and USA today, more and more Asians are leaving the ‘race’ box unchecked to balance the playing field.

Here’s my view on the issue.

Everyone is born into an inescapable caste of ethnic, socio-economic, and other cultural differences. These already established factors that one is born into cannot be avoided. Thus, naturally and perhaps unfairly, the people with the most merit tend to favor certain ethnic and socio-economic groups. The Asian culture, for example, stresses education, and subsequently, produces children of higher educational merit whereas the latino culture does not emphasize the importance of education. Is it fair for colleges then to give an edge to latinos who are statistically and unavoidably under-merited?

We can only be sure that the answer is not easy.

Let say a top university gives an edge to latinos, who are shown to be statistically absent of educational opportunities.

However, there are also some latino individuals who are very much blessed with educational opportunities. What should we do with these people?

I think that affirmative action is a great idea in education. A lower class partaking in education increases socio-economic mobility, which in turn, will give rise to the equal consideration of merit. However, just affirmative action, I fear, will never be available as there will always be exceptions (the latino who is blessed with educational opportunities).

A holistic background examination might be too complicated and subject to human errors to be accurate, but to give an advantage or a disadvantage in a one-factor affirmative action decision is a disturbing mistake. Just because a family is latino. Just because one had no parents. Just because a family is poor. No. Merit should be far most important one-factor affirmative action decision.

To all the high school seniors out there, strut your merit, and good luck.

Lemonade


The old lady had that wan look hanging on her face, suddenly aware that death was soon to come and claim her weathered bones. Life had been sweet, maybe too sweet, and a tremendous wave of agony shook her as she realized it was all going to be taken away from her. Utterly tired, her bones creaked as she turned to her side in the fetal position, like a baby, sighing of weariness. She dreamed of her childhood, on one of those days under the fire-red sun, her dress plastered to her skin as she dragged her legs home. The girl, the old lady’s past, came home in a tired, filthy mess, heaving slightly, but very happy. Her mother waited at home with a fresh tall glass of lemonade.

The girl’s eyes bulged at the lemonade. Throat clogged by a dried sandy substance, she jerked the glass without a second thought, dunking it in her mouth, a few drops spilled onto the floor, wasted. But she took no heed, drinking gulp after gulp, satiating her thirst. An immensely crisp sap flowed down her throat. The little girl took it as granted, with no thought of conservatism. Before she could take a breath to dunk her head again into the glass, a sudden feeling of regret and remorse over took her; she realized the precious liquid was reduced to the last bit. Looking at the glass gingerly, the little girl used the hemlines of her dress to wipe the splashes of the glass. She sighed and took another sip looking eye level at the lemonade surface. And then she took another sip, slightly fretting, very careful to not finish the whole glass. There were five solid drops of lemonade left, and each drop of it was valuable as liquid gold.

The first of the five drops rolled onto her tongue. She savored it, eyes closed as if that heightened her taste buds.

Four.

Three.

The old lady in the hospital bed cringed. She struggled hard to keep the dream alive, but her senses were failing her. But despite all that, she smiled unconsciously, and the little girl did so also in the dream. But the girl disappeared, and all she could feel were her diminishing senses. She tried to savor the last bit of the lemonade.

Two.

One.

As the last drop of lemonade hit her tongue, her body relaxed, trying hard to savor the last of it.

Of lemonade.

Of life.