Dear Seniors of 2010:

My feet are sore, and my eyes are heavy, and my mom got angry because I drove past curfew, and I spent 3/4 of my gas tank just driving to all the places to prepare (ie Target, Party City x3, Dollar Tree x4, Publix x4, CVS x3, Ritchie's house x2, Rebecca's house x3, I don't know why we couldn't manage to get everything at once), but honestly, I'm pretty positive that it was worth it. I wouldn't have had it any other way; you all deserve it. You all deserve it a million times.

The memories I've had!

I remember my first year volunteering at VBS. I had signed up for the worship team because I wanted to be with you guys. Tammy, Melissa, Helena, Tinny - you guys were what I viewed as cool. Haha- I'd laugh, but the problem is that I still do think the same thing. I would sit on my computer and scroll through the pictures on facebook and think, pwehehe I am hanging out with older people, I am so cool. But it's just that I had never been in the company of people who were so much fun to be with. I had never laughed so much, or felt so accepted by people who I hardly knew. Honestly, I was going to be a dirty little freshman, and you guys were going to be sophomores who already knew the ropes in high school, and freshmen and sophomores do not usually associate. So I was thankful. And Tammy, I did admire you from afar. All my friends did.

And then I heard about Christine, who was not on the worship team but was instead a teacher, and I realized too that it's okay to want to be a teacher, and that it's not a terrible thing to not be on the worship team. That's what I realized. And it's a good thing too, because I do love to teach. I'd like to be a teacher one day.

And then came freshmen year, and Melissa, you waved like a silly little girl in the hallways and that one morning at FCA, and you invited me to sit with you at lunch and I never felt better at my first day of high school. I still thought you had to raise your hand to get out of your seat like in middle school, man. It was good you had my back.

And Monique, you and I, we were crazy, and we laced fingers and skipped down the halls together, singing backstreet boys at the top of our lungs. And Nashville, oh Nashville, it seems like so long ago. I can hardly believe it happened- all that crap that you cried through and that crazy windy night and the way we prayed and the people we met and talked to and the delicious food we ate... and fast forward to winter retreat, when we laid out on the dock in the freezing night, staring at the stars, and you pointed out the constellations and told me that no, that was not a shooting star, but a satellite. And we cracked jokes, hysterical jokes, that everyone laughed at I swear. And it was good times. I can still feel the biting wind on my neck and laughing, so hard.

And then Christine and I got drunk on that biting wind, or something in the air. It's the best thing to get drunk on, I'll say.

And I went to Azalea Apartments, and all of us, we slept together, and I told bedtime stories to Monique, and I fed Christine, and I ran with Melissa and Tinny to Chinatown to deliver a watermelon to someone, and we were out of breath... and we played with the children and we performed random skits and we washed the dishes and played guitar at night and ate Mochi and watched Up and had amazing meals together... and it was good times. It was wonderful times.

And then this past year, with everything, oh wow - the haunted house (I am amazed still that I survived), the early morning WaHo visits, the crazy large homecoming, the core groups, and youth groups, the faux prom, the laser tagging, the the the-

It's those things that stick out to me when I look back. Sure there's all the stress from school and the drama with friends, and all the crap that we complain about, but no, these are the times that I can look back on and say with confidence, I was happy. I was happy and there were no hard feelings, no ulterior motives. It was pure, it was real. Guys, I hope you can at least get an inkling of what kind of impact you've had on me, because it's amazing, the way it happened.

And now, it's my turn to step up. And our day will come too. And things will come, and things will go. Today, when I was cleaning things up, I was thinking, wow, this is what I had wanted to do five years ago, and here I am. Here I am. You know, I had always wanted to be in the "in" crowd, to be accepted; that's just how I am. I've always wanted to avoid problems and make sure everyone's happy. But you guys have taught me, kindof ironically, that it's not about being "in," but about reaching out to the people on the outside. There is no such thing as "in." It's all in our heads. It doesn't even matter.

But this matters, and we matter, and God matters. And I am so thankful, and so happy, and so content. Thanks for being the sisters I needed. Go forth and prosper - and you know what I mean by "prosper."

Btw: Thank you so much to Jason, Christina, Rebecca, Kasandra, Ritchie, and Jaime (who was there in spirit); we are the class of 2011, and we're going to be great. There is so much love in this post right now.

A CASE STUDY ON THE CAPITAL LETTER

SO YESTERDAY NIGHT, I DECIDED TO TALK TO EVERYONE USING ONLY CAPITAL LETTERS, IN AN ATTEMPT TO RID OF THE SHOUTING VOICE ASSOCIATED WITH IT. I OBSERVED A FEW THINGS AMIDST ALL THIS, AND IT WAS ACTUALLY QUITE INTERESTING. FIRSTLY, THE CAPITAL LETTER WAS NOT ORIGINALLY MADE TO MAKE PEOPLE SOUND MORE EXCITED OR MORE ANGRY. ACTUALLY, IT WAS WHAT WAS THEY STARTED WITH, AND THEN THEY INVENTED THE LOWERCASE LETTER SO THAT THEY COULD WRITE FASTER, AND IT'S INTERESTING TO SEE HOW THE CAPITAL LETTER HAS EVOLVED. THESE ARE THE THINGS I OBSERVED OUT OF THE FEW PEOPLE I TALKED TO:

1. PEOPLE AUTOMATICALLY BECOME HAPPIER WHEN HAVING A CONVERSATION IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. QUOTE ONE GUY: "I FEEL LIKE A BIGGER, HAPPIER VERSION OF MYSELF." CAPITAL LETTERS SEEM TO HAVE A EUPHORIC, ALMOST DRUG-LIKE EFFECT ON A PERSON. WOULDN'T IT BE GREAT IF WE COULD REPLACE DRUGS WITH CAPITAL LETTERS?
2. ONE FEELS WORN OUT AND TIRED AFTER AN ENTIRE CONVERSATION OF CAPITAL LETTERS, SIMILAR TO THE "COMING DOWN" EFFECT OF DRUGS OR THE "CRASH" OF A CAFFEINATED DRINK.
3. WHEN I STARTED TALKING TO PEOPLE IN CAPITAL LETTERS, MOST OF THEM IMMEDIATELY RESPONDED IN CAPITAL LETTERS AS WELL, AS IF THEY FELT THREATENED AND HAD TO LIVE UP TO THE LARGENESS OF THE CONVERSATION.
4. THE CONVERSATIONS FELT MORE IMPORTANT AND MORE INTENSE, AND THEY LASTED LONGER THAN THEY USUALLY WOULD. EVERYBODY RESPONDED FASTER TOO.
5. EVERYTHING I SAY BECOMES MORE BLOWN UP. IF I SAY "HAHA," THE JOKE SEEMS INFINITELY FUNNIER. IF I SAY "NO," I SOUND LIKE AN EXTREMELY TEMPERAMENTAL AND ANGRY PMS-Y GIRL. THIS IS HOW IT IS, EVEN IN A CONVERSATION OF ALL CAPS.
6. THE LOWERCASE BECOMES MORE POWERFUL IN A CONVERSATION OF ALL CAPS. IT HAS THE EFFECT OF, QUOTE ONE PERSON, "THE ROOM GETTING REALLY QUIET AND SOMEONE WHISPERING REALLY SERIOUSLY." THIS IS A REVOLUTIONARY WAY TO MAKE OTHERS TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY ONLINE.
7. THE UPPERCASE LETTER MAKES PEOPLE THINK OF YOU AS A JOKE, AND NOBODY WILL TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY.

SO I HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU: DID you TAKE THIS POST SERIOUSLY?

PS: I HAVE YET TO GET RID OF THE SHOUTING VOICE. IT IS STILL THERE.

>> tumblr is here

>> yellowchalk.tumblr.com

I decided that I'm going to share stuff on it. Like all the videos that I obsess about, and all the music, and random pictures. That's what tumblr's supposed to be about anyways. Minimal thinking and expression through music and visuals. I don't know what's up with the minimalistic trend lately, but I do kindof like it. It's better when things are simple and white.

Anyways, check it out if you're looking for random things to surf through on the net.

Sixth Grade

[ if you don't remember, this is from a series of vignettes, found here ]

I sat at the lunch table uncomfortably, divided between the “popular” group of Asians and my one best friend since third grade- the girl who had never really fit in anywhere except at my house. She was clad in an orange long-sleeves shirt with a picture of a cartoon girl in pigtails and overalls sewn on the front; she wore matching orange pants and oversized velcro shoes. She rested her head on her hand and drawled on about how she desired to be a popular white girl, and I nodded in fake sympathy, secretly desiring to scoot over a chair and join in on the conversation of the group nearby.

“I wish I could buy some clothes from Abercrombie, but my mom wouldn’t let me go in that store,” she said wistfully.

“Mmhmm.”

“Or try Starbucks coffee; that’s what those popular girls always do.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m going to buy some gum tomorrow too, and I’ll start acting mean like them.”

“Sure.”

“You think it’ll work?”

“It’s worth a try.”

I knew it wouldn’t work; I just wanted her off my back. But I was too nice to say anything about it. I eagerly leaned my head toward the other group of girls, listening in on their conversations as my best friend remained lost in her thoughts, unsatisfied with the social circle she was currently part of. Not that I was any different.

RIP Mr. Sung

I guess maybe it's my fault that I've been purposely ignoring all the bad things in this world and living in my own happy little bubble. I told myself, no, you are not naive because you are happy. You see the world for all its evil, and you simply embrace the good things. That's what makes you different. That's what makes you mature. But I looked up Mr. Sung's murder and I cried like a baby, because first of all it was a horrible death for someone who seemed so great (and guiltless!), and second of all I don't know why I've always been so stranger to it all. I don't know why I always have to give excuses to people. I don't know why I always have to give people the benefit of doubt, when it's practically obvious where they stand. I don't know why I always side with the person getting blamed. Maybe it's a good thing. But I don't doubt that if I were to go to downtown Atlanta and start talking with a homeless guy, and he started telling me about all the guys he killed, I would probably sit and nod like a dog, and understand and sympathize, in a weird way. As long as he felt bad about it. That's my justification for everything. Not like it get rids of all the deaths and all the bad things. In fact, it probably makes it worse.

But what I really don't get is why someone would stab such a good guy, and repeatedly too, for no apparent reason. If he wanted to rob the store, he could've done it without killing someone he had nothing against. I guess there's always going to be bad people in this world; that's the best I've got. But is it our faults too? Is it all us pompous rich kids, who turn down our windows to a probably nice homeless guy, who stare condescendingly at the hobos on the bench, who look at a rugged guy in a grocery store and conspicuously turn the other way and walk into the next aisle? Is it our faults, that we press it into their heads from day one that they're bad people. Oh, you're black, and you live in a poor area, therefore you are bad. Is it our faults?

Here I am again, trying to justify the bad people. But you've got to wonder, were they always like that? And are we really that much different, that much better?

Of course, I've got better things to worry about than deaths and murders and silly things like that. Of course, don't we all.

the people of jiachpi

Well, here I am, back in the real world. I think that's a really funny phrase. When I was at GHP, we kept on referring to home as the "real world." But when I'm back home, I refer to the "real world" as the adult life, the world outside of school, the world of cubicles and sick days. But when I reach that world, I'm sure I'll refer to the real world as poverty, Africa, and war. And when I'm there, I'm bound to refer to the "real world" as back in America, because that's where I'll have spent the majority of my life. So from what I can gather, this real world is unattainable and we're always stuck in a state of fantasy. Right? Right. Anyways.

So GHP. I know that whenever you ask someone how GHP was, you always get the same one-worded answer- "awesome!" or "amazing!" and that ends up being that. Nobody from the outside world really knows what goes on inside of there. It's so mysterious. It's like the liminal phase, a transition of sorts, an unspoken of place. It's not that we traveled to a different world and were forbidden to talk about it or anything like that, it's just that so much happened during those six weeks that it all just mushes together and becomes one big blob of GHP. I mean, come on, they're just days. And each day was fun. And you have all these fun activities, and all these fun people, and all these fun classes, and every day is fun and interesting and fun. And together, that makes something life-changing, because we don't get enough fun in the real world (or we're scared to). At least that's how I look at it.

I learned a lot. I learned things from my Commie classes, things about dead people, undead people, TV shows, literature from different time periods, court cases, the strange conception of reality, myths, Joseph Campbell, the five sole companies that control America's media, advertisements (oh how I don't want to be in the marketing industry anymore), cultures of the world, perfection, eternity, women...

I learned to make my bed every morning and sleep without falling off the bed. I learned how to make it back to my dorm from West Lawn in two minutes. I learned that if you close your eyes, you won't notice all the gnats flying around you outside. I learned that you should just give your empty plates to music majors in the morning so that they can throw them away, since they have fifteen more minutes than any of the other majors. I learned that everyone in your class stares at you funny if you're on time. I learned that some people really have too much power, whether it be in their voices or instruments. I learned who had the ramen and who to raid at night after hall check. I learned that watching movies is not a waste of time, especially when they're Disney movies. I learned that rocks are animate. I learned that it's a lot more fun to go on the computer when there's other people around you (even if nobody is talking to each other). I learned how to slyly hack into somebody's facebook and make the joke just the right amount of funny. I learned that everything is a phallic symbol, practically. I learned about my faith. I learned that it's really hard to have opinions sometimes, because nobody's ever going to be happy. I learned how to stand still and pose (for no apparent reason) for random people walking to Palms. I learned what to do with my broken shades: wear them that way. I learned that I was immune to tickling. I learned how to act like a Power Ranger. I learned how to salsa with incompetent people. I learned how to meet strangers. I learned how to have a conversation with only laughter, no words. I learned how to dance funny. I learned how to love.

And if you were to see me again (which you will), you probably wouldn't see much of a change in me. If I were to look in the mirror, I wouldn't see much of a change either. But I feel somehow different. I feel better. Not new, but better, in all aspects. So cheers to growing up a little.

Bruno Mars- Count on Me

Watch Amelie.

It's beautiful.

(Yes, it's in french; just use subtitles).

I woke up this morning feeling a little bit homesick. GHP is fantastic, but home's pretty fantastic too. I opened my mailbox today and found letters inside and I was smiling all over the place (although I do not know how you could possibly smile in any place other than your face). I've also been going to sleep for the past few nights feeling full of angst, because we're supposed to be having a fire drill at midnight sometime soon and it still hasn't happened. I swore it was going to be Saturday night, so I was tossing and turning waiting for that darned bell to ring, but it never did. The routine happened again last night. So that gosh darn fire drill better happen tonight or I'm going to be very frustrated at this whole ordeal. Haha.

This week at CommArts is going to be a lot of fun. Too much fun. I'm taking "The Pursuit of Perfection" and "Reckoning with Mortality." THE TEACHERS ARE THE BEST. Did you know that males actually care a whole lot, if not more, about their image? I knew this, but we read some pretty interesting articles today. I feel particularly sorry for short guys, because if they're desperate enough, they can go pay seventy thousand to add a few inches to themselves, excruciating pain included. The whole procedure takes like, nine months, and it hurts so much that they can't even go to work. It involves twisting needles that are stuck into the bones. Grody. It's sad though, right? I'm not going to lie, I find a guy a whole lot more attractive if he's reasonably tall. The short ones are just "cute."

Wow, I always have to leave before I fully finish a post.

This is what we've been doing in computers minor:

thereifixedit.com

CLICK IT!

okay bye!

Week ONE!

Hello from Valdosta!
Firstly, I want to say to Jenny Su that I'm still really happy that you made a tumblr, and it caught me off guard when I was looking through my blog feed today and saw it there. The problem is that I can't comment on it, but just know that I'm reading your shallow quotes and laughing/awing at your pictures.


Anyways, it's like paradise here. Except with more work, less relaxation, less sleep, and more sweat. Much more sweat. So, it's not really like paradise, but the palm trees do add to the effect.
So this past week, I took two classes in my Commarts major-
I am Woman, and this Anglo-Saxon Literature class.

The first one was this class that explored women's role in society, and even though the teacher tried to play it off as just that and not a feminist class, it was basically a feminist class. We even rewrote chapters of the Feminine Mystique and the Declaration at Seneca Falls, so yes, it was very pro-female and pro-equality. Surprisingly though, I actually came out of the class less of a feminist, because truthfully, I do like the idea of the stronger male head who comes out of nowhere as the shining knight of armor. The other day, a girl freaked out over the idea of guys holding doors open for females (she found it offensive), but I was silently thinking, gee, I'd love it if I was going on a date and the guy actually thought to hold open a car door for me. All we did was ask questions in that class; we barely came to any conclusion except that we'd just like our own choices. Like, why should we abstain until marriage (why not the try-it-before-you-buy-it methodology?), and why's it not okay anymore for housewiving to be a job, and why has it become practically required for marriages to be monogamous, and why's it not okay for guys to play with barbie dolls and wear dresses? I don't agree with any of it, but you've got to wonder, where'd these notions of "feminine" and "masculine" even come from?

The second class was a whole lot more interesting... which you probably wouldn't expect. But the teacher, Jobie, worked wonders in my head when he taught. There's so much about the Bible that I need to learn. But it's scary though, to think of all the possibilities of mess-ups in translations. I mean, there was like five different languages that the ancient text had to go through, AND it was first written a freakishly long time ago. Oh, and if you're wondering, the Bible related to the Anglo-saxon literature because the Anglos converted to Christianity once upon a time. There's so much interesting stuff about the Anglos, and I wish I could type it all here, but I definitely can't. I've decided though that I will read through all the LOTR books AND watch all the LOTR movies, because that suddenly seems like a very good life goal to have. And here's something interesting. The Catholics made up the idea of "Limbo" (where dead babies go) because the Anglos were like, "dude, what happens to babies when they die unbaptized?" So what do you say, is it ethical to add things to a religion with the purpose of converting someone?

Wow, yeah. Great week. Food sucks. Watched Donnie Darko and Casablanca. Donnie Darko was amazing and eerie (eerie because of the creepy bunny); Casablanca was straightup classy. The dance last night was the best thing I've ever participated in because everyone's really nerdy and awkward. And now we're all getting kicked out of the library because it actually doesn't open until thirty minutes... so. bye!