There is no such thing as love or hate; there is only passion.
I think I’ve come to terms with not ever getting over Big D… I had a dream about him last night, but the funny thing is, my mind created a person just like him, who wasn’t actually him. Throughout the dream, I kept telling the mystery character that he reminded me of Big D.
So without being able to ever get over him completely, I think what we’re doing now (ie. no contact whatsoever) might just be the way it’ll have to be. I don’t want to entertain the idea of getting back together, but the truth is, I can’t help but wonder how good it will be. Even as I bounce between love and hate, passion and apathy, I can’t help but wonder if I like him, or the idea of him. I worry that I get too caught up in the ideals of what we were and what we could’ve been and that I lose sight of the people we actually are. At the end of it all, does that even make a difference? If I am obsessed with the idea of us more than his actual person, then, so be it. Wouldn’t I be just as happy?
Maybe there is no breakthrough after all. Maybe this is what it is, what it has been, and what it will continue to be. Fuck.
And so goes my first introduction to Frontiers of Science. This video not only made me seriously consider Columbia as a pretty cool place to go, but made me actually think that Frontiers would be cool to a geek like me.
The subtitle to Frontiers should be: where smart people sound incredibly dumb.
Last class, after a lecture on the way the brain localized language, about 3 people asked very similar questions about their personal linguistic history (ie. “Um, I grew up in like, a bilingual family, and I speak like, Icelandic and Hindu, and then at the age of 7, I learned French, but not very well, and now I’m learning Japanese. How are these languages arranged in the brain?”). It frustrated me to no end because (a) it sounded like they just wanted to show off their multi-lingual backgrounds (well, fuck that, everybody at Columbia speaks at least 2 languages fluently) and (b) they completely missed the take-home message on this one.
According to this facebook group, Frontiers has succeeded where thousands of years of religion has failed: it has made people not believe in science. Sadly ironic, this is the reason why I personally dislike Frontiers. As a student with the advantage of a strong scientific background, I actually enjoy the broad and interesting topics that Frontiers covers. However, this jam-packed curriculum gives non-science students (whom I have nothing against, really) the illusion that they have learned pretty much everything there is to learn about science. This illusion then gives them the balls to say completely ignorant things and ask ridiculous questions such as “Why can’t we find the center of the universe?”
The course is set up in a discouraging way; one that doesn’t allow the actual elegance and beauty of science to cross over to the students. The weekly homework assignments are either tedious or boring and ultimately turn our young minds off.
Although I realize that much of the dislike for the course is partly a failure in the Core Curriculum, I really just want the non-science idiots (who I am sure are very competent outside of Frontiers) to STFU and stop negating a most exciting subject that has gone right over their heads.
Today is Hippy-fest L’s birthday, and yesterday, we went out to celebrate with Rent and milkshakes from Tom’s.
It was a strange sort of evening, because everybody else there were really good friends with each other, and I was the 6th wheel… then the 10th wheel. (It’s a talent to be able to be the “extra wheel” even with even numbered people, I know.) The even stranger thing was that I didn’t mind being with the group and apart at the same time… I know the whole “loner” complex it more or less my own doing, but there is a safe comfort in being that way because I can never leave myself.
Maybe I am too judgmental towards others. But the truth is, I’m constantly searching for the new Big D; not even someone to date, but just someone to connect with. It discourages me so when I get to know someone well enough to find out that they’re not so much like me as I had thought. Opposites are supposed to attract, but I know that I’m only looking for superficial opposites of myself with essentially the same… sense of humour? personality? goals? outlook on life?
Rent on Broadway was so much better than the movie. It was grittier and real, not to mention that the movie cut out a whole bunch of scenes. I really connected with the plot this time, even though I’m still the same straightedge, heterosexual girl I was before. The show gave me hope, and I guess you can say that Rent might have given me a new lease on life.
there’s only us,
there’s only this,
forget regret…
Doing laundry in John Jay is always a gamble. The laundry room itself is rather decrepit: a series of old Maytag washers and dryers line the wall while lonely socks and proliferating lint seems to always cover the floor. The table at the center of the room is usually laden with items that have already been cleaned and dried, but unfortunately, forgotten by the owner. They constantly tempt my kleptomaniac tendencies.
13 washers and 14 dryers : 458 freshmen
The ratio somehow doesn’t seem right (especially when 1/4 of the machines are constantly “out of order”). Complex algorithms are needed to figure out low-traffic times to be able to snag an empty washer of your own (you’d be surprised how many students get the urge to do laundry at 2 AM on a Tuesday). For those of us careful enough to plan laundry schedules (ie. me), there is the LaundryView, which displays the machines that are in use and the time remaining. Trust me, Saturday mornings are the best.
The Flex system frees students from carrying quarters around, but it will undoubtedly break down on a Friday evening, essentially knocking it out until Monday when the maintenance staff returns. If you’re lucky enough to find an empty machine, dump in your detergent and pay with your flex, the machine is then likely to be broken (A dryer that doesn’t spin! Why, I didn’t know they came out with those…) and you’ll have to go to the Hartley Hospitality Desk to get a refund (if you care enough about 1$). The ordeal is traumatizing enough for most that many John Jay residents have resorted to regularly use the Hartley laundry room, which boasts cleaner floors, a working sink, and friendly upperclassmen.
The part of the laundry adventure that makes it all worthwhile is the elevator ride back up to my floor. Each time I get on at basement level and bypass the main floor without stopping to speedily reach my floor, I know I’ve won the laundry lottery… this time.
Holiday and I come home
I hope to see this boy I know
I can’t wait for us to be alone
Flipping through the radio
We sing along to the indie show
The songs they play mean more than I can say
And the tape I made you,
Hope you think of me when it plays through
I’m kinda sad now that it’s done
You think my time is for free
In all the ways you say to me,
Sweet versions of let’s wait and see
You’re always a golden boy
And I’m the girl that you enjoy
My parents say isn’t he a gifted son
Time is always passing
By but still I have to wonder why
You can’t come to tell me I’m the one
Summer goes and we have grown
We have our friends,
Live on our own
Still I’m not the girl you want me to be
Say gravity can bend the time,
Funny, I always liked your mind
But this whole thing is crushing me
But you’re always a golden boy
And this girl’s heart that you destroy
You smile at me and then you have your fun
Time is always passing,
Still, I give you another try
And hope that you will see that I’m the one
You say you’re scared to get too close
Come let’s see how it goes
I see you now at the show,
The 7th in,
The 7th row
Now you look at me
And see what I’ve known for so long
Sad that you could be so lovely and so wrong
Came to say that I moved,
I see your face you don’t approve
Guess you could say that I’m already gone
But you’ll always be my golden boy
And I’m the summer girl that you enjoy
Some melodies are best left undone
I feel the time pass away
But in my songs you will always stay
I don’t need you to tell me I’m the one
You’ll never know that I was the one
Physics 1602 problem sets are usually fun. Not quite so when I leave them for the night before the deadline and also have a World Dance paper to finish. So I choose the unscrupulous route and ask J, the guy living on my floor, for the PDF solutions file for chapters 27 & 28.
Apparently, his system is that some guy (a friend, presumably) e-mails him the files before the homework is due, and he copies the solutions in time to hand them in. However, this “dealer” is apparently “shifty” and “hard to get a hold of”. Also, J was always reluctant to pass me these PDF files when I last asked.
Where did all this defensive sense of property come from? Back in the IB, we always shared whatever information we had about courses (or so I thought?). Even with the fact that the R-Score is a lot more dependent on how well you do vis-a-vis your peers than the GPA is, the kids in IB were just more open to both sharing the joy and the misery of endless homework and tough classes.
Don’t get me wrong here, I am definitely a competitive person. (Just ask anyone who has played board games with me.) But the atmosphere of competitive academics is just something I can’t agree with, especially at this point, where all of us have reached pretty much the epitome of elite schools. What are they continuing to compete for? Grad school? Internships? As Plato said, a good artist does not try to sabotage the works of another artist; a good artist loves all masterpieces. So why is there such an atmosphere of guarded information?
Competition should be about me and me only. There is no point in trying to disadvantage or sabotage the opponent, be they a classmate in Physics or someone sitting across the board. As long as I play my game as I should, I’ll always come out on top.
The members of the e-board of a club I’m involved with went out for a board bonding moment. And since I was short on cash and also had a table tennis practice to go to, I had to pass on it. Ever since, E and T have been in on some sort of joke that J has some kind of a crush on me… which I find highly unlikely because I spent most of Thanksgiving with him, as well as every weekly board meeting, and he hasn’t really spoken to me. In any case, it still messes with my mind, somewhat, only because I’m dorky that way.
“What if he likes me? Should I try dating him? Do I even like him? Are they for serious?”
On my way back from Frontiers seminar to my dorm tonight, a few members of the e-board were joking around and T asked, “Hey, do you want to flyer with J?” I laughed it off and only responded with a “What the hell?” and walked away… ever conscious that my backside could be watched.
Let A be the mastery of French, B be the appreciation of music, and C be the love of free things. Then their intersection is a matinee showing of La Fille du Regiment at the Metropolitan Opera .
Needless to say, it was pretty amazing, very entertaining, and my first Natalie Dessay performance.
Esmé Squalor is an Asian girl surviving a journey of epic proportions in New York City. The Geek Tragedy is a collection of college adventures, dating mishaps, and unusual pursuits.
