I WISH I COULD! :O I’m so sorry you have no yummy things at SMU…dorm food isn’t really great here, but I guess the food places surrounding here are pretty much the bomb. :)
I forgot to mention that there’s this guy from Bowles Hall who looks almost EXACTLY like Ansel Elgort and he plays the piano BEAUTIFULLY. But he also seems snotty. And his nose is not that great.
(in combination with morning September 14, 2014)
Sandy had to leave early for her Analytical Writing Examination Or Whatever, so I kinda woke up, but not really. I just went back to sleep for a bit, and then officially woke up at approximately 8:30 am.
Brushed my teeth and dressed, and then hammered furiously at math problems until I felt quite hungry, at which point I called up the Breakfast/Lunch/Brunch/Dinner, or the Eat or Not to Eat (ENE) Club. Turns out most of them were out — Westview Friend was out with Victoria at Emeryville buying things from Ikea, Bro #1 just woke up - after staying up late to go to SF last night, so then it was just me and Bro #2.
I went to the DC and ate. Nothing particularly memorable happened - I just made fun of Bro #2, the usual. After his suitemate left to get some more food, he mournfully turned to me and said in Chinese, “Too bad my throat is sore because I’ve been wanting to talk to the girl next to me.”
I give this said girl a once-over and then reply, “She’s okay,” in Chinese.
(thanks to Bro #2, I will have pretty decent Mandarin skills by the end of these four years)
Bro #1 comes along after his beauty sleep, but Bro #2 and I, having been done with food for the past few minutes, decide to make our exit (sorry Bro #1) and head back to our respective dorms.
After doing some more work, I ask Sandy (who’s back by now) if she wants to go on a “study break” and walk around the north side of Berkeley. She agrees, and we head out at around 3:30 pm (she had a MUN interview at 5:30 pm), walking around, enjoying the scenery, and taking pictures of random things that happen to catch our fancy. TBH, I needed photos for my seminar so I took the time to rapidly finish my assignment in the Saturday afternoon sunshine.
On our way back to Stern, we stop by Quickly, a boba shop sequestered in this extremely long tunnel. It’s got a rather unobtrusive green sign (albeit with ‘Quickly’ in large white letters outlined in orange), so when Sandy realized where Quickly was, she told me she wouldn’t have seen it on her own. She orders some orange slush with boba, and I order a jasmine green tea with boba from a small and adorable girl wearing a bright pink shirt, obviously the daughter/granddaughter of the owner of the shop. She counts the change with obvious concentration - it is genuinely…
I forgot to notify Bro #2 in our change of plans, so he doesn’t end up coming with us on our little excursion, but he asks for boba, and like the good friend I am, I get him a cup of milk tea with tiny boba. When Sandy and I get back from our trip, I go over to Hillside Circle and hand it over. He looks at it, takes a sip, and then seems unable to speak for about a good 30 seconds, which worries me because boba is extremely choke-able.
"Are you okay?"
He points at the bottom of his cup where the tiny boba are milling around, and looks at me, and says, “Now this is cute.”
A Cup of Grow Note: The reason why ‘cute’ is a laughing point is because I’ve started to use the word to describe actions or things that the person 1. never usually does or 2. never is associated with it. And so Bro #1 said that he’d give out a nickel (or dime, I forget what currency) for every time I’d say the word ‘cute’.
I guess he’d technically be making bank, but that’s beside the point.
Moving on - I take a shower, and do some more work. Sandy leaves for the MUN interview, and we agree to meet at the DC. At 6:17 pm, we meet up and sit down. We do our favorite activity, which is “Scout out Cute Guys” (SOCG). There’s a tall guy, extremely attractive, with a blue jacket. Blue Jacket looks a little old, so we’re guessing maybe a sophomore.
This noob Andre (he has an accento over the e in his name), who Sandy and I met after the Bowles serenade, greets Sandy by name (to be fair, her friend is Andre’s roommate) and then looks at me. I told him my name before and he knows I’m going to kill him by the unimpressed glare on my face.
"Aw shit, ummm…uhhhh…Jennifer."
Okbye. Sandy helpfully offers up, “It’s Susan.”
"Oh man, yeah, Susan Susan Susan, I won’t forget that."
(he Facebook friends me in about an hour — so I guess he didn’t forget)
We are joined by a dormmate Sumana, who eats and talks with us before leaving in about half an hour. Then, Amir, Sandy’s classmate who hails from Kazakhstan, comes to eat with us, and tells us of his…adventures on the previous night (which apparently involved a drunk friend, too many tequila shots, trying to climb a fence to a random person’s house, and then blacking out at a random hillside).
A Cup of Grow Note: Whatever is said in this blog, STAYS IN THIS BLOG.
Anyhow, Sandy and I are exchanging shocked glances because we both never saw Amir as that type of person who would lose control. (also in the middle of his narrative, Gabe with the Good Nose entered the DC, so I was distracted) But he said emphatically, “I’m not going to do this again..for about a week.”
The conversation then turns to movies, and Amir asks if I’ve ever watched the Titanic. I say no and he looks and me and goes, “Have you lived?”
Yes. I am living. And then when I say I haven’t watched any of the Ocean’s series, and he stares me in mock outrage and says, “No Titanic, no Ocean’s Eleven, no Ocean’s Thirteen…are you living?”
Yes. I am still living. Hard to believe.
There’s another guy who comes to sit with us. He knows Amir, and he’s an international student from India whose name is Siddharth. Siddharth has also applied to MUN, so he and Sandy share a conversation about the interview (which asked the most bullcrap questions I have ever heard). Then we talk about card games and other stuff.
Siddharth soon goes back (yes, Sandy and I have been at the DC for that long) and we (plus Amir) put our plates away. In the lounge facing the DC, we watch TV for about three seconds (mainly for the purpose of seeing Blue Jacket close up). We do see him, but while Sandy pretends to intently watch baseball, I watch Blue Jacket stare at Sandy for a good ten seconds, wearing a rather licentious smirk on his face.
We head back to Stern, and Sandy and Amir play pool with the rented pool equipment while I jam out to music and try to read Bryson. (I fail). Sandy comes back and makes plans with her friend to go to a party at 9:30 pm, since she needs a walking buddy and I have opted out because c’mon, it’s late and I’m on my period. Not going to move from this point forward, unless it’s to the bathroom and to my bed.
I do go to sleep after receiving a call from AFX telling me that I’m on Team Pusheen. So dance practice will be starting soon. LOL. Didn’t see that coming, didn’t you, blog readers?
Sandy comes back at 12 am or some very late hour, and by then, I’m like kinda asleep.
So now, it’s 10 am in the morning, and I just saw Official Crush (kinda) #1 carry some girl on his back in an Instagram posted at 1:30 am. Not a great start to a morning. BUT EXCELSIOR.
I’m not actually going to therapy. This is in a sense, my own personal brand of therapy. It’s called “writing-out-stuff-until-I-feel-better”. But anyways, let us go forth into a typical day of mine.
I wake up today, feeling like metaphorical shit because of circumstances that will not be named. Sandy has already left for an 8 am class. It’s not yet 9 am (the self-prescribed time of getting up on a Friday when I don’t feel like joining anyone for breakfast). I watch Jimmy Fallon play Pictionary with Megan Fox, Wiz Khalifa, and Nick Cannon (poor Nick), and a video of Nataly Tran talk about expiration dates, and then finally I summon up the strength to get up from bed.
(this is the point where it might be a little too girly, so boys, you might want to just sit tight and gag a little).
For me, it was “that time of the month” again - I started maybe two days ago, which had been late for about 2 weeks, mostly because it was a new environment and I hadn’t been eating particularly well…let me just segway into a brief recap of dorm food at Berkeley: it isn’t particularly bad, I would say, but seeing a fat chicken breast * 100 over and over again somehow takes away my appetite. So yeah, I’m pretty sick of Foothill DC food. But that’s not important.
So besides feeling mentally like shit, I also felt physically sick and tired and lazy. Not a great start to a Friday. I drink a carton of chocolate milk while reading some IB material. (I forgot my vitamins again…whoops). I get dressed (yes, I was still in PJs up until this point), pack up, and head out.
I meet Franky at the entrance of Stern Hall and we head on out to discussion. It’s a sunny day. I think. No, scratch that, it was foggy in the morning. She asks if I went to the serenade social. For those of you who still read this blog (not many I suppose, boohoo) - the boys from the all-male Bowles Hall go over to Stern Hall to sing two, like, drinking songs uproariously, and then they sing a pop song that IS SUPPOSED TO BE a love ballad but they ended up singing “I’ll Make a Man Out of You.”
I leave discussion to go to lecture, which my professor (who is the ultimate Scottish qt-patootie, but let’s just call him Alex) opens with a dialogue about how he once failed his first math quiz and called his “mum” and his “mum” told him not to make “mountains out of mole-beds” (to which he asks us, “Do you guys understand that expression?”) and then he studied really hard and beat out the people who got 100%.
He ends with, “Uhh, so yeah, screw them.”
The lecture is unfortunately a bit boring. The guy next to me is wearing a checkered shirt and a lot of cologne, so I feel a little sick. He leaves, and I end up leaving too, a little earlier to go to another discussion, during which a group of people who are far more intelligent and analytical than I am talk about the merits (or lack thereof) of The Birth of a Nation. The GSI, Daniel, is dark-haired, wears a black collared shirt and red pants, and nice shoes. He has a scruff…he’s also kinda cute.
But let us not dwell on that! Even though the discussion is enlightening, I miss Pyle. There’s something that Pyle does that makes you feel important and that what you have to say matters — but in here, I just feel like the words coming out of my mouth are going to be complete and utter bullshit. Like the rest of me…cough.
Discussion ends at around 1 pm, and I walk with Bro #1 to a fork in the road, where he heads back to home sweet home and I traipses over a lab, where my partner/friend and I discover, after 1 hour of panicking, that we had already finished the lab that was supposed to be checked off today. So we leave earlier — she has class in an hour and heads back home to rest (she’s sick :( ) and I’m done for today.
I come back home, call my mom (which is gr8 yay), and will probably do my homework soon, eat dinner, and try not to dwell on the circumstances that have made me feel like mental shit.
A Cup of Grow Note: I feel as if racism is still prevalent to a degree around here, because unless I act “white” (which I define superficially as wearing makeup, talking in a certain manner, and having a certain style of dress), other “white” (which I again define superficially as European, American, skin pale and whatever) people won’t really talk to me. I feel the difference acutely when I’m around my roommate - it is NOT HER FAULT, not to ANY DEGREE, that people will respond warmly to her and give me this lukewarm glance that speaks volumes, like “just another Asian girl”. And then I’m just sitting there, thinking, “I’m just another person, just like you, and so would you please disregard the fact that my skin is not pale and try and talk to me too…It really isn’t that difficult to say hi.”
For instance (this is not a one-time only incident) : there’s this girl that I’ve HAVE SEEN MULTIPLE TIMES and we live ON THE SAME DAMN FLOOR, and every time she sees Sandy and me, she squeals out hi to my roommate and completely ignores my ass when I say hi to her.
Gee whiskers, thanks. I really appreciate your acknowledgement of my presence. Should I fucking bleach my skin so that I am more to your taste, sweetheart?
Okay this is getting out of hand, so I’m going to end this post. :)
Dear Freshman Academic League,
I’ll have to keep this brief, because I have to go do some last-minute packing. But I want to thank you guys (Omar, pass this along) for being one of the anchors that kept me happy during senior year. If you have been following this blog for a while, you’ll know that I had some rough emotional times during the first few months of 2014. In addition to my orchdorks (whom I always appreciate…5-mile club for lyfe), you little tykes, my freshies, my babies, lit up my world.
Some of you might not be in Academic League anymore, but the way that you all obediently showed up for practice, cheerfully and enthusiastically participated during games, and without complaint, accepted my exuberant hugs — it made my day. I could always count on you guys, week after week to make me laugh or exasperate me in little ways — eating all the food at that lone practice I hosted at my house, competing for Goodyear bars…just everything. Ugh, I love you guys so much. <3
I mentioned you guys in an article I wrote for the Bronco Insider (go search for it; it’ll be like a little treasure hunt!) and talked about the way, before the Westview match, you all were rapidly going through flashcards of facts, quizzing each other. And I just felt this ridiculous smile emerge sheepishly on my face. Truth be told, I had major insecurity issues when I took up this post of freshman coach, but seeing you guys diligently practicing, ever right there, just made everything worthwhile.
Even though we may have lost 2 matches, even though your faces fall on those dreary days…I just want to let you guys know that coaching you was wroth it. If there’s one thing I hope I gave you guys, it was finding a passion through Academic League — whether it was that competitive edge, the adrenaline, the academic potpourri…I hope you found something valuable.
I’m going to miss you guys. I already am. Literally, I broke down while listening to “Death and All His Friends” by Coldplay for no apparent reason other than really missing your fresh young faces, unadulterated by the petty intrigues of high school that come later on.
Hopefully, some of you might see this, and find that Bronco Insider, and smile? Keep in touch, guys, you are the future of Academic League, and the bright light of the school that I will always love.