O Canada

Last week I went to visit family in Winnipeg, the capital of Manitoba, a province in the great country of Canada. It has been 11 years since I last visited Winnipeg, and 3 years since I last saw that side of my family. There were a lot of new cousins I had never met before. There were at least 50 family members, who are all relatively close. I love having such a huge family. I couldn't find the words or the reason to express why I love it. I said, "it's like you never run out." And my sister laughed at me. But I almost mean it literally. In this recession, hearing about all these people being laid off and losing their homes, family is the only thing keeping you from being homeless, because unemployment benefits only last 6 months. It's not like I'm anywhere close to being in such a situation. But if you have a small family, and they're all unemployed...then what?

So we went to Canada for my maternal grandmother's 71st birthday (I know, it's a random age). She was so happy the whole weekend...literally hundreds of people gathered for her. I was only there for 4 days, and didn't get much chance to talk to her. But on the night before I left, she pulled me aside, and we had a deep 10-minute conversation. She did most of the talking, as if she wanted to teach me 21 years worth of wisdom to make up for the fact we only see each other a few times a decade. She reminded me of several things that I have chosen to forgotten. She told me how important family is, and to never let arguing keep us apart. I hear a lot about white people and how they don't speak to their family members anymore because of some falling out. I think that's what she was referring to...how she isn't estranged from anyone in her family. She told me how she helps out her family wherever she can, even relatives from her late husband's side in Vietnam.

Then she addressed the anger issue. Somehow, though she barely ever sees me, she knows how angry I get with one of my sisters. She told me that when I feel the anger rising inside me to hold it in, shut my mouth...and then the anger will subside. She said that if I speak out of anger, I will regret what I say, and I won't be able to take those words back. She was reasonable at the same time; she wasn't telling me to be a doormat. She said if my sister is truly wrong, I should address it at a later time when my anger has subsided. Common sense...but I needed to be reminded.

Lastly, she talked to me about how I treat my other sister. "You can give her money, and she'll be happy for a little bit, but if you yell at her, the pain will last forever." The giving her money part might be referring to the fact that I plan on taking care of her when I'm older. I talk down to her out of annoyance...but her cognition level is what it is, and I need to be more patient about it.

I cried when I left for the airport. That side of my family is so fun, I miss them terribly. I definitely want to visit more frequently. Fin.

A few weeks ago, around the time I was completing most of my secondary applications, I couldn't imagine myself going to medical school and becoming a doctor. Not that it's not what I want, but I couldn't imagine it in the sense that it didn't feel real, like it wasn't going to happen. I think it's because I'm a realist/pessimist, and I think that's because I don't have huge self-confidence. My GPA's not great, my MCAT score's not great, and some schools have as little as 1% acceptance rate. I was filling out secondaries and shelling out hundreds of dollars for them just because I knew I should. I wasn't going to give up now. At least I tried.

Then when I received a personal e-mail from the University of Nevada Reno asking for a secondary, I looked up the statistics. They interview everyone who applies, and in 2008, they admitted 1 in 3. I felt a little bit more confident. I have a good chance of getting in somewhere, and an interview will be my chance to shine.

Then one of the most unbelievable moments of my life occurred this past week. I open my e-mail inbox and the sender is UC Davis, and the subject line read: Applicant Congratulation Email. I started saying, "no way, no way." As I zipped through the first sentence of the email, I spotted the words, "invite...interview." I started panting, gasping for air. Even my roommate came in to check on me. Reliving the moment in this blog even makes my heart race. Again, I looked up the statistics. In 2008, 3700 applied, 470 got interviews. I am one of the 470! Me?! It's my chance to shine!

Then yesterday, I met someone who might just change my life forever. I won't say his name, but he is a very important person. He's retired now, but he has all the influence he had when he was working for UC Irvine. His influence exceeds UC Irvine though, I think he has influence everywhere. The schools Drexel and UCLA came up in our conversation. I can't be too specific about our encounter or else it'll give away his identity. But he's expecting a call from me to arrange for us to discuss my future in more detail. He wants my MCAT score, list of all the schools I applied to, and my personal statement. He has a 100% track record in getting students into medical school. There hasn't been that many students, but that makes this experience all the more special. He's going to take me under his wing. How privileged am I.

So now I am more excited about medical school than I have ever been. Excited because it's possible. It never seemed that possible before. I want this now more than I have ever wanted it before. I want it because it's in my reach, and I will do whatever he tells me to do so I can reach it.

And in return, he asks me to bake him an apple pie from scratch independently. No problem, sir. It'll be the best applie pie you have ever tasted.

I'm just on a blog frenzy. I forgot that I wanted to write about my parents and their entertaining ways.

My mom said to David, "did you lose weight?" And then she asked, "do I look like I lost weight?" And of course David said yes. And my mom stood up from her chair (we were at a restaurant), and did a curtsy. A CURTSY! I love it!

There was a large Latino man bouncing in his car with hydraulics. My dad cracked up for a few seconds, and when he was able to catch his breath, said in English, "I like it." Then a few moments later, he clarifies "I don't like the car, I like the fat guy." No homosexual undertones, I think he just found him amusing. Then on our way up to Vegas, he asks if I have Michael Jackson. And I tell him no. And he says something about how that's good music and kinda sings the words "beat it."

It's been a very long time since I spent quality time with either of my parents. I don't know how I'm going to tell them I'm moving in with David. They're not going to like it. I plan on telling them how I'll be saving money, which is the main reason. But I already know they're going to say, "I'll pay for your rent!" Like they can afford it.

Life would be so much easier if they just let me do my own thing. Which they do for the most part. I told them that if I don't get into medical school, I want to become a teacher. And they reacted like it's the worst profession I could have chosen. What about the value of education? I do want to become a doctor though; I really want to live comfortably. Of course I'm not telling medical schools that. Ok I'm done blogging.

I've completed and submitted 6 secondary applications so far. I deserve a pat on the back, and since no one's around, I'll do it myself. Haha. I should be working on my 7th one right now, but the essay has really stumped me, and I just feel like taking a break and blogging. The essay question is:

1. Describe a situation in which you were really stressed. Tell us how you dealt with it. Please detail your reaction(s), and how it affected you. If this situation, or a similar one, were to happen again, how would you handle it?

I'm having trouble with this question because I can't think of a stressful situation! I'm almost wondering if I should make one up. Maybe blogging will help me brainstorm. Okay, it hit me. I'll write about the incident I wrote about in my last blog about my student scratching me. Maybe. Yeah, okay. Sounds good.

Now that's taken care of I guess I'll write about my boyfriend. His name is David Andrew Payne and we've been together for over 7 months, and I'll be moving in with him very soon. He's a very sweet and very cute guy who is constantly trying to please me. I'm his first real girlfriend and he tries his best not to do anything that will cause me to leave him. Our silly, cutesy personalities mesh together so well; it's nauseating to some people. We are still excited to see each other every time we're apart. It's been 7 months but we're as giddy as we were in our first month of dating.

When we first started dating, I had to do some soul searching. I felt like I owed it to Asian men to marry one. Like I shouldn't be one of those Asian girls who have been brainwashed by the media into thinking Asian men aren't attractive. He also never had sushi or pho before, and doesn't take his shoes off in the house, and didn't use chopsticks very well. But he was open to all of it. I don't know if I'm brainwashed by the media, but I got over it. He's open-minded and supports me in my Asian American activities. I've taken him to Kollaboration, APAAC, and Sketch Comedy Show for crying out loud. I've come to terms with it: I'm in love with a white guy. Now all I seriously think about is if our children will be the good-looking hapas or the not-so-good-looking hapas.

I've been working as a behavior interventionist (I'm really just a tutor who has to deal with maladaptive behaviors) to children with autism for nearly 9 months now. While I've gotten annoyed/frustrated with certain students and their behaviors (like tantrums), I've never broken down. But last week, for the first time, I almost cried during a therapy session. It's this one student N who has limited language and communication skills, so she expresses her unhappiness by scratching me. This has been going on for about 6 months now, and it sucks, but I've always dealt with it pretty well. She scratches me for various reasons like not wanting to do unpreferred work or when I block access to desired toys. But last week, she attacked me because I cleared my throat. She has done it before, and I try to avoid clearing my throat. But naturally, when you want someone's attention, you clear your throat. So when I wanted her attention, I cleared my throat out of habit, and she got to me. We've been trying to think of strategies to prevent the scratching, and one strategy is to tell her to turn around and sit down (simple I know, but very very difficult). So last week I cleared my throat, she got up, and I yelled (yes yelled) at her to turn around and sit down. She didn't comply and settled for pulling my ponytail. A lump started forming in my throat, and I started tearing up. She came at me again for whatever reason and I was so disheartened that I let her scratch me and told her to sit down in a broken voice. Her mom was there and so was my supervisor. They were both cool about it: the mom said I'm allowed to clear my throat and my supervisor wasn't disappointed in me. I think I cried because I lost my cool and yelled, in front of her mom and my supervisor nonetheless. I kind of felt like a failure. I am often scared to come close to this child, and that is giving her the power. My yelling is also giving her the power, because she sees the influence she has on me and knows she doesn't have to comply. This is such a difficult case, and I hate that she sometimes has power over our therapy sessions. She is 6 with autism for goodness sake.

It's funny. A few months ago I realized I rarely have bad days at work. I can pinpoint 2 bad days and those were both parent-related. Whenever my boyfriend asks me how work was, I always say good. My job is pretty great. It's super rewarding and I feel very appreciated. Tantrums can be a little stressful, but I don't mind them too much, because I know I'm leaving after a couple hours. But this past situation with N was the first time a child caused me to have a bad day. I still love her and her family very much. I just want her to get over this behavior for my sake and hers. It's not like she can be an adult scratching people whenever they clear their throat.

I must mention that I do not have it nearly as bad as the other tutor who works with N. The other tutor has bled during session on several occasions, and I saw the scars. I respect that tutor so much because she's still positive and still loves N. And N's behaviors are at least three times worse with her for almost every session. We take data on how many times N has a behavior. I've gotten up to 11-15 for scratching on a bad day, and the other tutor has tallied up to over 30.

Ok. I've been busy. This is my first night surfing the internet at my leisure in weeks. I've been meaning to write about this since January 1st, 2009.

So this past New Year's was the best of my life. And the countdown was probably one of the most memorable, powerful, inspirational 5 minutes of my life. So I was dancing to my heart's desire, loving Armin van Buuren, enjoying the music and the people and the positivity around me. Then I hear Obama's powerful voice penetrate through my mind and body: "TONIGHT, IT BELONGS TO YOU." I could have cried at that moment. Looking back on that moment now (sober, by the way), I almost want to cry. They repeated that line several times throughout the countdown. The actual line is: "But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to - it belongs to you." It was from his victory speech in Chicago on November 4th, 2008, and there are no words that would have been more perfect for the occasion. Besides having campaigned for him and his victory really feeling like my victory, it was the night of New Year's Eve, and I was at a massive party with 50,000 other young people who have their whole lives ahead of them. Tonight really did belong to us.

Then I realized something. The 2008-2009 New Year will probably be the most important New Year in my life. 2008 was the historic Presidential race. And 2009 will be the beginning of the historic Presidency. In his one week in office, I am more proud of him than I have ever been. He is not letting America down. I am sublimely happy that he is living up to his word. This is history, baby. And we're living it.

Watch this video. It gives me chills. You only need to watch the first half to understand my amazement.



One of my close friends voiced their concern of my "morals." When she said she worried about my "morals," I honestly didn't know what she was talking about. At first, I thought "sex?" But no, she said raving. Before I look up the definition of morals, I define morals as your conscience and how you choose to treat others. A moral person is a good person, and an immoral person is a bad one. I think I am a freaking good person. If there is a heaven, I'm getting in. My personal life choices and what I choose to do with my own body does not make me an immoral person. Ok, dictionary.com's definition of morals: of, pertaining to, or concerned with the principles or rules of right conduct or the distinction between right and wrong; ethical. I guess it depends on what you and I consider to be right or wrong. Raving in and of itself is not wrong at all, it's just not meant for everybody. As for the rolling, I can't see how that is wrong either. It is illegal, yes. Dangerous, it can be. Artificial, yes. But wrong? No. I don't see how it is much different (in theory anyway) from alcohol. I know you read my blog, and it's something I wanted to address in my blog, so that is why I am not telling you this personally. You specifically said morals, and I am telling you, my morals are fine.

To all my friends and family who are concerned for my safety, I truly appreciate your concern. Raving is not adversely affecting my life. I am still Jenny. I am still as responsible as ever; I've even been studying for the MCAT more. I just do something occasionally for fun that's unconventional. Occasionally is the opportune word. I'm seriously not raving again until March.

Since it's January, I suppose it's time to check on my resolutions of last year. Oh dear.

1. Lose 20 pounds. Nope, didn't happen. But I didn't gain any weight either. Eek.

2. Graduate with at least a 3.5. WOOT! Go Jenny. I actually graduated with a UC GPA of 3.541 (doesn't include my 3.9 GPA from UNLV)! Barely made it, but I made it!

3. Get at least a 3.5 in my remaining Bio Classes. I got a 3.395. But hey, that's not bad! I don't think, anyway. That was my first time calculating that since I graduated...well ever.

4. Pass the CBEST. Not applicable.

I don't think I'll make resolutions this year. Because they're so damn obvious in my life right now. Study for the MCAT. Kill the MCAT. And maybe become a lead tutor at work, which is just a raise. Whatevs. No resolutions this year. Just be bomb diggity.

This post is a little late, but what else is new. So my 21st birthday was my best birthday to date. It landed on a Saturday night, how perfect! I didn't want to make it a big deal so I decided to only spend it with super close friends (above picture). I had a great time. I got super drunk and wasn't hungover the following morning. At the club, a guy bought me a drink for the first time. On top of spending my 21st birthday with my closest friends and sister, I received more birthday love than I ever could have hoped for.

On Saturday, November 8th (my birthday) at 5pm, I check facebook for the first time that day. I had 18 new notifications, and they were all wall posts wishing me happy birthday. That blew me away already. Then throughout the day, I got nearly 10 text messages wishing me happy birthday. And the following morning, I had 30 new notifications. Add in all the belated birthday wishes and messages on AIM, over 60 people wished me happy birthday. That has never happened to me before in my life, not even close. I know it's facebook, and I know it's not that 60 people remembered my birthday. But 60 people took the time to truly make my birthday happy. Who cares if facebook told them it was my birthday? Honestly, out of all your hundreds of friends on facebook, do you say happy birthday to every birthday notification? I felt so loved on my birthday and for several days following. You like me, you really like me.

Looking back on my past 3 birthdays, I've been a lucky girl. On my 19th birthday, my wonderful roomie @ <3 Lilian surprised me with a trip to Six Flags, then surprised me with an old friend. I'm not used to surprises, so I felt really loved that she put so much effort into surprising me. And all I got her was The Little Mermaid on DVD for her birthday in October of that year. On my 20th birthday, it landed on Hot Umbrella Nights, which was also a fundraiser for my ASUCI election. So many of my friends came out clubbing that night. Around a dozen friends or so. I felt really special then too because it was my birthday and fundraiser, double whammy.

Before I turned 21, I said this would be the last birthday I celebrate because I'm obsessed with aging and whatnot. Now I'm saying I don't want to celebrate anymore because these past birthdays can't be topped and I don't feel a need to top them.

So thank you to everyone who has made my birthday(s) truly happy. It feels good to feel loved.

I was in my living room with Tiffany and Lilian. We were talking about Jason Mraz because I had went to his concert the previous Saturday. I see Lil look at the TV and say something to the effect of, "What? He won?" And we all looked at the TV in confusion, he was only at 233 electoral votes when our Jason Mraz conversation started. Then it showed the crowd at Grant Park in Chicago cheering, and then we cheered too. I remember screaming and jumping up and down with Lilian and giving her a hug, and then giving Tiffany a hug. And then I screamed out of our door, "OBAMA!" I remember listening to McCain's concession speech and thinking, "this is the most I've ever respected him. What an honorable loser." Then after an intense 20-30 minutes or so, Obama finally arrives at Grant Park. And the announcer says, "Ladies and gentlemen, the next first family of the United States of America." And when that beautiful family of color walked out and I saw Barack Obama, I started bawling. Positively bawling. Barack Obama is going to be our president. I won't believe it until January 2009. And even then, it'll probably take a few months to sink in.

Though he didn't need Nevada's measly 5 electoral votes to win, I'm so happy that Nevada was blue! I took 2 trips there to campaign for Obama, so I'm glad those trips were useful.

I wonder what the next 4 years will look like...maybe the next 8?

I <3 raves. Techno music is really good when it's pulsating through your body. I've been to 2 raves before (Together as One 2005 and The Love Festival 2008), but by far, Monster Massive was the best. I think it was because the first time I went to a rave I didn't appreciate techno music and its effects on the body when rolling. And I didn't roll at my second rave. So at Monster Massive, I rolled AND felt the music...it was positively orgasmic.

Gosh, I sound like I'm promoting drug-use. My little cousins have access to this blog. But in all honesty, everything is fine in moderation. I am not going to roll every week, I am not smoking weed everyday. Drugs are bad if they interfere with your life. But if you have the time to have fun, then I wouldn't say "absolutely don't do drugs." Just be smart and be safe and be real. I like rolling and raving, but I realistically only want to go to raves a couple times a year.

All that is besides the point. I want to describe my raving experience and why I love raves. So yes, most people there are on drugs. But you know what drugs do to people? They make them nice and friendly and fun. As hippie as it sounds, raves are about love. The acronym PLUR even stands for Peace, Love, Unity, Respect. And ravers personify PLUR. I know that the love and friendliness aren't completely authentic considering they're the result of drug use...but in the rave setting, it works and it feels good.

While I'm not telling you to do drugs, I do encourage you to go to a rave if you've never been. It's a trip. It's so surreal. It's like you're stepping into a whole new world...like a wonderland. A world where everyone is happy and their only job is to dance and socialize. It's easy to pin ravers as silly with their rave clothing and candy bracelets, but they're worth taking the time to understand. Then again, everyone is worth taking the time to understand.

I have this tendency to put all my eggs into one basket, well most my eggs. There is one guy in my life right now that is worth investing in, or putting my eggs into his basket you might say. Let's call him Jack. A few days ago, I told my friend I'm putting a lot of eggs into this Jack basket because I have no other baskets to put my eggs into. Then I realized that's untrue, because I could put my eggs into my basket. Jack is really quite the catch, but putting all my eggs into his basket would just leave me even more hurt if he didn't feel the same way. So if I just put a couple of eggs into his basket, and keep the rest for myself, family, and friends...then disappointment won't be so bad.

When someone asks me what I like to do, or what my hobbies are...I really don't have any good answers. I would say reading, but everyone reads. I would say swimming, and that's something I truly do enjoy and am proud of, but it's basically exercise, not really a passion or an interest. I would say hiking, but I've only hiked like 5 times in my life and though I really enjoy it, I don't enjoy it enough to drive somewhere far regularly.

So in terms of putting my own eggs into my own damn basket, I've decided to join a hula school! I'm still trying to choose one, there are surprisingly so many in and around Orange County. But I'm so eager to get started. I love hula a lot, and my stomach was noticeably flatter when I was in Hawaii Club's luau in April. And now I'll have an interesting response when someone asks me what I do for fun.