The heart to heart of freedom's chain,
The liberty and choices made,
The options which we must attain,
We deem as ours, demand our pay.
Yet pay's demand leads all astray,
While work must wait another day.
Impatience shows its subtle scorn,
From which Pandora's jar is born.
The truth of pain relies on this:
That we are all too used to bliss,
Too spoiled by our fathers fore,
Thinking we deserve much more.
But once again the real cares not.
The time rolls on, and we're forgot.
Pandora's jar had Satan's keys,
But perhaps most harrowing of these,
Is unlocked, unleashed reality.
The truth can be the worst of all.
I said, no! I don't need professional help!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
A Musing
Comedy via Tragedy.
The growing pains of growing up
Are showing signs of showing up,
Revealing somber seasoned trials,
Tripping in the narrow aisles.
Growing up is simply painful.
Still I feel a bit disdainful
Of those who hide their pains so well
While I claim my banes are hell.
I cannot seem to work it out,
To deem my life as worth it now,
To ween my flaws and change myself,
From my former me estrange myself.
Far stranger than my inner own
More foreign than what I think known
Is how, despite my earnestness,
My growing pains have grown?
And earnest as I claim I am,
My actions lose the loving lamb.
A failing shepherd cannot guide.
The flock of sheep already died.
But growing up and learning so
Experience will often show
That I go back to herding sheep,
And herd the beasts I'm supposed to keep.
Responsible for this and more,
I look ahead and must implore
My mind to change unfailingly,
Or fate will keep curtailing me.
Restricted by poetic shit,
I can't lament my fate a bit.
My choices shape my destiny.
I feel I've lost the best of me.
And now my pains are sleeping,
Replaced by laughs and leaping.
I'll still the woes I'm keeping.
My laughing is my weeping.
And my weeping is my laughing.
The growing pains of growing up
Are showing signs of showing up,
Revealing somber seasoned trials,
Tripping in the narrow aisles.
Growing up is simply painful.
Still I feel a bit disdainful
Of those who hide their pains so well
While I claim my banes are hell.
I cannot seem to work it out,
To deem my life as worth it now,
To ween my flaws and change myself,
From my former me estrange myself.
Far stranger than my inner own
More foreign than what I think known
Is how, despite my earnestness,
My growing pains have grown?
And earnest as I claim I am,
My actions lose the loving lamb.
A failing shepherd cannot guide.
The flock of sheep already died.
But growing up and learning so
Experience will often show
That I go back to herding sheep,
And herd the beasts I'm supposed to keep.
Responsible for this and more,
I look ahead and must implore
My mind to change unfailingly,
Or fate will keep curtailing me.
Restricted by poetic shit,
I can't lament my fate a bit.
My choices shape my destiny.
I feel I've lost the best of me.
And now my pains are sleeping,
Replaced by laughs and leaping.
I'll still the woes I'm keeping.
My laughing is my weeping.
And my weeping is my laughing.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LONG! (Yes, it is a story...)
It had to be a dream, he thought.
This couldn't be real. The sun was too perfectly warm, the beach too nice. The waves were just the right temperature. This was too close to heavenly.
So he closed his eyes tightly, expecting to be greeted by his ceiling and the comforts of his room when he opened them again. Yet, he was still at the beach, within the setting of a perfect evening.
Shrugging, he started walking along the lines of the tides, meditatively and contemplatively. He just walked quietly, the sounds of the waves his comforting companion.
Then, as he turned around, he realized he was being followed. He stopped and saw all his friends. They were following him but all stopped as he stopped. They were standing separately, too, silently. He tried to walk back to reach them, but it felt like he was running in place, never to hug or embrace his friends. He was sad, because he thought he was alone, even when his friends were there.
So he kept on walking, and they kept on following him.
After a few miles of walking, he came across a boat that was tied to the beach. An old man was sitting by a booth and greeted him.
"Hello there, friend!" the old man said. "You're supposed to take this boat!"
He was confused. Where was he? he asked the old man, and where did the boat go?
"Well," the old man started to reply. "This boat leads to heaven, and you're supposed to go." The old man smiled convincingly.
This was perfect! He's going to heaven! He felt a surge of relief when he realized his life's work had led him here. Before he got aboard, however, he saw his friends. Were they coming too?
"I'm sorry," the old man said. "You have to leave your friends here. They really aren't invited."
This didn't make sense. His friends definitely belonged in heaven too! He couldn't imagine going anywhere without knowing his friends were within contact.
Then he stopped and discerned. He had to decide. Stay back with his friends or not go to heaven?
The old man didn't seem to care too much when informed of his decision.
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," the old man said as the boat left.
He was sad, but at least he was in the company of his friends, at least he knew he had friends. No matter how silent they were, he knew they were his friends.
So he kept on walking, his friends following behind him in a strangely loyal way.
Before he knew it, he came across an old hut where another old man lived.
"Hey, there," the old man greeted. "Welcome to heaven."
He was confused again. Didn't the boat just leave for heaven?
"Oh no," the new old man laughed. "That was Satan trying to tempt you into hell."
Why didn't someone stop him? It's not fair to innocent people walking by to be tricked.
"Well," the old man replied. "We don't mind too much. We want to see who would choose their friends over themselves. That way, we can weed out the selfish people. People who make it here are the ones who really belong in heaven."
And with that, all his friends ran up to him, hugging him and laughing and celebrating.
And Long knew, like he always did, that heaven wasn't where someone else told you to be, heaven was where you choose to be with God. And where better can you find God than in your friends?
"Where two or three have come together in my name, I am there among them." - Matthew 18:20
Happy birthday, Long! God's there with you always =)
This couldn't be real. The sun was too perfectly warm, the beach too nice. The waves were just the right temperature. This was too close to heavenly.
So he closed his eyes tightly, expecting to be greeted by his ceiling and the comforts of his room when he opened them again. Yet, he was still at the beach, within the setting of a perfect evening.
Shrugging, he started walking along the lines of the tides, meditatively and contemplatively. He just walked quietly, the sounds of the waves his comforting companion.
Then, as he turned around, he realized he was being followed. He stopped and saw all his friends. They were following him but all stopped as he stopped. They were standing separately, too, silently. He tried to walk back to reach them, but it felt like he was running in place, never to hug or embrace his friends. He was sad, because he thought he was alone, even when his friends were there.
So he kept on walking, and they kept on following him.
After a few miles of walking, he came across a boat that was tied to the beach. An old man was sitting by a booth and greeted him.
"Hello there, friend!" the old man said. "You're supposed to take this boat!"
He was confused. Where was he? he asked the old man, and where did the boat go?
"Well," the old man started to reply. "This boat leads to heaven, and you're supposed to go." The old man smiled convincingly.
This was perfect! He's going to heaven! He felt a surge of relief when he realized his life's work had led him here. Before he got aboard, however, he saw his friends. Were they coming too?
"I'm sorry," the old man said. "You have to leave your friends here. They really aren't invited."
This didn't make sense. His friends definitely belonged in heaven too! He couldn't imagine going anywhere without knowing his friends were within contact.
Then he stopped and discerned. He had to decide. Stay back with his friends or not go to heaven?
The old man didn't seem to care too much when informed of his decision.
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," the old man said as the boat left.
He was sad, but at least he was in the company of his friends, at least he knew he had friends. No matter how silent they were, he knew they were his friends.
So he kept on walking, his friends following behind him in a strangely loyal way.
Before he knew it, he came across an old hut where another old man lived.
"Hey, there," the old man greeted. "Welcome to heaven."
He was confused again. Didn't the boat just leave for heaven?
"Oh no," the new old man laughed. "That was Satan trying to tempt you into hell."
Why didn't someone stop him? It's not fair to innocent people walking by to be tricked.
"Well," the old man replied. "We don't mind too much. We want to see who would choose their friends over themselves. That way, we can weed out the selfish people. People who make it here are the ones who really belong in heaven."
And with that, all his friends ran up to him, hugging him and laughing and celebrating.
And Long knew, like he always did, that heaven wasn't where someone else told you to be, heaven was where you choose to be with God. And where better can you find God than in your friends?
"Where two or three have come together in my name, I am there among them." - Matthew 18:20
Happy birthday, Long! God's there with you always =)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Swerve
"How can someone possibly love someone else this much?" my mom asked me as we were driving back to Stockton.
"It doesn't make sense, a mother's love for her child. But I do. I love you so much it's beyond reason."
I smiled, keeping my eye on the road.
"It's probably an evolutionary development to make sure mothers get their kids to survive," I replied cynically.
Before she could respond, the car in the fast lane next to me changed lanes abruptly, definitely on course to hit me. Reacting as accordingly as I could, I swerved over to the next lane of the four-lane highway.
"Andrew, what are you do-!" my mom began to shout.
But she was cut off by the ensuing reaction swerve I needed to get back on course, to compensate for the overly sharp turn I had made. The next few moments thrust me into the palate of death.
I swerved uncontrollably, to the left, then to the right, unable to get a steady handle on the steering.
"ANDREW! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! OH MY GOD!" my mom was yelling, one hand holding the handle above the passenger seat's window, the other gripping my arm in a vain attempt to control the movement of the car.
I didn't have time to respond. I just had to keep going straight, keep trying to get the car back in a lane as the car kept going out of control. Left and right I turned, each swerve making up for the sharpness of the last one.
After multiple swerves, I found myself dangerously close to driving off the highway into the bank while swerving even more dangerously close to the divider. I could smell the burning rubber of our new tires. There were moments where the car was facing sideways but was still moving forward on the highway, seconds where the car was moving to the left without the rolling of the wheels. The screeching of our tires were almost harmonic to my mother's pleas.
"ANDREW! OH MY GOD! STOP!" she cried.
And then we tail-spinned fully around, the smoke from the burning rubber still lazily escalating in our headlights as we came to a stop. A split second I took to make sure we had stopped completely. We were facing the headlights of on-coming traffic. The cars behind us had slowed in the wake of our insanity. They were like white eyes seeing clearly in the dark of the night, judging cautiously and rationalizing the danger.
I turned on the emergency lights and slowly drove to the right bank. Cars inched forward carefully and sped off. One stopped behind us, presumably to check if we were okay. It left shortly after.
I was still breathing, still recovering. My mom was crying, clearly shaken.
"We should be dead," she sobbed. "But we're here. We should be dead. We didn't get hit. We didn't die. We should have been dead. We survived," she intoned, weeping still.
No, we didn't die. As we have been doing our entire lives, we survived.
Yet, I could never shake off the feeling that there were multiple moments were I should have died, where I should have ceased to exist. It takes a near-death experience to realize the fragility of our lives, the very real possibility of death.
Ironically enough, it takes death to realize life.
And to all my friends out there, I want to tell you that I care deeply for all of you, even if I may not have shown it adequately. I care immensely for your safety and your friendship.
Because no matter what kind of evolutionary trait we have developed as a species, ultimately one thing has not changed. Our deaths are as final and permanent as they will always be.
But likewise, our lives can be infinitely more. So thank you, friends, for making my lives more. =)
"It doesn't make sense, a mother's love for her child. But I do. I love you so much it's beyond reason."
I smiled, keeping my eye on the road.
"It's probably an evolutionary development to make sure mothers get their kids to survive," I replied cynically.
Before she could respond, the car in the fast lane next to me changed lanes abruptly, definitely on course to hit me. Reacting as accordingly as I could, I swerved over to the next lane of the four-lane highway.
"Andrew, what are you do-!" my mom began to shout.
But she was cut off by the ensuing reaction swerve I needed to get back on course, to compensate for the overly sharp turn I had made. The next few moments thrust me into the palate of death.
I swerved uncontrollably, to the left, then to the right, unable to get a steady handle on the steering.
"ANDREW! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! OH MY GOD!" my mom was yelling, one hand holding the handle above the passenger seat's window, the other gripping my arm in a vain attempt to control the movement of the car.
I didn't have time to respond. I just had to keep going straight, keep trying to get the car back in a lane as the car kept going out of control. Left and right I turned, each swerve making up for the sharpness of the last one.
After multiple swerves, I found myself dangerously close to driving off the highway into the bank while swerving even more dangerously close to the divider. I could smell the burning rubber of our new tires. There were moments where the car was facing sideways but was still moving forward on the highway, seconds where the car was moving to the left without the rolling of the wheels. The screeching of our tires were almost harmonic to my mother's pleas.
"ANDREW! OH MY GOD! STOP!" she cried.
And then we tail-spinned fully around, the smoke from the burning rubber still lazily escalating in our headlights as we came to a stop. A split second I took to make sure we had stopped completely. We were facing the headlights of on-coming traffic. The cars behind us had slowed in the wake of our insanity. They were like white eyes seeing clearly in the dark of the night, judging cautiously and rationalizing the danger.
I turned on the emergency lights and slowly drove to the right bank. Cars inched forward carefully and sped off. One stopped behind us, presumably to check if we were okay. It left shortly after.
I was still breathing, still recovering. My mom was crying, clearly shaken.
"We should be dead," she sobbed. "But we're here. We should be dead. We didn't get hit. We didn't die. We should have been dead. We survived," she intoned, weeping still.
No, we didn't die. As we have been doing our entire lives, we survived.
Yet, I could never shake off the feeling that there were multiple moments were I should have died, where I should have ceased to exist. It takes a near-death experience to realize the fragility of our lives, the very real possibility of death.
Ironically enough, it takes death to realize life.
And to all my friends out there, I want to tell you that I care deeply for all of you, even if I may not have shown it adequately. I care immensely for your safety and your friendship.
Because no matter what kind of evolutionary trait we have developed as a species, ultimately one thing has not changed. Our deaths are as final and permanent as they will always be.
But likewise, our lives can be infinitely more. So thank you, friends, for making my lives more. =)
Sunday, February 15, 2009
"Do I Need To Worry About You, Bob?"
As is the case with many people as the second semester comes in full swing, I have been quite caught up with various aspects of my life.
That's just a vague and generalized way of saying I'm busy.
In fact, I'm so busy, that if any of you paid attention to my last post, you would notice the flaw in the date. I don't mean date like Valentine's Day date because...well refer to either Long's blog or below for an explanation.
I'm referring to the date and time the last entry of my blog was posted. The entry talked about Valentine's Day because I published it yesterday (February 14th). However, since I started the post on Tuesday, February 10th, the date corresponded to the start date.
Thus is the extent of my procrastination/busy-ness.
Actually, to be honest, I've been keeping pretty busy with school and stuff. In fact, since I came home for the weekend (Friday ca. 6PM) until now, I have not left the confines of my household. So far, that's about 43-44 hours without stepping outside the doors. My parents would make good prison wardens.
Bob: Can you keep a secret? I'm trying to organize a prison break. I'm looking for, like, an accomplice. We have to first get out of this bar, then the hotel, then the city, and then the country. Are you in or you out?
Charlotte: I'm in. I'll go pack my stuff.
Bob: I hope that you've had enough to drink. It's going to take courage.
My only hope of freedom, ironically, comes around the time we leave for church (ca. 8PM), by which time I will have eclipsed the 48 hour mark...
Well, it could be worse. At least the country's not in an economic recess- oh wait.
That's just a vague and generalized way of saying I'm busy.
In fact, I'm so busy, that if any of you paid attention to my last post, you would notice the flaw in the date. I don't mean date like Valentine's Day date because...well refer to either Long's blog or below for an explanation.
I'm referring to the date and time the last entry of my blog was posted. The entry talked about Valentine's Day because I published it yesterday (February 14th). However, since I started the post on Tuesday, February 10th, the date corresponded to the start date.
Thus is the extent of my procrastination/busy-ness.
Actually, to be honest, I've been keeping pretty busy with school and stuff. In fact, since I came home for the weekend (Friday ca. 6PM) until now, I have not left the confines of my household. So far, that's about 43-44 hours without stepping outside the doors. My parents would make good prison wardens.
Bob: Can you keep a secret? I'm trying to organize a prison break. I'm looking for, like, an accomplice. We have to first get out of this bar, then the hotel, then the city, and then the country. Are you in or you out?
Charlotte: I'm in. I'll go pack my stuff.
Bob: I hope that you've had enough to drink. It's going to take courage.
My only hope of freedom, ironically, comes around the time we leave for church (ca. 8PM), by which time I will have eclipsed the 48 hour mark...
Well, it could be worse. At least the country's not in an economic recess- oh wait.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Facebook Hiatus
I promised Stephanie I'd mention her in my next entry, so there. I just did.
She claims to have sent me a Valentine, but I refuse to believe her until it gets in my mailbox. I hope it comes. =)
Honestly, this is my first Valentine's Day where I find myself not pursuing a valentine since I was in 8th grade. I'm not saying this for any particular purpose other than the observation that I think it's actually quite nice. The majority of my day was spent studying, without any internet connection, as is the tradition in the Nguyen household.
When school is in session, the internet is subject to a chaotic and varied schedule. In short, the schedule-maker (or "Father" as some call him) decides on whim when to disconnect it and reconnect it. I actually am able to understand the topological concept of homeomorphism better than I can understand daddy's whims.
So yes, although not necessarily my original plan, I spent the day alone. Valentine's Day was actually nice, knowing that it wasn't any special day at all. In fact, all holidays are human devices, and there is no significance to any particular day...
So, Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
I hope you're all lonely.
The other day, I challenged Quyen in Word Challenge. As some of you know, the WC application on Facebook allows you to duel your friends in a Mano Mano sense. However, although I had been actively participating in challenges from Quyen and to Quyen, this particular challenge was different.
For starters, this challenge did not involve the the "Challenge!" part of the application. It in fact involved the personal, original portion of the game, your personal High Score.
Let me set this up.
Quyen and I have faced each other on the Word Field (as I like to call it) many times before. And while I consider her my protege of sorts, I still refuse to show her mercy. I made that mistake one time already, when distracted by the inescapable allure of Skype conference calls. I had stopped playing around the minute mark, believing my modest score of 19,000 would be sufficient. However, to my utter dismay, Quyen was able to beat me by 2,000.
I didn't make that mistake again. She did, however, eventually beat me one more time, by 200. However, since I have won the majority of the challenges, I wanted a more competitive battlefield. So this happened:
After a particularly pathetic few scores, none of which I lost, fortunately, I told Quyen that I would challenge her once more and get 40,000 points. I called it, and I did it, eclipsing the 41K mark. She responded to the challenge accordingly, and to my utter shock, she got 39K.
This is impressive on two levels. Firstly, her previous high score ever was around 28K. Furthermore, she achieved this noteworthy score of 39K on a challenge. Not only that, 39K is well above my normal average, so on almost all the other challenges, she would have beaten me...except this one. Only Quyen can tell you the extent of her anger.
Then, I proposed a real challenge. I said to her, "Why don't we play for something?"
To which she replied, "Like what? -_-" still obviously depressed about her recent loss.
"I'm not sure," I thought aloud. "How about I have to get 50K and you have to get 35K in real mode before the end of the week?"
It was an equal challenge, I argued, for both. She had only passed the 35K mark once and I had only passed the 50K mark once. My highest score ever was 54K, so it's not easy for me.
She agreed, and we set the terms. If I lost, I had to tell her the secret to the Cereal Box Game, which, as I recall, only Loc, Bethany, Harry, Anna and I know. Oh, and probably Matt. Quyen REALLY wanted to know.
If she lost, however, meaning 1. I eclipsed 50K and she didn't get higher than 35K or 2. I got over 50K more than she got over 35K, then she would have to send me a work of poetry she wrote. She never told me she wrote any, but I assumed she did. I think I'm right.
That night, while "studying" at the library, I logged onto Facebook to get higher than 50K. While in the middle of a game, I realized how stupid this was, how I was going to fail school spending hours and hours playing this stupid game, for this stupid bet. I didn't mind losing. I just wanted to stop.
So I planned to end my Facebook addiction by giving my password to Sean. He changed it like a good friend would. And with that, my FB minutes were cut off.
However, before I logged off, I wanted to play one more game, just to see what would happen. I had already given up, in essence. I just wanted one last taste of Word Challenge before my Facebook Hiatus.
And I got 64,000.
GG.
She claims to have sent me a Valentine, but I refuse to believe her until it gets in my mailbox. I hope it comes. =)
Honestly, this is my first Valentine's Day where I find myself not pursuing a valentine since I was in 8th grade. I'm not saying this for any particular purpose other than the observation that I think it's actually quite nice. The majority of my day was spent studying, without any internet connection, as is the tradition in the Nguyen household.
When school is in session, the internet is subject to a chaotic and varied schedule. In short, the schedule-maker (or "Father" as some call him) decides on whim when to disconnect it and reconnect it. I actually am able to understand the topological concept of homeomorphism better than I can understand daddy's whims.
So yes, although not necessarily my original plan, I spent the day alone. Valentine's Day was actually nice, knowing that it wasn't any special day at all. In fact, all holidays are human devices, and there is no significance to any particular day...
So, Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
I hope you're all lonely.
The other day, I challenged Quyen in Word Challenge. As some of you know, the WC application on Facebook allows you to duel your friends in a Mano Mano sense. However, although I had been actively participating in challenges from Quyen and to Quyen, this particular challenge was different.
For starters, this challenge did not involve the the "Challenge!" part of the application. It in fact involved the personal, original portion of the game, your personal High Score.
Let me set this up.
Quyen and I have faced each other on the Word Field (as I like to call it) many times before. And while I consider her my protege of sorts, I still refuse to show her mercy. I made that mistake one time already, when distracted by the inescapable allure of Skype conference calls. I had stopped playing around the minute mark, believing my modest score of 19,000 would be sufficient. However, to my utter dismay, Quyen was able to beat me by 2,000.
I didn't make that mistake again. She did, however, eventually beat me one more time, by 200. However, since I have won the majority of the challenges, I wanted a more competitive battlefield. So this happened:
After a particularly pathetic few scores, none of which I lost, fortunately, I told Quyen that I would challenge her once more and get 40,000 points. I called it, and I did it, eclipsing the 41K mark. She responded to the challenge accordingly, and to my utter shock, she got 39K.
This is impressive on two levels. Firstly, her previous high score ever was around 28K. Furthermore, she achieved this noteworthy score of 39K on a challenge. Not only that, 39K is well above my normal average, so on almost all the other challenges, she would have beaten me...except this one. Only Quyen can tell you the extent of her anger.
Then, I proposed a real challenge. I said to her, "Why don't we play for something?"
To which she replied, "Like what? -_-" still obviously depressed about her recent loss.
"I'm not sure," I thought aloud. "How about I have to get 50K and you have to get 35K in real mode before the end of the week?"
It was an equal challenge, I argued, for both. She had only passed the 35K mark once and I had only passed the 50K mark once. My highest score ever was 54K, so it's not easy for me.
She agreed, and we set the terms. If I lost, I had to tell her the secret to the Cereal Box Game, which, as I recall, only Loc, Bethany, Harry, Anna and I know. Oh, and probably Matt. Quyen REALLY wanted to know.
If she lost, however, meaning 1. I eclipsed 50K and she didn't get higher than 35K or 2. I got over 50K more than she got over 35K, then she would have to send me a work of poetry she wrote. She never told me she wrote any, but I assumed she did. I think I'm right.
That night, while "studying" at the library, I logged onto Facebook to get higher than 50K. While in the middle of a game, I realized how stupid this was, how I was going to fail school spending hours and hours playing this stupid game, for this stupid bet. I didn't mind losing. I just wanted to stop.
So I planned to end my Facebook addiction by giving my password to Sean. He changed it like a good friend would. And with that, my FB minutes were cut off.
However, before I logged off, I wanted to play one more game, just to see what would happen. I had already given up, in essence. I just wanted one last taste of Word Challenge before my Facebook Hiatus.
And I got 64,000.
GG.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Matthew Strikes Again (Feb. 2)
SO. I'm checkin' out Matt's Xanga (which all of you should follow) and he asked his readers to do something, so instead of studying for physics, I'll do it.
"24 HOURS TO LIVE! (AKA 24 HOURS UNTIL YOU DIE)
Must Have...
- Minimum 8 Hours of Sleep
- Freedom to go anywhere (instant transporation)
- Can go with anyone you want, or alone, at any time
- At some point in the day, you must take two tests (15 minutes each)
- One of the tests must be a rigorous academic subject that you are good at
- The other test must be on an academic subject that you care about the most/are most interested in
- If you pass these two tests, you will be able to fix any significant social/political problem in the world. What would you fix?
- Where do you go, who is with you, and what do you do there?
12 AM -
1AM -
2AM -
3AM -
4AM -
5AM -
6AM -
7AM -
8AM -
9AM -
10AM -
11AM -
12PM -
1PM -
2PM -
3PM -
4PM -
5PM -
6PM -
7PM -
8PM -
9PM -
10PM -
11PM -
12AM -
What would you do?
Places to go?
Activities?
Abilities?
People?
Interests?
Concerns?
Talk to me about it after... If enough people fill it out, I'll type up mine! :D!"
12AM-5AM: I'll sleep and wake up just before the sunrise, so I can catch it one last time with the woman I love on a beach somewhere nowhere near civilization. I know, I know. Those of you who know me well are probably thinking, "No way Andrew can get up that early! Freakin' lazy-ass mother fu-" But this is a hypothetical so just let me have my fun, ok? =)
5AM-7AM: I'd eat breakfast with aforementioned woman while watching the sunrise. We'll talk and laugh and just be all smiles. Breakfast will include sausages and eggs and tater tots. Wait, wtf? That's what I eat at the dining hall...talk about pathetic aspirations. Anyways, the food itself hardly matters, as long as I get to eat something and enjoy my morning.
7AM-10AM: After I eat and watch the sunrise and change my Facebook status accordingly, I'd take a 3 hour nap. I freakin' woke up hella early!
"Andrew Nguyen just had an amazing morning with [insert name here], watching the sun rise on a deserted island and enjoying each other's company! About 2 minutes ago. - Comment"
10AM-11AM: I'd take my two tests. The first one would be an essay test. I'd probably take the essay portion of the SAT I again, since I did pretty well every time I took it. Then, after those first 15 minutes, I'd take a 30 minute break to cram for a Human Anatomy test, which is the required course I'm taking now for my degree, leading the way to a dental school acceptance hopefully. The world problem I'd fix would be world hunger. I think everyone should have a chance to be nourished. That way, they can be healthy to make good decisions. I just want everyone to be happy =)
11AM-12:30PM: I'll probably go to Church. I want it to be a Sunday celebration, with one of my friends presiding, and any other friends who happen to be priests also present behind the alter. Also behind the alter I'd like Cha Tri Dinh, simply because he really, really, really knows how to help out alter servers. Yes, I'm speaking as the voice of experience. Matt and I would have walked around aimlessly without him.
Also, I'd like the FLOCK Choir to sing for mass. The gathering song will be "Go to Distance" from Hercules. I want Tri Phan and Thuy Angela to sing the Responsorial Psalm and generally lead the vocals with the rest of FLOCK backing them up. Anh Hoan will conduct and My will be on piano when she's not singing. The music will be the Mass of Glory setting by Bob Hurd. I'd like to be the one to deliver the homily, giving insights about my life and my observations. I'd make it as funny as possible too so that Jesus himself will un-nail himself from the cross to slap his knee and clutch his ribs.
I hope water doesn't spill out, though.
Ok, ok, I'm going to hell, I know.
The Nicene Creed will be sung in Vietnamese as Kinh Tin Kính even though technically, it's missing some parts. Also, the peace-giving part will be long like it is at Youth Mass because everyone will give everyone a hug. The congregation will consist of all my friends, if they so choose to come. Normally, I hate it when that part lasts a long time, not because I don't like to extend peace, but because some people give peace while others stand around uncomfortably. If everyone was involved and it was long, I wouldn't mind. I just don't like leaving people out. That's why when I sang in FLOCK, I was the first one back to the choir section, ready to sing the Lamb of God. I don't like leaving members of the congregation out.
Anywho, after communion (which will feature "The Servant Song" as the song), FLOCK will regale us with a meditation song. I'm thinking Irish Blessing, but it could be anything as long as it's pretty. The last song will be "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. It will be sung by Josh Groban and Mariah Carey, since I think they have the two best voices for their genders in the world.
12:30PM-2:30PM: I'll have lunch with my friends. It will be at a Pho luncheon where we can order plates that a restaurant would normally serve. I'll probably go with some Com Tam dish. Lunch will probably be with my Dong Hanh friends and whoever else went to church like Pray4Fun, my Pacific friends, Boy Scout friends, Bellarmine friends, anyone. We'll pay for the priests. It'd be a lot of fun, like the DHDH meals we had or any meal with Sean, Eric and Michael, haha.
2:30PM-5PM: Hang out at a remote beach with all my friends. Just enjoy the sun and laugh and play. Build sand castles, play football, bury people, argue with Michael Lai, etc.
5PM-6PM: Play basketball. It doesn't matter with whom as long as the games are competitive and fun. I'd actually like to play at American Airlines Stadium where the Dallas Mavericks play cuz I think it's one of the nicest stadiums in the NBA. Actually, it'd be cool to play in front of a sell-out crowd. The game wouldn't be as polished as an NBA game, but if it's competitive then it'll be fun to play and watch too.
6PM-6:30PM: Shower.
6:30PM-8:30PM: Play mafia with anyone who wants to play. Attendance is only required for my brother, cuz he knows how to make it interesting. We'd play on the beach and watch the sun set. We'd play until we need to light torches to see the cards.
8:30PM-10:30PM: Fatty dinner with my family, including all the cousins and uncles and aunts on both sides of my family. Also, all my friends are invited. So really, it's a party with food. We'll be jolly and merry and enjoy ourselves, laughing and joking. The food will be anything anyone wants. I'll probably have a hella gourmet burger with hella gourmet fries or something, haha. We'll be loud and talk and yell and sing at this dinner. Good times will be had. People will leave the dinner saying, "Wow. Andrew knows how to have a good dinner."
10:30PM-11PM: I'll play Super Smash Brothers Melee with Tri Nguyen. I know it'd yield something exciting, haha.
11PM-11:30PM: I'd say goodbye to everyone. Not the sad goodbye. The normal good bye. We shouldn't need to tell our friends and family how much we love them at the last moment. The whole day should be filled with words of appreciation. I wouldn't need to tell anyone that I'll miss them or that I love them. They should have already heard it from me.
11:30PM-11:59PM: I'd take all the pictures that were taken of my day and write a caption for them. There would probably be hundreds so I'll just probably caption the ones I like the best. I'd leave a picture book, showing everyone how I think life should be a relaxing and happy journey.
12AM: I'd change my Facebook status or something, haha. I'd like to die asleep with a smile on my face on my bed with my Appa stuffed animal.
If you really just read all of that, then you realize I didn't do anything lasting, except for making that photo album at the end.
A happy life isn't determined by important actions, but rather, is determined by actions done happily with important people.
"24 HOURS TO LIVE! (AKA 24 HOURS UNTIL YOU DIE)
Must Have...
- Minimum 8 Hours of Sleep
- Freedom to go anywhere (instant transporation)
- Can go with anyone you want, or alone, at any time
- At some point in the day, you must take two tests (15 minutes each)
- One of the tests must be a rigorous academic subject that you are good at
- The other test must be on an academic subject that you care about the most/are most interested in
- If you pass these two tests, you will be able to fix any significant social/political problem in the world. What would you fix?
- Where do you go, who is with you, and what do you do there?
12 AM -
1AM -
2AM -
3AM -
4AM -
5AM -
6AM -
7AM -
8AM -
9AM -
10AM -
11AM -
12PM -
1PM -
2PM -
3PM -
4PM -
5PM -
6PM -
7PM -
8PM -
9PM -
10PM -
11PM -
12AM -
What would you do?
Places to go?
Activities?
Abilities?
People?
Interests?
Concerns?
Talk to me about it after... If enough people fill it out, I'll type up mine! :D!"
12AM-5AM: I'll sleep and wake up just before the sunrise, so I can catch it one last time with the woman I love on a beach somewhere nowhere near civilization. I know, I know. Those of you who know me well are probably thinking, "No way Andrew can get up that early! Freakin' lazy-ass mother fu-" But this is a hypothetical so just let me have my fun, ok? =)
5AM-7AM: I'd eat breakfast with aforementioned woman while watching the sunrise. We'll talk and laugh and just be all smiles. Breakfast will include sausages and eggs and tater tots. Wait, wtf? That's what I eat at the dining hall...talk about pathetic aspirations. Anyways, the food itself hardly matters, as long as I get to eat something and enjoy my morning.
7AM-10AM: After I eat and watch the sunrise and change my Facebook status accordingly, I'd take a 3 hour nap. I freakin' woke up hella early!
"Andrew Nguyen just had an amazing morning with [insert name here], watching the sun rise on a deserted island and enjoying each other's company! About 2 minutes ago. - Comment"
10AM-11AM: I'd take my two tests. The first one would be an essay test. I'd probably take the essay portion of the SAT I again, since I did pretty well every time I took it. Then, after those first 15 minutes, I'd take a 30 minute break to cram for a Human Anatomy test, which is the required course I'm taking now for my degree, leading the way to a dental school acceptance hopefully. The world problem I'd fix would be world hunger. I think everyone should have a chance to be nourished. That way, they can be healthy to make good decisions. I just want everyone to be happy =)
11AM-12:30PM: I'll probably go to Church. I want it to be a Sunday celebration, with one of my friends presiding, and any other friends who happen to be priests also present behind the alter. Also behind the alter I'd like Cha Tri Dinh, simply because he really, really, really knows how to help out alter servers. Yes, I'm speaking as the voice of experience. Matt and I would have walked around aimlessly without him.
Also, I'd like the FLOCK Choir to sing for mass. The gathering song will be "Go to Distance" from Hercules. I want Tri Phan and Thuy Angela to sing the Responsorial Psalm and generally lead the vocals with the rest of FLOCK backing them up. Anh Hoan will conduct and My will be on piano when she's not singing. The music will be the Mass of Glory setting by Bob Hurd. I'd like to be the one to deliver the homily, giving insights about my life and my observations. I'd make it as funny as possible too so that Jesus himself will un-nail himself from the cross to slap his knee and clutch his ribs.
I hope water doesn't spill out, though.
Ok, ok, I'm going to hell, I know.
The Nicene Creed will be sung in Vietnamese as Kinh Tin Kính even though technically, it's missing some parts. Also, the peace-giving part will be long like it is at Youth Mass because everyone will give everyone a hug. The congregation will consist of all my friends, if they so choose to come. Normally, I hate it when that part lasts a long time, not because I don't like to extend peace, but because some people give peace while others stand around uncomfortably. If everyone was involved and it was long, I wouldn't mind. I just don't like leaving people out. That's why when I sang in FLOCK, I was the first one back to the choir section, ready to sing the Lamb of God. I don't like leaving members of the congregation out.
Anywho, after communion (which will feature "The Servant Song" as the song), FLOCK will regale us with a meditation song. I'm thinking Irish Blessing, but it could be anything as long as it's pretty. The last song will be "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. It will be sung by Josh Groban and Mariah Carey, since I think they have the two best voices for their genders in the world.
12:30PM-2:30PM: I'll have lunch with my friends. It will be at a Pho luncheon where we can order plates that a restaurant would normally serve. I'll probably go with some Com Tam dish. Lunch will probably be with my Dong Hanh friends and whoever else went to church like Pray4Fun, my Pacific friends, Boy Scout friends, Bellarmine friends, anyone. We'll pay for the priests. It'd be a lot of fun, like the DHDH meals we had or any meal with Sean, Eric and Michael, haha.
2:30PM-5PM: Hang out at a remote beach with all my friends. Just enjoy the sun and laugh and play. Build sand castles, play football, bury people, argue with Michael Lai, etc.
5PM-6PM: Play basketball. It doesn't matter with whom as long as the games are competitive and fun. I'd actually like to play at American Airlines Stadium where the Dallas Mavericks play cuz I think it's one of the nicest stadiums in the NBA. Actually, it'd be cool to play in front of a sell-out crowd. The game wouldn't be as polished as an NBA game, but if it's competitive then it'll be fun to play and watch too.
6PM-6:30PM: Shower.
6:30PM-8:30PM: Play mafia with anyone who wants to play. Attendance is only required for my brother, cuz he knows how to make it interesting. We'd play on the beach and watch the sun set. We'd play until we need to light torches to see the cards.
8:30PM-10:30PM: Fatty dinner with my family, including all the cousins and uncles and aunts on both sides of my family. Also, all my friends are invited. So really, it's a party with food. We'll be jolly and merry and enjoy ourselves, laughing and joking. The food will be anything anyone wants. I'll probably have a hella gourmet burger with hella gourmet fries or something, haha. We'll be loud and talk and yell and sing at this dinner. Good times will be had. People will leave the dinner saying, "Wow. Andrew knows how to have a good dinner."
10:30PM-11PM: I'll play Super Smash Brothers Melee with Tri Nguyen. I know it'd yield something exciting, haha.
11PM-11:30PM: I'd say goodbye to everyone. Not the sad goodbye. The normal good bye. We shouldn't need to tell our friends and family how much we love them at the last moment. The whole day should be filled with words of appreciation. I wouldn't need to tell anyone that I'll miss them or that I love them. They should have already heard it from me.
11:30PM-11:59PM: I'd take all the pictures that were taken of my day and write a caption for them. There would probably be hundreds so I'll just probably caption the ones I like the best. I'd leave a picture book, showing everyone how I think life should be a relaxing and happy journey.
12AM: I'd change my Facebook status or something, haha. I'd like to die asleep with a smile on my face on my bed with my Appa stuffed animal.
If you really just read all of that, then you realize I didn't do anything lasting, except for making that photo album at the end.
A happy life isn't determined by important actions, but rather, is determined by actions done happily with important people.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Semi-epiphany
For as long as puberty has graced me, I have been somewhat different. If you were able to read my note about the 16 Things About Me, then you should (but probably don't) remember that I like analyzing and diagramming sentences. I attribute such English prowess to my middle school English teacher, Mrs. Gloria Wayne.
However, even though my peers received this very same education, I am not aware if they have progressed to become good writers/essayists/what-have-you. Also, my brother, though very proficient in his writing ability, has never written as much as I do, at least as far as I know.
Thus, among my closer circles of friends, I have always felt like some sort of anomaly, a branch sticking awkwardly outward from a smooth hedge. Though the multitude of them are generally very good writers, able to voice their thoughts and skillfully manifest them into words, I viewed few of them as being formed and identifying with their writing ability. They always had their other capabilities, but rare was it among my friends whom I thought writing the core of their identity (with notable exceptions, i.e. Eric Woo). However, in the back of my mind, I viewed myself as someone who was not necessarily a writer, but had writing tendencies.
So, the majority of my self-perception revolved not on my writing ability, since I have read many works that reach well beyond my imaginative dexterity, but rather, revolved around my random whims to write shit. Yeah, I could spin a yarn or two, could give a few quick lines that I hoped was original, but I was never really a writer, per se (per say, ;))
So, over the last year or so, I decided that I would take on the title of "writer" and would hope to expand my ability to write extensively. I felt that it was the only way to channel my education, much like music is to some and sports to others. I conformed to what people told me I was good at doing.
Well, people. I think you're wrong. I used to think that I had writing tendencies, but as I was falling asleep in Macroeconomics today, I jotted a few things down.
When Professor Herrin woke me up (which is another story in and of itself), I looked down at my notes. I found a few lines of poetry written. I don't remember writing them at all, but there they were.
Then I knew it. My tendencies do not lean toward writing. Sure I can shit out an essay about The Little Mermaid or Howl's Moving Castle or something random for a long time, but it wasn't exactly a skill that came easily to me.
My tendencies are toward poetry. I am, at heart, a poet. Poetry is my hobby, is my sport. I write stories and describe events because sometimes it's just the best way to express certain things. But if I were to express myself fully and most earnestly, I would do it in poetry.
So that's who I am. I've finally come to terms with it. I hope people care, haha.
Here's what I wrote while falling asleep.
I am tired; I am beat,
Body broken, burdened heat,
Holding onto heart so hollow,
Falling fast my fate will follow.
I am sure that I am strong,
Yet still sure that I am wrong.
So which strength must I take heed
If I'm wrong and weak indeed?
Is there strength in self-awareness,
Analyzing my own fairness?
Or is there strength in being strong,
Trust my own self all along?
I have nothing to reply here,
No such answers for the sly ear.
Hear me ponder; hear me rant.
Find the answers that I can't.
Find the answers hidden in this.
If they're hidden, do they exist?
However, even though my peers received this very same education, I am not aware if they have progressed to become good writers/essayists/what-have-you. Also, my brother, though very proficient in his writing ability, has never written as much as I do, at least as far as I know.
Thus, among my closer circles of friends, I have always felt like some sort of anomaly, a branch sticking awkwardly outward from a smooth hedge. Though the multitude of them are generally very good writers, able to voice their thoughts and skillfully manifest them into words, I viewed few of them as being formed and identifying with their writing ability. They always had their other capabilities, but rare was it among my friends whom I thought writing the core of their identity (with notable exceptions, i.e. Eric Woo). However, in the back of my mind, I viewed myself as someone who was not necessarily a writer, but had writing tendencies.
So, the majority of my self-perception revolved not on my writing ability, since I have read many works that reach well beyond my imaginative dexterity, but rather, revolved around my random whims to write shit. Yeah, I could spin a yarn or two, could give a few quick lines that I hoped was original, but I was never really a writer, per se (per say, ;))
So, over the last year or so, I decided that I would take on the title of "writer" and would hope to expand my ability to write extensively. I felt that it was the only way to channel my education, much like music is to some and sports to others. I conformed to what people told me I was good at doing.
Well, people. I think you're wrong. I used to think that I had writing tendencies, but as I was falling asleep in Macroeconomics today, I jotted a few things down.
When Professor Herrin woke me up (which is another story in and of itself), I looked down at my notes. I found a few lines of poetry written. I don't remember writing them at all, but there they were.
Then I knew it. My tendencies do not lean toward writing. Sure I can shit out an essay about The Little Mermaid or Howl's Moving Castle or something random for a long time, but it wasn't exactly a skill that came easily to me.
My tendencies are toward poetry. I am, at heart, a poet. Poetry is my hobby, is my sport. I write stories and describe events because sometimes it's just the best way to express certain things. But if I were to express myself fully and most earnestly, I would do it in poetry.
So that's who I am. I've finally come to terms with it. I hope people care, haha.
Here's what I wrote while falling asleep.
I am tired; I am beat,
Body broken, burdened heat,
Holding onto heart so hollow,
Falling fast my fate will follow.
I am sure that I am strong,
Yet still sure that I am wrong.
So which strength must I take heed
If I'm wrong and weak indeed?
Is there strength in self-awareness,
Analyzing my own fairness?
Or is there strength in being strong,
Trust my own self all along?
I have nothing to reply here,
No such answers for the sly ear.
Hear me ponder; hear me rant.
Find the answers that I can't.
Find the answers hidden in this.
If they're hidden, do they exist?
Monday, February 2, 2009
Who Will Crack These Ribs?
Will someone please call a surgeon...
So in anatomy lab, we were learning about the sternum and a few backbones and crap. Normally, as most people do, I enjoy sitting with my friends lest I am forced to learn, God forbid.
However, since the TAs came on time instead of early, those of us who were actually early went into lab at the same time as everyone else. Needless to say, the seating arrangements were messed up. And by messed up I mean my group of four friends were separated.
So after minutes of saying our goodbyes, we sat down. I was still able to sit with Craig, but we were forced into the last option seat of front row center. Being bored as hell, we opted to have fun with our bones. In fact we had so much fun and laughed so hard that our TA, while in the middle of explaining something, turned to us and said, "I know that it's boring guys. Try doing this three times a week."
To which Craig and I replied, "..."
Then we continued with our playing. Among many other things, we made a giraffe. The thoracic vertebrae became the head, right clavicle the neck and a rib its legs.
I like giraffes.
The giraffe before I realized I could...
stick the clavicle into the vertebral foramen of the thoracic vertebrae. Yes, Craig hates me.
But Twigs doesn't! =)
So in anatomy lab, we were learning about the sternum and a few backbones and crap. Normally, as most people do, I enjoy sitting with my friends lest I am forced to learn, God forbid.
However, since the TAs came on time instead of early, those of us who were actually early went into lab at the same time as everyone else. Needless to say, the seating arrangements were messed up. And by messed up I mean my group of four friends were separated.
So after minutes of saying our goodbyes, we sat down. I was still able to sit with Craig, but we were forced into the last option seat of front row center. Being bored as hell, we opted to have fun with our bones. In fact we had so much fun and laughed so hard that our TA, while in the middle of explaining something, turned to us and said, "I know that it's boring guys. Try doing this three times a week."
To which Craig and I replied, "..."
Then we continued with our playing. Among many other things, we made a giraffe. The thoracic vertebrae became the head, right clavicle the neck and a rib its legs.
I like giraffes.
The giraffe before I realized I could...
stick the clavicle into the vertebral foramen of the thoracic vertebrae. Yes, Craig hates me.
But Twigs doesn't! =)
The Flame of Tar Valon and the Dragon's Fang
Something I thought up in the moment while studying for anatomy today.
And no, they don't have anything to do with anatomy.
The Flame of Tar Valon
"For Those"
Oh yes, there's hope for those who seek it,
Maybe more for those who need it.
But there's still hope for those who want it,
And some just have enough to flaunt it.
And yet for those who blinded cry,
Let me help you use your eyes:
Tears don't work to maximize
Your sight from which no truth can hide.
For sight is not in seeing with
Your eyes upon your facial gift.
No, seeing life for all its worth
Is living fully on this Earth.
And Nature, God or Life may not
Be easy to retain or taught,
But openness to truth is key.
The truth will set you free,
Thus will you live happily.
The Dragon's Fang
"Weakness"
Maybe there's just simply something,
Or maybe nothing's barely bumping,
Or somehow questions silly stumping,
Fixing, mixing, feelings clumping.
Maybe nature built us knowing
How we think prevents our growing,
How we feel will get us going,
But gone are we when we stop flowing.
Gone are we when we hold onto
All our pains; our pangs belong to
Stalling gains we make and strive to
Save for me and thus provide you
Thus provide you little choice,
Blocked by banking on my voice,
Holding in my thoughts, rejoice
In little as my cheeks get moist.
Little things I noticed lately,
Small they are but impact greatly,
I move onward, guise as stately,
Strong and steady, sigh innately.
Give you reason not to hate me.
Give me reason for my fate.
I'll give mad props for anyone who can find the connection between "The Flame of Tar Valon" and "The Dragon's Fang."
Hint: The poems are yin and yang.
And no, they don't have anything to do with anatomy.
The Flame of Tar Valon
"For Those"
Oh yes, there's hope for those who seek it,
Maybe more for those who need it.
But there's still hope for those who want it,
And some just have enough to flaunt it.
And yet for those who blinded cry,
Let me help you use your eyes:
Tears don't work to maximize
Your sight from which no truth can hide.
For sight is not in seeing with
Your eyes upon your facial gift.
No, seeing life for all its worth
Is living fully on this Earth.
And Nature, God or Life may not
Be easy to retain or taught,
But openness to truth is key.
The truth will set you free,
Thus will you live happily.
The Dragon's Fang
"Weakness"
Maybe there's just simply something,
Or maybe nothing's barely bumping,
Or somehow questions silly stumping,
Fixing, mixing, feelings clumping.
Maybe nature built us knowing
How we think prevents our growing,
How we feel will get us going,
But gone are we when we stop flowing.
Gone are we when we hold onto
All our pains; our pangs belong to
Stalling gains we make and strive to
Save for me and thus provide you
Thus provide you little choice,
Blocked by banking on my voice,
Holding in my thoughts, rejoice
In little as my cheeks get moist.
Little things I noticed lately,
Small they are but impact greatly,
I move onward, guise as stately,
Strong and steady, sigh innately.
Give you reason not to hate me.
Give me reason for my fate.
I'll give mad props for anyone who can find the connection between "The Flame of Tar Valon" and "The Dragon's Fang."
Hint: The poems are yin and yang.
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