Story: Birthday!

Since my mum and I are both September babies, we decided to celebrate one day after my birthday and one day before hers...namely today. :) We had a lovely celebration, including lunching, sampling, browsing and cake-picking at Whole Foods and a deeelicious seafood dinner at the Fish Market.

Yay for bibs!

Mmmmmm. Cioppino! I've been dying to go to Fish Market ever since I tried some at my friend's place.

Yay for family. :)

Let them eat cake! (From left to right: lemon tartlette, fruit tartlette, vanilla bean cheesecake, cappuccino cheesecake, and mini tiramisu in the back)

What's so special about birthdays? I've given much thought since my parents don't understand my and the rest of America's fascination with birthdays. Maybe it's due to the fact that they grew up at a different time in a different culture, or just the fact that they're both pragmatists, but my parents believe, birthdays are nothing special. As my dad says it's somebody's birthday every day.

But I beg to differ. Celebrating birthdays is not so much celebrating the annivarsary of birth as celebrating a person's existence. I mean, what's so special about going to sleep one night and waking up a "older" person the next morning? Sure, you can legally do more things when you turn 16, then 18 and then 21. However, you're still the same person you were before. Maturity isn't determined by birthdays but by experience. However, birthdays are convienant pre-picked days for you to celebrate life, party, and throw caution to the wind. I'm not saying you shouldn't enjoy life and spend quality time with the people you love the other 364 days of the year, however on this particular day it's nice to be the center of attention, recieve gifts, and feel appreciated. :)

Okay, I'm getting off my soapbox now, but I'm really grateful for all the sweet, lovely and amazing people I have in my life and I want to thank everybody for celebrating my 18th with me. :)

Story: A Dentist Visit

As I lay on the reclined dentist chair, my dentist measured the length of my gums, "3. 2. 2. 3. 2. 2. 3." He suddenly paused, and just when I thought he was going to inform me that I had contracted a gum disease in which my all teeth would fall out one-by-one, or some other horrible medical condition that still resulted in all my teeth falling out one-by-one, he broke into a huge smile and said, “I still think it’s wonderful news that you’re heading off to Prestigious Institution!” for the umpteenth time. He went on to tell me that Prestigious Institution has a gorgeous campus and that if he was accepted he would have definitely chose it over UC College and that it was a great opportunity to meet scholars from all around the world and, oh yeah, he was very happy for me.

I am in no way trying to poke fun of him. It was all very pleasant hearing these nice things about my intended school of choice and it didn’t hurt that he and the hygienist seemed to take a liking to me even though they’ve just met me today, just because I will attend Prestigious University.

But that’s the very core of what baffles me. By just name-dropping the school I will attend, I seem to have bypassed societal norms of proving myself worthy. It’s as if what little academic prowess I possess and the ability to thwart admission officers’ attempt to put me in the Reject pile automatically makes me a good person.

I never gave it any thought throughout the college application and college selection process, but attending a university, at least in the outside world, comes with baggage beyond my control. I wonder if I had told them I will UC I’m near Hollywood or even UC Hippyland, what their reactions would be. I bet if I told them I attended a state university or a JC, they wouldn’t have so much as blinked an eye. I’m not saying they wouldn’t have liked me, but I feel that they would have perceived me differently.

Sadly (maybe sadly?) I don’t function any differently. If I met a student from Another Prestigious University, I would imagine a stellar student who single handedly saved the world from global dimming while penning the Great American Novel in her spare time between her Olympic gymnastic workouts. And she would probably run a soup kitchen from the back of her house and probably spends quality time with her grandparents every weekend.

Bottom line is, people expect things from you just because of the school you will attend. Do they have a right to? I don’t know. I’m not saying the people who attend these institutions don’t deserve to go there, because I’m sure they have earned every right. But is it right to attach so much meaning to a single school? I’m not a better person just because I will attend Prestigious University. My admission officer probably won the lottery or got her tax rebate back the day she admitted me. I have wittier, kinder, and smarter friends who go elsewhere. Yet, I seem to have fallen in the good graces with neighborhood parents and family friends because of this.

Maybe it’s because I have come to expect similar reactions from people when they learn of Prestigious University, that I try to hide it from them. I don’t want to them to learn it if I can help it. It is not that I try to defy the media-induced stereotype of a quiet Asian nerd, because, as I quickly learned at various Admit Weekend programs for prospective freshmen, most intelligent students aren’t like that. But I do want to be more complex than just a stereotype. I like shopping and keeping up with the latest fashion trends. I like reading trashy magazines like Cosmogirl and Seventeen. I have a boyfriend. I enjoy playing sports. However, I also do like thumbing through Rand, Brontë, and Márquez in my free time. I find scientific and mathematical breakthroughs exciting. And I’ll even attempt to learn Japanese and Italian when I’m bored of reading Spanish novels.

However, I would rather others underestimate me so that I would never have to disappoint them. I want to earn people’s trust, admiration, and respect rather than buying it with a few A’s. In the end, it is not about the grades you earn, the school you attend, or even the job you have, but the way you live your life. I want to live mine making the world a better place.

Story: Harry Potter

Each time I reread any of J.K. Rowling's novels, I am awestruck by the sheer brilliance of the world and storyline she has created. It almost seems impossible that a series brimming with complex characters and fluid plot was given birth by only one person. As I write this, I am in the midst of rereading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and my stomach is gripped by the same feeling of suspense, excitement, and reluctance that I felt three years ago when I first read it.

Although there have been many love stories within Harry Potter (Harry + Cho, Hermione + Viktor Krum, Ginny + countless boys, Ron + Lavender, Harry + Ginny, Hermione + Ron, James + Lily), I am most struck by the relationship between Severus Snape and Lily Evans. Of course they never had an actual relationship, but deep down they had always cared for each other, even if Snape's love for Lily wasn't reciprocated. It moves me that after all these years, Snape is inspired to become a nobler person because of his undying love towards Lily. Throughout the series, he has always seems like such a despicable person, but there is actually some good in him. Although I'm not usually a big fan of unrequited love (like, I couldn't stand Heathcliff and Catherine in Wuthering Heights), I really think we are on to something big here.

I think love should be like this. Love should bring out the best in people and motivate them to do good.

Despite their being fictional, I also have a lot of admiration for the other characters in Harry Potter. What strongly stands out to me about Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Tonks, Hagrid, George, Fred, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and others I have forgotten to name, include their unwavering loyalty to friends; ability to laugh and love in the face of such dark times; and willingness to fight for what they believe is right even when others think they're crazy. And of course they probably have sexy British accents to boot.

I remember fondly, probably like many of my peers, how I would use to playact Hogwarts. My third grade best friend and I used to spend our free time at Daycare penning fictional Hogwarts acceptance letters. Mine were always addressed to either Becky or Jenny Forest since I couldn't decide which name I liked better. We imagined decorating our dormitory with moving pictures of Chudley Cannons and mulled over which types of sweets to buy from the Trolley Witch on the Hogwarts Express (Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes or Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans? I liked Bertie Bott's since the thought of chancing upon kidney-pie or booger flavored jelly bean always tickled my fancy.) We even played Quidditch on the play structure (of course my Firebolt outstripped her Nimbus 2001). Up until my 11th birthday, I secretly hoped Hogwarts really existed and that I was talented enough to receive an owl post bearing my acceptance to this prestigious institution. Of course my 11th birthday came and went with no owl in sight, but to this day, I still secretly believe that out there in the far off British isle, where no Muggle has ever set foot, stands a wizarding school by the name of Hogwarts.