A Journal

Location: Stanford, California, United States

Friday, March 31, 2006

Dear Diary, I have bangs now.

Damn, I look azn =).

The Future

"How's Stanford"

"Have you decided on a major?"

"Still going Pre-med?"

I've been asked countless variations of these questions the past few days. Having come home for Spring Break and seeing people connected to my high school past, etc etc. And everytime the answer is just another variation of the same. My mind just automaticaly clicks through the different responses I can reply with. Thing is, it's all a bunch of bullshit. Stanford is fine--life could be better, then again it always could be. The weather is fine. Why the hell would I care? Yes, I've decided on a major, or rather a major has been decided for me, because I don't particularly care about that either. It's Biology, if you really must know. And yes, I'm still a pre-meder, notice how I'm a Biology major, you think?

If I really had it my way, I'd be an English major, well on my way onto writing a book and on my way to destitution. Or I'd be a fashion-designer (a dream I had back in the 4th grade when I had convinced myself that I had an eye for clothes and such material things).

I find that I don't really care where I end up and what I will be doing in a few years time. It's because it's just so far away, just so vague.

Last night, my mom and I took another walk to the Twin Lakes Park, if it really is a park at all. I find that Mom is really into these things now--spending time together and taking a bit of a breather from her work--her duties as homemaker and dabbler in stocks and real estate. As we crossed Meandering Way and wandered down Campbell toward the park, I noticed that the air was even more oppressive than earlier when I had been sitting at Starbucks, sipping on my frappacino and chatting with Steven. The air was heavy and hot. Made me think of how very depressing it was, and my earlier tiff with Andrew didn't help my spirits at all. And that was what my mind was on--the gross weather and Andrew--when my mom started her end of the conversation, "Winnie, I think we'll sell our house after the twins get into college."

I wasn't particularly in the state to get worked up. I decided to feel apathetic about the entire thing, "Okay."

We continued to talk about the impending future: my mom wants to sell 7227 Crooked Oak, MY house with MY green roof, chockful of MY memories; to move to Taiwan to be with her immediate family; to sell all the other houses and properties she has in the Dallas area and keep one house in case we ever want to come back again. Funny thing is, I immediately thought of my friends. Of Chi, and the promise of our respective weddings together--cheesy, I know. Of Andrew especially, how will I be able to see him? And that automatically linked to my on-going inner turmoil of when our turbulent relationship will finally end, how things will pan out. But at the time, with our freshly started dispute (and still ongoing at the moment I might add), my hurt and anger pushed him from my mind.

But after sleeping on it and giving it a full half a day to ferment in my mind, my mom's proposition is very real. I've moved before. From Plano to Dallas--seems like a very slight change to be sure, but it changed my world. From Dallas to California--during the school year. And now, from Dallas to Taiwan. While my own move seems very far away, I'll only move to join my parents after Med School, my mom plans to move in two years.

Within the next few years, I must decide upon the occupation that will determine the rest of my life. And at the same time, my mom is deciding the setting where my story will take place? How does that work. It's...almost, just almost unfathomable. Sure, I do not have to move to Taiwan with my family. I can stay here--but for what? For family or for friends?

College has already pulled my out by the roots--set me adrift in a place I don't particularl ywant to to be. Now this.

Just things I think about.

Back to the present: I'm off to get my hair all chopped off today. Will get bangs probably. Hopefully I won't look like shit.

Ps--It was nice seeing Castro again last night. And Javi, that little slut.

Note to Self: Books to Read

-A Fine Balance
-The Elegant Universe
-The God of Small Things*
-Kite Runner*

New Journal

Thus begins my new journal. I've given up my previous one, a neatly bound, heavy blue thing, for this. My claim is that I type faster than I write, that maybe even posting my things online makes my writing viewable--a sort of "unopened letter to a world that never shall reply" sort of thing. Since I feel so Emily Dickinson-esque and all. But that's not really my reason. It's just too hard, as I am so lazy, to take with me and bring back such a big thing, having it susceptible to be read and to be lost. The irony, I kind of like the idea of keeping this online journal because I like the thought of having my words read. However my words are like scribbles and devoid of talent or thought all together.

Many things will be figments of the imagination, with no basis in my reality or this world at all. Many things will be reflections, others, things that I want to keep in mind--to store away somewhere forever, to be pulled up again later.

So bear with me.

I have no idea how this will turn out, or how long it will last. I purely aim to make my thoughts tangible and even to improve my writing, since I've felt it slipping out of my fingertips ever since I stepped out of Dr. Whatley's English class last year. Ever since, I've said goodbye to creative writing and any sort of creative thought and turned to writing crappy PWR and IHUM papers for Stanford teaching fellows. How drab. So this is my last stab at maintaining sanity and making a decision on a future in writing.

Here we go.

The Journal of Winnie

meant for her eyes (and eyes of those most trusted) only

started on the last day of March '06
Vivemus, Amemus
"Let us live, and let us love" Posted by Picasa