In which I have a panic attack at lunch without realizing I am having a panic attack.

Dear reader, I have been over the past several months, dealing with the ordeal that is Applying to Grad School. This endeavor has essentially swallowed up my life, which is dear reader, the reason why I have not posted anything in a long, long time. Also because I am lazy, and because I also have better things to do.

But today, I post because something happened to me today that has never happened before in my life.

I had a panic attack.

No not a fainting, hyperventilating, moment of screaming. In fact, I did not at all realize that I was having a panic attack until now, 9 hours later.

Let me back up.

Today, I am in Seattle, Washington. This is not a normal state of affairs for me to be in. I have never been in Seattle, WA before in my life. But today, the culmination of Applying to Grad School was upon me, in which I had to come to the university in order to audition for the flute performance program.

(spoiler alert: I did not have a panic attack about auditioning for grad school.)

I auditioned this morning at 10am. The audition went as well as the universe wanted it to, and I had accepted that fact from the moment I woke up. I was nervous, but NOT PANICKING. Afterwards, I was actually quite fine.

I proceeded to spend the rest of the day exploring Seattle.

Seattle is a rather large city. Okay, seriously, Seattle is BIG. One of the most rapidly growing cities in the country. And downtown Seattle showed that quite well. Every single space was packed with people, people everywhere. The views were gorgeous, and the shops were new, and numerous.

It was at 3pm that I had a panic attack.

I was in the middle of eating lunch, lots of fresh seafood (can't get that in Nebraska, so man, I was quite the happy camper.) on the boardwalk. Although my stomach was happy and I was in a very good mood, I got EXTREMELY dizzy out of nowhere. I drank more water (my 2nd glass), and put more bread in my mouth (I sometimes get dizzy from lack of sugar, yay hypoglycemia, bread tends to help that.) But no matter my efforts, I could not stop being nauseous. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. My dad offered the fact that he tends to feel that way when he as a panic attack, which he tends to get in large crowds. Seeing as I was sitting in a restaurant, eating tasty food, and was not at all claustrophobic, I hadn't the slightest idea.

Looking back now, I know exactly why I was having a panic attack.

It was the very reason I thought I was happy.

Everything I saw was big. New. Unknown to me.

In less than a year, I was going to pack up my bags and move. Not necessarily to Seattle. But to somewhere much like it. A place where I know nothing and no-one. I would not be able to visit my favorite shops for comfort, sit at my favorite cafe, walk at my favorite park.

And by god, everything was SO EXPENSIVE. How could I possibly pay for living, let alone school, in ANYWHERE ELSE besides Nebraska?

All of a sudden, Seattle was not a new place to discover, it seemed like a horror story unfolding to me. And without warning, I realized that I honestly, truly love where I live and was terrified to leave.

I had never realized this before. I thought I wanted adventure! To go and never look back!

But once I was gone? All I could do was keep looking backwards lest I vomit all over my nice seafood lunch.

This will pass. At least a little. To live in one place forever would be a terribly boring life. Seattle is a beautiful city, and so is many of the other cities in which I'll be auditioning at. And someday soon, I will find myself back at one of them and calling them home.

I only hope that my version of "crossing the threshold" isn't puking on my shoes.

I wanna hold your hand?

I know I haven't posted anything in forever, so I apologize, but today I have something truly full of angst to rant about today.

There is a boy that I teach. He is about ten years old, and he is a joy to be around. He constantly smiles and tries to make everyone around him laugh. He loves to play with anyone, and he adores being the center of attention.

This boy is Chinese. He was adopted into an American family very recently, so he's still mastering English. On top of that, he has a slight speech impediment due to the shape of his lips that makes him a little difficult to understand.

Despite these things, he has made himself extremely popular with my other students. He is well liked, and genuinely gets along with everyone else.

Today, I learned that this student of mine is ostracized by his fellow students at school.

He does not have very many friends.

The reason?


He likes to hold hands with his friends.




Due to this, he has been labeled a weirdo, and therefore cast out.

It breaks my heart.

This kind, loving child, in an act to show his friendship caused him to loose what friends he had.

Apparently, American children now think that if a boy holds hands with another boy he's "gay" or if a boy holds hands with another girl he's "flirting".
These children haven't even hit puberty.

My student doesn't think of these things when he wants to hold hands. In China, hand-holding is a sign of friendship.
Oh wait.
It's a sign of friendship in Japan too.
And India.
And Afghanistan.

and BASICALLY EVERYWHERE.

Why is it a symbol of sexuality or romantic intention here?

Moreover, why in the world do these very young children view it as such?

I remember when I was in elementary school,  girls would ask me "Which boy is the hottest?" as they pointed to the cover of an 'N Sync CD and I would be left with a blank stare. Frankly, I was far more concerned about dragons and spies than I was about boys. But even then holding hands between myself and my friends was a very innocent thing. We did it all the time.

I just don't understand how a very simple gesture has turned into something fairly taboo. How can children do that to another over something so innocent?

I'm honestly still struck with horror. I can only hope that my student will find someone who accepts him for the positive ray of sunshine that he is.

Kicking science in the mouth

Getting bored at a computer is a fascinating phenomena to me.

Don't get me wrong, I get bored sometimes on the computer. I check my facebook, devaintART, Etsy, and my webcomics. When I'm done, I browse around for a bit, and then I inevitably get bored.

Of course after the fact, I then realize how incredibly, ridiculously, LUDICROUS it is to be bored at a computer.

The computer is an amazing thing.

If you wanted to, you could find a song for every moment of your life. You could listen to something new every minute of your spare time.

There are THOUSANDS of books available online. You could read about anything. Fiction, non-fiction, classics, brand new authors, science. You could learn so much.

But if you didn't want to read a whole book, there are thousands more articles about anything and everything.

Don't want to read? TV shows, movies, and short films are all easily accessible thanks to youtube.

There are games, social media, "how-to" articles, photo editing, video creating, music writing, all kinds of media available at your fingertips.

And yet - you and I are bored.

Can you believe it? We are so INCREDIBLY FUCKING STUPID that we choose to sit there watching videos of cats jumping into boxes with our eyes glazed over and think: "By god! This is the best use of the internet I could possibly think of!"

REALLY?!

We essentially have a portal to all knowledge we could possibly want and all we do is look at pictures like this?

 

WHAT THE FUCK.

WE ARE  KICKING SCIENCE IN THE MOUTH.

Not so long ago, if you wanted to use a computer, you would have to leave your house, go to the nearest university, and access a computer THE SIZE OF A ROOM.

We now have PHONES with a higher processing capacity.

And yet, all anyone does with this phones is send pictures of "inspirational" cheesy quotes with blurred out backgrounds and sad looking dogs with signs tied around their necks!

I MEAN REALLY.

When was the last time you used the internet to actually LEARN SOMETHING?

Do yourself a favor. Look up a topic that you're genuinely interested in. FUCKING LEARN SOMETHING. Repeat this process every goddamn time you find yourself bored and staring at a computer screen.

....

and afterwards you can go look at lolcats.

Goodbye 2012 - Hello 2013

13 has always been a good number for me.
I was a miserable 12 year old. Really. I had a lot of bullies, I had to practice the piano far more often than I wanted to, and not that many friends.
But thirteen?
Thirteen was magical for me. I dreaded my fourteenth birthday. I wanted to be thirteen forever. So once I turned fourteen, I decided that thirteen was going to be my lucky number.
And it was.
The thirteenth day of the month was always a great day. Whenever I had to pick numbers I would pick thirteen, and it tended to get me a pleasant outcome.

So here's to hoping 2013 will be a good year.

Actually wait.

Screw that.

2013 will be a good year. Because it's my lucky number. And because I said so. And because I'll make it so.

On another note, here's my apology for the total lack of writing since September of 2012.
College ate my life.

In one fell swoop, music theory consumed all my waking hours.
So: sorry.

Well...
That's only half true.

The other half is that I have been writing.
But not a blog.

Since August of 2012, I have been working on a novel.
It's been a long process, but now I can officially say:

It's still in its beginning stages. I mean really. This novel is going to take freaking forever. But once things are more concrete, I'll be using this blog to update you readers about where that novel is going, or to answer any questions about it that you may have.

But that's all I have to say about it for now.

So see you soon dear readers. Maybe next time I'll have something more interesting to say.

An almost philosophical conversation with a 4 year old...

...without words.

This happened to me several weeks ago, and I meant to blog about it but life got in the way.

I was running between the flute lesson I had just taught and a dance class, but I had just enough time to catch lunch. I wasn't super hungry, so I stopped in Panera and got myself a bagel.

I sat at a table by myself, and began one of my favorite activities to pass the time. People watching.

To my left were two ladies, both of which describing their vacations to each other in explicit detail. They were quite loud, and evidently jealous of each others destination choices. To my right were a mother and daughter, neither of which seemed to be very happy about anything.

Since neither of which people were altogether that interesting, I proceeded to just focus on eating my bagel. I then heard a very loud shout from the mother. "Heey!"

At this moment, a man, white, blond, and about the age of 30 stopped by the mother/daughter table. The mother seemed to know him quite well, but he didn't seem to be very sure of her identity. At his side was a little boy, whom the mother was told was the age of four.

My attention immediately switched to the child. He had mud brown hair, olive skin, and just slightly almond shaped eyes.
Oh yeah, I knew those traits.  I have those traits. I realized he must be half-asian like myself right as his mother walked up.
100% Korean. Yup.

As I was about to ignore the group and get back to my bagel, the boy locked eyes with me.
Seriously, he was staring at me. I wasn't really quite sure what to do, when he got the biggest grin on his face I had ever seen on a child.
At this moment I realized that I was probably the first half-asian he had ever seen in his short life. It also occurred to me that he was in fact four, and could be just being ridiculous and four.

As his parents were talking to the mother/daughter pair, the boy proceeded to have a conversation with me, without talking. It went like this.

First, the boy, who was also eating a bagel, raised his bagel slightly, took a large bite, and smiled.
Two could play this game.
I raised my bagel slightly, took a bite, and wiggled my eyebrows.

The boy started giggling. He tugged at his dad's shirt, but his dad couldn't care less. He attempted to push the boy behind him, but to no avail. The boy first poked his head around his dad to look at me, and then found his way back to his dad's other side to continue our conversation.

At this point the child just pointed at me. His grin might have actually gotten bigger. At this moment I wondered if anyone else had noticed our interaction, but they seemed too enthralled in their own conversations. The boy attempted to direct his father's attention at me, but again, his father did nothing except attempt to push him behind him again.

Finally, when I had decided that the boy was probably just being silly, he did something curious.
He tugged at his hair.
Then he pointed at himself.
And then at me.

The intent was clear.
"You are like me!"

The Truth Behind the Wizard of Oz

The Wizard of Oz seems like a fairly innocent story. Filled with magic, rainbows, flying monkeys, and a rather strong desire to go back to the dirt-hole known as home. However, if you look past the lollipops and pink bubbles, throw away Dorothy's naivete, you have a tale of politics and corruption.

First - lets look at the start of the movie.
The witch gets squished.

                                                         that would just ruin your entire day
The rest of the movie revolves on the shiny, red, shoes (that weren't supposed to be red according to the book) - and ignores the real truth.

A person just DIED. And her poor sister is driven mad with grief. 
But who really caused the house to fall and KILL a person?

This person:

Pink, sweet, murderess.

 

Now why would the Good Witch of the West kill a fellow, also very powerful and influential witch?

Lets continue.

We know that at the end of the movie, Dorothy finds that she always had the power to go home. So why is it that Glinda decides to send Dorothy after the dead witch's sister to kill her, rather than just saying: "click your heels, and go home". At the start of the movie, Dorothy doesn't say: "I wanna go kill a witch!" She wants to find a way home.

So Dorothy kills the witch. She melts. 

Guess what? That means that Glinda is the only witch in the area of importance.

So what?

Well, killing apparently isn't the only way to get people to leave. The Wizard leaves too, to go home.

Which leaves pretty, sweet, Glinda to rule all of Munchkinland.

So yeah.

The story of the Wizard of Oz is actually a very complex plot in which Glinda kills off or gets rid of all her political adversaries, and ends up the sole dictator.

Not so rainbows and bubbles anymore huh?

Summer Ruminations

It's been a while since I last blogged. Summer has gotten to me - a mixture of lethargic-ness on hot days and being freakishly busy, downtime sandwiched in between hours of running from place to place, person to person. It's almost like being on two different clocks: one that speeds up, one that slows down.

I feel like I've gotten a lot accomplished.

I probably haven't.

I thought about what currently keeps me busy this summer, and I nearly broke out laughing.
Besides working on the flute, and teaching martial arts, my other "job" this summer is teaching a fitness class.

Let me back up.

If someone told me that I would be teaching a fitness class four years ago, I would have looked at them like they were crazy.

I'm the girl that couldn't lift 10 pounds.

I'm the girl that vomited every time I finished running a mile.

I'm the girl who got B's in gym class - when all my other grades were A's.

Fitness was the last thing on my agenda. I figured I'd never do a physical class again once I hit college. (Well, besides martial arts. But I was only vaguely good at that while in high school.)
I was not SUPPOSED to teach this class.

But I am.

My life is awkward,

And I like it that way.