I am an Asian-American college student majoring in Technical Communications at the University of Washington. My Spring Quarter 05 Schedule: posTComm, TC 403, TC 407, ARCH 251, ESS 495.
All I need to do is find a PAID summer internship and I'm set!
Packets of photons
Accelerating towards the mountains...
Your catalyst tendencies
Lower my energy of activation,
Speeding up our reaction--
An exothermic explosion.
Our mechanism?
Biomolecular--You & I, in one step.
--Feiya Wang
See, this is what happens when I miss Dan and I'm cramming for my O.Chem final...
I've been thinking over these verses for the last couple days, especially with my trip coming up, the most important thing is Love, and lots of it.
1 Corinthians 13:1-3
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Finally. Finished the paper. I'll make last minute revisions to it on Tuesday, since it's not due until noon. Whoo, glad to get that off my back. Now...*rubs hands* I can get started on studying for O.Chem. Tonight, I'll pack my bag for the 4 day Winter Conference, I figure, since I'll be up late, too tired to study, might as well pack then! I have to pack it so early because we're going to leave it in Seattle and when we come back from the mission trip, we're going to just take that to Portland. I'm thinking space will be limited in the cars.
A week or so ago, I was explaining this poem to a few of my friends, and I promised that I would blog it. Here is the link to the original site where I got this poem off of, it has a cute picture of Casey.
Casey at the Bat
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that —
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt.
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped —
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer has fled from Casey's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.
I just got back from basically a 2 hour lecture going over 1/3 of the O.Chem I learned this quarter. Thus, I'm going to use my overclocked brain and try to get my English paper done! Right before I left I had the good idea of using the first 4 lines of the following poem/play/monologue in the beginning.
Jaques in "As You Like It"
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
--Shakespeare, "As You Like It"
Unknown @ 5:33:00 PM
It's amazing how much can change in the span of a few hours and days. I went to the Technical Communications (TC) Open House/Winter Party yesterday afternoon at 4 PM. E-mailed a few people after I got back, then today, I went & got counseling at around 2 PM, at around 8:45 PM I was looking at classes and I dropped my English class, and am now officially taking CSE 142 and I'm on my way to being a TC major!! I'm also in the process now of dropping my O.Chem class & 6 hours per week of lab and getting the add code to take a Jewish Lit/religion type English class for VLPA/I&S credit. And I went from having to do at least 3 more years (total of 5 yrs of college) to being able to probably finish in the normal 4 yr. period. So yeah, it's all happened very quickly and kind of spontenously, but I feel that it's a logical choice. I get to write and use all the science background I've gained. I can actually see myself doing something like this, unlike a double degree in Bio and English where everyone just asked me if I was going to be a teacher (NO). A lot of people think TC is really boring because they're the people who write the user manuals and stuff like that, but they can also do website design and write the content for that, be published in science magazines for articles for normal people, work for Microsoft, Intel, etc. Certainly, you get to write. A lot. I'm definitely interested though and I'm looking forward to being in TC 231 Spring Quarter since I don't think I'll be able to get in for next quarter. I'm so glad I know so many people who are CS/Java savy. I think I'll be able to scrape by. :)
Unknown @ 1:24:00 AM
Today's the last day of class for Autumn Quarter 2003. I need to go get counseling. For school, not for anything psychological. I'm at another crossroads...I'm really feeling like I want to switch majors again.
INFORMATION SATURATION
I am tired of reading about war.
Give me poems about gardens, dogs, your
dented car, or a stinging love affair.
A long drawn-out ode to a speckled pear
is better than bombings, tanks, bloodshed, gore.
I just can't think about it anymore.
I want life back the way it was before
the towers' fall caught us all unaware.
I am tired of a war
I can't assimilate, condone, ignore.
I am getting up, going outside for
a walk and a breath of the first spring air.
Too late to prevent, nothing to prepare,
so I toss the newspaper on the floor.
I am tired of reading.
On the other side of a mirror there's an inverse world,
where the insane go sane; where bones climb out of the
earth and recede to the first slime of love.
And in the evening the sun is just rising.
Lovers cry because they are a day younger, and soon
childhood robs them of their pleasure.
In such a world there is much sadness which, of course,
is joy.
This flash made me cry: Duty. The song is in Korean, because the website and all the flash movies are originally in Korean. But yay! There's an English translation of the site. I hope everyone's studying for finals is going better than mine! :D
Unknown @ 9:40:00 PM
How can I praise the outrage Gödel brought?
Mathematics torn to baseless shreds;
Scholars tumbled from their tenured beds.
Professors, parsing propositions, sought
To mute conjecture, lest the farce they taught
Should pry them from their sherried Chairs. Threads
Of logic tore apart, and donnish dreads
Of fallacy convulsed the overwrought.
Yet, Gödel's thunder hides a healing theme
Within his proof that reason is inchoate.
He bears a bright reward that Hilbert's dream Had failed to count-and all the wranglers know it: Soul-devouring though the numbers seem,
Whole -- and holy -- worlds require the poet.
Wow. So after reseaching a bunch of the words, this poem makes SOOO much more sense, and it's a really awesome poem with lots of good (dare I say it?) SAT words. Any scientist would love to be Gödel, lol, bringing the system crashing down.
Unknown @ 2:35:00 AM
I know it's not Saturday anymore, and I don't want to pseudo-post, but hey, I make up the rules anyway. I was inspired.
I See Weird Things Late @ Night
Dark shadows rustling
the bushes, they move.
Searching------
A flashback of 9/11,
blowing in the wind;
silent, tall, intact.
The lonely sounds float
in a harmonica-
closer, closer...farther, farther
away.
Three puddles,
Large.
Medium.
Small.
Chunky upchuck.
It's a different world.
I only came for a visit.
Fifi 
Saturday, December 13, 2003
