It scarcely seems a week since I last posted, but alas, I'm rather surprised by how much has happened in a week. Good things, I think. Anyways, it feels rather comforting being back at UOP again. Love it or hate it, this school doesn't seem to be quite the alien and frightening place it once was to me. But, ah this, last week in review...
The GMAT went surprisingly well. In retrospect, I think I was blessed with an extraordinary amount of luck regarding that test, because I probably put two weeks time, tops, into studying for it. And not just studying; half-assed studying. I don't really think of it is a boast; I just think of it as the truth. But, now that its done and over with, I just have to finish this year up. Its kind of funny, on further reflection about the test. I knew that if I bombed it, I probably wouldn't have to apply to the MBA program, so I wouldn't have to spend another year in Stockton. On the other hand, I knew my parents were spending 250 bucks for me to take this test; not trying my hardest would be an invisible slap to the face, in my eyes. So, I've resigned myself for another year in Stockton... but I think the hardest reason as to why I didn't want to do this damn thing, along with spending another year at school, would be that I wouldn't be in the same Pharmacy class as many of my other friends.
I think one thing I miss about the dorms, aside from the infinite supply of toilet paper, is the proximity of my friends. I'm not rooming with guys I know; they're random strangers. Good guys, but all the same, not the guys I've known and talked to the last few years. Its been rather lonely these last few days, but I know that once school picks up, I'll be seeing most of my friends in the library.
Speaking of which, I've started talking to Sean and Eric again. Its surprising to me, but in retrospect, our argument was such a retarded thing to get all worked up about. We haven't really acknowledged what we've said to each other; its kinda like its all swept up under the rug, or perhaps, I've been too much of a coward to bring it up? I'd like to believe that we've made up, regardless of what the cynical side of me believes. Only time will tell, I suppose.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
GMAT
So.....in twelve hours time, I'll be sitting in front of a computer taking my GMAT. Unlike my friends who are antagonizing over the DATs, the GMAT isn't gonna make or break my chances of getting into Pharm school, just the PharmD/MBA program. As it stands, after about 2 weeks (actually, more like 5 days) of cramming, I don't feel too bad about it. Well, time to go to sleep...like a relatively normal person.
And here, we, go.....
And here, we, go.....
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Healthcare
After Obama's victory back in November, I dropped out of politics for a while. Actually, for more like the entirety of the spring semester, because at the time, I just felt like I couldn't be bothered with the details of his plans. This summer, I've tried to put more time into politics; the recent "debate" over healthcare, however, shows me why I quit following politics in the first place.
It may come as a bit of a surprise, but I actually followed politics when I was younger. Around 8th-9th grade, about the time the U.S. was entering Iraq, I thought the pretenses leading up to the war seemed kinda fishy. Of course, I was reading newspapers at that time, and watching too much CNN at that time, but I wouldn't exactly say it feels good now to be vindicated. I realize, when I was younger, and unfortunately what a lot of older people do now, is tread politics like sports, in the sense that the party has become more important than the nation as a whole. Many people on both sides of the aisle would rather see the winning party commit mistakes that hurt the country, rather than try to acknowledge the good ideas that the other party presents. ITs this polarity in politics that is really just hurting America.
But what really, really, just fucking pisses me off are these town hall protesters. There are legitimate problems with some of the healthcare plans floating around the House and the Senate; but they don't talk about them. Instead, they're creating straw men; hell, labeling the Democrats as Nazis, and Obama as Hitler, is fucking outrageous. Yeah, because Hitler was an evil prick because he introduced healthcare in Germany, not because he killed 11 million people (end sarcasm). Having that same comparison once drawn to me in a debate on Facebook, about pressing the like button on my own status, of all reasons...it just annoys me to no end. Calling Obama a fascist, for wanting to reform healthcare, when these same people didn't raise a finger against Bush when he authorized unwarranted wiretapping, suspension of habeus corpus, a phony war....its the very height of ignorance.
They yell down any debate in the town halls. Hell, if they're so uniformed, why don't they use the Internet and find the details about the plan? I'd like to think of myself as a moderately tolerant person, but enough is enough. Being sore about losing an election to a black man (and yes, at the root of it, these people have misguided anger and rage that stems from that) shouldn't hold our country back from catching up to the rest of the modernized world. These people are scum. Vermin. Animals. Only in America are people stupid enough to fight against a cause that would actually benefit them, all at the behest of some right-wing nutjob on Fox News or radio.
God, democracy is tiring.
It may come as a bit of a surprise, but I actually followed politics when I was younger. Around 8th-9th grade, about the time the U.S. was entering Iraq, I thought the pretenses leading up to the war seemed kinda fishy. Of course, I was reading newspapers at that time, and watching too much CNN at that time, but I wouldn't exactly say it feels good now to be vindicated. I realize, when I was younger, and unfortunately what a lot of older people do now, is tread politics like sports, in the sense that the party has become more important than the nation as a whole. Many people on both sides of the aisle would rather see the winning party commit mistakes that hurt the country, rather than try to acknowledge the good ideas that the other party presents. ITs this polarity in politics that is really just hurting America.
But what really, really, just fucking pisses me off are these town hall protesters. There are legitimate problems with some of the healthcare plans floating around the House and the Senate; but they don't talk about them. Instead, they're creating straw men; hell, labeling the Democrats as Nazis, and Obama as Hitler, is fucking outrageous. Yeah, because Hitler was an evil prick because he introduced healthcare in Germany, not because he killed 11 million people (end sarcasm). Having that same comparison once drawn to me in a debate on Facebook, about pressing the like button on my own status, of all reasons...it just annoys me to no end. Calling Obama a fascist, for wanting to reform healthcare, when these same people didn't raise a finger against Bush when he authorized unwarranted wiretapping, suspension of habeus corpus, a phony war....its the very height of ignorance.
They yell down any debate in the town halls. Hell, if they're so uniformed, why don't they use the Internet and find the details about the plan? I'd like to think of myself as a moderately tolerant person, but enough is enough. Being sore about losing an election to a black man (and yes, at the root of it, these people have misguided anger and rage that stems from that) shouldn't hold our country back from catching up to the rest of the modernized world. These people are scum. Vermin. Animals. Only in America are people stupid enough to fight against a cause that would actually benefit them, all at the behest of some right-wing nutjob on Fox News or radio.
God, democracy is tiring.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Insomnia, leading to the Trap of Childhood.
Less than two weeks left until school begins, and I have the sleeping pattern of a coke addict.
Shit.
I apologize if the following sounds like some sort of Xenga by way of Myspace blog you've stumbled upon, but I assure you, my whining will by winding woefully soon.
I don't usually write on consecutive days, and I suspect that I'll have less time during the school year. Unfortunately, it seems that I tend to write when I am impassioned about some injustice; in other words, when I'm complaining like a teenager. After my post yesterday, I actually had a heart to heart talk with my brother about my misguided anger; he soaked it up, and when he responded, he was rather succinct and to the point: "Look man, have some fucking balls. You don't sit around waiting for other people to clean your own mess. Stop bitching, and man up. If you want something, you go out there and get it. Maybe Mom and Dad do favor me, maybe they don't; it doesn't matter, because in the end its your life. You can sit around waiting for what you want, but don't count on it."
Not exactly verbatim, but all the same, it struck as me as brutally honest. I can sit around blaming my parents all I want on a blog, but the fact of the matter is that its only me that can change their perceptions. I've finally realized something about myself; I am probably passive aggressive. I wouldn't exactly call myself a psychiatrist, but if Wikipedia is anything to go by, then that mental disorder would probably most fit the bill for me. I've never been totally honest with myself, which is a damn shame, because if there's one person who you need not lie to, it'd be yourself. But its the truth; I'm so willing to let my life be dictated by others, and then feel like I have no control over it so I don't have the burden of being responsible for myself. That doesn't exactly mean I'm gonna walk around with a shit-eating grin on my face every day, but I do think I need to start acting my age. And grow a pair, while I'm at it.
Ironic, I think. Whining today about what I wrote yesterday. But if there seems to be any guiding principle in life, at least from what I've seen, heard, and experienced, its irony.
Reading one of my favorite books over the summer, Traitor, I find myself in an amusingly similar situation. Of course, there are some, ah, vast differences (the main character is being tortured in a POW camp), but all the same, the similarities that are there are strikingly similar. In that book, the main character is tortured for the sole purpose of being broken and re-programmed as a spy; one his torturers is empathetic to his cause, and tries to make him stronger through his pain. She gives him a lesson, an analogy that spans nearly a chapter but gives him the revelation he needs to survive; likewise, his revelation was mine. And it was this.
Alone. Alone, but not helpless. Being alone does not mean being helpless; and it is here, where the protagonist realizes that he must escape the trap of childhood. The trap of waiting for someone else to come and save him; he realizes that only he can get himself out of there, out of that torture, and the only way to do that is to become stronger than his pain. Reading that passage again, it struck me just how much I connected with the main character as a result of his struggle. I need to free myself from the trap of childhood, of waiting for my parents to know what type of person I am, to have some sort of epiphany about me, of waiting for someone else to find me.
I've heard one definition of crazy as being someone who does the same thing over and over, expecting a different result each time. By that standard, I'm a goddamn lunatic.
It seems kinda funny to me that I've done a quick 180 in less than a scant 24 hours. But I suppose writing something, and reading what you've wrote are two different things, giving two different responses. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this whole damn thing; who knows?
But before you see (hopefully) the end of my emo side, I'd like to say thanks to Doo Lim; your kind words are greatly appreciated, my friend. I'm glad to know that my words aren't falling on deaf ears.
And that's a wrap, folks. Now, I really, really need to start studying again for my GMAT. Its amazing how seductive blogging can be when faced with the prospect of studying this late (or early?) into the day. G'night!
Shit.
I apologize if the following sounds like some sort of Xenga by way of Myspace blog you've stumbled upon, but I assure you, my whining will by winding woefully soon.
I don't usually write on consecutive days, and I suspect that I'll have less time during the school year. Unfortunately, it seems that I tend to write when I am impassioned about some injustice; in other words, when I'm complaining like a teenager. After my post yesterday, I actually had a heart to heart talk with my brother about my misguided anger; he soaked it up, and when he responded, he was rather succinct and to the point: "Look man, have some fucking balls. You don't sit around waiting for other people to clean your own mess. Stop bitching, and man up. If you want something, you go out there and get it. Maybe Mom and Dad do favor me, maybe they don't; it doesn't matter, because in the end its your life. You can sit around waiting for what you want, but don't count on it."
Not exactly verbatim, but all the same, it struck as me as brutally honest. I can sit around blaming my parents all I want on a blog, but the fact of the matter is that its only me that can change their perceptions. I've finally realized something about myself; I am probably passive aggressive. I wouldn't exactly call myself a psychiatrist, but if Wikipedia is anything to go by, then that mental disorder would probably most fit the bill for me. I've never been totally honest with myself, which is a damn shame, because if there's one person who you need not lie to, it'd be yourself. But its the truth; I'm so willing to let my life be dictated by others, and then feel like I have no control over it so I don't have the burden of being responsible for myself. That doesn't exactly mean I'm gonna walk around with a shit-eating grin on my face every day, but I do think I need to start acting my age. And grow a pair, while I'm at it.
Ironic, I think. Whining today about what I wrote yesterday. But if there seems to be any guiding principle in life, at least from what I've seen, heard, and experienced, its irony.
Reading one of my favorite books over the summer, Traitor, I find myself in an amusingly similar situation. Of course, there are some, ah, vast differences (the main character is being tortured in a POW camp), but all the same, the similarities that are there are strikingly similar. In that book, the main character is tortured for the sole purpose of being broken and re-programmed as a spy; one his torturers is empathetic to his cause, and tries to make him stronger through his pain. She gives him a lesson, an analogy that spans nearly a chapter but gives him the revelation he needs to survive; likewise, his revelation was mine. And it was this.
Alone. Alone, but not helpless. Being alone does not mean being helpless; and it is here, where the protagonist realizes that he must escape the trap of childhood. The trap of waiting for someone else to come and save him; he realizes that only he can get himself out of there, out of that torture, and the only way to do that is to become stronger than his pain. Reading that passage again, it struck me just how much I connected with the main character as a result of his struggle. I need to free myself from the trap of childhood, of waiting for my parents to know what type of person I am, to have some sort of epiphany about me, of waiting for someone else to find me.
I've heard one definition of crazy as being someone who does the same thing over and over, expecting a different result each time. By that standard, I'm a goddamn lunatic.
It seems kinda funny to me that I've done a quick 180 in less than a scant 24 hours. But I suppose writing something, and reading what you've wrote are two different things, giving two different responses. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this whole damn thing; who knows?
But before you see (hopefully) the end of my emo side, I'd like to say thanks to Doo Lim; your kind words are greatly appreciated, my friend. I'm glad to know that my words aren't falling on deaf ears.
And that's a wrap, folks. Now, I really, really need to start studying again for my GMAT. Its amazing how seductive blogging can be when faced with the prospect of studying this late (or early?) into the day. G'night!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Good Son Gone Bad?
Today, I asked my parents if I could go to Great America later this week with some friends of mine, many of whom I won't see in quite a while. They said no, outright, on the spot.
Normally, a person might put down FML, or some other wonderfully witty acronym after the above. Instead, I sat back down to my laptop, put on my headphones, and continued searching some interesting subject on Wikipedia (might have been about The Rolling Stones, or the Vietnam War). I really had no opinion or feeling on my parents' refusal, until now in the morning, really. I guess the anger was simmering, but very rarely does it boil on over nowadays. (I had a nasty temper as a kid (think Joe Pesci), and it is sometimes very hard to keep control of it, especially in arguments). I find it rather cathartic to release my anger through words, instead of fists; my anger stems in part from my parents' rejection, but also in part towards my rather prejudiced view that they give carte blanche to my brother.
I sometimes wonder why they put such restrictions on me. My friend Mike tells me that they're just being overprotective, but a parent can only shield a child for so long. Still, I think most of my anger stems towards the preferrential treatment my brother recieves; back in high school, he was able to stay out longer than I am right now. For his last year of undergrad, before going to Pharm school, he was smoking out of an apple while playing Mario Kart with his roommates; his second semester, he studied abroad in Italy and traveled throughout Europe. He pretty much had this extra year of life to do what he wanted, by failing O.Chem and retaking it in the summer, thus switching from 2+3 to 3+3.
Ironically enough, I've got to go from a 4+3 to 3+3; getting a degree, whereas he did not. I suppose this is punishment enough for fucking up in the last 2 years of high school, but I'm just...aggravated that all of my efforts just feel like they go unheeded by them, or just don't seem to matter. I mean, what's the point in doing all that I'm doing to help my parents (saving a year's worth of tuition) if I can't even get a bit of freedom; last summer, I was stuck at a community college for 12 hours for 4 days a week taking 4 classes, so I could clear some GEs out of the way. I didn't travel. This summer, I've stayed cooped up in Folsom for nigh 3 months now, taking two Bio classes. I'd like to think my altruistic side is really doing this for my parents, as well as myself, but every person has a point where what they think they're doing isn't really adding up to the reality of the situation. In other words, for me, you might call it the breaking point. Luckily, school starts in a scant two weeks, and hopefully by this time next year, my scrotum will have dropped to the point where I can actually talk some sense into these people.
But, my testes aside, I'm just so tired of it; at the beginning of freshman year, in all my innocence, I would have told you that my reason to graduate early was to help save my parents' money, rather than get out on my own sooner. Now, with a few years of college under my belt, I feel like the balance has shifted to the latter, rather than the former. Selfish of me, I know; but I think everyone is entitled to a little selfishness now and then. Come to think of it, from the multitudes of shitty jobs I have ever worked, from taking orders from vermin at McDonalds, to making bubbling hot chicken at KFC, to dealing with hordes of unmarried fat chicks at Mervyns to God knows what else, I never told my parents to split my pay checks, or that any of them belonged to me; I simply signed off the checks and gave them to my parents. My brother, in contrast; well, he worked as a pharm intern for about a month during winter break, in which he kept a majority of his paychecks so that he could buy a new TV for himself.
Sometimes, my parents tell me to be more like my brother. I laugh inwardly at them, never speaking of the above thoughts to them. Oh, if only they knew!
Good sons should be getting Oscars every year.
Normally, a person might put down FML, or some other wonderfully witty acronym after the above. Instead, I sat back down to my laptop, put on my headphones, and continued searching some interesting subject on Wikipedia (might have been about The Rolling Stones, or the Vietnam War). I really had no opinion or feeling on my parents' refusal, until now in the morning, really. I guess the anger was simmering, but very rarely does it boil on over nowadays. (I had a nasty temper as a kid (think Joe Pesci), and it is sometimes very hard to keep control of it, especially in arguments). I find it rather cathartic to release my anger through words, instead of fists; my anger stems in part from my parents' rejection, but also in part towards my rather prejudiced view that they give carte blanche to my brother.
I sometimes wonder why they put such restrictions on me. My friend Mike tells me that they're just being overprotective, but a parent can only shield a child for so long. Still, I think most of my anger stems towards the preferrential treatment my brother recieves; back in high school, he was able to stay out longer than I am right now. For his last year of undergrad, before going to Pharm school, he was smoking out of an apple while playing Mario Kart with his roommates; his second semester, he studied abroad in Italy and traveled throughout Europe. He pretty much had this extra year of life to do what he wanted, by failing O.Chem and retaking it in the summer, thus switching from 2+3 to 3+3.
Ironically enough, I've got to go from a 4+3 to 3+3; getting a degree, whereas he did not. I suppose this is punishment enough for fucking up in the last 2 years of high school, but I'm just...aggravated that all of my efforts just feel like they go unheeded by them, or just don't seem to matter. I mean, what's the point in doing all that I'm doing to help my parents (saving a year's worth of tuition) if I can't even get a bit of freedom; last summer, I was stuck at a community college for 12 hours for 4 days a week taking 4 classes, so I could clear some GEs out of the way. I didn't travel. This summer, I've stayed cooped up in Folsom for nigh 3 months now, taking two Bio classes. I'd like to think my altruistic side is really doing this for my parents, as well as myself, but every person has a point where what they think they're doing isn't really adding up to the reality of the situation. In other words, for me, you might call it the breaking point. Luckily, school starts in a scant two weeks, and hopefully by this time next year, my scrotum will have dropped to the point where I can actually talk some sense into these people.
But, my testes aside, I'm just so tired of it; at the beginning of freshman year, in all my innocence, I would have told you that my reason to graduate early was to help save my parents' money, rather than get out on my own sooner. Now, with a few years of college under my belt, I feel like the balance has shifted to the latter, rather than the former. Selfish of me, I know; but I think everyone is entitled to a little selfishness now and then. Come to think of it, from the multitudes of shitty jobs I have ever worked, from taking orders from vermin at McDonalds, to making bubbling hot chicken at KFC, to dealing with hordes of unmarried fat chicks at Mervyns to God knows what else, I never told my parents to split my pay checks, or that any of them belonged to me; I simply signed off the checks and gave them to my parents. My brother, in contrast; well, he worked as a pharm intern for about a month during winter break, in which he kept a majority of his paychecks so that he could buy a new TV for himself.
Sometimes, my parents tell me to be more like my brother. I laugh inwardly at them, never speaking of the above thoughts to them. Oh, if only they knew!
Good sons should be getting Oscars every year.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Almost over.
Its been a while since I've last written on this blog. A month already? Seems like yesterday, when I was swearing profusely at my laptop for deleting a 15 minute long post. Summer is almost over; 3 more weeks to this day, and I'll be back at Pacific. Finished with Eco and Evo, and having only one more test to study for and take (GMAT), its kind of nice looking at my summer, and genuflecting upon it.
It was good. Maybe I didn't do all the things I had set out to do (like working out everyday), and I did get side-tracked here and there (too many videogames and late night outings with friends), but I think one thing I've realized about summer is that what I do at home won't really be possible at Pacific. So, instead of moping around, wondering why I didn't follow some strict routine at home that I had outlined at the start of summer, I'm just...going with the flow.
Disorder. Chaos. Entropy.
And I have to say, it feels damn good.
It was good. Maybe I didn't do all the things I had set out to do (like working out everyday), and I did get side-tracked here and there (too many videogames and late night outings with friends), but I think one thing I've realized about summer is that what I do at home won't really be possible at Pacific. So, instead of moping around, wondering why I didn't follow some strict routine at home that I had outlined at the start of summer, I'm just...going with the flow.
Disorder. Chaos. Entropy.
And I have to say, it feels damn good.
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