moved out

Yes, it was a hasty decision. I've officially moved. I don't think I could ever stop blogging. I kiss annaswhatnots.blogspot goodbye. A special section in my heart is especially for this blog...at my right atrium...adjacent to my sinoatrial node.

So where am I wreaking havoc? I'm sure you guys will figure it out.

saved by the text

a priest friend texted a somewhat incomprehensible message that gave me an excuse to go out of the restaurant where we're at and look for the nearest wifi signal. yeah, that's how pathetic i am right now. and since this blog is going down the drain anyway, i might as well retire it. consider this my last blogpost here. i'm moving on to a new home. i also learned that we might be migrating soon and that there might be other faster means. yeah.

oh i want to go there

...right now. Ice is numbing. I want to ride that Ferris Wheel. Maybe go ice skating. Eat snow cones. Get tired. Find a cabin, stare at the fire. Maybe I'll roast some Chestnuts. Drink some egg nog. Get tipsy and go to sleep. Then the next day do the same thing over again. Sounds like a plan. Great.

here here shakespeare

love all. trust a few. do wrong to none.

very difficult to trust people these days.
cantankerous pinprick is suspiciously nice and in your face like you're the Virgin Mary (despite the litany of what happened last week....o brother i want to forget those). the few people you trust and probably care about want to see you miSerable. and now my doctor's asking why i suddenly have gastro-esophageal reflux disorder.
that's why i resort to oversleeping. because that's the only thing i can do right now. and wait. until i become even more jaded. i really wish that would happen soon. i want to be jaded. because people in this house are becoming suspicious of my never-ending colds and constant trips to the bathroom.

au bon pain

kat dennings recently tweeted that "pain is french for bread...you do the math" So i would like to dedicate this post to "pain." a loaf of pain...man does not live on pain alone...pain crumbs...cornpain...gingerpain...pained chicken...I'm in bread. (yeah, yeah that was really corny)

sensitive dependence on initial conditions...

...is the long-cut version of the butterfly effect. Now, I must emphasize that Math abhors me immensely even though I have been constantly wooing it just because chaos theory and its partner phenomenon--butterfly Effect--are just right at the top shelf of cosmic coolness. In 'chaos theory'...Just a small change in the initial conditions can drastically change the long-term behavior of a system. Probabilities...innumerable possible outcomes. All based on "what ifs." As seemingly irrelevant and random as "What if I flossed after brushing my teeth instead of before brushing my teeth? Would I still have mispronounced juxtaglomerular apparatus during my 10am lecture class?" Or that classic example of a butterfly flapping its wings and eventually causing a tornado in Indonesia. If that same butterfly slowed down its flapping a tad, would it have been a tsunami instead of a tornado? (All this is really an attempt to put myself to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night and I can't explain why.)

----------------------------------------------------

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress--
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven
Seeking a life and world to come.
- Evening Solace by Charlotte Bronte

Dylan Thomas of the new millenium

A pleasant blog discovery! Daily Obsessional! Ultra-refreshing. Brilliant. The following was taken from the april 23rd post entitled do not tweet gentle into that good night.

Do not tweet gentle into that good night,
Old age should update and blog at close of day;
tweet, tweet against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is Right, 
because their posts have spurred no comments, 
Do not tweet gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright 
their frail flickr photos might have danced in a montage, 
tweet, tweet against the dying of the light
Wild men whose myspace bands sang the sun in flight, 
And learn, too late, they grieved it on a text, 
Do not tweet gentle into that good night
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight that 
crappy songs could blaze like meteors and be gay like cat videos, 
tweet, tweet against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on your blackberry, 
email me now with your fierce tears, I blog. 
Do not tweet gentle into that good night. 
Tweet, Tweet against the dying of the light.

Muhahahahaha!

You have got to step it up a few notches, Twitter. Haha!

discernment is good!

I wish Spock were real so I could give him a high five! Logic is refreshing.
Many posts ago I vowed to make sure that I shall no longer be the pushover I once was. I should remind myself constantly about that. I've always placed a high value on helping others...maybe because it's fulfilling or it makes me feel good or for whatever reason (self-serving or otherwise). And---*hitting my head on the wall to the point of reaching a concussion*---I suppose I've advertised it too much? That it's my weakness? That I can be easily manipulated? Confuse me a little and I can be a handy-dandy assistant? It sucks. And it hurts. I am not a pawn. I am not some productive tool in the order of things. I have a minute proportion of self-esteem left and I would like to conserve it. And I can't believe this has happened to me over and over and over. Tsk. I really need improvement. Big time.

-------------------------->>> Meanwhile...

A few days ago, I requested for a prospectus from the London School of Tropical Medicine & Hygiene. A doctorate on vector biology (they have an insectary!). I received an e-mail informing me that I should expect it in two days. Let's see what happens next. If it works out, great...if it doesn't, at least I made a move.

Ack! I haven't practiced my Liszt piece! *screaming* I need to keep my head straight.

what a coincidence!

I started following Carl Zimmer on Twitter a few months ago because his article, Evolved for Cancer?, was included in The Best American Science Writing 2009. I just realized that he also wrote Parasite Rex, which I have wanted to read for such a loooong time. The local bookstores don't have a copy. Anyway, if I have lots of extra cash to spare, I might just get it online. The shipping cost is what discourages me. Anyway, YAY! :) That was a nice discovery.

no i will not be scrooge

Go ahead Santa, mock me. Just like every department store in town. *shutting my eyes, covering my ears and singing supercalifragilisticexpialidociOus like a Beatles record that's being backmasked*

we might as well concede

As Beveridge the Brilliant stated in one of his after-dinner speeches during the late 1800s: "Events, which are the arguments of God, are stronger than words, which are the arguments of men."

loud and clear, prudence

I was admiring how neatly stacked my books were inside our bedroom (courtesy of our household help, my utmost gratitude) and decided to randomly open Volume 3 of In Conversation with God by Francis Fernandez. I was sporadically led to this specific passage:

Taking refuge in a hyperactive imagination and opening the door to foolish dreams prevents us from being open to everyday reality. When we give in to this kind of temptation, and we can do so easily in moments of tiredness or interior dryness as a way of seeking compensation of the ordinary faults and failings of normal life, there arises a lack of unity of life. In parallel there exists an inner world where our vanity is always on top, and another hard, real world where we must achieve our personal sanctification, doing the good that God expects of each of us, man or woman. Those who are unhappy with their situation and are prone to escape into that unreal and imaginary inner world will find it very difficult to face up generously and realistically to what they must do at any given moment if they are to grow in virtue. How is it possible to live in a dream world and still do one's duty? How can we struggle against a particular defect if instead of facing up to it we withdraw into our imagination and overcome it there? How can we be joyful in the face of sacrifice when we are accustomed to hide ourselves in a make-believe world of hallucinatory happiness?

Okay. I think I just annoyed God. I am being reprimanded. And I do not want to be vain. I want to be virtuous. And that is going to be very very difficult.

apocalypse

What the FREAKING hell is wrong with me?!
I can't sleep I want to cry.

1) I tried lying down and closing my eyes.
2) Status updates (sorry, that cannot be helped)
3) Watched boring YouTube lectures being delivered by an old lady on the lymphatic system and neurohistology
4) Blogger

What else is there? Self-hypnosis? Is that even possible? I need to get at least 6 hours of sleep. Argh. Work starts at 7AM. Lalala lala. Doodi doodi do.

I am messing up my blog.

09-09-09

Just because this specific date will only appear once in the entire existence of the universe (unless it will still exist by 3009 or 4009...ad infinitum), I must post a congratuLatory note to myself for being alive this very day. *shaking my own hand* And to make it even more interesting, maybe I should post something again at 9pm. We'll see, we'll see. For now...*confetti*

If

We caN all dream of going there.

tristimania

...is tempting me to consider lobotomy.
Okay, sorry that was really too-Hannibal Lecter.
I'm sad. Oh well. Then again, the only way we can truly appreciate happiness is if we've experienced extreme sadness.
I just hope I'm not meant to be canonized or what, because saints usually dIe a horrible and excruciatingly painful death.
Haha. Sorry, that was inappropriate. Really.
Just trying to make light of things.
Very hard when the sky is bawling like a banshee.

Tristimania is Latin for extreme sadness or melancholy. At least we all learned something new, eh?

In other news, my instructor has been texting me about my piece. And all I could reply was "Ack!" It's 4 months away and all I ever played was page 1. Can I just act out the meaning of the piece (Liszt's Un sospiro) instead of playing it?

[This is the nth edit of this post] I seriously want to be gleeful.

Schrodinger's cat is a tat

...because he (the guy in the picture, not Schrodinger of course!) thinks it's A good conversation starter. http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/loom/2009/09/05/schrodingers-tat-science-tattoo/

God creates Man

image source

I want to see the real thing at the Sistine Chapel. I expect it to be a stiff-neck causing, yet uber cool viewing experience. And oh, another thing, I want to see the actual Mona Lisa at the Louvre. Smirk with her in silence.

God's form of entertainment (drama/'gag you' post)

Warning: this is very long, duh. And incoherent. And may cause you to gag. Maybe we are all experiencing some form of existentially puzzling thing.

<----->

For a very long time, I have been struggling very hard to answer that call to the apostolate...to be holy. For a fleeting moment, I thought I was going to be a nun or a numerary. I kid you not children. For years I have spent most of my time in dutiful parochial service until I was then diverted to a domestic life. I didn't go to med school. I married early (to a good man, might I say) to be assured of a stable future somewhere in North America (as if people have not been aware...well, everyone knows where) and people thought I got knocked up. After which, people started to think there was something wrong when I couldn't get pregnant for almost a year. Then I went through the worst kind of pregnancy (in my standards), both physically and emotionally. And lately, people are annoyingly bugging me to get pregnant again. That I work too much. That I look substandard due to stress. That my parental skills need a lot of improvement. I literally want to hit my head on a concrete wall. For a moment, I wish people would just ignore me...really.

God: And what is your point? Other people have gone through worse.

Okay, point well taken, God. No, I'm not being disrespectful. Sorry.
I would just like to say that I have tried to be as obedient as I could. I think. I have resisted rebellion. I have learned to let go of the things I wanted. I become guilty when I do things or get things for myself. I never asked for big things. I have been constantly asking for contentment and humility. Call me proud and self-righteous and a goody-goody, but I would much rather have an utterly boring life than live a fast, exciting life filled with guilt and with a hazy direction. That's not who I am. I think I'm a sport.

I resolve to think that I am amusing...?
(Dear reader, if you're a student (or you've been my student in the past), you probably think that I am. Sometimes, I don't even mean to be funny and then the whole class just starts to guffaw.)

So God, here's my 'dead-end' question: What else do you want me to do just so I can finally experience contentment? My intellectual interests are meant to stay in my head. I never explicitly asked to experience anything extraordinary (even extraordinarily good, yet complicated things). My mind and heart are panting. Hard. Oxygen supply can't keep up with the demand. No, I do not wish to have been a non-living organism instead, Lord.

Okay...it just started to rain hard. How coincidental. Background music anytime soon? But for all it's worth, thank you God. For everything that's been and will be.

<----->

Lord, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can...
and the wisdom to know the difference.
(St. Francis of Assisi)

diversion

Blue Mountain Resort is nice. I first heard the phrase "no worries" from this Canadian skier whom we thanked after politely volunteering to take a photo of me and my sister-in-law. Right about that area in the picture where the dog is. I'm sated by this smooth web escape.

on cervical collars: a tame cyber rant

Dual citizenship is probably like being subjected to two sets of rules. Some policies overlap with each other, which is good...and then there are policies that are from the opposite sides of the spectrum! It's like a permanent neck brace that periodically tightens & loosens.

I have fantastic control of my facial muscles, but I'm worried about the future where I may no longer have that muscle control. I shall resort to Botulinum toxin injections then. Better yet, why not completely redo my whole face? Make it look like, I don't know, Nicole Kidman in the Stepford Wives? *cue Jaws soundtrack*

Sorry, that was dark comedy.

looking forward

I haven't read Jane Austen's Mansfield Park...maybe one of these days. --"To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment."-- I would like that very much....I remember our winter holiday in Toronto where I fell absolutely in-love with The Royal Ontario museum and the vicinity of College station. I can imagine myself riding the subway and walking for hours at downtown Toronto...or reading a book at a corner cafe...covered in layers of clothing during the fall season when maple trees are in different shades of red, yellow, & orange. That would be a nearly perfect life. That's a nice mental picture. Definitely something to look forward to in the near future.

my goal

When students write notes on their final exams stating that they've learned to love the course you taught, how do you react?

Step 1: Feel enormously flattered
Step 2: Attribute the whole thing to the fact that you also love the course
Step 3: Immediately erase all forms of self-glorifying emotions
Step 4: Challenge yourself to maintain the passion for teaching

Normally, students who don't do well are uninspired. It's easy to recognize them. It's our job (as teachers) to encourage them to learn. And when these students show improvement, oh boy, that is more fulfilling than graduating summa cum laude.

favorite music

I've always preferred Romantic and Impressionist music, because of the moods presented by pieces written during those time periods. Chopin will always be a favorite...and my piano instructor will attest to that fact. Scherzo in Bbm, Fantaisie Impromptu, Ballade in Gm...all beautiful and striking pieces. And then there's Debussy and his Claire De Lune from Suite Bergamasque and Deux Arabesques. These pieces can really make your breathing uneven. Of course, who doesn't love Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini by Rachmaninoff which was popularized by the movie Somewhere in Time? These wordless songs are perfect representations of how it is to be human. Yes, I'm all obsessed about being alive.

<---> Segue...

I am deathly afraid of forgetting. Of dementia. Of losing consciousness. Of losing memories. Frankly, I consider my memories as my most valuable possessions.