This Aint A Scene, It's an Arms Race

On the day of our university’s Presidential Inauguration, the Boston Globe ran a front page report on how down to earth the Boston University President is. I think that’s blasphemy! Every proud Husky should get out there and find a Terrier to step on.

Either the BU public relations office bought out the Globe to get some good press because they are afraid NU is stealing the spotlight, OR, the Globe thinks there isn’t enough white-hot competition among all the universities crammed in this town. Bostonians, many of whom are loyal alums with vested interest, watch the local universities so closely, not unlike how teenage girls read Hollywood gossip magazines. And they all seem to want a fierce dogfight. From ads all over the T stations to pages of spread on the Metro, bragging is an understatement. When did educational institutions become so cut-throat and degraded to commercial products and so tainted with the smell of greenbacks?

This aint a scene, it's a god damn arms race,
Fitting you with weapons in the form of words
And don't really care, which side wins
~~Fall Out Boy

Blog Anniversary

Happy anniversary blog!! 365 days ago I started this! Not many things last this long. I admit I am a product of this society with high turnover rates: I have slight commitment issues. Like most people, I myself can never seem to get enough of the thrill, the rush of dopamine, when the five senses are stimulated by novelty.

The wrappers for the Ipod Mini are still in the trash can, already eyeing the Ipod Nano. Poka dots are sooooo last fall, this spring fashionistas live in parallel universe (aka stripes)! And stop checking out that cute guy sitting two rows down in class…

Before I turn this entry into a Cosmopolitan article that brainwashes every girl into the same female, the point this: interests wax and wane. High-tech gadgets, fashion trends, even people and relationships, obsessions and infatuations will all die…eventually.

One Starbucks coffee cup says, “There is a difference between interest and commitment. When you’re interested in doing something, you do it only when circumstances permit. When you are committed to something, you accept no excuses, just results.” (yes, I drink Starbucks way too often to know that, and I stare at the cups every day from 1:30pm to 2:40pm when I have Physics.)

So I tried to trace how I kept up with this blog. The purpose initially was to fulfill the study abroad requirement, which I substituted with a hand-written journal. The second fold was to keep my friends posted while I was abroad. I came to the realization that very few of them actually read this, chuckles. I still liked rambling to myself in cyberspace though. Write papers, write reports, write memos. Write to professor, write to boss, write to the committee. On daily basis I write anything and everything but a little self-reflection for myself. I must generate at least 1000+ words of formal written communication each day that I feel my creativity draining. For unknown reasons, it reminds me of when a nurse drew blood from my veins. I saw the warmth of my blood creating vapors on the walls of the collecting tube.

Happiness, gratitude, anticipation, nervousness and uncertainty, all submerged in the insensitivities of electromagneticism and molecular cell biology. Even in the writing class I take, we beat writing to death with too much rhetorical analysis. I am taking a break from all of these by sipping coffee and listening to music. They seem to have written lyrics for all the stuff you feel inside and have put chords to accentuate that feeling at the right syllable. If I could have any talent, I wish I can write a platinum album and dedicate songs to people.

Some new favorites songs: the entire Back to Basics album by Christina Aguilera (the lyrics are amazing), If Everyone Cared Nickelback (love their voice to death), A Lack of Color Death Cab for Cutie, Breathless Corinne Bailey Rae, Speeding Cars Imogen Heap, Only You Joshua Radin (his sleepish music is strangely addictive), Blue Eyes Cary Brothers.