Now You Can Mess Up Your PC Desktop Too!

As if the post-it stickies surrounding my monitor screen wasn't enough, now there's a program that allows me to put little Sticky Notes on my computer screen as well. This may be one thing I might need to pay for -- it's sooooo neat! What will they think of next?

You Know You're Not Going to Use that Camera!

As you know, I work in the wireless phone business, catering to the Korean community in Los Angeles. I am Korean myself, so I know I have the right to say this: We're a bunch of shallow people whose most urgent needs are those satisfying the superficial ego. Maybe it is just because most of my customers are Koreans that I say this, or perhaps an odd coincidence that just my customers are egotistical assholes. But nevertheless, this tale is about just that.

With the new surge of camera phones, business is exploding. It's great. I love the little things, that has not only a camera, but cool games, organizer features like a date book and a large-capacity phone book. It's a beautiful thing. Korean people, being superficial, always want the best of everything, even if it isn't something they need. The most urgent needs are those that satisfy their need to "show off." Hence the people who live in a crowded two bedroom apartment with 9 other people (Ok, that's an exaggeration, but you know what I mean) and yet drive a Mercedes Benz S-class. Likewise, the having the most recent, stylish, high-tech gadget, like a cell phone, is also an easy way to show off to one's equally superficial friends how cool you are. To me, being hip at 50 isn't really of the utmost importance, but hey, that's just me.

I have customers who are not of the computer generation; they didn't grow up with computers, and all their life, they had no need for a computer, so therefore, they do not know how to turn one on. It's a shame, because the computer is a wonderful thing, and although I don't discourage them from learning, I do want them to take it seriously. If you buy a cell phone with all the bells and whistles, at least ring the goddamn bell! If you buy a camera phone, because of the camera, at least learn how to use it and seriously consider using it. Or why would you buy it? That would be like buying a surround sound stereo home theatre system (or whatever it is called -- see? I don't know it, I don't plan on learning it, so I don't buy it!) just because it is a cool thing, and yet never learning how to use it.

I have seen many customers in my day. When a person walks into the store, I can tell what kind of a person they're like. Practical? Desiring something fancy? Something for the kids? Whatever it may be. So I know when a woman in her late 40's walks in, and she hasn't got a clue about how to use a regular camera, much less a digital one, she's not going to be able to use her camera. These are people, who walk into the store, and shout out their intentions, loud and proud: What's the best one? How does one answer that? The best for what? The price? The features? The sturdiness? It's not like we have a scale that measures the phones and lists them from best to poor. I mean, what's the best car? What's the best computer?

I know when they ask that, all they want is the bling bling. And at the beginning, their intentions of learning how to use the camera are genuine. They really want to use it. But unfortunately, they lack the brainpower and the mindset to learn something new. Perhaps you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But I am utterly surprised, because my mom is in her mid-40's. She knows how to text-message. She knows how to check her voicemail. She knows how to input her own phonebook into memory. You'd be surprised how many people can't do that. Perhaps the ESL thing is a barrier, but I think that there is a big gap between the computer-using generation, and the non-computer-adapted generation. I bought my mom a camera phone, a Samsung SGH-E715, only because I know she can and will use it to the fullest extent. She takes pictures of our cat, Nabee. Apparently, she is the only willing model around my household.

The moral of today's blog entry is this: Whatever your age is, don't feel the need to conform, or follow society. You don't use a computer or a digital camera. So what? If you don't need it and don't want to use it, why buy it? It is a waste of money, and you are making yourself appear foolish and shallow, not only to the salesman, but also to your own self. I may only be 23, but I can proudly say that I have a hard time with the DVD player. But I'm learning, and I can do stuff on it that are basic. But I know I will never be able to achieve an adequate skill of utilizing the PlayStation 2 or X-box (too many buttons!!!) because I am from the generation where the original Nintendo was used. But nor do I want to use a PS II or an X-box. So I won't buy it. Why would I? So I can appear cool to my cat? Don't do something simply because everyone else is doing it. Be true to yourself. You deserve honesty.

Friday at Last

You know you had a rough week when you try to access your blog with the ID "Friday" instead of the actual Login. I was actually wondering why I kept getting the wrong password message, for literally 45 seconds! I had a rough week. But it's Friday finally, Friday, at last.

By the way, I also work Saturday. Boo-yeah! (Note sarcasm. I do not in any way, shape, or form condone working to be done on Saturday and in fact believe that it too should be declared part of the holy sabbath.)

I am actually getting quite a bit of traffic (not reality traffic with cars and brake-lights, but the ones of the people viewing my blog). It motivated me to be a better blogger. I have an audience. It may not be in the hundreds or thousands, but it's growing surely, albeit slowly. So propz to ma blog! OK. That's not working. I can never talk like a cool hip-hop person. I'm just too prim and proper. So hip hip hooray for my blog. What a hoot.

I have reason to really get my mood up this weekend. I usually don't bother looking at my grades and transcripts unless necessary, because it's always been so low (I screwed up my first semester big time with straight F's and have been trying to dig myself out of that one for three years!) and pathetic. But since nursing application season is here, yet again, I had to see what it looked like. Can you believe that my once 0.25 GPA is now a glorious 3.35??

Yes, I have a 3.35. I am actually planning on getting a straight A this semester, because not only are the courses so ecstatically fun, I am working my ass off and actually not drowning in the work. Being the super nerd, I had to calculate what it would be if that happened, and found out that my GPA would then be a 3.5. That sounds pretty good! Just two years ago it was crawling in the 0.25 - 1.5 range! I had to do it the hard way, and probably the only way, other than starting over, but I'm finally floating above sea level, and boy, am I glad! It was just the rejuvenation that I needed.

I'm ecstatic. I actually can have hopes for transferring into a decent university, and finally will be able to achieve my dream of joining the beings at higher education. I imagine it to be like the Parthenon, where all the intelligent people stand tall and proud, in white togas. I hope it would be alright if I had mine made of satin -- I just crave that extra sparkle.

Cherchez la Femme

I learned this new French phrase -- it is one that is closely connected to myself. I am falling in love with the French language. I am currently trying to acquire some tapes/CDs teaching conversational French. By no means do I expect this to be my sole educational need for learning French, but it is a start.

Sorry to digress, but Note to Self: Write about The Awakening soon.

Yucky!

I am having a god-awful day. Lately I have been getting some stress piled on top of my shoulders -- you know, you feel like Atlas -- and on top of that, I've got god's gift to women -- PMS. Sometimes the hormonal fluctuations become too much for me, and although it makes me feel like such a weakling to admit it, I get overly emotional. I burst into tears for no reason; long distance phone service advertisements make me cry! I thought working out should release some of it, but I almost burst into tears as I ran harder than ever before. I'm not particularly depressed, and today isn't any more stressful than yesterday or the day before or tomorrow. In fact, in Art History class, I was named "The Greek Expert" by my instructor. What can I say -- Greek and Roman mythology intrigue me. As do the renaissance.

Anyways. I was going to take a shower and hop into bed for much needed rest, but Blogger called out to me. "Come, Haemi," it said. "Come blog, Haemi," it repeated. Yes, I am a hallucinating nerd. I really love my blog's new make-over. Sometimes I feel like my blog is a living entity. It has a force!

Mona Lisa Smile

A very touching film. Just finished watching it. It brought tears to my eyes. Most guys would call it a "chick-flick" and dismiss it and be done with it and be rid of it. But I think to women, it has a great significance. True, the setting is in the 50's, at conservative East Coast women's college, Wellesley, but there are many things that hold true today as it did back then. I was also impressed that I knew a lot of the art works taught in the art class featured in the film, but that's besides the point.

The world is getting better. I know it. Because when I was told that girls should be quiet and sit still, although not in so many words, I didn't challenge it. A 6-year-old cannot challenge something like that. You are a sponge at that age -- whatever you see or hear, you absorb instantly, and it sticks like an old kimchi stain on a crisp white Banana Republic button-down shirt. No matter how fancy and proper, it speaks volumes -- it reminds you so much, without fading. So when my grandfather sent me away with a few thousand wons to be noisy outdoors where he couldn't hear me, rather than indoors, I never questioned why I couldn't be loud indoors along with the boys. Why can't I also run down the stairs and not be chided? Why was I expected such impeccability? I agree with Freud when his theories all pointed childhood as the culprit. Old scars last long beyond the time of their infliction.

For me to become the person I am, I had to do a lot of un-doing. While other scar-less happy children were building and refining, I had to demolish what I was and clear the ground to start anew. But before all that, I started to build on a weak foundation, your regular house on sand. I had to have a catharsis. Believe me, as soon as I earn enough, I'll need the therapy. It's a painful process.

To be put in a tiny box and declare that your sole world, is painful enough. To find yourself believing in that whatever that's outside the box doesn't exist, is double the pain. It is hard to step outside that box. Who makes that box? Society? Parents? History? It isn't quite clear in my case. Boy, was I naive. I grew up with the idea that I'd graduate from high school, go to a well-known public university, have an extravagant only-in-movies romance, be married, and be the superwoman who had it all: the kids, the career, the husband, the nice house, the huge backyard with a big dog. I wouldn't go to something like graduate school -- I'd have to have children! I always thought that I'd go to med school, but somehow, when I daydreamed and mapped out my idea life, time for med school never fit. So it remained always a hopeful, never with its time-slot in my life.

Even until two or three years ago, that was it. Getting married and having a beautiful family was one of life's great milestones. It was a measuring point of where you stood in life. Whether you'd be happy, or miserable. When I dated, I always tried to see if the guy was the marrying type. Would he be a good father? Would he be a good husband? Could I tolerate his family, aka future in-laws? Could he support a family? One of the guys I dated did fit much of that criteria. He would have been a wonderful father, probably a good husband, and his sister (the only family member I had the dis-pleasure of meeting) was at best tolerable. But he wasn't the "go out and party" type. He loved children, good around the house. He's married now with kids, and I'm sure he's as great as I thought he'd be. But just because he were those things didn't mean he contributed to my well-being and my happiness.

Recently, I've realized. I don't need to be married. I don't need kids. I don't need or want those things, they don't make me happy. I wanted to get one thing off my chest:

I don't like children. In fact, I hate kids..
I know y'all are gasping. I know many of my friends would, because they are the "marrying type." They would tell me not to say that so definitely, because they know, once I have a baby, I would love kids, especially my own. They'd tell me, you never know these things beforehand. Hey, just because I don't like children doesn't mean I am selling my soul to Satan. Of course, saying that GOD DOESN'T EXIST would upset quite a few as well. I just save that for shock value -- I mean, I'm not an out-spoken, in-your-face atheist, but I say that out loud just to push some people over the edge. Then I tell them, "I SMOKE MARIJUANA." Although I don't, it's always fun to see their face cringe. I would say that I do something a lot worse, like heroin or special K, but they probably don't know what that is, being the conservative assholes that they are. Oooooh, I am digressing big time. I'll save this topic for a rainy day.

Anyways. People do have a hard time believing that a woman could be happy without a man. Or vice versa, I guess. But I love my privacy. I love coming into my room, not having to tell someone where I've been. I want to go out and drink until 2 AM and collapse on the bed without someone getting agitated. I don't want to have to cook for someone, or clean up after someone. I don't someone to clean up after me because they can't stand living in a mess. I like typing alone, without someone looking over my shoulder. I like holding the remote control when I watch TV. If I could have a husband, but he'd live in a different place, that might be nice, but then he wouldn't be a husband.

I am such a me, me, me, ME person. Why did it take over two decades to figure that out? Maybe because there are some old geezers who tell me that I should lose weight so I can get married, as though having love handles decrease your options for marriage. Whatever the reason, I am just glad that I am outside that box.

Life is so beautiful without restraints -- is there anything holding you back? If so, bust out of those shackles today, and declare yourself a free man (or woman). You'll feel fabulous instantly.

Have you ever had a time when you received a flood of words, phrases, that you needed to write down but couldn't? I do, frequently, and almost all the time, it is when I am driving. I keep hitting myself in the head for not saving up for a voice recorder, because even if I were nearby a computer, I couldn't nearly keep up with the flowing words. Although I can type quite fast, sometimes faster than I can think, when I get that surge of ideas, it's impossible to keep up. I just had that moment in the car, on my way home from school. I got on the freeway and did 80 mph (by the way, my school is so close to my home that I am only on the freeway for 3 minutes max!) and rushed home, slammed the door, and typed like a mad man (or woman). I think I was successful, more than other times at least, in getting down some words. Often, they amount to nothing, but it's like that dream you had last night. It was so clear when you just woke up, but you can't remember it now, can you? You wish you had a notepad next to your bed so you can record it the minute you wake up, when it's fresh on your mind...

I just wrote one of the most intense blog entries ever, on a serious topic for once. I wanted to search for something on google to clarify something, and instead of pressing the refresh button on another window, I pressed refresh on this one, and that whole entry vanished into thin cyberspace air.

I am in no mood to try to recapture that zest and reblog. It's not as genuine when it's re-done. Oh well.

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman's ...

I know for certain that there is a saying that starts out with "Hell hath no fury like a woman's" something. I have heard that so many times, and yet I couldn't remember the exact wording, nor could I remember what exactly of a woman that hell hath no fury like. So I googled it. I googled, "hell hath no fury like a woman's" to see. I expected it to draw up hits where the saying is displayed. Then my mystery would be solved, and I could get back to writing an essay on symbolism and theme for English.

Well, let's see. There was "Hell hath no fury like a woman's poem." Then there was "Hell hath no fury like a woman porned", and "Hell hath no fury like an Irish-woman's scorn". And the list goes on -- "Hell hath no fury like a teenager with power steering," and the most ridiculous, "Hell hath no fury like a woman's corn." So I guess the only thing left would be: Hell hath no fury T-Shirt. Get yours today!

By the way, I did figure out (by a consensus of hits) what the actual phrasing was.

Blissful Sunday

Today consisted of very little things on my "To-Do" list, which was quite pleasant. Actually, I have a ton of school work that needs to be done, but I have been under a tremendous amount of stress lately, and I wanted to spend a day of leisure, which is at times, necessary.

I had a something of a mother-daughter day, starting when I woke up, very near noon. It consisted of a few hours in front of the telly, and even more hours at the mall. I got myself a pair of shoes -- one of those stringy sandal type things with ankle-straps, which is just so fashionable at the moment. That updated me from my circa 2000 style of shoes. It's been a while -- I've been poor for a while, and could not afford very much in shoes. My mother, who frequents the downtown wholesale fashion district, bought me two pairs of shoes about three years ago -- two pair for $14. Incredible deal, but it's high time they retired.

After much strolling and window-shopping, we went into Brookstone and tried the MAX™ Maximum Performance Massager. This machine is incredible. I am officially buying this, as soon as I get enough money. This is far more urgent than a pair of shoes or a new haircut (which I desparately need, as it is starting to get scraggly). This symbolizes comfort and relief, which I need.

Then we were off to Vicky's and bought some very springtime, colorful underwear. In various shades of pink -- whisper pink, pink with logo, pink with graphic, pink with flowers, dark pink, fuschia, etc.. For women, pink is a color of utmost importance. Having the exact shade is life-altering. Lipstick, for example. A tad too light, it's tacky. A tad too dark can be drabby, equalling disastrous. Hence the hours spent looking for that perfect color. Similar story for the color red. There's scarlet, ruby, crimson, etc..

Well, all in all, it was a blissful day, which ended with an episode of The Simpsons, with Hot Wings from KFC What's Cooking. Now I can dabble lightly in some school work, in hopes of alleviating the amount of work I have for tomorrow.