Sometimes I am quite too much myself, ego that I’ve brought from being who I don’t deserve to be proud of things I haven’t done, only to think myself better, to be seen better, to believe that I am meant for something.

 Sometimes (frightfully) I end up believing that I am better than my fellow man/woman/child of God, for what I think I see, what I think I feel that makes me special.

Sometimes, it scares me when these other people ever pass my own bar. Then I’m frightened when I fail to meet my own. But sitting now, remembering the words Plato spoke to me (when I’d listen), humbled, I become superior to ego.

Pure early morning again; 1:15 AM; I am again thinking of undreamt dreams that go by every night I force myself into waking. And no, I am not awake doing homework/studying like the good student I should be. Nope. My homework sits under clumps of ether while the cotton balls of sleep swab through my optic radiations. I’m dreaming of a life I feel is truly worthy, given by powers beyond my pull, success given by those not my own…’

Isn’t it a wonderful feeling? Believing that our destinies and fates we discover are put there by _______ waiting for us to find it? Kind of like the minefield of dreams that unconscious minds rumble through at night…

Old habits…

 So here I find myself returning to my old sleeping habits. Three twenty-one in the A.M, and only ten minutes ago, I finished my homework for classes that’ll begin in less than 7 hours. Stubborn caffeine still in my system; I swear, I’m getting addicted to coffee—it’s a nightly habit for me, at 11:45, just before late-night closes, to go, make myself a turkey sandwich (with lots of Tabasco sauce; another addiction), and a nice cup of coffee. I’ve only been here a month and a half, and already, I feel like this has been my routine forever. Kind of scary—to think that after four years of high school, that in one month I’ve already gotten so used to college that I forget what it’s like.

Still, there’s stuff to be found. I just brushed my teeth in the floor bathroom; two other guys from my floor were there (neither of whom I’ve seen before), both shaving. How is it that I’ve lived in a floor with the same people for a month and there are still people that I don’t recognize? Sad I suppose…

Maybe dorm life is meant to be that way, so that no matter how well you settle, you will always have new people to meet. But in a way, even if this went on for months more, years even, I don’t think I’d get to know everyone. More likely is that the people I haven’t met so far, I probably won’t get to know anyway; just because people are like that. Socializing has its hidden plateaus. Sad because… well, let’s just say it’s sad.

One thing that I’ve kept from the old days is my laziness/procrastination. Beginning to read a book at 11 PM is hardly a good idea if I want to get any sleep at all (ergo, the necessary nightly coffee). They’re good books, really. I love Asian-American literature. Besides being the only class where I do any thoughtful writing, the assigned reading is somewhat of a hidden treasure. The class itself isn’t well known—when I first signed up, there were only 3 people. But back to the reading—reading from Asian-American writers tells so much that I had only theorized from my own experiences (yes I come up with theories for my life), and from friends. There’s just so much that is unique to the Azn-Am experience; I recommend everyone who is either Asian, or has close Asian friends to consider taking the class; not because Asians aren’t “true” Americans (as the prof once argued for the sake of debate), but just to understand the conflicts, depth, and meaning of being an Asian in the great United States of America. From No-No Boy to Native Speaker (eh—that’s not much of an alphabetical range) every book I’ve read so far has brought me new insights regarding… *yawn… lots of… *yawn* stuff…

(I really should be sleeping now…)

I’ve been having more random ideas for stories lately—reasons which I won’t even bother to try and understand. Possibly because of all the reading I’ve done lately; I think I’ve read more books in the last two months than I did in the last two years.

Blah… yeah, my clock says I should sleep—and for once, I shall heed it’s advice.

Lol—Xander laughed at this picture for about ten minutes earlier today:

Spring Camp 2004–I don’t remember this picture being taken, but in it is moi as a smiling Vulcan (“Live long and prosper!”), Susie the magnificent artist girl with the seaweed colored hair,  l.li giving me FOB ears (yes they’re FOB ears–cuz FOBs like those evident in the picture below V V), Adam–the weapon master (also with the FOB vicory sign). Also flanking the picture is the borders of Frank’s pillow–as seen here.

lol–and I can’t believe I had that hair for a whole month! apparently, some Tidus lovers liked it though…

And look! FOB pride:

Actually it’s a random picture of some girl actress in Korea and her entourage of male friends (so they really aren’t FOBs but the point is… the ‘v’–it’s an Asian thing).

Odd things have been bothering me lately–like NCHS HC (how it’s gonna go), Northwestern’s Formal… (am I going?!) mleh!?

Haha–and ok, let me delcare it once and for all so that all the world may know–for all intents and purposes under the heavens, the word “mleh” was coined by and “officially” belongs to Priya. She’s been bugging me recently that I’ve stolen it from her, and thus the credit she deserves as well. So this means that anyone using it, is using her word.

4:08 AM… sleep beckons…

Return… home? But which is home?

(Written 9/6/2004)

So now I’m back at school from Naperville once more. The drive back was a bit squashed—five full grown men in PJ’s little vehicle. Dev drove to ensure our safety. But our back home… how to describe it?

The drive back home was pretty uneventful—hours and hours of cornfields. Oh…except there was one horrible car crash on the highway, from the smoldering cars and still arriving emergency vehicles it was very recent—there was a car in a ditch that had been on fire—

 

–and the other car… I couldn’t imagine how anyone would survive from it—the entire front section was smashed into the back—the car crushed to half its size. I hope by some miracle that they survived, but by the people looking into the car from outside…

An hour later, we arrived into familiar territory, roads becoming more familiar as we approached Naperville .

            “We’re home,” Jon said as we passed 75 ^th street . And when we passed by Naperville North… a wave of overwhelming familiarity came by. But what I had felt a week ago was true: it seemed SO small, so close, and familiar. It had only been two weeks since we’d left—yet the time there seemed so long. It was as if we were returning from a summer camp, a long but temporary stay, and now we were home for good. Only three days, but it seemed like it should be forever. But it was home, even though over the next four years I’d spent far more time away than at “home”. So the whole concept of “home” would change. But not yet. Still, Naperville/Clarendon Hills was home. That contrasted with Jason, and Nick’s perception upon returning (they’re going to schools where they know only a few people).

            I didn’t see nearly as many people as I had hoped to see—nor did I get to see my enhanced weapons(—sorry Adam!). Still, the people I was with, we hung out as if it was a continuation of summer. The first night, we ate at Taco Bell, our hang out place–the place where we went after Graduation, at each of our departures, and where we had said goodbye exactly two weeks before. With the noted exception for Jon (in NYU now), it felt as it should be.

            Being home (a la maison) was quite the same as well, which is why it felt so odd. The first thing I did was take a REAL shower. Back at my room, with its photos, posters, my REAL bed, I truly felt back . Lol—but somehow I managed to leave my car keys at college, so I couldn’t drive Tauri. (Stupid of me to take ‘em there in the first place). On our last night there we just hung out at Jon’s house—crazy, sharing our stories with the people that hadn’t started yet—the Northwestern boy/girl, those at other schools… and with the high school seniors. Funny—when I turned senior, one of the most dominant feelings was being at the top—but for these guys, they had us above them. Never having any older siblings, I always wondered what it would be like. We at the vanguard and they, learning from us who were ahead of them.

Some of them were perpetually in a down mood while there, contrasting with my constant pleasure of being back home. Understandably.

Attitude is so important. Some time after Jon’s house, we headed over to Arrowhead Park–another noted place of memories. In the darkness, our collective conversations felt so much closer. The few couples that were left scattered around, expanding our sphere throughout the park. Kaidi would have claimed it could be an incredibly “sappy” while, lol–which I was spared from. But empowered, we headed over to Steak & Shake–for our final meal.

Some more talk, sitting around, and then… we went home. The next morning came incredibly quickly–time to head off to camp once again. But before doing so… I started a final project… which perhaps will be revealed in time.

Always watching…

The final goodbye was… a bit more subdued. I was pumped, ready to head back to UIUC. Some random pictures of the time:

Children really–

A sad face…

A couple left behind…

And a final salute as we drove off–

Three hours later, we were in familiar territory once more–our second home, same as we had left it four days before. Contrasting with the first arrival two weeks ago, this was another home. Jon descibed it as a feeling of familiarity, no longer a foreign place, but home. Quite so.

The half of Our Group present at the Second Send Off

Next, Chapter 4… nightmares…