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This is my blog which I intend to use for the new group that I am joining |
| I November 2012, I decided that I would like to join a blogging community on WDC. It basically required that we write blog entries according to specific prompts. Here is the result. . . |
| Today was quite a day! First of all, my water is back on so I just took a long hot shower which I hope my students appreciate tomorrow. (On a slightly grosser note, I also spent a good ten minutes sitting in the toilet, just luxuriating in the fact that I would not have to worry about not being able to flush when I was done.) I also found out that I have to go to Hong Kong to work things out with my visa. Hong Kong is a great city. Sort of an Oriental Orlando. It's particularly great if you've been living in Mainland China for a few months. Not to mention, it's so much warmer there. As far as things pertaining to WDC, I just found out that I am now a "preferred author". I didn't even know there was such a thing until I saw the e-mail informing me of it today. I don't know exactly how I got this, but I can't help wondering if someone in this blogging circle was somehow involved. Oh Well, I still haven't said anything about the prompt which is, "What I want for my last meal." Would you think less of me if I said a good pizza? Hong Kong is a great city for pizza. I know you wouldn't think that, but compared to any city in China, I've seen it may as well be Rome. Alex |
| Whew! First of all, I just found out that I am significantly less time for blogging and writing, and it doesn't help that my apartment doesn't have running water, and I can't seem to get a definite answer when it will be back on. Oh well, that's enough about my problems for now. You know, I was less intrigued by today's prompt then by something else in Cindy's e-mail. The number 12 is important, among other things, it is the both the number of apostles and the number of signs in the zodiac. Well, some people claim that that is not a coincidence. They say that Jesus intentionally chose an apostle from each sign so that every kind of person would be represented by the apostles. (You can easily find information about this on the Internet. I'm not going to link to it I am a Leo,) which means that I share my sign with John. Us Leos constantly need our egos stroked which is why John was always referring to himself as "the apostle Jesus loved." Of course, the sad thing about this is that one sign has to be Judas. According to my sources, it was Pisces. Sucks to be a Pisces Christian. But wait, I remember reading somewhere else that some people thought Jesus himself was a Pisces. (Of course, a man whose birthday is Christmas would be a a Capricorn, but almost nobody seriously believes that about Jesus anymore anyway.) Anyway, the interesting thing about that is that the apostle who happened to share Jesus' sign was the traitor. How creepy! I sill haven't said anything about the prompt, which is what a letter from my future self would say. Honestly, I have no idea. I just hope that it wouldn't say something like: Dear Alex, You sorry piece of @#%/. You won't believe how messed up my life is because of you. |
| It's a little hard to pick a fondest childhood memory, but I am going to go with bedtime. In a way, it's funny, because I do remember when I was little, my parents would constantly have to argue with me to get me to go bed, plus I can remember the terrible times when I was in my bed and I would be scared of the strange looking shadows in my room. I kept thinking they were some kind of monsters waiting for me. But I also have some happy thoughts, because I remember how somewhere along the line, I realized that my parents could force me to go to bed but they couldn't force me to go to sleep. So, I would stay awake and think of whatever I wanted to think about. Of course, sometimes I would carry on conversations with the bear that I slept with. He was my best friend. And sometimes, I would think thoughts that were funny only to me, just to make myself laugh like thoughts about how weird it would be if there were a parade going on out on the street at 3 o'clock in the morning. (I had a weird sense of humour). Oh well. That's my fondest memory. |
| Now they're asking me to say the reason that I believe I was born. For some reason I find myself remembering that line that Seymour sang in Little Shop of Horrors: Each day I ask God what I'm for, and he says, "Gee, I'm not sure!". . . Anyway, I like to think that it's something great. To write. To impress the people of the world with. . .whatever is impressive about me. (There must be something.) Anyway, maybe this is where I can announce that I joined a WDC contest called I write in December, January, and February Basically, it means that I will be required to write for a WDC contest and write at least one review every week for the next thirteen weeks. I mention it here because, I suppose, right now, my reasons for being on this planet are to write and to help other writers as much as possible. |
| If I could give one gift to anyone in the world. I'm going to pick an ex-girlfriend in Ecuador as the recipient. You see, when we met, she was studying psychology. Shortly after we started dating, I learned that she had quit school. She sometimes talked to me about things she wanted to study. She was particularly interested in John Nash. At one point, she asked me if I could help pay for her to go back to school, but I almost laughed, because I barely had enough money to pay for myself. One day, she left me. I don't even understand exactly why. I still have photos of her in my Facebook page, and looking at them makes me sad. Anyway, if I could give her a gift, I would pay for her education in Psychology. I like to think that it's because I worry about her prospects, and not because, I'd like to be able to bribe her back. Oh well, on a happier note, I finished this story last night and entered it into the contest.
Not exactly, what I wanted it to be, but these things seldom are. |
| So now you want to know everything that I'm proud of. . . Okay. I'm proud of most of what I did in school. I was usually the smart one and in tenth grade, I won an award for being Student of the Quarter in English. I'm proud of most of what I have done acting. I started going to acting classes when I was eleven and kept doing it in High School and even in Adult Education classes. My acting teachers seem to like what I do. While acting, I also read readings at Masses in various churches. I enjoyed doing that, and wish that it were still something I could do in China. I'm proud of graduating from College obviously, cum laude. And yes, I'm proud of my writing. Even if most of it has not been published, I can tell that most of the people who read it, do like it. On another note, I sometimes think that in some of my better stories, the characters are the children I never had. Although, in some cases, I should feel lucky not to be a parent to some of these characters. Workwise. . .Well, I'm proud of the jobs that I did well. Even when I was just a phone operator, I like to think that I was a pretty good one. And I'm proud of the work that I've done teaching. At least, some (not all, God knows not all) of my students in China, Ecuador, Saudi Arabia, and now China again. The other day two little Chinese girls in my class wanted to hug me, so I must be doing something right. |
| So the next question is what do I regret the most. This is another one where it's hard to know where to start, but okay. I remember one day in March of 1987, I was in the seventh grade. Gym class had just ended, and we went into the Boys' locker room where a group of other boys started making fun of me. I wish that I had just gone about my business, but I snapped. I went after one of those boys and attacked him. Then another boy tried to break up the fight, but I was so angry that I attacked him. After it ended, I tried to just go to my next period, but a teacher stopped me in the hall and said that I was to come with him to the office. At first, when I was sitting in the office, I felt kind of good. For a long time, I had put up with this madness from the other kids at school, but now I was finally getting a chance to tell my story and maybe someone would get into trouble for it. But then when the assistant prinipal called me into his office, I realized it wasn't like that. I was the one in trouble. The principal told me that I was suspended for the next day, and that the school psychologist would be calling my parents to figure out what to do with me. Suspended? That was something that only happened to really bad kids, and all through Elementary school, I had been one of the good kids. Of course, everyone at school talked about the incident for weeks afterwards, but it was actually worse when my parents ended up sending me to a psychologist for the next two years. (It didn't really help.) So, in many ways, I wish that I had not thrown that punch that day in the locker room, even though it doesn't affect me anymore, it just wasn't worth it. |
| And now, my pet peeves. There are a few. Loud noises are one of them. Particularly people who make loud noises at night when I am trying to sleep. I have had roommates who would play stereos and somtimes just talk loudly too each other at ridiculous hours of the morning. I am glad to be living in a quiet apartment now. Another pet peeve which came to mind is computers that work slow or not at all. I hate it when that little thing spins around while I'm waiting for a web page to come up. Pretty soon, I can feel my eyeballs following that little thing around and around in circles. And the big disappointment is when a white screen comes up with plain blue letters telling me that a site is not available. I've come to hate those screens. I dislike certain kinds of people. The ones who think that they are the funniest person in a conversation, and therefor feel justified in interrupting whenever they feel like it. It gets worse if the conversation turns toward a topic that these people aren't interested in. They'll interrupt to say so. Oh well. I guess that's enough hatred for one entry. Alex |
| So now they want to know who makes my life better? You know, right now, it's a little hard to say. Sadly, Some of the people who made my life better in the past, like both of my grandmothers, who always seemed to love me unconditionally, are dead. Others, like teachers, professors, pastors, coworkers, and even some bosses, are simply not in my life anymore. I daresay some of them are dead too. So, to pick someone who's alive and still in my life, I guess I'll make the obvious choice of my mother. Even though, she's in Florida, and I'm in China, I still think of her and I'm pretty sure that she still thinks of me. And, honestly, just those thoughts are what make my life better. Alex |
| Now they're asking me what I would choose, if I could be any age again. It's a tough call, but I'm going to pick 18 or 19. That was my Freshman and Sophmore year at SUNY-New Paltz, and boy was life more fun then. I lived in a "residence hall", (which for those who don't know is a politically correct name for a dormitory). I ate all that wondrfully greasy cafeteria food. I went to a few classes a day, and when I wasn't studying, I was loafing, listening to music, hanging around the food court and sometimes getting drunk. I also was a member of a club called SCUM. That stood for Student Coalition for Universal Medievalism, which would get togetheter on weekends and renact the medieval things. It was awesome. Of course, I eventually became a Junior and then a Senior in College, but that wasn't as good, because the courses became more difficult and time consuming, but all in all, it was good times. You know, sometimes people look back at life and say, "What advice would you want to give your younger self?" Honestly, nothing. Except maybe, "Try to have more fun! But I'm not sure that's possible." |
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