SOAR Day

Today's the day for people like me, who are unable to make it to the earlier summer SOAR (Summer Orientation And Registration) dates, to finally learn about and register for our classes. Being a Letters & Science Honors student (I like just randomly saying honors student to see how it rolls off the tongue. What's the point in being one if you can't brag about it, right?) , I went with that respective group to understand more about what it means to be an honors student, seeing how I just blindly signed up for anything with the word 'honors' in it.

Basically, among all the courses and lessons offered at UW, there are some which are 'Honors Only', and 'Honors Optional'. Among the 3 broad Humanities, Social Sciences and Natural Sciences areas, one has to take 12 credits in each area (one class is around 3 credits, so that's 4 courses in each area) by the end of the year. This is apart from the major you'll be choosing, but you won't have to declare a major till year 3. For honors students, 6 of the 12 credits from each area has to be 'Honors' classes, meaning you go to the same lectures, but attend separate tutorials, taught by professors instead of graduate students, and fulfill extra projects or homework. After completing all the 120 credits, and maintained a 3.3 cumulative GPA, an honors student would graduate with either a Bachelor of Arts (that's me) or a Bachelor of Science (over my dead body).

The major I declare wouldn't even be shown on my Bachelor of Arts certificate, actually, which leaves me the freedom to choose any weird major I want. I could do an English major, with a Criminal Justice certificate, and go on to do Law in graduate school. That's the beauty of having such a flexible system working for me.

So, to fulfill my various credits in my 3 'Breadth' areas, I have:

Humanities

- Linguistics (Human Language)

- English (Shakespeare)

Social Science

- Psychology (Intro to Psychology)

Natural Science

- Geological Sciences (The Age of Dinosaurs)

- Geography (Global Physical Environments)

I know what you're thinking - The Age of Dinosaurs?! Pretty awesome, eh. I was lucky I chose it early - my suite-mate wanted to get it too, but he was too late and all the seats were filled. I really do not want to drop this, so I'm hoping it's time-slot wouldn't clash with anything I already have, as they have yet to announce the class schedules for this course. I also never thought I'd do Shakespeare again, and yet here we are. Time to revisit all that hidden imagery, soliloquies, rhyming couplets and morbid murderers again, and I have to say, I'm pretty excited about it. Not taking literature for 2 years in JC were kinda strange for me. Felt as if I've abandoned the natural artistic side of me to embrace the darkness of science.

Ah, science. They gave me quite a fright when they said that we have to do sciences as well as arts. Thankfully, they consider geography and geosciencs as physical and biological sciences, or I would seriously just have died on the spot if they wanted me to do physics again. Never again would I even step into a classroom poisoned with the noxious, evil aura of physics.

Well my classes and schedule just looks awesome, and I'm really excited to begin. Classes officially begin on Thursday, but my Thursday doesn't have any lessons scheduled on it, so naturally I slotted in a facial appointment. My very absolute first lesson as a college student - ever - is Shakespeare Discussion, at 9.55am on Friday. A really significant lesson, I'll say. Truly marks the point where I begin my foray into higher learning.

They want students from foreign schools to take the 'English as a Second Language' test tomorrow. How utterly insulting to insinuate that my English standard is anything but stellar, and so arrogant of them to assume that any high school outside of the US wouldn't use English as its primary language of instruction. They're seriously just asking for it. Summary writing? Seriously? Like as if our GP lessons haven't drilled that into us? I'm even gonna paraphrase their little essays for them.

I do understand why they want us to do those tests, though. I have encountered Chinese students here, whose pronunciations just make me want to kill myself. Its honestly so slow that i would have already forgotten the first part of the sentence by the time they get to the second. Not being judgmental, I know their math abilities are to die for, but it just pains my heart to hear them struggle like that. Makes me wanna put my hand down their throats and just yank out that elusive word they've been gagging to spit out.

In unrelated news, I've been cooking up a storm since arrival, and have made till now - baked chicken with sweet potatoes, aglio olio, Mexican scrambled eggs, spaghetti bolognese, dumplings, Betty Crocker chocolate cakes, and Rocky Road crunch bars. I think it's safe to say that I won't be starving myself for the next couple of years. I absolutely refuse to punish myself gastronomically, when I know school's gonna be punishing enough mentally. I'm thinking of distributing crunch bars around the level, just to say hi to my neighbors. Everyone's been so friendly, makes me kinda feel like I'm not being sociable enough.

Back to the kitchen!

Arrival In USA

3.30PM

I arrive at Chicago with that sense of wonderment and thrill, something I had forgotten I could feel. Being in Singapore for such a long time has sorta made me feel as if I've been everywhere, seen everything, there isn't a place that can surprise me or excite me in this fresh new way any longer. The land of Oprah is a beautiful, flat one. I say flat because I used to complain to Damian how obstructed the view in Singapore is. You couldn't look anywhere without having your vision blocked by some huge building. Here in Chicago, everything is just so spread-out – you could look for miles and miles into the distance, and actually see where the baby blue heaven meets the lush green earth.

The flight here wasn't as torturous as how my pan-pacific-flight phobic mom would have described it. I don't get airsick, so the agony lies more in how boring a 13 hour (from Hong Kong to Chicago) flight can be. Sure I have my iPods, and my adorably sweet seat partner (who offered me a packet of tissues when I sniffled) made the flight kinda worthwhile, but can you imagine just sitting there for an entire day, just listening to music you've already heard many times before? The service on United airlines ain't much to brag about, either. In their mad rush to finish serving drinks before the plane lands, one flight attendant actually slipped and dumped a cup of water on my jacket sleeve.

But at least I'm here now. Customs were a breeze, and of course, I gave the patented condescending smile to those who have to wait in ridiculous queues to pass immigration. The warmth of the people here is immediately obvious to someone who has grown up in stoney-cold Singapore. People would smile and ask you where you're headed to as you wait together at the bus shelter, bus drivers (at least for the chartered ones, I don't know about public buses) greet passengers with such unbridled exuberance, as if he means every 'Ahoy!'. Whether it's what they truly feel is a different matter altogether. The fact is that they bothered to go that extra little mile to make you feel welcome, and it does make a difference, especially after you've stepped off a 20 hour flight journey. (Btw, I haven't slept for 40 hours, the very idea of me managing to still write coherently is a joke to me. I might look back at this piece and realize it's all gibberish.)

It surprises me that things have been going so well till now. Other than a little confusion at the Hong Kong airport (the whole place is so hideously messy and disorganized, and I'm not just saying this cause I wandered around for half an hour looking for the right place to board my transit flight), everything else is just peachy. The bus service was much less complicated than I imagined – I just had to wait at a general chartered stop, and board the bus that would take me to Madison, and then pay the driver $27 later on. All my fears of terrorists making pregnant women go hysterical and then into panic-stress-induced labors were unfounded, as it turns out.

I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but reading Damian's and Jiahui's letters for me while on the flight pushed me over the edge. I left pretty quickly while at the final gate (the one visitors can't go through without a boarding pass) with a quick 'okay, bye everyone!', because I knew the longer I dragged it, the harder it was going to be. Like an uncomfortable hookup – get it over and done with, and pretend they're not there. It was like those movie-scenes, I kid you not. I was reading their letters as the plane started to gather speed, and just as I started to truly realize how I'll never get to have that much time with them anymore, the plane takes off, as if confirming what I had been thinking and sealing all our fates. I wasn't bawling like a baby – it was those dignified, reddening of the eyes and slight sniffing kinds.

And before I knew it, here I am, thousands of miles away, in USA. It doesn't really feel as if I've made a huge physical move, maybe because while on the plane it never really does feel like you're moving. As I write this on the bus to Madison, I wonder where all my friends are now, what they're doing, and if they're thinking of me, like how I'm thinking of them. I doubt they're doing that thinking right this instant, though. It's 4PM here, so it's around 5AM over there, and if they're dreaming of me, then they've officially crossed that line into stalker-dom, and I just have to say: thank the lord I'm so far away from them now.

6.40PM

Unexpectedly, I started feeling increasingly nervous as the bus nears Madison. It's the first time returning, since leaving here as a wee toddler all those years ago. I was charged with anticipation, to rediscover a world I left behind, but I think I was also worried that I would be disappointed with what I found. Setting foot once more, on a city I had left behind more than ten years ago, fills me with an overwhelming sense of homecoming. The entire place is beyond recognition, but yet, I knew in the back of my mind that this was where James Madison Zhang was conceived in, carried, and pushed out of my mother's vagina. You just don't abandon such connections easily.

The first sight htat greeted me was a majestic one = Lake Monona, in all it's glory, spread out far and wide, almost looking like an ocean. The lake was so impossibly blue that it looks almost painted. Little sailboats could be seen in the distance, little white triangles that dotted the horizon. The bus whizzes by the lake-shore, and every head was turned to the right, taking in as much of Monona's beauty as they could.

The iconic State Capitol Building could now be seen. This feels me with a greater sense of nostalgia than could be described. I don't even remember the building as a child, but seeing it now, perhaps for the first time, made me feel as if I was revisiting something oddly familiar. This was it – I kept telling myself. This was Madison. I was finally seeing, as an adult, the city I had been calling my birthplace for my whole life.

My very first step onto Madison soil was on the front steps of Memorial Union, one of the main administrative buildings of UW. It was a stately sight to behold. Ancient, medieval looking castles, alongside Greek styled pillars and mansions – it was definitely a wonderful first look at Madison. Another thing I immediately noticed was the temperature. It must have been around only 18 or 19 degrees, with a chilly breeze toying around. A slightly cold, but not unpleasant weather.

Everyone's been saying how it would be hard getting used to a new surroundings, and I don't doubt them. However, even thou the differences between Madison and Singapore are so obvious, I don't feel as if I've been completely removed from familiarity. It doesn't seem as if I'm being thrown into a pit of foreign-ness. As I take in my surroundings, bags and luggage in tow, it felt to me like I've finally made it. Barbra's words come to mind :

This world's waited long enough
I've come home at last

'Welcome home,' the customs officer says. Welcome home indeed.

Last Post From Singapore

What is truly appropriate for something as monumental an occasion as this? Should I be thanking my closest friends and treasured acquaintances for everything they have done for me? But my memory's definitely not what it used to be ten years ago, where I could recite the names of every last Pokemon. I'd definitely miss someone out, and be accused of being a thoughtless hound. Should I be reminiscing about everything I'll miss here? Or should I be looking ahead for that thrilling life just within reach.

I've spent my Last Supper with Damian at his place, watching Charmed and having pizza. A very relaxed, homely feel for this closing act of our 4 year performance. To me, it didn't feel any different from the previous dinners and takeouts we've had, as if there would be many more to come, and as if there would always be a 'some other day'. But the truth is, this is really the final dinner we'll share within this 'era'. The next time I come back will be as a full-fledged 'tourist', and my time will always be limited to a month at most. Gone are the days where we seem to have nothing but tomorrows. We literally wouldn't have another 'tomorrow', for tomorrow's the day I finally leave. 

The last song we recorded was a very poignant one: 'For Good', from the Wicked musical. It's about two best friends (two witches, but we'll assume they're talking about bitches, so it'll suit our situation) who are parting, and they're thanking each other for the impact they've had on the other's lives. The verses go something like: 

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a hand-print on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend

Yeah well it goes exactly like that, because I copied and pasted it from a website. My point is, it's truly the most appropriate song we could have recorded at this moment, and we both couldn't make it through the whole song without getting emotional and doing the 'sob-crack'. I want to tell myself so much that 'parting' is not forever, but this 'change' really is forever. Sure, I'll come back to Singapore for visits, but it'll never be for good. It'll really won't ever be the same again. 

I guess that's life, isn't it. The moment you get comfortable, it's time for big changes to shake it all up again. We all have to move forwards, it's the whole purpose of being alive, so this is really the best that could have come from this situation. At least we know we're both moving towards higher ground, so it's a positive change if you think about it. It's not as if one of us is being shipped off to North Korea for years of hard labor.

Would I eventually find a group of friends as close knit and as understanding as the ones I have now? Probably so, but I doubt it'll be in the same way. In a manner, I want the people in my life to be unique, irreplaceable individuals, but again, I can't picture a world where people like them are absent in my life. Perhaps what I fear the most isn't that my friends are irreplaceable, but coming to realize that they actually aren't. Would I start growing apart from the people I know now, cause of differences in environments and experiences? I already have grown apart from people I know back in my Sec school, even those that I thought would always be close to me, so what would happen when I make that drastic 15000km move? 

I'll be reliving my Sec school days with Damian in the morning, by taking the usual bus route again, walks around the school, and lunching at BP-plaza. Stories and anecdotes of events I'm sure I've forgotten would resurface again at the sight of all that's familiar. Such a nostalgic and memory-stimulating experience it promises to be. It's going to be an achingly sad, but definitely meaningful last trip. 

Saying goodbye is so much harder than I thought it would be. I've always thought of myself as the kind of person who can just pack up and move on when the time comes, but to my utter surprise, I actually *am* capable of human emotions. I guess the difference is that unlike some peers who allow the pain of leaving stop them from making the actual move, I would swallow it all like a bitter pill, and acknowledge that this is a step that I have to take. 

What would I miss... The wide array of food available here, definitely. (Foreseeing that I'll be forced to cook a lot over in Madison, Damian got me one of Nigella Lawson's cookbooks to guide me.) Perhaps the easily available public transportation too. You would feel the inconvenience of not being able to drive much more over there, whereas it's a complete non-issue in Singapore. I think I'll miss not being among the racial majority too. I've never been the kind of person that regards race or skin color as an issue, probably because I've been brought up among people of the same race as I am, and have been taking racial acceptance for granted. Being among the minority (5.8%, and that's all Asians, Chinese would be even fewer) would sorta screw me up and propel me into some crazy study-holic, I hope. The whole 'If I don't fit in, then at least stand out spectacularly' thing. 

For my life up till now, I probably never did fit in anywhere. In Singapore, my US nationality distances most NS-bound guys (those that are filled with resentment about how I can skip what they can't), and my parents' Chinese descent didn't really fit me in with the typical Singaporean's dialect speaking crowd either. Over in US, obviously I'll stick out like a sore thumb, this time more conspicuously, and I won't get to enjoy the life of anonymity again. Lucky that I'm always starving for attention then. 

This is gonna be the last piece I'll post in Singapore, cause I gotta pack up my MacBook soon and get all my bags ready. Gosh, this is really happening. I've said that to myself so many times, and I don't think it'll really set in till I'm on the plane itself. 

Goodbye, friends. Goodbye, Singapore.

What To Leave Behind...

For those of you (I mean you, Mr. Stalker Guy) anxiously counting down to my departure, you would know that I have a mere 7 days left. I know. I'll give you guys (I mean you again, Stalker) a moment to grab a tissue and weep at how life as you know it would soon come to a screeching halt. My soon-to-come departure would undoubtedly thrust everyone here into a pit of darkness and dizzying gloom, but oh well, whaddaya gonna do 'bout it. 

It's not like everything's daisies and strawberry sundaes for me either, ya know. I'm faced with the daunting task of leaving behind the bulk of my extensive CD collection. Almost like leaving my children behind, except children can't produce such wondrous sounding music on demand. Come to think of it, I'd much rather pack my whole Mariah collection than bring my own child along. Don't blame me, blame his inferior vocal cords. 

So here I am, with my new 52-sleeve CD pouch (the exterior design is of a world-map, like those kinds that sea captains would have, cause I thought it was appropriate seeing how I'm bringing my CDs on a world tour. The gold lies in the details, as they always say.), contemplating my CD racks (that's right, plural) and trying to decide who gets to come and who has to stay. Of course, priority goes to Ms Carey, Ms Streisand and Ms Dion. I wanna bring along Christina, but she has been naughty lately, releasing electronic crap on the Bionic album, so I'm not really inclined to do her any favors. I'm not the kind that can just bring one or two albums from their collection, I simply have to bring the whole thing. (The exception is Barbra, with her 60 album collection that I only own a fraction of.) It's like how you can't chop off the arms of your child and only bring your favorite limb. Or choose to wear a string of his cute baby toes on your neck. Well not exactly like that, but you get me. 

Also, should I bring along their concert DVDs? Sometimes you really need that hour or so of concert-therapy to soothe your breaking heart (eg, Subway runs out of sweet onion sauce, and I run home to sob). But only the ones that are region-compatible with my MacBook, I think. Weeping over lost sauce in-front of the shared TV while choking out Barbra songs ("someday.. somewhere.. we'll find a new way of living...") would most definitely ruin the positive image I'm trying to make them think I possess. 

The act of packing these discs into the new CD pockets is giving me this strange sense of instability. I feel like I'm ripping them from their comfortable homes and cases, putting them in an unfamiliar environment, and shipping them off to a foreign land. Sounds pretty autobiographical, innit. Would this attempt at 'taking a piece of home with me' really make me feel better when I'm homesick, or would they only serve as a reminder of how removed from home I am?

The Love Test

Spread: The 7 Card Love Test

This is a 7 card tarot spread that highlights a few key aspects of what one desires, as well as dislikes, in a relationship. Surprisingly on-the-nose, especially for the kind of partner I don't want. It looks like I'm some gold-digger by drawing the Ten of Pentacles for what I do want, but I've always been saying how much I want the stability, not so much the money.

Cards: 
1 - My love goal (Page of Swords)

• Young-at-heart person
• Wisdom based on experience
• Refreshing honesty
• Challenging lover
• Mental dexterity

2 - What I have to offer (Knight Of Cups)

• Sensitive to atmosphere & opinions
• Full of emotions, charm, desire to please the other
• Romantic feelings out of proportion 
• Imaginative, but unrealistic

3 - What I lack (Ten Of Cups)

• Too compelled to find love and harmony solely through family values
• Ignoring own personal pathway
• Familial acceptance

4 -  What I don't want in a partner (Six Of Cups)

• Naive, innocent, childish
• Too absorbed in the past

5 - What I do want in a partner (Ten Of Pentacles)

• Stability, security
• Emotional or spiritual prosperity
• Worldly success
• The good life, wealth 

6 - The heart of the matter (Ten Of Wands) 

• Feeling I'm to blame for everything
• Struggling with heavy burden
• Believing there is always a price to pay
• Being too willing to please

7 - What can I do to make this work (Queen of Swords)

• Bear suffering with strength 
• Symbol of strong will & determination
• Patience for better times to come

The Spell Check Poem

Delightful little poem I found, highlighting how the spell check function only checks for technical spelling errors, while not noticing that the entire poem makes no sense as a whole. When you read it out, it sounds perfectly fine, so I guess its not a joke you can share with a blind person. It sorta reflects on how sometimes we pay so much attention to the little details, that the big picture is lost. 

Eye have a spelling checker,
It came with my Pea Sea.
It plane lee marks four my revue
Miss Steaks I can knot sea.

Eye strike the quays and type a whirred
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am write oar wrong
It tells me straight a weigh.

Eye ran this poem threw it,
Your shore real glad two no.
Its vary polished in its weigh.
My checker tolled me sew.

A checker is a bless thing,
It freeze yew lodes of thyme.
It helps me right all stiles of righting,
And aides me when eye rime.

Each frays come posed up on my screen
Eye trussed too bee a joule.
The checker pours o'er every word
Two checker sum spelling rule.

The Devil Cubed

With the date of my departure drawing ever closer (24 days and 4 hours, it says on my countdown counter), my erratic thoughts and fantastical fears of the future, some leading to my castration and eventual hanging, keep me wide awake at night. It seems to my half-conscious mind that anything that could possibly go wrong, would. It's not a good way to spend 3 hours in the dead of night fidgeting and dreading the inevitable moment where terrorists hijack my plane, causing a pregnant lady to go into early labor, invoking widespread panic and stampedes on board. To top it off, my luggage is mistakenly dropped off midair. But it's alright, though. My dreams have given me sufficient practice to handle all sorts of situations. 

As per usual, whenever I'm faced with troubles and difficulties, I turn to the one source that I am absolutely certain would provide succinct and timely help - my trustly ole' tarot deck. 

I won't pretend to fully understand the tarot, or how and why it works. Swiss psychologist Carl Jung, the originator of the idea of 'synchronicity', believes that there is a governing force and interconnecting, seemingly random coincidences that permeates all things. He believes that the tarot card we select mirrors something inner that needs to be expressed or would manifest in the outer world, hence the symbolic power of tarot.The 'randomness' of divination is itself part of this process.

Commonly accepted as the most dangerous card of the deck is the Devil :

Just look at this ugly bastard and you'll know why. The Devil symbolizes all that is apparently 'bad' in a world, and it is our own inner Devil who is the cause of most of our problems. This card would appear when we are literally 'in the dark'. 

Get this - in a layout, this card reveals that you are bound by your fears, beliefs or situation that is unhealthy for you. It is time to question your beliefs, viewpoint and goals. Whose are they anyway - yours or someone else's assumptions? You are also living a lie about the current situation, and have to expect to fight against the temptations of materialism, power or self-deception. 

Pretty heavy stuff to be reading about, particularly when I'm already in such deep doubts about my future. It suggests that I'm somehow bound by old habits or addictions, and is letting my ego control my life. Also, that I feel unworthy of love. Well, ain't this interesting.

This card is bad enough to appear once, so imagine my dismay when it appeared THREE times in consecutive spreads. It got to a point where I was just shuffling the cards, and a card would pop out, and sure enough, it was ole' Devil winking up at me. Do I really have that much negativity in my life? The feeling that I can never have enough, or be enough - I honestly don't want to admit it, but my materialism might have been running out of control. Blowing $500 in 2 weeks is kinda extreme, even for me. 

The good news is, this is a symbolism of old habits and routines that have to give way for new ones that would undoubtedly come when I make my grand move to Madison.