Do You Remember Pluto?

by mizu

On August 24, 2006, Pluto officially lost its status as a planet and was renamed “134340”.

It may seem very random that I am mentioning this now; it happened several years ago, and today is not even August 26 or Space Day or anything like that. So why?

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Conspiracies Abound (Part 2)

I should’ve posted this a lot earlier, but I had a few things to add to it :p It’s gotten really long, so you can read one per day or something.

Microwaves Can Be Used for Anything
I’ve heard some rather strange things about microwaves lately. I remember hearing once that an old lady tried to dry off her wet cat by putting it in the microwave, so apparently now there are warnings telling people not to put animals in their microwaves (I have no idea if it’s true, though). My mother seems to think it’s okay to do that, though, at least with stuffed animals.

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◆ learn chinese to learn japanese.

Yet again, I’m doing things in a roundabout way. Or at least, planning to do things. At several points over my life I have gotten the notion that I ought to start learning some Chinese characters so I can at least read the signs if I somehow get shanghai’d (Ha! Get it?) and am stranded in China. Well at least if somehow I ended up in Shanghai, I’d be okay because I can sort of speak the dialect…But anywhere else, it’d be hopeless.)

I do remember that back when I was about 6 or 7 years old, I went to a sort of day care place (it was called Little Genius Learning Center, if I remember correctly. Pretty arrogant-sounding name, if you ask me), and there was a nice lady who would go over a beginner’s Chinese book with me. She’d point to a line and I was supposed to recite it to her, and at the end of the day she’d give me an apple as a present. Actually, I didn’t really know what the words said, I’d just memorize what she’d said when she read it earlier, and then I’d just repeat what I remembered. But it sure looked like I was learning Chinese. Now that I think of it, I was good at fooling people when I was a kid. My grandma made me take a nap every afternoon, so if I didn’t fall asleep I’d just fake it when she came in to check on me. Eventually, when enough time had passed, I would get up and she’d give me some ice cream. So actually I never got anything near as much sleep as my parents thought I had, especially in preschool, when I never slept during naptime. (But then again, they know that I’m an insomniac, because when I was a baby it took a really, really long time for me to fall asleep. It’s still pretty bad now.)

Now that I’m interested in learning Japanese now, though, I’m starting to regret the fact that I never went to Chinese school or at least made my parents teach me. In fact, I was just the opposite for most of my life – I was adamant that I’d focus on English. I really believed that if I tried to learn Chinese, I’d forget English, because I actually learned to speak Chinese before I learned to speak English. Soon as I went to school and was forced to learn English, though, I pretty much forgot all the Chinese I’d learned and now I almost always speak English at home. And on another note, I actually look a weird, irrational pride in the fact that I was Chinese but did not learn my own language. I guess that was an early sign that I would later try to go against the tide in most aspects of my life, if only just to be different from “everyone else”, whom I would refer to with slight contempt. I used to want to just blend into the background, but now I kind of think that fitting in means being boring. (That’s not necessarily true, though; I probably just don’t get to know people well enough to make an accurate judgment.)

Well, although I tried to memorize Katakana and Hiragana with the help of Quizlet, I am still a very long way from reading Japanese because I don’t know enough kanji. Guess what kanji is? Yup, it’s Chinese characters. The one thing I insisted on not learning turns out to be really important. So I have to start from scratch now if I ever hope to learn Japanese. I was actually planning to work on that this summer, but now that I have the homework from my classes to do…Well, I let myself get too stressed again and now I’m really not in the mood for the things I was doing earlier this summer. Looks like it’s going to be a wasted summer and I’ll probably be cursing myself for the rest of high school because I won’t get to relax again.

Still, I probably should talk to my parents about it sometime. I know that they’re going to be busy, what with work, remodeling, and health problems on both sides of the family (grandma on mother’s side had back issues and had to go the hospital; dad and his mother were both very ill not long ago. And I should not neglect to mention that my mom is still limping around, although her toe is recovering considerably). But I guess if I’m going to learn a new language, starting late’s better than never. I’ve gotta get crackin’.

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◆ snail mail.

Recently I’ve been seeing a lot more dead animals than usual – about 6 of them in this past week alone. Most of them were probably killed by vehicles, though it’s hard to say, seeing as some of them have ended up on sidewalks and between poles and other objects. But I’m pretty certain that, at the very least, it was not a mailman who ran over the animals.

Why? Well, just the other day I received a letter from Thefalse-tto in the mail. That in itself was a pleasant surprise, since I have not been exchanging mail with anyone for a long time (though I was supposed to have a email pen pal from France but she has not replied to my last email, so I assume that she has lost interest…Or maybe it ended up in spam for some reason and I didn’t see it. Hopefully nothing bad has happened to her). But I noticed the date at the bottom of her letter said June 26, and I had received the letter on July 6. In the past I usually received letters within 3 or 4 days, so I thought that did not bode well for the post office…Maybe all the mailmen were taking time off because of the Independence Day holiday…Still, I live pretty much next to the post office, so it wouldn’t be that hard to deliver my mail, would it?

Oh, and speaking of Independence Day, I had a rather odd one. On the weekend right before it (July 2 and 3), I could hear fireworks from my bedroom. According to my mother, the amusement park Great America was having their fireworks over the weekend, since if they had the fireworks on Monday, July 4, all the adults would have to go to work the day after, and be all tired and grumpy from staying up late for fireworks. Or something like that. (This is based on her allegations, so I don’t know if it’s true…) So I kind of assumed that my town’s fireworks would follow the same schedule.

Evidently not. The evening of July 4 rolled around, and while I was attempting to sing Black Rock Shooter at home (which did not work out, since I cannot hit the higher notes of the song), I realized that there were some sounds from outside. The sound of fireworks, to be precise. It was very frustrating for me; I’ve been planning since last year to go to the location of the fireworks so I can take better pictures of them. Wonder if I’ll even get to see the local fireworks before I move out of this town. (But then again, maybe I’ll live in a big city, perhaps even Sydney, Australia, and see better fireworks.)

Though I guess in China people might not even know about the 4th of July, so if I ever went there on Independence Day, nothing would happen. My grandfather talked to me on Sunday, and I tried to tell him that Monday was a holiday and my parents weren’t going to work. He didn’t understand. He said that since it was the first day of the week, of course they were going to work. At that point I attempted to send him the Chinese Wikipedia link for Independence Day, but he didn’t notice it.

I know that the flow of this post is rather random, but I guess I’ll end by talking about the odd dream I had last night. I was at some sort of concert or musical (probably a musical, since there was a vague storyline, I think), and some of the performers were members of a nonexistent Korean band. Thefalse-tto was in the audience too, and she was explaining to me something about how the audience wanted the female member of the Korean band to sing a song about little unicorns that had inappropriate lyrics. Then I remember seeing a guy from that band going on stage and singing a song. Part of the lyrics to that was “Eugene! Eugene!” I’m not sure whether it was the guy’s name or if it was supposed to mean something. Maybe, though, it was because I watched Tangled twice recently and Flynn Rider’s real name is Eugene…

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◆ more problems on the way.

I’m not sure if almost being attacked by a goose counts as bad luck. It does look like, however, that it’s a part of a series of unfortunate events, because I hear that bad things come in threes.

For one, our garage is having issues again. Whenever I try to get the door to come down, it stops partway and then tries to go back up again. I have to keep clicking the button on my garage door opening device until it finally manages to get all the way down. …And even then, the garage door still tries to go back up. I’m thinking that the Rin/Len Kagamine song called “Remote Control” should have its lyrics rewritten to complain about my struggles with the garage door. I’ve even taken to going out through the front door (gasp! I pretty much never use the front door unless guests are over) just to avoid dealing with it. I’m worried that someday the garage will try to open on its own while I’m not around, and someone will come in and steal my bike. (This has happened before. My dad had his bike stolen many years ago, only it wasn’t from the garage)

As for the other bad thing, it happened to my mother. We’ve always had issues with chairs and the legs of the beds in our house. Many times I’ve gotten up at night to use the bathroom and ended up stubbing my toe against a chair leg. It’s happened so much that I suggested getting a bed with special legs so that you won’t kick it (I saw an ad for it in a magazine), though as usual my parents weren’t paying attention. Well, now my mother was walking to the bathroom at night and her toes hit a chair leg really hard. She didn’t think it was a problem that night, but the next morning it hurt a lot and she couldn’t walk properly. Turns out that she’s fractured a bone (or bones) in her pinky toe. It’ll take six weeks or so for her to recover.

What a bummer. Just the previous night we were thinking about going swimming sometime soon. Looks like I’ll be swimming solo. There’s practically no chance that my dad would ever agree to go swimming. When we were in Hawaii a couple years back, my mom and I were drifting out in the ocean…My dad, on the other hand, paced back and forth on the beach, an angry expression on his face. Barely got his feet wet and had only a sunburn to show for it.

But I guess it’d still be nice to go to the beach sometime. I’d like to go swimming in the ocean again. It’s really salty and makes the undersides of my arms sting, but it’s still…both relaxing and strenuous at the same time. A vacation-y sort of exercise.

I suppose in the end I can’t enjoy it as completely as I used to be able to. At this age there’s too much to worry about. I have to study to take my SATs, and these days it seems colleges expect you to get really serious about some extracurricular, and spend your summers on a job or internship or volunteering or something…It takes the fun out of the things I enjoy, being told by college prep people that I have to go make money or enter competitions with my hobbies. I never should’ve written Stanford and Harvard down as colleges I want to go to, because it’s not true…Sure I’d like to go there, but that’s not my goal.

Then I end up wondering why I’m so afraid to aim high. Maybe it’s fear of failure; that has always worried me. Maybe I’m trying not to do whatever everyone else is doing again. I know it’s silly of me to do – just because something is popular doesn’t make it bad. But I feel like I can’t just go along with the flow without thinking it through first. I think that I’ll lose what makes me unique if I follow what other people are doing. Sometimes I don’t want to be like other people and sometimes I do. I don’t really know who I want to be anymore.

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◆ it was a dark and stormy night.

A terribly cliched phrase, but it’s true. There has been that kind of weather, last night, and sometime a few weeks earlier. Actually, I was never really afraid of thunder or lightning when I was younger, but this school year, when there was a storm with very loud thunder, I was frightened out of my wits. I don’t even know why. It’s not like a blackout is really something to be feared. I feel like Haruhi from Ouran High School Host Club. Or Nagi from Nyan Koi.

This morning there wasn’t a storm, though it was certainly raining. I was woken up at 5 am, which is really way too early for me, even if I don’t sleep well on a daily basis. It is kind of exciting, though, driving along a nearly abandoned highway and seeing the water spurting from the cars. I ought to have taken photos of the street lights or a certain bridge in my town that I am quite fond of. But I guess I was half-asleep and too lazy to bother.

Right now I’m at SFO Airport for the bajillionth time (I never started counting, but it’s been many times, that’s for sure). We’re going to Vancouver first, and then we’ll change flights to go to Shanghai. It would’ve been nice just to stay in Canada. But as my grandparents are aging, it becomes more important to visit them, and unfortunately they aren’t going to move close to California. It might be easier if my family, instead, moved somewhere closer to China, like Australia…well, that’s still rather far, but it’s at least closer than California. And Australia’s got some of my dad’s friends. So we’d be in good company.

It’s been two years since I last went to China, and I wonder how much has changed. I’m still wearing the same jacket and I’ve brought at least one of the same shirts. I haven’t grown taller, either. I think that the things that have changed about me are mostly bad things. When I get angry, I swear in my head a lot more often than I did in middle school, and I find that I say “like” too much when I’m talking. I’ve seen on Tumblr that people turn into what they said they’d never be, and it’s true.

While I still have the opportunity, if anyone is still reading this, allow me to announce my 2nd Tumblr! Yeah, one should be more than enough, but I have now made a division – my original tumblr, Serendipity-solstice, is for photography, quotes, and other such things (though not my own photos, that’s still on my DeviantArt). The new one, click here for it, is for artwork, mostly anime-style, and it’s named after this blog. Just a little tribute to Blogger for sticking with me all this time. (I mean, it has a lot less errors than Tumblr. I’m thankful for that, at least.)

I have no idea if Tumblr, DeviantArt, or Blogger will work in China, so perhaps this is the last time I write until about New Year’s time. So, happy holidays to you all, and may the force be with you.

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◆ cats and me are not meant to be.

I’ve had a few previous run-ins with cats. Most of the meetings were with cats in the neighborhood, except for two occasions, one at my mom’s friend’s house and another at a Humane Society. Cats have never seemed to like me much. They either stare at me suspiciously and run off if I try to approach, or they keep turning away from me to show their disinterest. In fact, my parents’ friend’s cat even bared its teeth (though I’d heard that he – or was it she? – didn’t like people much to begin with) when I attempted to get friendly with it.

So I wasn’t quite sure if I really ought to be volunteering to help out with a Town Cats event at PetCo. It was an adoption fair for cats, and I was supposed to be helping with the cleanup – dismantling the cages and that sort of thing. I figured I might as well go. Despite all of my cajoling for the past couple of years, I have still been unable to convince my mother that we ought to get a cat or dog. It’s probably because of one of these reasons…

1. My mom never liked cats or dogs much. It seems that her side of our family isn’t fond of animals in general, since they didn’t have pets when my mom was young.

2. No one has time to take care of it. There’s no one to feed lunch to a cat or dog, and if we got a dog we’d have to walk it every day. (I think that’d be good exercise, but it is time-consuming.) Cats are lower maintenance, but as my mother considers them to be rather disloyal and not as useful (for instance, dogs could guard the house while we’re away), that’s out of the question. I don’t think my mom has ever really spent time with a cat, though, so how would she know?

3. My mom is afraid of dogs. She thinks that the big ones are scary and that they will bite her. It’s ridiculous considering that she’s never even been bitten. And I don’t think it’s good to be judging animals’ temperaments by their sizes. I’ve told her to pet dogs, that they won’t hurt her, but she always refuses.

4. I’m allergic to cats, so I can’t have one. Three times I have gotten rashes after coming in contact with cats. Of course, it’s not life-threatening, I could still have a cat, but it sure would be annoying suffering from allergies all the time. (And since cats don’t like me, I think I’d get along better with a dog.)

5. My dad is allergic to dogs, according to the doctor. I might’ve mentioned this in an old post. The doctor told him that he’s allergic to dogs (guess he found out by giving my dad an injection of something doggish – yeah, I know, that’s not a real word – and deduced that he’s allergic) but I have never seen him react to dogs. So it’s probably a lie. But I don’t know for sure.

Anyways, I’ve wanted to have a dog since about second grade, though I didn’t start to nag often until middle school. But even after years and years, I have not managed to convince my mom. She half-jokingly made an offer to me many years ago, saying that if I quit going on the Internet, I could have a dog. I suspect that she only offered that to me because she didn’t think I would be able to do it. I have considered quitting the computer (except for homework purposes, I suppose) so that I can have a dog, but I’m not completely sure she would hold up her end of the bargain. Besides, there are lots of things on the Internet that I still want to do – post on my blog, for one. And so I am still stuck in this dogless, catless state. I’ll probably be like this until I move out (my mother is always saying I can have a dog…when I’m an adult. It’s rather frustrating. She says I’m not responsible enough to take care of one anyways, since I’ve broken my DS and a camera, as well as lost a jacket, homework assignments, and various other things).

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◆ the crossing of bloodlines.

Blood crosses. They happen when siblings, or cousins, or some other kind of relatives have children together. It’s something that disturbs me a bit. I suppose you could fall in love with a relative, but it’s a bit frightening what things could happen as a result of such a relationship.

I heard mention of it in the book called The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski. The Sawtelles, the family upon which the book focuses, keep careful records of every dog they have bred so that no dog will have a blood cross. Blood crosses have sometimes resulted in physical defects, both in animals and in people.

I was reading National Geographic not that long ago (it is one of my favorite magazines, after all, and I renew my subscription every time it runs out) and apparently it seems that King Tut may have been the result of crossed blood…And that could be why he is pictured with a cane (had some sort of foot problem from the blood cross, perhaps? And maybe he had a weak immune system, too, which would have contributed to his death at such a young age). Among royalty it isn’t uncommon to have blood crosses. Sometimes it’s to preserve political power (which confuses me a little, because if you wanted to be more powerful, wouldn’t it be better to marry someone out of your family so you would have more connections? But oh well) and other times people do fall in love with their family members.

There was also a guy who was French royalty who had crossed blood flowing in him and he developed slowly (I think he couldn’t walk until 7? Or something freaky like that) and he didn’t live that long. Isn’t that painful? The odds are against you from birth. If you’re the child of two relatives, then there’s a possibility that both of them have a recessive gene that could cause problems, and if you happened to be unlucky enough, you might be born with those two recessive genes put together, and you would suffer from whatever problem the gene causes. And you’d be doomed to get cancer over and over again or die early, and so on. (Hmm, I suppose you could end up with such genes even if you didn’t have crossed blood, but in that case you’d have to have two people meet who had some sort of similarities in genes, and I guess considering the amount of people out there it would happen, but then again there are a lot of combinations of genes that are possible, too…Well, never mind me, just talking to myself. Really. No one reads this besides my future self anyways.) I guess in that case you might not be able to change your fate. But I’ve heard this quote that “It’s not the years in your life, it’s the life in your years”, so even if you know you don’t have long to live, search for happiness. You’re alive, so go and live as much as you can! That’s still something I need to do.

I’ve been concerned about bloodlines because of my grandparents on my mother’s side. People in China don’t necessarily change their last names when they get married. In the case of my grandma, she already had the same last name as my grandpa, so there was no need to change last names. True, there are a lot of people in China, and you’ll certainly meet people with the same last name, but it made me think that there’s probably a blood cross, even if it’s somewhere way back. A bit freaky to think about. One time I said to my mom, “So that’s why you’re so twisted!” (referring to her personality) which made her become indignant. XD But anyways, don’t be like me, don’t joke about it. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

My science teacher showed us a website that contains a world clock. You can see births, deaths, illness, crimes, and whatnot. A bit morbid, I guess, watching as the number of deaths go up (there are really a lot of people who die of respiratory infections!) but it’s kind of fascinating too. Here’s the url:

http://www.poodwaddle.com/clocks/worldclock/

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◆ the secret life of bees.

Secret might not be the right word in this case, seeing as I see bees in public places like near the post office and at schools.

I just felt like using this title. I once read a book called The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. (Unfortunately, I can’t quite remember how the ending went because it was a few years ago. I guess if you read a lot of books and if you get distracted by daily life, it’s easy to forget the specifics of books you’ve read.) Apparently there’s a movie now, too.

Some time back, I was at the place I usually spend my brunch break at school, when it seemed that a few people were looking at something. I heard someone say, “Oh no! You’ve killed it!” so I went over to investigate. It was a very weak-looking bee on the ground. It was still alive, but it was unable to fly and grew more and more pitiful until it couldn’t even bother to twitch a leg. One of my friends and I tried to bring it back to life, and transported it using a stick to a leaf. It seemed like the bee was unable to hold on to the leaf – it slipped downward little by little, and we became fearful that it would tumble in to the bushes, never to be seen again. But it seemed to regain some semblance of life and started to move a little.

We tried to put it on a flowering tree, but the bee was not interested and fell onto the ground. Then another girl came along, seemingly out of nowhere, and picked up the bee with her hands. The bee seemed to be much more energetic upon being touched by a human and began to move actively. The girl started to walk off, so we followed her to the grass field, where she set the bee down on the grass.

Today I came across another bee, though it was not so close to death as the one I had seen previously. It was still moving along, though it seemed to also be unable to fly. My friends and I tried to get it interested in a flower, but the bee was not interested. It would turn and change directions every time we shoved the flowers in its face. We also tried leaves and sticks but the bee would fall off every time we tried to move it from one place to another. One time it seemed as though we had been successful, as the bee was finally displaying interest in the flowers, but then the bee fell off again. My friend insisted on handing whatever stick or leaf the bee was climbing on to me because she feared the bee would sting her. I think it’s fine as long as the bee is unable to move quickly and if you avoid the rear end of the bee. After seeing the girl from before handle a bee, and as they seemed to get along quite well, I am less fearful of bees (at least, bees that are walking on the ground, not the very active bees flying about at the speed of light).

I am hoping to use such logic to convince my mother to let me have a dog. If you are not familiar with something, it is not unusual to be fearful of it. In fact, I was intimidated by dogs, but I’ve met several of them and realized there is nothing to worry about (except for perhaps abused dogs and dogs with rabies). I’ve petted dogs and been licked by them and they have not bitten me. Be sure to pay attention to body language of animals, though…If a dog is growling at you, it’s best to keep away from it.

My mother hasn’t really been around dogs, and she dislikes them. I think it also has to do with my grandma getting bitten by a dog. I wish my mother would give dogs a chance and spend some time with them. She might feel more kindly towards them if she’d only interact with them a little. (If she still dislikes dogs after that, then I can’t hold it against her.) My mom continues to say that I can have a dog…When I’m a responsible adult. That will still be quite a few years away. And I’m not patient. Especially when I could die anytime and lose my chance forever.

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◆ run for your life!

Do not be alarmed. The sky is not falling. Your hair is not on fire. Your family and friends are all alive and well. The world is not ending.

The running that I am referring to here is not running for survival, but as part of a chosen lifestyle.

Judging from what I am hearing and seeing at my school, being a teacher can be a really great job. Sure, you might catch colds from the kids, have to deal with rude and overly talkative children, and complain about not being paid as much as you deserve, but teaching has its perks, too. You receive pension when you’re retired, and you can go to school with your kids, if you’re like my math teacher (his kids are in middle school right now, so he gets to go to school and leave school with them!). You also get to watch kids grow up and have a hand in how they turn out. It must be really cool seeing your students come back many years later, mature and successful.

The PE teachers have a nice time. They can be outside in the fresh air and have less grading to do than other teachers, but they are paid the same. They can exercise if they feel like it or they can just stand and order the kids to do something. And I don’t think you would normally have to work overtime. (My parents still do work at home after they get back at work. I think it’s more lax if you’re a PE teacher.)

I heard that one of the PE teachers injured his Achilles tendon and it was driving him crazy because he couldn’t run. I’m very fearful of getting my Achilles tendon hurt because of how important it is – you could be out for a year, depending on how bad the injury is. It’s pretty important in walking and running. It was already bad enough those times I sprained my ankle and kept getting left behind when I tried to run in PE.

I just really wish I could live the active lifestyle. Even the non PE teachers have the chance to pursue athletic hobbies. One time, during PE class, I saw my history teacher jogging on the track. Maybe it was his prep period and he didn’t have anything to do so he decided to enjoy the nice weather. I wish I could be as lucky as him, doing a job that I like and also doing one of my hobbies at work.

I am sad about going to high school because I don’t think I’ll be able to take PE every year. I know I will take it for at least two years, one time in 9th grade, and the other not determined yet. I really want to take PE every year because I fear I will not exercise enough without it. But I don’t know if I can. We can only take a certain amount of classes. And it really saddens me.

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