Third Hunt Lounge

The sturdy gray tables are strewn with food, drink bottles, note papers and the one Goh board midst the madness. Laptops are aligned on the table like tanks, while each student diligently types away, or lazily browses the net with one finger. The cupboard at the wall hoards textbooks, paper cups, plates, a hole puncher, stapler, and occasional snacks. The probably unhygienic green mosaic patterned couches form a U-shape, outlining the tables.

Rui, the primary inhabitant of the lounge, is most often found unconscious on one of the sofas. If he is not, ,he is probably: 1) watching K-dramas, 2) listening to music, 3) singing, 4) playing piano, 5) bothering Steffie, or 6) dancing like a madman across the entire room (or even doing several of them at once). He is also one of the lounge's main food providers, giving away delicious Asian sweets for everyone to indulge.

Sam lays down on the couch right under the window, his head in another world with a show on his laptop and his thick headphones. If he suddenly bursts out in laughter, fear not, it is only him laughing at whatever is shown on his screen. It does get rather scary when he bursts out in laughter at oddly appropriate moments of our conversation, however.

Andrew visits frequently, working away with thirty plus tabs on the internet page, when not sharing his (half-joking) ambitions of stepping in the alcoholic beverage industry. Steffie can be seen exclaiming various frustrations about her work, or engaging in sibling-like bickering with either Rui or Ben.

Daniel can often be seen playing Goh on the huge Goh board with whichever second player of the day, and when he does, Feiqi will often observe and comment on whether it is a good move or not. That is one of the few instances Feiqi will speak; the only other times he speaks is when he talks about math, politics, or creepy ethical issues.

Michelle is often here as well, providing witty comments and boosting the humor out of all of us along with Robert, whose eccentricity truly shines at this room. Recently, Robert is seen sleeping and slaving away in the lounge nearly all day as well, becoming a sort of roommate for Rui, just as they have planned to be before they screwed up on the room assignment form during freshmen year and both ended up with creepy roommates.

It's noisy, it's crazy, it's stuffy; the godforsaken heater only knows how to overheat the room or not provide heat at all, and we must rely on the window to control the temperature. The walls are adorned with tacky decorations created by residents with zero artistic talent or taste, and as the year progresses the construction paper starts to peel off one by one.

It is far from the perfect studying place; far from a perfect socializing place, even.
But somehow, the liveliness of the people and the tackiness of the room becomes a charm when we mingle here together, chatting and studying away. The people here become close as family. And despite it all, we do get our work done.

I love Third Hunt lounge.

Contemplations of a Boring Kid

Wait, I'm not a kid anymore, damn it!

Anyhow, I still feel that the blog doesn't really sound like "me", yet.
This may come from the fact that I secretly try to be witty and humorous like my friends who have blogs, but being a STOIC, SERIOUS GIRL with no humor whatsoever, this does not translate well in my entries.

In fact, I just end up looking pathetically unfunny, like a poor stand-up comedian cracking one lame joke after another desperately, in an attempt to get at least a chuckle out of the unresponsive audience. But then my own voice seems rather immature and serious (at the same time? It's more likely than you think!), and I doubt it would be an appropriate tone for blogging.

I also wonder what to write about content-wise. Overall, this is my diary where I write my thoughts and whatever's happened to me that I feel is okay to publish to the anonymous public, but I wonder sometimes if I should provide some insight about current events or University shenanigans or something of the sort.

I have opinions, just not something I feel is good enough for the blog. Besides, I don't wish the blog to be a series of rant-fest about the incompetent society and silly politicians who could use a slap or two on the face to get their acts right.

Oh, well.

You gotta Party like it's your Twentieth Birthday.

As my birthday has come, from this day on I am no longer a teenager.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEEE.

TWENTY YEARS OLD, MAN.

It is odd to suddenly bid goodbye to being a teenager after a decade of being one.
It also did not feel anything special when that clock struck midnight and I was suddenly an adult.

Since I am now twenty, I guess I can have genuine angst instead of annoying teen angst.
JUST IN CASE I need to mope about the misfortunes in life, you know.
Well, here's a start to the road of being a SENSIBLE MATURE ADULT.

And thanks to everyone who came over for dinner/stayed in the lounge/gave presents/did not give presents!

Wangst

WANGST.

Seems to be the keyword of my week, really.

There was also, "exam", "essay" and "group project", but "wangst" seems to be more prominent, mainly because the first three keywords were the reason I started wangsting.

So instead of wangsting about my FAILURE OF A LIFE on the blog like a teenager, I decided to display my state of mood this past week with an image. (God, I love tvtropes.)

I'm turning twenty next Wednesday and I still whine and weep like an annoying teenager.

I can't believe my teenage years are slipping away from me already.

Perhaps I should wangst about it until 11:59 PM on Tuesday.

And then at midnight, I shall magically transform into a SENSIBLE, MATURE ADULT.

Yeah, right.

WANGST MORE, BABY.




(If you couldn't catch my sacrastic tone by now, I'm not actually wangsting at the moment. I got over it. I think.)

I am a good student.

Dear my lovely, matronly roommate,

I am a good student.

I know I sometimes come back to the room at the crack of dawn and struggle to wake up for next morning's classes, but this late night excursions are NOT, I must emphasize, NOT from partying or fun time with my significant other.

You know full well by now that I often go study in the 3rd floor lounge. I know there is a lounge on the 5th floor, too, but the 3rd floor has life - supportive friends who have now become like family, midnight snacks, and a feeling of general merriement.

And you know it is to this lounge that I go study. You should know this from how I take my laptop and my backpack and my books with me.

I must admit I have a terrible productive schedule - it is hard for me to be hardworking and productive as you are in the middle of the day; my productiveness usually comes at night. It has always been this way, and such is my style of studying, although I should try to moderate it so that I sleep at a reasonable hour.

If I studied in my room, eight out of ten chances I would end up being utterly distracted by the wonders of the internet, or by doodling, or what have you. At least in the lounge, I've got people to tell me that we should work. In addition, seeing Ray watch Korean dramas all day long gets me to realize I should be working. And I do work.

I am sure that your comments this evening was out of consideration of your friend. Of course you wouldn't want her to wake up in the middle of the night and scream when the door opens and a huge girl walks in the room. Of course you wouldnt' want me to step on your friend by accident and make her go home the next day with a broken finger or a bruised face.

But I must say that your instruction of, "We're going to sleep early tonight", and "Don't come back late", made me feel as if I am a bad roommate.

Perhaps I am overthinking and taking your word for more than what you actually intended. If that is the case, then do spare me here, I have been in an oddly gloomy mood today, although today was nothing but merry.

Why your words made me feel like you were trying to preserve the image of two healthy Asian girls going early to bed and not wandering around the dorm late at night like some hooligan is beyond me. I have nothing to say but that is what I had felt like, and as a result, made me feel as if I am on the same level as the drunken undergraduates stumbling upon their room after a wild party, or if I am one of the annoying girls who are overly hormonal and indulge on lustful activities with their significant other into the night.

(I admit I have sometimes had conversations with him that literally was all night long, but I can swear with whatever valuables I have that we do not engage in indecent activities)

If I'm overreacting because of my eeyorish mood today, I shall apologize. If your words are actually out of genuine concern that the seemingly goody-goody, quiet, reclusive girl often coming back late at night is not good roommate behavior, I only have one thing to say.

I am a good student.

However, I'm an extreme night owl. And all things considered, at least I do not try to interrupt your sleep, nor the rest of your room life, for that matter.

Actually, I don't even know if you know that I made a blog, but if you EVER stumble upon it, know that I have no hard feelings about this; I am just mildly, ever so slightly, PARANOID.

Love,

Your nocturnal roommate with nothing but good intentions.

Turtle! Tiger!

Friday movie night.

Kara, Maggie, Brian, Antai, and I have been invited to Mike's house at 8PM to watch Mulan.
No, not the Disney animation with a tiny dragon. I mean the live action one MADE IN CHINA:


Inspired by one memorably dramatic scene we happened to watch while waiting around the Super 8 Chinatown center, Mike had bought the DVD during our Canada trip.

Brian, being the awesome and generous baker he is, had brought chocolate banana bread for all to share.

Maggie, Kara, Me: *GASP* what is this?!

Brian: It's chocolate banana bread.

Maggie, Kara, Me: YAY! *takes a piece each and happily nom* IT'S SO GOOD!

If Lianna was the awesome friend and baker in Prague, in Ann Arbor, there was Brian. Oh, you wonderful bakers, what will we do without your delicious baked goods.

After Mike got everything set up, and Antai arrived, and Mike's other roommates and their friends retreated to another room to play FIFA WORLD CUP 2002 or what have you, the living room lights were dimmed, and the Xbox whirred as the DVD started to play.

Mike, being the owner of the DVD and already having had a previous movie night session with the other half of the Kendo Club members, boasted his knowledge.

Mike: You know what happens in the beginning? There's a white guy singing opera.

Everybody else: What?

But there was, indeed, a Caucasian man with a white fur coat apparently singing in the opening credits.

Everybody else : What?! Who is he? Why is he there?!

The Caucasian guy turned out to be an eunuch of the "bad guys" side, apparently captured somewhere around what is currently Russian territory, but ANYWAY, BACK TO THE MOVIE.

After the Rouran decide to invade China, the pace of the movie was surprisingly fast, with Mulan's father being drafted, Mulan taking her father's armor and leaving in his place within a span of what seemed like ten or fifteen minutes. Apparently, it wanted to get us to the point quickly and focus on the war.

If there is one thing I realized during the movie night, it is that we collectively had the ability to make a serious, semi-sad movie a little too entertaining. Granted, some of the scenes had a narm quality to it, but it was still a movie that should probably be watched in a serious, sober manner.

First of all, we were probably cheering for the wrong things:
----
*Mulan's feelings for Wentai ends up killing a lot of her soldiers*

Mulan: If you were me, you would have done the same!

Wentai: ...

Everyone: You should say "no" and leave! No time for romance in war!

Wentai: Your father was right, you should not develop feelings during war. I would have not done that. *leaves*

Everyone: YES!!!

Passerby (I can't recall if he was a roommate or friend, and I can't remember his name. SORRY!): You guys are mean.
---

Secondly, we were making unnecessary observations in dramatic scenes.
---
*Mendu beats up one of his men with a wine kettle. Kettle is bloody and dented*

Kara: He wasted a perfectly good kettle!
---

Lastly, we were having too much fun with tragic scenes.
---
*Mulan's men are trapped in a canyon with no supplies, Mulan is injured. Wentai feeds her his blood because they ran out of water*

Maggie: Ancient Chinese lipstick: your boyfriend's blood!

Kara: "Baby, I feel pretty today..."
---
*Many of the soldiers are about to be killed, Mulan's men have no choice but to watch, they start to sing the funeral song*

Everyone: Chinese propaganda!
---
*Rouran soldiers start to kill Chinese soldiers one by one while they are standing and singing*

"They're just killing them while they're standing!"

"It's like a harvest!"

"LOL."

"It's Farmville! It's been eight hours, harvest your eggplants!"

Mike: I am not watching sad movies with you guys again.
---

Of course, there was the MEMORABLE scene, where Turtle runs to save the men but is repeatedly shot with arrows instead.

Tiger: Turtle!

Turtle: Tiger!

Tiger: Turtle!

Turtle: Tiger!

Everyone: Turtle! Tiger! Turtle! Tiger!
I swear, that scene alone have almost become a meme among us.

After the war, Mulan returns to the village to live with her father, and Wentai, who was secretly the son of the emperor, has to marry the Rouran princess to maintain peace in the country.

"After all that, she only gets to return home?"

"Chinese propaganda!"

"So it's kinda tragic since they can't be together."

"The princess can kill rabbits for him now!"

"Will you be my rabbit killer?"

"You know, Mulan's village looks depressing, everything's dry and dying."

"So only the princess got what she wanted! She wanted to be a queen!"

"Um, her brother almost tried to marry her, though. And her father was killed."

All in all, the movie was entertaining, and the movie night was lots of fun.

Although I feel quite guilty that I missed kendo practice today.

I was tired and I'd been sick all week... is my justification. (I still feel guilty. Although I was starting to recover, although I needed the rest and was tired to the point that I couldn't even get up on time this morning.)

well, er, THE END!

The Mysterious World of Eye Makeup

Last Friday, I have taken one more step into the world that almost all women of civilized society enter when they reach a certain age of maturity.

I have bought my first set of eye shadow.

Being nineteen going onto twenty, I have thought that I needed to live up to the social expectations of women's possession of eye cosmetics, and that I should get some eye shadow, six months after I had purchased my first eyeliner, and four months after my first black mascara (because clear macara apparently doesn't count).

I entered Sephora in Briarwood mall, not knowing how I will end up when I exited the black-and-white striped entrance.
Kind of like the gold-miners digging for gold on foreign land, but that's besides the point.

I first attempted to look for a nice color by simply looking at the selection they offered. Black, brown, grey, blue, green, pink, white, gold...

But then I realized that Sephora, being a store that contains multiple cosmetic brands, just had way too many types of eyeshadow for me to look around for a limited amount of time, especially when Robert was waiting at the sofas outside, unable to relate to the realm of cosmetics.

Realizing that I was utterly lost, I sought help from one of the staff.

"Hi, I'm looking for an eye shadow..."

"Oh, what sort of eye shadow are you looking for?"

"Oh, something subtle..."

"Oh, our makeup colorist over there can help you with that. I'll go call her."

What I have learned from the experience: never try to ask for help in Briarwood Sephora unless you really, really, need help. Because it takes forever for the lady to come help you, and then they want to put slabs of makeup on you, and they go wash their hands, even though you said, no, I would prefer not to have makeup slathered upon my eyelids.

So after a long period of waiting, cut to me and the colorist lady talking.

"Is there some eye shadow with multiple colors at once?" I ask, because I'd like some variety.

"Well... oh, yes, there IS one palette that is perfect for you!" the colorist exclaims, and drags me to show me a box full of nine seemingly neutral colors.

"Our coworker at the cashier wears these every day, they're GREAT for everyday wear and creates a natural-eye look."

"I see."

The colorist then proceeds to apply some shadows on her hand to show me how they appear on skin.

"These are matte colors... and these are the more glittery ones..."

Wait, wait, those are EVERYDAY wear? That's a glob of glitter on skin!

"... as you can see, they're great for creating a natural eye look." says the colorist.

Sure, if by "natural", you mean BLING BLING EYES.

The palette did have a nice assortment of colors, but, being the scaredy-cat I am, I was effectively scared away by the glitter bomb colors of the palette. Also, I wanted to be economical and use every color that I'd be having; there was no way that at this point of my life, I'd wear that much glitter around my eyes in public.

Having had no luck with the staff, I had to resort once more to the look and choose method.

In the end, I bought a modest three-in-one eye shadow with beige, brown, and gold.

All the while, Robert was waiting patiently and painfully outside the store. Wincing, I hurriedly made my purchase and ran to my significant other.

And thus was my slightly awkward, painfully long journey of purchasing my first eye shadow. As I sat in Robert's car seat, I was tired and my brain was blank from the glitter and rainbow color of eye shadows available for the human eyelid.

"Why do women have to wear all these colors on their eyes?" I asked Robert as we drove back to the dorm.

"Well, the constructions of our society expects women to be made up like that," Robert answers in the professor-like way, as usual.

"Why aren't there social expectations for guys to wear stuff on their eyes, like a guy-shadow?" I mutter, feeling slightly annoyed to have been born as a girl, like the times we excrete blood every month, or the times I have to walk in heels.

"Well, men don't tend to wear eye makeup much, except when they're in a theatrical play..." Robert answered, being more realistic then needed when asked a question, as usual.

We then talked about theater makeup which led to other conversation topics, but that is another story.