Stuff About Me

Teresa Cho
SOC 1 -
April 2, 2009
Response Paper #1 – Autobiographical Narrative

Pre School Years (1-6)
My memories as a child resided in an old three story building just on the outskirts of Chinatown, San Francisco. At the time, our entire family rented out the bottom floor and scrounged up enough for rent. On that floor was 3 bedrooms, one bathroom, living room, kitchen, a pantry like closet, and a basement, which was communal with the other two floors. About fifteen people lived in that house at one point in time. Needless to say, it was somewhat cramped.

My family was very frugal at the time since they had just moved to San Francisco from China and they were scrounging around to make a living. My grandmother used to collect soda cans and plastic bottles to cash in. One of my most vivid memories was the image of my grandmother spilling a large bag of cans and bottles into our backyard and having us crush them and making them ready for the collection center.

Since I lived with my family, I played with my cousins and my younger brother. We didn't really have much to play with. I remember we were allowed to watch a few shows on television: Barney, Sesame Street and Power Rangers, etc. Despite not having any toys, we crafted our own weapons and fought evil our own way. We also lived close to a local park so we would walk there, sometimes by ourselves, to play. There was a swing set in that park. One day, I was swinging on my stomach and all of a sudden, one of my cousins rushed out and I hit him. His head collided with my head and decided to find its nook in my eye socket. So for the next few weeks, I had a black eye. I was given a boiled egg instead of a frozen egg to rub on it.

I wasn't allowed to have any pets as a child because I've always had sensitive skin and my mom thought that I would get irritated from animals. So, we had fish, which are probably the worst pet you can own. It's more of a decoration than a pet.

The best memory that I have is probably the memory of getting my first library card. The library was right next to the park – within walking distance. My cousin and I walked down to the library by ourselves. We wanted to borrow some books but didn't have a library card. So, the librarian gave us a form to fill out. I was able to read a little and was able to fill out most of the form. However, when I got to the words “parent's signature”, I didn't know what the word “signature” meant. But I did know what parent was. So I guessed that it was for your parents name. I filled that out and gave it to the librarian. I still remember her reaction. She took a look at the form, then looked down at my hopeful eyes, and looked at the form again. Then she said “your parents didn't really sign this, did they?” and then she pointed at the signature whose handwriting matched the rest of the form. I honestly answered “no” because I didn't think that I had done anything wrong. For some reason, perhaps due to my honesty or just plain cluelessness, she gave me my card anyways. I was so proud. Of course, a few weeks later, I had lost it.

There is one memory that I don't remember happening. My dad once told me that I had a severe asthma attack when I was five and I had to be hospitalized for a while. I don't know why I don't remember it. It seems like an important memory. Maybe I just blacked out most of it.

Grade School Years (6-13)
Stereotypes always seem to play itself out. I was brilliant in school (up until college). I not only went to elementary school, I was also required to go to Chinese school and learn my parent's language. As a kid, I really enjoyed learning. Everything was pretty straight forward: arithmetic instead of differential calculus, summarization instead of structured essays, recess instead of work. I was able to pick up the material fairly quickly. I didn't really have a favorite subject. I was good at all of them. My parents thought I was genius and I was proud of that. At that time, I only wanted to make my parents proud of me.

Chinese school was also a piece of cake for me. I had the same teacher for three years. She was my favorite despite my lapse in memory when it comes to her name. In Chinese school, I didn't make many friends. I was very focused on school and made sure that I had near perfect marks. My best friend in Chinese school was probably my teacher. I was the teacher's pet. I don't know if my classmates resented me or not, but I don't remember any of their faces. I was the perfect student; I went to class every day on time, I did all my assignments, I helped the teacher prepare, I made the honor roll countless times. But I didn't stay perfect for long. When I got to 4th grade, my teacher changed. All of a sudden, I was in a new environment. I had to learn new things; I had to learn calligraphy. Oh, I had such a horrible time. I couldn't do it perfectly. I think I was really proud at that age. I had gone through three years of being on top and to fail at something probably crushed me. I pretended to be sick so I didn't have to go to school. I did this for a while before I told my mom that I just didn't want to go back to school. Looking back, I regret it. I speak semi-fluently, but probably not even to the caliber of what I used to be able to speak. And writing is just a nightmare.

Of course, I couldn't just quit elementary school. I still went to my “English” school and made high marks. I actually went to two elementary schools since my parents moved out of that cramped house halfway through my elementary school years. In the first half, I was very tomboyish. I made friends with most of the guys, my best friend being a white guy named Sean. I note his race because he was the only white boy in our class. For some reason, he was put in our ESL class. Perhaps he was half Chinese, but I don't remember. In any case, I would challenge the boys to jungle gym games such as monkey bars and swings and arm wrestling. I was very proud of being stronger than the boys. I remember comparing callouses with everyone; they were my pride and joy. When I went to the second elementary school, I started to hang out with girls more though we still dug for bugs. Then emerged 2nd best friend, Shasta. We were inseparable, until middle school.

I had good experiences in elementary school except for one crazy teacher that I had in 5th grade. We didn't learn anything. Instead of teaching us anything, she would hand us worksheets with 3 digit addition while she had classmates give her massages and braid her hair. She would eat her lunch while we watched videos on black people. Most of the school hated her and prayed to be placed in the other 5th grade class. I wouldn't have minded if she didn't suspend me for activating the fire extinguisher, which I didn't do. There was a time where she isolated the “smart” kids and let them do something productive while she made all the “dumb” students sit quietly because they were just a hassle. The worst teacher I've ever had.

Jr High and High School (13-18)
Middle school was really fun. I went to a “ghetto” school, where they didn't have much expectations for the students so I was able to cruise through middle school with straight A's. In middle school, I was probably able to stop focusing so much on schoolwork and finally develop a social life. I had drifted apart from the friends I made from elementary school and started hanging out with a new group of friends. My mom liked the fact that they were all smart Chinese kids and thought they would be a good influence on me.

Middle school was the time when I started drifting away from my parents. I started locking myself in my room a lot and mindlessly surf the Internet or play games. I didn't really talk to them about anything other than school. They didn't like the fact that I wasn't communicating with them but as time went by, they bothered me less and less, which was why my language skills deteriorated. I started to hang out with my friends more. This was an exciting time because I actually went out without supervision. I remember the first time we made plans, I couldn't sleep because I was so excited. My group of friends also had a dance group going on. Looking back, we really had no talent, but we got together and mimicked some dance moves from some Asian pop star. That was pretty fun.

High school kind of just flew past me. I didn't have any real drama or experiences while I was attending Lowell. It was one of those academic schools that tries to kill its students to prepare them for college. Most of the kids were nerdy and didn't have a reputation of partying. I didn't get exposed to alcohol or drugs all through high school until prom when someone mentioned it.

I don't have a favorite adventure, but I did have a worthwhile one. In my senior year, I went to Toronto with my friend for winter break. We ended up sleeping in the basement of a guy whom my friend met online for two weeks. That was probably the most rebellious thing I've done thus far.

High school was also the time when people started getting jobs. I didn't really need the money, but I thought it would be fun to have a job on the side if I did. I applied to this knife company and got the job. But my friend told me that it was actually a scam and I never went back. Tried a few other job interviews but never got a job in high school.

I had so many different dreams and aspirations during this time. I had wanted to be a journalist, a mechanic, a carpenter, a businesswoman, a programmer. None of them stayed with me for very long and I just toyed with the ideas. Even now I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

College Years (18+)
Ah, college. College gave me panic attacks. The thing that made me feel like an adult was probably after I moved into my apartment. I live with pretty clean people and it was absolutely horrible trying to keep up (I'm somewhat of a slob). I didn't realize how much effort it was to clean a place and to cook my own meals. I experimented with cooking. I really suck at it.

I got my first job at the university library. I still have it. It's a great job. I work in preservations, but most people don't know where it is. It's some room tucked away behind the staff doors. I have to tell them that I fix books up because they don't seem to grasp what I really do.

It was during my college years when my parents started drifting apart from the rest of the family. Every weekend they would go to the casinos and gamble. Even though I went home nearly every weekend, it's possible that I don't see them when I get back. They started called it their “jobs” and I suppose they were making money because my dad doesn't seem like the type of person to gamble our lives away. But I had finally stopped talking to my parents.

College was and still is very hard for me. Often times I found myself feeling really depressed and hopeless because of the endless math classes that I had to take as a programmer. I was barely getting by with the grades that I had. I had to keep telling myself that college didn't define who I was and wouldn't be the defining thing in my life. It helped. A little. But I was very pitiful. I didn't feel like I was worthy of being in school and wanted to drop out of school. But even the slight mention of it would make my mom infuriated. I was stuck.

I also felt that I was losing most of my friend because after we moved out of the dorms, it became hard to get in contact with them. I would just go home every day after my classes and do essentially nothing. I didn't go to parties, I didn't drink or do drugs. I was just a homebody. In most ways, I still feel kind of trapped in college. Hopefully the start of a new quarter will make things better.

I think the most positive influences that I've had come from my parents and just family members. When I was young, I communicated with them all the time and our relationship was solid. My life was happy when I was praised. However, at the same time, they also became a negative influence on me after the praises stopped coming and all they could talk about were the negatives. I became really bitter in the last few years because of this. I suppose part of me is still a kid that just wants to be told that they are doing something right and that their parents are proud of them. But another part of me wishes that I could sever that emotional tie with them and having their insensitive comments affect me. But no matter what, I do realize that my family will always be there for me, unless I come back pregnant, and I am really grateful to have them with me. School will probably continue to haunt me until I finally decide to grow up and take on the responsibilities to do well instead of relying on just getting by. But I just have to do what I have to do.

Rice for One.

Well, it's been a month since I last updated, much apologies. I've actually had plenty of blog ideas that I wanted to write about, but I've just lacked the incentive and motivation to write. I think I can attribute this to the fact that I only have math courses this quarter. :<

Anyways, I decided to blog this down as I washed the dishes from the rice that I made last night.

If you don't know already, I'm Chinese. Born in America, so ABC or whatever. But I'm first generation ABC so my family still eats a great deal of rice. In fact... we only eat rice for dinner except for rare occasions where mom is tired and just cookies rice noodles. But in any case, I've always cooked rice for 6 people or more. Therefore, when I got to college, I, of course, contributed to Asian stereotypes and had a rice cooker in the dorm (even though technically we weren't allowed to) and made rice. As a side note, I heard that the Asian-American dorm floor always smells of rice. No surprising.

I diverge. When I make rice now, I realize that it's not worth the effort of making it. First of all, I'm used to making big portions and when those portions, there are unwritten rules/guidelines as to the water/rice ratio. So far, I've heard of three methods:

1. If you stick your pinky on top of the rice, the water level should hit the first knuckle.
2. Put your whole hand in flat over the rice and the water should just skim the top of your hand.
3. Put in an extra cup of liquid for every cup of rice.
(If you have other methods, feel free to comment them and I'll add to the list)

The 3rd one doesn't really count for Asians since Asians don't use measuring tools. They always eyeball it and it's enough when it "feels enough". So the third method is for our non-Asian friends who can't feel secure without precision.

But those rules only seem to apply to bigger batches of food. Perhaps it's because Chinese people like to make big batches and save it up since they would waste electricity if they just make a bunch of smaller batches. Or perhaps it's because Asian families outside of communist China seem to be so there's always a hungry mouth to feed. Remember, there's always that freeloading neighbor who just "happens" to visit around dinner time.

So when I tried to apply these rules my little portion of rice for one... it was really soggy. Imagine my shame... failing at cooking rice? That's like failing to recite my multiplication tables. But yes, I was sad that it came out somewhat soggy, but I ate it anyways because I didn't want my boyfriend to have pockmarks. (Funny story actually. One of my Chinese friends once told me that his parents got him to eat every little grain of rice because they told him that the remaining grains would be the number of pockmarks his wife will have in the future. As a naive child, he believed them and made sure he ate everything.)

It wasn't too bad actually since I ate it with Korean seaweed and some Japanese sashimi soysauce without the sashimi. Hit every East Asian country since my rice was from China. Crystal actually commented on how I should have eaten it with spam. Here's how it went:

me: I just had three packets of Korean seaweed...
me: I feel so ashamed...
me: And filled with MSG.
Crystal: hahaha
Crystal: isn't it just salt?
me: And like oil. Hahaha
me: I had it with rice though.
Crystal: ooh
Crystal: shoulda had some spam too
me: Didn't have spam. :<
me: I'm too poor to afford meat, hahaha.
Crystal: hahah
Crystal: true spam is a bit pricey for what it is
me: Hahah, mechanically pulled parts.

Yeah, I actually really couldn't afford the spam. Spam is expensive, man. Last I checked it was like 3 bucks a can. I always thought they were like 50 cents...

Anyways, you know what really made the one-portion rice not worth it? The fact that I had to clean it up. In true college fashion, I didn't wash the dishes the day I finished eating the food. In fact, if my roommate didn't keep telling me to wash the bowl and rice cooker, I would have just left it there until I needed the bowl again. Yeah, I know, gross... but what can you except from a college student? If it was a stack of dishes, I would be more compelled to wash them, but one bowl? Seems like a waste of time.

But you know what? It takes forever to clean up that bowl to rice and the rice pot. Since I made it somewhat sticky, it was a pain in the buttocks to scrape all the little pieces of rice from the surface. I actually had to use a sponge and detergeant and stood there for 10 minutes washing a bowl, a rice pot, and a spoon. Way too much effort for the two bowls of rice that I ate.

They should make self cleaning rice pots. That would be neat and then I don't have to worry about cleaning them anymore. Haha.

But despite everything, I can't give up my rice. And I can't trust the dining commons to cook up decent rice so I have to do it myself.

Working Out and Weight Issues.

Every since college started, I've been gaining weight from eating too much or not eating enough. A few months back, I weighed myself and realized that I had gained 20 pounds from just a few months. That was pretty shocking. I know, stereotypically, girls are constantly watching their weight, always needing to be reassured that their body size is perfect ("Do I look fat in this?" or "I'm voluptuous, not fat.") and up to college, I was okay with my weight. I used to be really skinny as a kid since all I did was act like a monkey around the playground, but after middle school kicked in and puberty hit, I began to eat more and become less active (I discovered the joys, or in retrospect, pains, of the internet) and started to gain weight constantly.

After the first two years of high school, PE was no longer required (though, I did a semester of swimming) and I just never really broke out of the habits of eating a lot and fell out of habit of just playing around outside.

In any case, even then, I was okay with my weight. Maybe I had a little chub, but I know that people weren't going "Omg, she's so fat." behind my back. Then college came. After the first two weeks, I was so surprised at gaining around 5 pounds. At first, I didn't really think of it. "Oh, it's only 5 lbs. What's the big deal?" but those five pounds ballooned to 10 lbs, which ballooned to 20 pounds.. I was gaining weight exponentially.

I didn't really work out for the first two quarters. Maybe once in a week or twice a week and then stop for a while. I don't know why it was so erratic, but that was just how it was. Also in the second quarter, I spent most of my time in the basement of Kemper programming 10 hours at a time and would often skip meals. I am so not proud of that. Basically when I got back from finishing up, I was staving to the point that I would eat way too much way too fast and pass out from food comas.

I never realized how important it was to eat regularly. I had always been eating at home and you know, food was provided for you so I didn't have to worry about getting up or going out and getting stuff to eat. But at college, it was so easy to have time pass and forget about eating. I'm not stupid, I know that starving myself will inevitably make me gain weight, but it was hard getting even two meals a day in.

So, right now, I'm making a pact with myself. I'm gonna try and hit the gym every day (at least for most of the week. Maybe skip a day if I'm really sore or have plans) and eat at least two meals with a snack. I've already lost the love of pizza and burgers so I eat those sparingly now.

Anyways, does anyone know what kind of running shoes are good (and painless on a college girl's budget)? My shoes are totally worn out. The heel is pretty slippery...

Biking (accidents) in Davis.

I had handwritten up a blog entry today and I'll type it up now. If I can get Michelle's scanner going, I'll scan in the real copy (if you can even read my handwriting). Excuse any grammar mistakes. Any edits/additional comments will be in [].

---

Sometimes, I feel like an airhead. In class right now, 20 minutes earlier than I need to be. So, I guess I'll write an entry for my blog to post later.

Let's see, something funny, well not really funny, happened to be while getting to class just a few minutes before. I was riding my bike, pretty slowly since it was a nice day, and I was about to cut into Wellman (a building) and there was cross traffic since it was a two-way. Now, I had already started to turn and there wasn't really a turning back point so I slowed down to a near stop and some girl rammed into my front tire making me bounce off my seat and landing on my toes.

The girl however wasn't so agile and flipped over her bike... well, more like slid off my bike and fell. At that moment, I was feeling really guilty and was kind of panicky. [You know, when you know you did something bad and didn't really want to face the consequences?] I asked her if she was okay or not and [she] didn't answer me till someone else came and asked her. She was like "I'm okay. Jesus Christ. [Are you serious? Are you serious?] You can't do that, you just can't do that."

After heard that, the tone that she said it in, all the guilt went away and I almost laughed in her face. I mean, "Calm your ass down. It was an accident." I didn't get mad when some guy crashed into me and I sprained my wrist. [Right before a midterm no less.] All you go was probably a scrape, though I didn't see. Anyways, it would have been extremely insensitive to laugh in her face so I had to hold it in. But seriously? You don't have to be a bitch about it. I know I was wrong and unlike some people, when I say I'm sorry, I really do feel sorry. Like, I have the actually [LOL, weird adverb injection] guilt and regret that it means to be sorry. But if you're just gonna blow off an apology and then try and tell me what to do? [In hindsight, it sounded more like a mom reprimanding their kid. Wtf, I'm not a child.] That's just not cool.

There's only 4 more minutes to class and there are only three people in this classroom, including me. Oh god, I hope I'm not in the wrong room or something because that would be a stupid thing indeed...

Well, I guess I'll just continue writing because just sitting here looking like you don't know what the fuck is going on isn't that great.

---

At that point, I decided to grab my stuff, call Michelle and ask her for the room number. Turns out I was in room 106 instead of 126, which was only on the other side of the wall. Yeah, big blonde moment. What do you know, even Asians have those moments. Anyways, what a first day. I'm sleepy. :3

Dorm Bathrooms.

I love living in the dorms. My floor is probably the BEST floor to live on. There are all these really cool people and we're just one tight knit group. Unfortunately, it would be so much better if the bathrooms didn't suck. One of the reasons why I didn't want to live in a typical dorm floor was because I didn't want to share the bathroom with 25 girls as opposed to a suite that has a bathroom for 6-8 people.

And on the first week, I had my horrors confirmed. The floor is one big party floor, so it's kind of inevitable that something like this would happen, but there was vomit in the sink. Yes. Vomit. You can only assume that someone tried to drink more than they can handle and they thought the sink was a perfectly fine place to hurl their load. Disgusting. When I tried to brush my teeth that day, I kept getting gap reflexes and almost choked on my toothbrush.

Girls, it is so hard to throw up in the toilet, trashcan, or even the shower? At least I don't have to see it. Throw up in the toilet/shower, I can use another one, but at the sink, I always see it. Ugh, gross.

Whoever made that myth about girls being clean and their bathrooms being the best is a fucking liar... or haven't experienced a real girl's bathroom.

Seriously, the bathrooms are disgusting. The showers have hair ALL THE TIME. Girls, you know what I'm talking about. We shed hair like a dog sheds fur. And it's gross. But of course, we don't put it up because the floor is disgusting. By the way, for the first week, I made the horrible mistake of not wearing shower shoes... OH MY FUCKING GOD. My toenails started to PEEL off. It was so gross. I was immediately scared into putting on flip-flops in the shower. Wtf is in the shower that would make my nails PEEL off? *shudders*

Guys have it easy. For the most part, guys have short hair so no one notices when you guys shed your hair. But for a girl's long hair not to be noticed to to not see a giant tarantula crawling on your arm.

Another big problem about the bathroom is that it STINKS. It's not even "OMG, POO" stink, it's some kind of permanent stink. It's like something is wrong with the pipes and the smells is permeating through the tiles. It's disgusting. Why isn't housing doing anything about this? I'm paying $3000+ on a bathroom that permanently smells like shit? At least hang some air fresheners or something! I'm sure that $3000 can afford you a few!

In any case, it takes a lot of willpower to even want to use the stupid bathroom. I only go there to shower and to brush my teeth. Everything else, I would have to be needing to go REALLY badly or I just use another bathroom. By the way, the bathrooms in Kemper (engineering building) is really clean. Probably cause there are hardly any women there.

If it weren't for the people and the proximity to campus, I would totally nix dorms.

Doing Laundry - A love/hate relationship.

I just did my laundry. I usually put off doing laundry as long as I have clean underwear because paying for laundry is major suckage. Being a cheap college student that I am, I usually hold off doing laundry until I get home and make my mom do it (well, she ends up doing it before I even say it. Love you, Mom ♥), but I'm stuck here so I have to do my laundry or something is gonna grow on my clothes... that said, I'm writing this as I wait for it to finish.

I love... using my roommates detergent and dryer sheets.
I'm a major cheapskate. So whatever things that I don't have to buy, I'm happy. I don't think she minds anyways. It's way better than having a pile of dirty laundry in the corner stinking up the room. Of course, my laundry doesn't do that. But it does pile high. Boy, did I get a work out carrying it down the long ass hallway.

But I hate... paying for my laundry.
You probably noticed already. I hate paying for the laundry, especially when I can do it at home. Why buy it here? Drive down to SF, have my mom do the laundry at home, AND get a sandwich. I mean, hello? Perfect. I mean, it's not that expensive. It's only $1.75, but what pisses me off is the add value machine. It only accepts $5 or higher. Which means, I'll always have an odd number of money until I do 20 freaking loads of laundry. But you know what that means? I have shelled out 35 bucks to do LAUNDRY. That I get for FREE at home. If the stupid machine accepted dollars, I would have only needed to shell out 7 bucks and got 4 loads, which is PERFECTLY fine for someone who hardly does laundry anyways. I hate being the type of person who can't even left a quarter on the card go... but it'll probably end up happening, because there is no fucking way I'm gonna do 20 loads.

I love... waiting for laundry.
This only applies in the dorms because I can go back to my room and do whatever while the laundry is going on. Beat a few people on tetris, clean up the room, dance foolishly around my room. I love it.

But I hate... waiting for people to GET THEIR FUCKING LAUNDRY.
I HATE it when people leave their laundry just sitting there. I usually check the time and make sure that I'm going back to get the laundry within 5 minutes of it being done. But going to the laundry room every 10 minutes to check if the laundry has been picked up so I can throw my stinky shit into the washer and the washer is still occupied? OH HELL NO. That pisses me off. What makes people think that they can just leave it in there? Next time, I'm gonna throw their stuff into the dryer and squirt ketchup in it.

I love... sorting out my colors.
So, the only times I ever do my laundry is when I have a SHITLOAD OF LAUNDRY. So, I usually have enough clothes to do two loads. Which means I can choose what colors to put into the machine. Of course, blacks and colors go together and whites and pastel colors go together. I think I have some OCD because I sit there and wonder if the loads will be equal and take clothes out one pile and put it on another, even if it's not totally matching in category. "It's sorta dark..." But whatever, I'm weird, this is fun.

But I hate... dropping my fucking clothes.
I tend to be impatient when transferring my clothes from the washer to the dryer. So I grab a big ass pile of wet clothes and try to shove it into the dryer asap. But it usually ends up too big for me to handle and I drop something, like a sock or a shirt. PISSES ME OFF. I just got it clean and it fell on the fucking floor. Of course, it's my fault, but whatever. Still pisses me off. I end up just throwing it into the dryer. Haha, lazy.

I love... putting on warm clothes.
You know what I'm talking about. The clothes right out of the drying, smelling so clean and fresh and WARM. Every time I do laundry, I always put on an article of clothing. If I'm out in public, I put on a sweater or a shirt over my shirt. If I'm in private... OMG, I take off everything and put on nice warm clothes. Seriously, strip down and put on every article of clothing. It's like heaven.

I hate... burning.
Okay, so I realized that putting on every article of clothing is really bad. Especially if it starts to BURN. I just did it not that long ago, and omfg, the metal parts of my jeans (the little rivets and stuff) started sizzling against my thigh. It's not a fun feeling. I start sweating and making my clothes dirty again. I can't imagine what it would be like for a guy. I suggest you don't put on hot underwear on if you don't want your girlfriend to laugh at you. A burned peen is hilarious.

Alright, my laundry probably has been done for like 10 minutes. Oh well, it only pisses me off when OTHER people do it. I don't care if I do it. Do as I say, not as I do. Peace.

Edit: Blogger's HTML is an epic fail. I spent more time changing the HTML to make it look right than writing the actual post. I have a slight perfectionist personality. :[