Category Archives: Monologue

College is like High School only you don’t get graded on class participation. Oh how I wish you did! It would make the hour to two hour long classes go by faster. Think about it, if your grades depend on participation instead of getting sore butt muscles in class, we’d have an active classroom wouldn’t we? But, sadly that’s not the case. It’s a little harder knowing that your grades are so dependent on test. Sometimes I question, what are you suppose to do with a smart kid who has test anxiety? Fail them? -_- My high school was huge, so to me college is like high school, except everything is test oriented. So I proudly say I miss class participation being graded!

Pass or Fail

“Stand clear of the closing doors please.” The same thing I’ve heard every morning for the past 6 years of my life, and yet every train ride is different than the other. The New York City subway system has helped me build relationships and experience new things that really built upon who I am today. It’s the 6^th grade, and it’s the first time I’ve ever taken the train home alone, right. Well I’d say that’s a defining moment in my life because it taught me responsibility and the courage to be able to travel alone without an adult. Then comes high school where I begin to go everywhere on the subway. From the fights you see, where people are literally almost killing each other, to just laughing with your friends and acting like idiots late at night, the subway is almost like a place where you develop yourself without realizing it. I have one friend who I used to take the train with every day after school in high school and we slowly became the closest of friends. Not only is it a cheap way to get everywhere you need to go in this busy city that I can never leave, but also it’s a place where memories are formed. If you think about it, some of your best stories come from your train rides. As much as I hate the subway, I love it because it’s kind of made helped make me who I am today.

STOP TOUCHING MY BUTT!!!

Commuting to school is such a pain in the (insert word). Having to wake up early then I’m used to and being able to get ready on time has never been harder. Walking to the subway station is easy as pie until I go down to the filthy, underground tunnel to board my train. All these people running through the turnstiles trying to get onto the next express train to go to where they need to. I pray that I don’t get hit by all the commotion that goes on during the early morning. I’m too tired to deal with all that craziness. I stand around all the people mobbing around the track just to get a seat. It’s unimaginable how crazy people will get just to get a single seat. Finally the train comes and the area around me is getting tighter and tighter. I just want to scream “GET OFF ME” just to have an extra inch of my own personal place. The rush begins when the train doors open and people literally push each other out of the way to get in first. It’s like sheep are being herded into their pens while trampling over each other. At last I get on the train only to see people crowding over each other barely giving the person next to them any space. I know in my head “this is going to be one bad ride” which sets up the next part of the ride. The next stop.

What can I say about myself that would actually interest you? I’m shy when I first meet new people; I really don’t know what to say.  Everyone says that they’re outgoing with the people they’re comfortable with, so what am I supposed to do? Sit you down and tell you my whole life story until I feel comfortable with you? That’d be pretty boring, not saying I have a boring life. Instead, I’d rather tell you a little bit about myself that you wouldn’t know right off the bat just by seeing me sitting in your classroom. I can’t live without my phone. Ever since I got unlimited texting in high school, it’s been a necessity for me. I bring my phone almost everywhere, and if I don’t have service, I’ll go crazy looking for it. Um, what else. I’m a creative person. I’ve done painting- acrylic and watercolor, sketching, paper carving, graffiti, collages, etc. I don’t like going to art museums though. It’s really boring. I love dogs. I have a Cocker Spaniel in Malaysia, but no dogs here though. My mom claims she’s allergic to them but yet we have a dog back at my grandparent’s house. Funny. The only dog I get to be around now is my boyfriend’s dog, Tom, a Morkie. He’s so cute and fluffy, I love him. Er, what else. I admit I’m a nerd. I study and work hard, because I really want nothing lower than a 100. Nineties are okay, eighties are a no-no. I guess I’m like this because I was brought up like this by my parents. I’ve never missed a day off from school even if I was sick. I remember this one time where I had a doctor’s appointment in kindergarten, and I think it’d be okay to let your child miss a day off.  It’s only kindergarten right? Wrong. My mom wouldn’t let me stay home and watch Pokemon. She made me go to school, take attendance, go to the doctor’s, and then return back to school for the remaining few hours. Pretty annoying, but I got use to it over the years. Instead of bedtime stories when I was little, I use to get lectures from my dad before I went to sleep. “Work hard, play later.” What he says is true, but sometimes a girl needs a break. Hopefully Baruch will be a break for me. All the free time I have, I’ll spend with my friends and boyfriend. I’ll finally get to go shopping anytime I want, and maybe catch a movie. Yay me!

Why Baruch? Why a business school? Why college?   I often ask myself these questions on a daily basis, wondering why I made the discussions I made and how I ended up at Baruch. My Grandfather was a carpenter and my father is an electrician, both are professions that interested me greatly. So why didn’t I continue in my family footsteps? Growing up one of the most influential people in my life is in fact my father, and I always believed that he had one of the coolest jobs in the world. He would bring me to the skyscrapers in Manhattan to show me what he did, and it always amazed me. Over the past few years he has taught me things that I will always remember. He taught me how fish, shoot a gun, drive an ATVs, cars, etc. One very important skill that he has taught me is how to with my hands.  Last year over the summer my Dad and I built a tree house, and completely redid the roof of our house. From these experiences I learned a great deal about myself and what I can accomplish. Even though he has taught me all of these things that I will continue to use for the rest of my life, the one thing that he always seems to come back to, is to always stay in school, and to get a good job.  My dad loves what he does for a living but for him, and most of his coworkers, the physical strain that construction puts on your body is too much to handle later in life. So I guess why I go to college, plan to study business, and attend Baruch is because my Dad has been giving me advice and teaching me what to do so I end up happy and have a better appreciation of life.

I grew up with Star Trek and The Sound of Music. And it shows. I love to sing, I love to dance. I love space, I love science (chemistry aside), and, caution aside, I love exploring the unknown — things that both mediums share, whether it be the unknowns of the universe or the unknowns of a life and love beyond a little church, in the arms of a captain of the navy and his seven children. As silly as I’ve always thought this sounded (because I believe things will only influence you if you let them) this show and this movie really did affect who I am, who I became, before I even knew there was anything beyond a movie or a show’s purpose to tell a good story. Before I knew about the psychological power of television and the big screen. And these fandoms are still affecting what kind of person I am turning into. What kind of person I want to be. Though, to be honest, I really don’t know who that person or what kind of person that future me is. I don’t know what I want yet, not completely. But maybe that’s the beauty of it, that you’ll never be completely satisfied. That there will always be something more to want out of life, something more to strive for.

I write, but I could never be an artist. I want stability. I can work 16 hour days, but I cannot face the prospect of not having work every single day for the rest of my life. The uncertainty of being able to provide for myself is just too much, even though I know that is an uncertainty everyone faces every day. No one is safe, but working a 9 to 5 job plus 10 hours of overtime in a cubicle, inches you just a little bit closer to that illusion. That oblivion, that routine. I could never resent routine; routine, to me, is a necessity. And I suppose my lack of routine now is why I feel like my life is compressing into one small unaccomplished blob.

But then there comes the want to do what I love, and that is to write. That is to direct people. To not be chained to a desk. To travel all over the world, with a presence as powerful as a Starship Captain and an appearance as captivating as The Baroness. I want my feet dying in 5.5 platform Gucci heels, and my Chanel suit slightly wrinkling from daily 12 hour flights between Asia and New York; my Louis Vitton luggage and Hermès carry-ons heavy with paperwork and successful advertisement pitches; my caffeinated brain confusing the American security guard because I’ll forget that he doesn’t speak Tagalog, Mandarine, Japanese, or Korean. I want to work with all different kinds of people in the creation of a vision of beauty – a beauty like the beauty captured in romances like The Sound of Music or imagined in fantasies like Star Trek; a beauty that is immortalized by its ability to teach and inspire.

Well, my life is just starting (it’s been starting since the moment I entered my high school four years ago) and now that I am in college, the best I can hope to do is keep walking. Yes, keep my eyes peeled for road blocks or required changes in direction. But ultimately: just keep walking.

Because getting lost in space or the hills of Austria is still just part of the journey.

Is he serious?

He really had the nerve to just walk by.

He didn’t even say one word.

That’s all I was looking for anyway.

One word.

A simple “Thank you.”

It’s cold and it’s raining and I held the door open for you.

You acknowledged what I did, looked me in the face, and kept walking.

How hard is it to open your mouth, vibrate your vocal cords, and move your lips?

I’m pretty sure it’s easier than holding the door open in the rain for a stranger.

People have such nerve.

It’s one thing if his umbrella was in the way and he didn’t see me.

But he looked me straight in the eye.

The least he could have done was smile.

That way I wouldn’t still be thinking about this.

Now that I think about it.

I’m the one who was holding the umbrella.

His hands were free.

He should have held the door open for me!

I bet he goes home and calls himself a gentleman.

Poser!

Wait.

Maybe he doesn’t speak English.

Maybe he didn’t…

Oh, who am I kidding?

I wish I smacked him the face.