Month: October 2012

It’s only been a little bit over a month since college started. I’m tired. For god’s sake… where are my freedom that I was promised to. Sleep, school, work, homework, repeat. Absolutely no time to have fun, this wasn’t what I was promised to. Everyday, I face the same people, hear the same voices, do the same routine, I’m tired. This is not even going to be a monologue, I’m going to make this my personal rant. Deal with it. Waking up in the morning after getting less than 4 hours of sleep is great. Run out of the house without eating breakfast, rushing to the subway while all the people in the street just blocks in front of you, walking at the speed of .00002 miles/hour,  suddenly stoping, looking around, checking time. Can you please get the hell out of my way? Subways are even worse, people are monkeys. If you can’t fit, then please either lose some damn weight or get out, don’t go pushing me to squeeze into that tiny space and blocks the doors from closing ten thousand times. 45 minutes of commute. 45 minutes of boredom. 45 minutes of stinking armpits. These people don’t shower I swear. Making the class 2 minutes before hitting lateness is pretty normal to me now. I know it’s my fault for not getting up early but blaming on other people makes me feel great. So yea, its their fault for not moving out of my way. I sometimes think I just dislike human, puny little human, so powerless, so weak!! I’m running out of stuff to say, apparantly everyone in my class typed like 400 words. How’s that possible? Well, I’m at 275 words now, so I guess it won’t be long, I just got to fill up the rest 125 words with random thoughts. Or I can keep counting words, that works right? I’m suppose to present this tomorrow, what a pain. Anyway, this monologue is due in like 18 minutes, I still have tons of homework left. I guess I’ll write another paragraph and summarize this pretty pointless rant of mine.

Since I said so many bad things about college, I figure I say something good too, I mean, the schedules are nice, 4 days a week, 2 days of each class a week, compare to high school, this shit’s great. I don’t have to face the exact same faces everyday, and what’s even better is I don’t have assignments from a class due the next day. Oh by the way, I miss those student metro cards, it’s one of those things you start to appreciate when it’s gone. Anyway, maybe I’ll fix up this essay later, 440 words! Objective reached.

 

ALL of you have experienced the feelings of being angry, pissed off, sad, upset, frustrated, pumped up, ridiculously happy. Remember that time that you broke up with your boyfriend or girlfriend, and didn’t wanna talk to anyone about it? Or when your parents pissed you off and you locked yourself in the room? Or what about that three mile run, when you needed some motivation to bang out that last mile? Or the locker room, suiting up for the football game under Friday night lights? Or before a fight, and you needed to get into beast mode, ready to kill the kid that disrespected or threatened your friends and family. I remember each of these moments, and the only thing that was there to comfort me, the only thing that will always be able to alter my mood on command, is the power of music.

 

You ALL know how it feels hearing a certain song and entering your own world, where the sounds of music take control of your mind, change your thoughts, and force your body to move to the rhythm. The vocals that start the song off go along so perfectly with the intro beat it sends chills down your spine, your hair stands on end, and all you can think about is how amazing everything sounds all together. The beat picks up, and you start tapping your right foot a little, maybe nodding your head a little. SHIT the beat is building up; you think to yourself…you know what’s coming in the next 20 seconds. The beat is speeding up, the vocals are getting louder, and your heart starts racing faster, now your hands start moving a little, maybe just side to side in front of you a little. Your shoulders start to sway, hips start moving a little. Ten seconds pass by, and every limb of your body starts to move, more and more, as the beat builds. Everyone around you is moving in the same way, the room is dark but you can feel the energy. Standing right next to the giant speakers, the bass merges with your heartbeat, and you think of nothing other than what is going in and out of your ears. You close your eyes as the beat is about to drop, body completely in sync with the backbeat as the vocals fade a little, the main beat pauses for a split second…your body stops moving along with everyone elses, every pair of hands suspended above their heads for that short second…the crowd is quiet and still. Then the beat drops, every body around you is jumping, hands in the air, screaming at the top of their lungs. All you can focus on is the beat, you have no idea how your body is moving to it but all you know is that it sounds amazing, and you don’t want it to end. The music has complete control over you by now, completely control of your thoughts. That bad test grade you got? Forgotten. The dumb bitch that spilled your coffee? Forgiven. NOTHING can bring down your mood, the music is uplifting, empowering, boosting your confidence and making you one hundred percent happy. When you have no where else to turn to, look to music, it will never disappoint you.

 

Continue reading “Monologue (Christine Shin)”

You again, yeah you, yeah I see you. Year after year, you just wouldn’t give up will you? No matter what I say, here you are smiling mockingly at me. I mean really, I clearly stated to you  that I hate you. Twice, TWICE I told you, in Pre-cal and in trigonometry class. Yet here you are, in college with me. How do you have the audacity to appear in front of me like this?  I honesty believe your sole purpose to annoy the fuck out of me because not only do we have to be together, we are basically stuck together for the what, next three or four years? I don’t appreciate this at all, but hey I tried to understand you in the past. But time after time when I finally got understand you, you decided to take things to a whole new level leaving me eating dust. Hopefully, I have matured enough to even withstand you for the coming years. Have I ever tell you that your teases frustrate the heck out of me?  There are times where I have to ask people to help me to even understand you and that is not cute. I mean come on, I am Chinese, I should be into this stuff. People said that I will be using you for everyday of my entire life, but I don’t see it happening, besides using you to count my money on a daily basis that is it. Yup and yes sireie it is you Math. Math this and math that. Math, math, math. I hate you math. I mean, do you ever stop to think that majority of the stuff that you made me learn will never ever come in to use? Math on Trigonometry, do I look like a type of girl that in to that stuff? Hold up, let me calculate the shadow length of this lamppost in comparison to the length during night time. Bitch, I’ll get robbed just standing here like an idiot. God, I hate how if I forget a single negative sign the next i’ll notice is that 5 points off from my exam. I hate how I understand everything in class and then become a lost  soul at home when doing homework. There is a lot of thing that I despise about you but I got to grow up and get over it, suck it up and man up. This is a stupid first world problem, while kids are dying to learn I am here resenting you. Education is free yet here I am taking advantage of you. A girl got shot in the head because she stood up for her right of entitlement to education, and here I am ripping you apart because you didn’t go my way. “If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude.”(Maya Angelo) Guess, I am really stuck with you for life. Even though I don’t like you, I guess I should be getting use to you, for the sake of my future. See you later alligator, in math.

Life passes us by two fast and that’s the problem, were always too caught up on what we’re going to do next or tomorrow that we forget about today. Who cares what you’re doing later, you’re living in the present. It’s one of the best things, being able to live in the moment and not having any worries, but it’s something everyone forgets to do. Can you remember the last time you just forget about everything and just had fun? With school, work, monologues, papers, midterms, finals there’s no time to just forget and live. The last time I just forgot and had a good time was probably prom or my birthday, both nights spent with people I won’t forget and gave me memories that are worth so much to me.

You might say oh I go out every weekend and live in the moment…No I don’t mean getting drunk and not remembering your night. I mean going out and making memories with those closest to you that you’re going to look back on years from now and be like “What a great night” or sit around and laugh about it with those you’ve made the memories with. Some memories you may not wish to reminisce on but you must never forget even bad memories have meaning or lessons that you will one day look back on and realize that you were glad you took time to make them. The next time you have the chance to just let go and forget about thinking what am I doing next or tomorrow, just live in the moment weather it’s for 20 minutes or a whole night. I promise it’s something you won’t regret. 50 years down the road I hope to be sitting with my friends and knowing I lived the life I wanted to and didn’t let life pass me by. Don’t you want that? I’ve lost people close to me but there’s one thing that will always stay with me, the memories we made together won’t ever fade. That’s one thing everyone should know, tomorrow is never guaranteed so make the most of today and worry about tomorrow….tomorrow.

When I first walk on, I immediately notice the overweight bald Hispanic man dressed in distressed denim jeans and a dirty red plain button down shirt, snoozing away with his massive husky resting on him. A peculiar odor is radiating from him. Next to him is the girl with bright orange lipstick, dressed in hipster clothes with her oversized headphones. Her head bobbing left to right, swaying with the music. I proceed to l find a seat next to a young Caucasian boy who looks about thirteen years old. He is carrying an overstuffed Jansport backpack and has two large textbooks in his hand. Ah, high school. How glad I am to be out of it. Next, standing against the doors that specifically say “Do not lean on doors”, is a built, tall black man with his acid washed jeans sagging down to his knees. His rap music is audible from the other side of the cart. Next, my eyes drifted over to the confused looking Asian couple, speaking some sort of Chinese dialect and browsing over a map of the city. Then of course, like clockwork, comes in a clan of a few Mexican men holding unidentifiable instruments. One of them starts singing a song in Spanish, while his mate plays the instrument, and the other starts pacing back and forth, holding out a sombrero, asking the passengers for money. Some of the passengers politely look away, while others look obviously annoyed. Then, there were those few who spare some change for the Mexican men. “Next stop is Fifty-ninth Street, Lexington Avenue”, I hear on the loudspeaker. I slowly arise from my seat, and wait for the train doors to open. I look back on the crowded subway cart and think about how this is just a typical day in the life of riding the subway. I see the same types of people, doing the same types of things. Sometimes I wonder, what is going through their minds whilst riding the subway? Do they look at one individual at a time, and analyze them physically and wonder what is going on internally? Do they judge one another? Maybe I just think too much. Not sure. But with every subway ride I take, I always find myself thinking about each one of these riders, who they are and where they’re going.

On any given Sunday, I’m woken up at 9am by the smell of sauce, the sound of my mom shouting into the phone at my grandma about dinner, and the sight of her waving her hands around the kitchen, all while cooking a tray of lasagna.
I know that before I can even set foot through my kitchen, I’ll be given a list of things to do around the house to prepare for the weekly “Sunday feast”. Mop the floor, set the tables, pick up the bread from the bakery, and most importantly, don’t forget to pick up your Great-grandma before dinner.
Every single Sunday revolves around two things- finishing up my homework, and preparing to have over fifteen people over for dinner. So after almost four hours of everyone running around the house getting everything ready, the first guest arrives- my grandma. You can hear her before she even walks into the house- complaining about how much stuff she’s carrying, how hungry she is, or how she’s been so busy all day.
She lets herself in, says hello to everyone, and goes right into the kitchen to help with the dinner. Finally, after waiting for everyone to show up, because no one gets there on time, dinner is ready. Before the food is even set on the table, there’s a mad scramble for the meatballs and garlic bread, and, finally, after 10 minutes, everyone is actually seated and dinner has begun.
There’s about 10 different conversations going on and they’re all so loud, you would think we’re arguing. And even though everyone’s having a different conversation, at any given time, you can be part of three separate ones, and still know what is going on. On top everything happening, all of the food is being passed around you from all different directions, and everyone is trying everything.
So after everyone finally finishes this 4-course dinner, we put out coffee and dessert and the conversations continue. Everyone enjoys these dinners differently, whether it’s my great grandma smiling and not even talking, just happy to be with family, my dad talking to my uncles about the latest sports game, or my aunts shouting to each other from each end of the table about their kids and work.
As stereotypical as this dinner sounds, it’s what we do. These Sunday dinners are what keep us together. And after my typical Italian Sunday dinner, the day ends just as it started. Quiet.

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That entire plane ride I couldn’t wait to see my cousins again. It had been a year and as much as I love crappy airplane food and the seven hours of movies, I just wanted to get off and step foot into England. It was last year December 24th to be exact. My family and I were taking a little trip to England for two weeks. I still remember that first time I got onto a plane to America, it was different, something I didn’t expect, but to be back in England it feels like home, where we all blend in. No one stares because everyone knows. Finally, the plane landed and all I could think of was seeing more Sikhs. I un-clicked my seatbelt, got up, took the small bags, and was heading out, I said thanks and bye to the fight attendant and then I saw a guy, a Sikh. I was walking towards him in the big tube thing that connected the plane to the airport. He had a turban just like I do and he worked at the airport. I said hi to him in my language. He just stared at me, didn’t say anything back, and looked at me as if I were the biggest idiot in the world.

I then realized what I had done. England is quite a small country, most states are bigger, and there are the same amount of Sikhs that live in England as do in America. I then thought to myself how isolated Sikhs are in America. So, I put my head back down and kept walking thinking about how in England you may see ten to fifteen Sikhs a day, in America you may see ten to fifteen Sikhs over a month or even longer. Something needed to be done, more Sikhs in America? More Sikhs in the world? How bout keeping our identity?

It took me a while to realize all this, but the Sikhs in England weren’t exactly true all the time. Many of them had conformed and changed the way they look. This happens all around the world, but not as much as it does in America. So, for the first time I couldn’t wait to get back to America. I couldn’t wait to back and see how people look at me, I couldn’t wait to walk proudly knowing that I was different. England is filled with Sikhs and its a norm seeing one everyday, the battle has already been won there. Its the other places of the world that haven’t seen Sikhs. I wouldn’t understand how the world really is if I didn’t move to America. It is a struggle for anyone who is different and I wanted the challenge. I couldn’t wait to go back to hear the first person say why do you look like that? I want to see more Sikhs in America, and the only way people will see is if we continue to keep our identity, something that I will never get rid of.

3:53 left in the fourth quarter. My teams down by 7 on the 5-yard line then boom, all of a sudden I go down and I wake up in the locker room. How did this happen? Here’s how it all began.

In my junior year of high school I began playing football in an organized league for the first time since I was eight. I was the quarterback on the team and when I played I made sure I always got the attention that I wanted. I was always careful especially when it came to my health. I was one of the best players on the team. It was getting close to the playoffs and I trained for it everyday. The day was here, the first round of the playoffs. My team was projected to win it all. And this is how it happened.

I was scrambling on the 5-yard line trying to find an open receiver, when all of a sudden a defender hit me from my blind side. He hit me so hard and I landed right on my shoulder of my throwing arm. After the hit, all I remembered was waking up in the locker room. They told me I suffered a concussion and dislocated my shoulder. We also lost the game. After they told me what had happened I felt like I didn’t do my best and I felt like I let my team down. I returned back to practice the next week and everyone was treating me differently, even my best friend. I felt like everything was going down hill, a few weeks later when the season was over it was time for try out’s for next season. My coach was the only one that didn’t seem to be acting different with me. So then the next week my coach let me watch the tryouts to see who was good enough for the team. My other teammates got mad at the fact that he let me do it, but I didn’t let it bother me. My teammates left me for a reason that I couldn’t understand, it wasn’t my fault that I got hurt. I wished I could of re-did that night so everything could be the same again. I knew I had to do something about it so I spoke to my team. After the whole problem was settled we started getting back to normal. We all became closer then we were in the beginning because we all learned how we can get passed our problems and keep moving forward.

But apparently things weren’t going to be as easy as it seemed. The next season began and we were on a roll, we couldn’t lose. But then things started turning for the bad again. My shoulder started giving me problems and it held me out of some games. There were days when I couldn’t even lift my arm; there was no way I was going to be able to throw a ball. Some of my teammates went back to their old ways of treating me like trash, but some stayed by my side. I tried everything I could to get myself healthy enough to play again, but nothing was working. My doctors advised me not to play because my shoulder would only get worse and there would be the possibility of me never being able to play again. I had to give up for the rest of the season so I would be able to play again in the future. It wasn’t easy, but now I play in a flag league to take out the possibility of getting hit hard and hurting my shoulder once again. I learned that sometimes you have to sacrifice to achieve a goal. It might not be the easiest thing to do, but everything happens for a reason and in the end things will always work out.

The Big Game

Sitting on that warm brown bench wondering when I will finally get a chance to get in the game. As I’m viewing my teammates play, my mind is just thinking how much longer until its time. Until it’s time for me to get a chance to show the world that this boy isn’t just a tall kid sitting on the bench, but to show them that he has talent. Watching my teammates run on the court, there is an air of excitement. Nervously, watching as the other team takes the lead, I start to shiver. Suddenly we are down by 8; fear sets in. It’s my time now. But no guess not, since the coach didn’t even notice that boy sitting on the bench eagerly waiting to play. Seeing the coach yell at the players, they respond with strength, they want to comeback. They will I can feel that the team will comeback from this deficit. The coach looks at the bench, looking for someone to put in the game. It could be me. But no it wasn’t, he was just looking at the bench and goes back to focusing on the game.
He turns his head to us again. “Michael get in the game” My heart is racing. This is it; it’s my time now. I’m finally in the game. My teammates give me the ball. I then make my move to the hoop. Two points and the foul. The crowd is cheering my name. We are only down by three. Shooting one shot, and I see it go in. Back on defense. Running towards the man with the ball, I stumble on one of my opponent’s foot and fall strait to the ground. The other team scored to opponents, as I was not able to get up. The coach calls time out; my teammates help me get up from my hurt ankle. Now I’m sitting on the bench as upset as I could be, because I finally get a chance to play and I just blow it. Again I find myself back on this bench watching the game, watching my teammates play the sport I love.
All of a sudden the pain goes away. We are still down by 4 and the coach calls time out. There is not much time left. I tell coach to put me in the game. He does. I’m more focused on winning this game now. We can win. It’s our ball. They give me the ball down low and I go for the layup. It didn’t go in. My teammate gets the rebound and we start again. One minute left. Joe shoots a three and hits it. We are down by two. They inbound the ball, I steal it. I’m running to the other side of the court with ten seconds left. I hear the crowd counting down, ten nine eight seven… I go for a layup with two seconds left. It bounces of the backboard and gets in. We wiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!! My team has just won the league championships.