Piano Forte.
Posted at 04:24 PM

It was exactly how I had left it. Top partially closed, a sliver of the shiny ivory white keys revealed.  I lifted the top, exposing all 88 keys.  I wanted to play my favorite song, Mozart's Rondo alla Turka, but would I still even remember how this instrument worked?

I wiped the dust off the keys. 

My hands hovered above the piano for a few seconds, but then my fingers magically placed themselves above the keys.  And so I began to play.

The first time I had heard this song, I was seven years old at my very first piano recital.  I was one of the first to play, and the piece I performed was one of those kiddie 'row, row, row your boat' songs.  The last to perform was my teacher's oldest student, a big burly boy in high school.  But as soon as he sat down on the piano chair, the most beautiful sounds filled the room.  I don't think I'll ever forget how amazed I was, and how much I wanted to play that song.

Over the years, as we moved around and switched piano teachers, my parents got serious about my playing this instrument.  I went from practicing half an hour every day, to about two hours.  And hated every second of it.

I eventually learned to enjoy it.  And by enjoy, I mean I enjoyed bragging about how much I practiced every day and seeing the stunned looks on my friends' faces.

After 10 years of playing the piano, I went from songs like "Mary had a Little Lamb" to "Fantasie Impropmtu".  My teachers always picked the songs.  I was never a fanatic of playing piano, but with the combined efforts of my parents and my piano teachers, I somehow always made it to be number one in state piano competitions.

It wasn't until after the breakdown and my apathy to playing that my teacher suggested Mozart's Rondo.  As I sight-read the first few lines, I instantly recognized the song, and that feeling from all those years ago returned to me.

I tried to play it the way Mozart would have wanted it to be played.  My fingers flew across the keys.  Every note was solid.  I played in sheer delight of playing.  I sat at my old piano chair for a good three hours and played song after song after song.  At last, I had finally enjoyed playing piano.

My Chinese Name.
Posted at 09:43 AM

I was born on a bright and cheery summer morning, just a bit before noon.  From the moment I was born, the peace and quiet of my parents' families were broken.  Was I a boy or a girl? How much did I weigh? Was I healthy? Did I have a lot of hair on my head? Were my eyes big? What should I be named?

My grandparents on my dad's side wanted me to be named 新, meaning new, but my grandmother on my mom's side wanted me to be named 心, meaning heart.

Being paternal grandparents, my legal name was Chen Wen Xin (new), but my pet name was Xin Xin (heart).

As for my parents, I am  小星星 to them.  A little star, nestled in my sister 云云's clouds.

*It would be good to have chinese text enabled for this post. 

Boogers!
Posted at 08:36 PM

I used to pick at my boogers and eat them when I was little.  Really. 

I know it was gross and icky and nasty, but where else would I put them?  Mommy would get mad if I wiped them on my clothes.  I would get in trouble with the preschool teachers if I stuck them on the underside of my desk.  My mouth was the most logical answer as a 4 year old.

Around the 3rd or 4th grade, I started picking my nose at night when I couldn't sleep and would stick them on the nightstand next to my bed.  I think I got a nice spotted gradient of boogers on that nightstand the size of a small salad plate.

Now I'm too old and busy to pick my nose.  But if I do, I always make sure I have a tissue at hand, look around to make sure no one's watching, and with one quick, furtive gesture, the boogers are safely secured in the tissue, ready to be tossed away at the nearest trash receptacle.

This made me wonder, what did other people do with their boogers?  Surely they didn't just let their nostrils clog up with mucus and dust until their noses were stuffed with the little grayish green things?

An ex of mine once told me he used to stick his boogers on his bedroom wall, and he would name the big ones.   Yep. You read that correctly. He *named* them!  Another friend of mine would pick them as he sat on the toilet, so they could be flushed away. (Which is pretty ingenious if you think about it, because no one would catch you doing this unless they were watching you do your business!)

How do you pick your nose, and what do you do with your boogers? 

Sunrise, Sunset.
Posted at 06:34 PM

Atlanta, you had a very gorgeous sunset today.  Given your foul temperament with the weather, I've been very happy that the skies have been clear these last few days so I could wear cute but painful shoes.  But really, the evening sun was quite lovely.

Don't ever get so wrapped up in something that you can't enjoy a nice sunset like this one :)

Why I Date CS Majors.
Posted at 10:50 AM

Ask anybody.

Aside from the first two boyfriends I've had in college, every other guy has been Computer Science.  I love geeks.

I grew up around them as a child.  My father did EE and CS back in UF, and I remember learning how to use the computer before I could speak english.  I also remember when floppy disks were still floppy, Windows had a version 3.0, and how to run simple little pac-man style games on dos.  Now, being all grown up, my father always hoped I would follow in his footsteps, and was horribly disappointed when I picked Architecture as my major.  To appease him, I did the next best thing I could: if I can't be one, date one. Hehehe.

A dear friend of mine once told me she would only go out with the biggest, buffest guys because they made her feel more feminine.  She was a tall, large-boned girl and those scrawny short guys just didn't quite cut it. I date geeks to make me feel more feminine.  Given my background, I can't stand a man who is less computer savvy than me.  When my desktop's power exploded back in freshman year, it was not my INTA boyfriend who was fixing it.  My CS buddy Jamie fixed it, and then we ended up seeing each other for a bit the following spring.

Lastly, the best part about dating CS majors is that most of them are gamers.  I love having gaming buddies.  I love playing the bf's video games.  I also love keeping their games after we break up :D

And so there you have it. I <3 my CS majors. 

The Break Up.
Posted at 11:54 AM

"What you should be asking is, who are the two guys who called me this week."  I stated smugly.

He was quiet for a moment.  And with the tiniest hint of hurt and jealousy in his voice he said, "You know what? I don't even care."

 I wouldn't have told him if he had cared.  Perhaps I judged him too quickly?  Took his silence to be thoughtlessness?  Communication was never a strong point between us.  Ah well, such is life.