That Time of the Month

End-of-the-months always make me nervous.

Because on the last few days, I'm always just waiting for it to happen.

Despite having three Pandora accounts, I always manage to exhaust my free hours way before the 30th. And then Pandora kicks me out.

The thesis killed all my hours by May 10th. So I finally forked out a whooping 99 cents for unlimited songs for the rest of this month.

It's so liberating not to have to count hours. I even let somebody use my account when they ran out to cultivate some good Pandora karma.

I just realized that today's May 31st.

I can't describe how sad I am right now.

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And no, I'm not talking about that time of the month (in case you're my mother and you're wondering).

Thesis? Check

12582 words, 53 pages (45 pages of text, 8 pages of works cited), and a year later, I'm finally done.
 
My visiting teachee, Risa, compared writing her dissertation to giving birth. I totally agree.

It's absolutely a labor of love (or Mormon-approved curses). 

There have been so many nights when I fell asleep sitting up. A few times I even felt like throwing up because I was so tired. I had different food cravings at different sections of my thesis. And don't even mention mood swings.

That said, it's been oddly rewarding as well. It's touching to see how my friends and family have supported me. And I positively glowed with love and pride in the stack of papers as I submitted them.

Now that it's over, it didn't seem that bad anymore.

And guess what?

It's a boy.

180 minutes

T - 3 hours

I'm going to give myself three more hours of obsessing. Then I'll send it to print. And walk it over to the Maesar building. Hand it in. Thank Shauna. 

And be done.

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Then I can start planning my next adventure and swear that I'll never come close to writing a thesis again. But we all know how bad I am at keeping promises like these.

Mom Turns up the Heat

My mom just called and issued a gentle ultimatum: A complete thesis draft will be the best birthday present I could ever give her (said with a very sarcastic laugh).

Her birthday is in two days.

While I had originally hoped to be done by tomorrow night / Tuesday morning, adding filial piety to the mix somehow ups the ante.

She thinks I'm having a mental breakdown. So she just wants me to be done.

At this point, I think it's more like I'm being done for.

Have a Happy Doomsday

Apparently tomorrow is the end of the world.

Or is it today? After all, Christ is supposed to come from the East (China? New York?) and it is already 8 a.m., May 21, 2011, in Asia.

Well in any case, unless my house is hit by a giant meteor (sorry, that would be superman) or I get twinkled up into a higher place, I would be furiously typing.*

* I'm 2/3 of the way done with my thesis! Which leaves me . . . 2 days to finish the rest. Gah. Maybe doomsday will be less painful. 

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Update: 

Well we're all still here. So I'm guessing that a lot of doomsday prophets went out of business. But this one ingenious business sure did rake in a lot of cash before the supposed Rapture.

For $135, Eternally Earth-Bound Pets offer to rescue your mortal pets in case you, as the Christian owner, end up being translated into heaven. 

Yes. No joke. They are sworn atheists and have signed contracts that say that they have blasphemed according to Mark 3:29, thus negating any chance of being saved. So, they can take care of your earthly pets while you're enjoying yourself in another sphere. 

Please go read their FAQ section. It's hilarious.

So Good at Being So Bad

Last night, for my last honors portfolio entry, I watched a play about Florence Foster Jenkins, an American soprano who became a legend for her bad singing. She was so convinced that she could sing that she kept pushing through, interpreting the jeers as spontaneous eruptions from the audience because her music resonated with them.

She made it, in a way. And she was happy.

Which makes me wonder why I dropped all those things that I was told that I was bad at. Perhaps to satisfy my kindergarten teacher who gave me a C on my painting of happy taxis flying in the clouds (she taught me, "taxis don't smile")?

In any case, now that I've perfected my art of procrastination, I must stop and actually write another sentence on Putnam's two-level game theory. I guess it's a case of painful writing vs. painful singing.

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Here's a clip of her singing. I actually had to pause it in the middle because my ears hurt. But here's a cheer to those who persevere!

The urban myth of graduation

Graduation is a loaded word for me. On one hand, it means accomplishment and completion (or not because I'll stay for spring to finish up the thesis). On the other, goodbyes and full-blown adulthood.

Last week, the only thing I was really excited for during graduation week was the Tucano's luncheon that I've planned for my family. Emotional eater much?

But today, I woke up and thought: I'm so excited about graduating!

Well actually, the exact thought was whether we would get to do this:

Throw our caps.

Back in high school, when I was on the student council, I suggested that we should get cap and gown for our graduation. Ultimately it was shot down because the idea was too American (I went to a British school).

I've seen this done in movies so many times. But I've always wondered if it's real. Do people in America really just throw their caps in the air at the same time? Or do people just walk around under a cloud of thrown-up caps all day long? How do they really achieve that kind of hang time? How do you find your cap afterward? Should I put a sticker on mine so I can get it back?

Maybe it's just an urban myth. Evidence: Chelsea's cap didn't leave her head once during her graduation.

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(update) I just remembered this:

I still haven't ordered my cap and gown. 

Epic fail.

Last night

2:23 a.m. My arm is numb - I guess I fell asleep over the table. Again.

3:04 a.m. I hate writing a thesis. And reading two-level game theory.

3:37 a.m. Hating the thesis and myself even more. 

3:43 a.m Mom comes out of her room. "You are really staying up all night?! And you're still planning on going shopping all day tomorrow?"

3:44 a.m. I nod. They're not mutually exclusive.

3:45 a.m. Mom finally shows me some love.

4:30 a.m. Found a fantastic article on rule-legitimacy theory. I'm loving Hurd right now.

4:45 a.m. Wrote more in fifteen minutes than I did all night.

6:00 a.m. I think I might do a Masters in Chinese Politics after all.

9:00 a.m. Getting ready for yet another trip to Uniqlo. Then to the tailor's. Then the crazy mess of a local mall with tens of thousands of little boutiques tucked away just waiting for me.

What matters the most

Recently, I've been too wrapped up in my thesis/ PAS/ Golden Key/ Sigma Journal/ classes/ work/ Women in Politics panel/ missionary stuff/ future plans. Even though I was trying to hold everything together, I think I was falling apart at the seams.

Last week in Relief Society, somebody shared with us President Uchtdorf's talk "Of Things that Matter the Most." Here are some lines that struck me:

"It is said that any virtue when taken to an extreme can become a vice. Overscheduling our days would certainly qualify for this. There comes a point where milestones can become millstones and ambitions, albatrosses around our necks."

"love is really spelled t-i-m-e, time."

"If life and its rushed pace and many stresses have made it difficult for you to feel like rejoicing, then perhaps now is a good time to refocus on what matters most. Strength comes not from frantic activity but from being settled on a firm foundation of truth and light."

His solution for simplifying our lives? Focus on the four key relationships with God, our families, our fellowmen, and ourselves.

1. Relationship with God
I went to the temple yesterday. It's been too long. And sitting there, without looking at the clock, was absolutely wonderful. I learned some important lessons about myself. And on a less serious/ spiritual note, I also found out that I am now officially too tall for the size small and short baptism jumpsuit. It must be the vitamins.


2. Relationship with Family
My family periodically loses a child. And a sister. And a cousin. And a niece. They patiently wait for me to resurface from my piles of work. But while they've always been there for me, I haven't always done the same in return. Sometimes I call Chelsea when I'm rushing to school and she always sounds so surprised. So, this week I made a goal to call a family member every day. Soon, they'll be screening my phone calls.


3. Relationship with Fellowmen
I've made some really good friends this semester. I haven't done so well in hanging onto my old friends though. Last week, I cried when one of my closest friends shared about the depths of her loneliness. I cried because I've seen glimpses of it all along. And yet, I never really spent the time to just sit and talk to her. So then, I grabbed her and we talked. And talked. And cried some more. And then laughed at ourselves and danced in the bathroom.


4. Relationship with Myself
This one is the easiest and the hardest. I'll spare you.

Dreaming of Kanas

I just want to forget about the four midterms I have this week, the honors thesis that I've been meaning to work on, and the portfolio that I need to hand in next week. Normally during times like these, I dream about going away. Anywhere. Preferably somewhere where people do not speak English and will not ask me about my thesis (by the way, it is not a good conversation starter).

Even though I'm heading to Eastern Europe in two weeks, all I can think about right now is Kanas, Xinjiang.

When she didn't have enough change for my one kuai snack, she rummaged through her cupboard and stuffed these chalk pieces into my hands. She motioned for me to eat it. I did. It tasted like chalk. 

Apparently that's their sweet milk candy.

 

A shaman inside told my mom that I would bring good
fortune to my whole family. 

My mom and I were pretty touched.

He even gave me a dragon tooth charm.

The ancient Mongolians would touch these cloths for the blessings that they wanted: 

white for longevity, red for courage, blue for wisdom, and yellow for peace.

I don't know why, but this is one of my favorite photos by far. 

Perhaps it's because everybody laughed when I asked to take his photo.

Even he seemed shocked and unsure. 

After I showed him the photo, he straightened his back, ran his fingers through his hair, and smiled.