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ReverieCQ
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Name: Jennifer
Country: United States
State: Pennsylvania
Metro: Philadelphia
Birthday: 1/9/1986
Gender: Female
Interests: One who ponders, questions, dreams. Likes to discover new things, travel, smile at small wonders of the world. Simple, yet complex. Full of paradoxes. Yum: purple, milk teas, pistachios, warm summer breezes, starry nights, a good sale, lilies, the chills, massages, almost all food, Model UN, optimism and ideals, Chinese soaps, pop music, beachside jogs, the bakery, smell of Starbucks, good movies, sweet kisses, dark chocolate, conversation, and soft pillows. Yuck: cigarette smoke, licorice, mosquito bites, bad breath, spitting on the streets, litter, cockroaches, lamb meat
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  Bedazzle1016
MSN: Bedazzle1016@hotmail.com
ICQ:  294455098
Member Since:
2/10/2006
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| It's been an extremely long time since I last wrote on Xanga. I suppose it is because I associate it with my memories in Beijing, abroad. But I've come to the realization that, well, Penn's not so bad after all. And perhaps it wasn't the study abroad experience as an isolated variable in the whole scheme of things being what distinguished my last spring semester, but the leisurely, the sudden change of pace from frentic, clashing and colliding rhythms of Wharton, free nature of studying at a more "liberals arts" oriented foreign institution. That, and... China is China. I love it from deep down inside.
5 classes, taking it a bit "easy" this semester. I ended up dropping Accounting 102 and tried to lean as much as I could towards liberal arts classes under this business-dominated framework that Huntsman kids are subject to. But next semester will be different. Ah, brace yourselves. Recruiting Schmucruiting, the epitome of why Wharton is attractive and distinct shall commence in a hop, skip, and baby jump away. After Thanksgiving, it's going swing into play.
But aside from academics and classes (probably 6 again... :/ out of necessity since I slacked a little with the Wharotn reqs this semester), I think I will still be looking forward to next semester. Things are different now. I think being abroad has made me mature in many ways. My thoughts and perspectives of life have shifted. Perhaps this is what people mean when they say gaining a "global perspective" on things. Goodness, I sound like the quintessential Huntsman poster child. That, or the OIP brochure student. Regardless, I find myself thinking about "oh, what is the significance of this __________ event when 1 out of 8 people in China live under the poverty line" or "in two years, will I even remember this?" seeing as even freshman year here at Penn grows evermore distant, allusive even. I find myself really having to think about where I was at a specific point in time.
Actually are we all slowly losing our grasp of a "timeline" of our lives? Major external environmental disruptions like breaking news or events don't even seem to register and occupy a point on this "timeline" for me anymore. I've become (we've become?) so egocentric and removed, so bubbled in our own fixed set of choices, interactions with people, behaviors that our individual tracks and paths can go on without many intersections. Hm, okay, that was a little dismal, but nonetheless, I think that's one of the things that has changed- my awareness of unconscious "isolationism," especially given that all the other Huntsmanites from my grade are abroad, I just barely got back from seeing my grandparents and relatives in China, and seeing alum (seniors when I had been here last year) out in "the real world" who are periodically coming back to Penn to dispel some of their new learnings...
Thanksgiving should be great. I'm really looking forward to being home with my family and another change of environment. I think I'm one of those people who can't quite always stay at the same place for too long... transition, change, adjustments are good.
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| It is my fourth day back in the lovely U S of A, and I think I've dawned upon an odd explanation for the hyped Americans and depression syndrome... and strange mental illnesses affecting all ages. Maybe people, in addition to being able to keep busy and amused, need the noises of life every so often.
In the mornings, the only sounds I hear are the barely audible chirps of a flittering sparrow and surely the whooshes of the occassionaly passing cars a few streets over. Yet these minute decibals still reverberate in the empty house occupied only by me for the great majority of the day. Dad is at work from 7am-8pm, and Mom and Em are still avec les grandparents chez la maison de Nanjing. At noon, after I prepare my own simple grilled chicken salad and glass of tasty water, the birds choir has ceased to sing, and all I hear is rhythmic whooshing of cars.
I think of the noises made by people moving around, chatting with one another in sports announcer volumes on the streets; the screeches of their bike tires coming to a stop; opening and closing slams of the public transportation bus doors; cell phone rings followed by individuals bellowing into their devices... the sounds of Chinese citizens' daily life were once stimuli to my eardrums, all hours of the day.
But inside my house here in the suburb, East Brunswick, NJ, one person can progress through the day without involuntarily being aware of others in the same sphere. It definitely is a double-edged sword. Right now, I am half sure that I enjoy it--- alone time, peaceful in a world of crashed planes and a terrorized America. I can confirm that daily life here is completely different than that of what I had been living mere weeks ago-- from Beijing, to Nanjing, to HK, Macau, Shenzhen, to Shanghai, my travels and experiences in each city...well, were never noiseless, let's just say.
Before I know it, night befalls. And, there is a new, small variation on 'the silence I hear.' Even if being in China has made me more appreciative of personal space (hm, perhaps even space in general...), I'm quite glad that I have my own ways to create sounds pleasurable to my ear throughout my hours home and keep somewhat occupied.
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| The week was a whirl of people, places, happenings. Besides an incredible explosive ending to the World Cup, quite a few bursts of unexpected events have flashed before me as well. But I must say, yesterday, while walking back from work, I had quite an encounter.
I was doing my usual crossing of Jianguomen dajie, which expands 6 lanes wide, through the walkway underground. In one hand, I was carrying my purse, and in the other, I was holding a paper Watson Wyatt labeled company bag with pamphlets from work. *tinkle tinkle* .. my text message sound from the cell goes off, causing me to then unzip the bag, reach in, and grab the cell. Note: bag was left open.
In the span of 3 minutes, between taking my cell out and slipping it back in, a н®ÈË thief who are usually armed with knives and other sharp weaponry determined that I was his unsuspecting victim. He had creeped up to my left and was reaching in. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the inside semi-detachable pocket of my bag, where some people keep their large bills flip up. Reacting as quickly as I could, I turned my head and swung my body around to face his side. Though pickpocket had already retracted his arm, he was still within half an arm's length away from me. I extended my arm out as I was turning in an attempt to grab him, and the force with which I turned actually propelled my left limb to make solid contact with his shoulder.
Can't quite explain what motivated me to be so foolhardy, but I proceeded to yell "ÄãÔÚ¸Éʲô? Ïë͵ÎÒµÄÇ®?!... ÄÃÁËʲô°¡,¸øÎÒ¿´!" while grabbing tightly onto his wrist. He aggressively swung his hand free, and then opened both hands up to show that he had not succeeded in his vile mission. At this point, I think adrenaline had started to run out, and I was at a loss for words. Before I could look for an officer around me to cuff this thief, he turned his back to me and sprinted. I was trembling.
So stunned and paralyzed from what just transpired, I looked to my left and right to see if anyone else had witnessed any of it. People looked busy, and pedestrians, as usual, were strolling back from work with their briefcases and pocketbooks. All except this one beggar woman with snow white hair and walnut-wrinkled tan skin. Her gray-from-old age eyes looked coldly into mine as she pointed to the direction the thief had fled towards and said "С͵,ÊǸöС͵°¡..." She had watched the whole thing from her spot near the subway wall and uttered no sounds during the whole ordeal.
On top of trying to process everything at that point, I didn't know whether I was feeling resentment at her blatant bystanding and lack of warning when the pickpocket inched close to my bag, or whether I was internalizing guilt for representing one of the millions of "apathetic priveleged" in China. | | |
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Misu [mon petit canard] died today.
And Korea lost.
My eyes are a little swollen.
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