Susan and I went to the tide pools yesterday. While gazing at the ocean, she suddenly had a revelation and didn’t hesitate to spill it over. The ocean, she said, is like a metaphor for different types of people.

She first pointed out to the tide pools in front of us. In these shallow waters, everything is transparent. There isn’t much substance and everything is, simply put, visible. There isn’t much to see.

As one looks further into the waters, things become less visible. The waters have here have more depth. These waters have a lot more substance, but are harder to reach; waves constantly push you back, and going into the depths of the ocean floor requires a lot more effort. Therefore, these waters are more difficult to understand.

However, all that extra effort yields incomparable results. The experience is a much more rewarding and more meaningful one.

She could explain it to you better than I can, but hopefully I’ve successfully resonated her message.

A couple months ago, I became re-eligible to donate blood. Since my regular location had been Fullerton’s American Red Cross, I waited to fly back home to donate here instead.

Today’s experience was interesting. My nurse was the most talkative I’ve had, and she made comments about the computer’s failed log-in system. She asked where I was from I’m from and pleasant small talk ensued. She then had trouble inserting the needle into the vein. After five failed pokes, she asked for another nurse for assistance. The man donating blood next to me found this amusing.

The other nurse got the vein in one go and there goes five donations. And… maybe some bruising from all the stabs!

Sitting at the “recovery” table afterward, I struck up a conversation with the man who had donated blood next to me. His name was Ron, and he had donated blood for the past 30 years. He has two kids, and one of them graduated from UCLA this past Winter quarter while the other was a UCI alumni. I told him that I was coincidentally visiting UCLA and UCI on Thursday and Friday, respectively. I told him about my current plans for grad school and the summer. He was a friendly guy and I was disappointed that our conversation didn’t last longer. Our conversation felt like ones I’ve had before on plane rides — a great and fun way of meeting people.

I’ll be donating again right before school starts. Five donations down. At least 95 more to go in my lifetime. Let’s do it.

我求求你們記住，自殺不只有害了你的命。很多認識你的人永遠會傷心的。

Love,

Ellie Andy

I remember a few of my dreams every night. Some of them are rather imaginative, so I want to share the most notable ones.

This is the first time in a couple weeks that I remember more than one dream!

I was in an arcade/pool hall and was able to shoot some pool with a friend. A group of  first year college students brought in catered Chinese food and started eating and partying next to us. The guys wore dress shirts and slacks while the girls wore dresses. They put everything on an adjacent pool table and also brought out cards to play poker. They asked if my friend and I wanted to join them.

Looked like this, but more Vegas-y.

One of the girls yelled very loudly; the rules of the building stated that the noise level has to be kept within the group. As I turned to look at the manager, another first year student went to report us. He had a crush on the girl who yelled or something, and because she wasn’t interested,  he wanted to ruin the fun. The Asian manager approached us.

I stepped up and defended the group. I kept the conversation lighthearted, and I was also speaking Mandarin — I mentioned on the side that it was a good opportunity for me to practice. I apologized on behalf of the group and told him that it was a one time mistake that wouldn’t be repeated. He let us go.

Even through the ordeal, my efforts went to waste as the group lost interest in staying in the pool hall area. They left the food and trotted off. My friend and I resumed playing pool. On the break, he shot the cue ball into a pocket and immediately lost, so we set up the balls once again. During this time, we started eating the food that the party had left. The party came back later, but that’s where my dream ended.

I next appeared in a prison facility in the desert. I was either infiltrating the place as a spy, or trying to escape as a prisoner. Either way, I was in the courtyard trying to get to the control tower overseeing the prison. I inched closer by waypointing behind steel crates, lumber, and all sorts of stationary objects. A gunman eventually noticed me from across the courtyard and opened fire — this alerted the rest of the guards who were equipped with rocket launchers and miniguns.

The prison facility looked like this, except with unpaved dirt.

Either way, I was able to dodge and hide from the heat. I eventually reached the control room which contained three aerial Segways. I jumped on one and drove it through the glass window. The gunmen focused their fire on me but I increased my elevation and avoided the bullets. I got out of the prison, but not before three girls on their own aerial Segways spotted and followed me.

I couldn’t outrun them. They stayed within a few feet behind me but they remained harmless. I tried increasing my speed but didn’t know how — the Segway had slowed down considerably. My intuition told me that they were working for the prison and were only trying to manipulate me; I had to get rid of them.

There was one occasion where I almost succeeded in doing so. The three were constantly talking to one another and I slipped from behind them and drove backwards. Because my speed was so low, they eventually noticed I was missing and backtracked towards me.

The village looked similar to this, although less trashy.

My intuition told me that I desperately needed water (after all, I was in the desert) and needed to refuel my ride. I pulled into a small village of gas stations and fast food restaurants and entered a gas station convenient store. The girls followed me into the village and waited outside. I looked for an opportunity to tell the clerk to call the police. In the meantime, I was shopping for the best valued water. Many of the bottles were half empty, and cold bottles of water were much more expensive. One of the brand names had JustKiddingFilms labeled on it. When the opportunity finally presented itself, I hurriedly told the clerk that I was being threatened; he said that he would call the police but that it would take 20 minutes for them to arrive. I didn’t have that time to spare.

I then slipped out of the store and walked towards a fast-food restaurant where I noticed a lot of Asian people loitering outside. As I got nearer, I realized that they were old high school friends — some of them were former gang affiliates and formerly/currently served in the military. After a swift reunion, I sought help from them.

They laughed at me and said they didn’t know me well enough to sacrifice for me. The three girls spotted me and made their approach during this time. The dream anticlimactically ends.

Analysis: The person that I played pool with is from the 3rd floor of my building; we often see each other in passing. The catered food was wrapped in aluminum foil and reminds me of Cal Hawaii’s dinner buffet. I went to a pool hall last week. I was telling my roommate that I couldn’t wait to play poker in our apartment next year. My intervention with the manager reminds me of my confrontation with the homeless people and deliverymen. I’ve been wanting to practice my Mandarin in preparation for my China trip this summer.

The prison resembles a facility from the game Mass Effect 3 which I played earlier in the semester. My friends and I were discussing our love for firearms last night. I was looking at some photos yesterday and came across my Angel Island Segway tour from last semester. A few friends and I shared a conversation last night about how manipulative and deceitful women can be. The desert scene looks like a scene from Borderlands; I read the Wikipedia page of Borderlands 2 yesterday.

The JustKiddingFilms allusion was random, but I’m subscribed and watch all of their videos on YouTube. The high school friends I ran into are all a year older than I am  and were known to be tough and not to be trifled with.

I remember a few of my dreams every night. Some of them are rather imaginative, so I want to share the most notable ones.

I was an Allied American soldier in World War 2. I was establishing a beachhead on a beach. There were three or so other soldiers with me lying prone waiting for the Germans to invade France from the sea. The problem is, that is historically backwards of what actually happened: the Allies invaded the German front.

Imagine this, plus sandbags everywhere.

I realized this the same time as the entrenched German soldiers. They immediately killed all most of comrades while I lay there pretending to be German. They then shouted for every remaining soldier to identify themselves, in which 5-7 remaining Allied soldiers surrendered.  Despite wearing an Allied uniform, they seemed to think I was one of them.

We then appeared in an industrial facility where the prisoners were to be executed by a death squad two at a time. Two of my comrades (one male, one female) had their hands bound and were lead up to a stage. The male gave a last speech that discussed how humans are ultimately at peace with each other, or something like that. They were then given a last wish, and the starving couple chose to eat some food. I saw some croissants and pork buns sitting on a table so I grabbed them and hand-fed them. The man was so hungry that he ate a greater portion than the woman. He also almost bit my hand off as he chewed exceptionally fast. I returned to the table two additional times to give them more food.

The Germans grew impatient and asked us to wrap it up. I really didn’t want to watch my comrades die, so I tried my best to alter the dream. A giant Allied police yacht (fictional) floated by. Then, instead of executing the prisoners by death squad, the Germans surprisingly switched the kill method. Their hands were tied above their head to chained metal links that would electrocute them.

They turned on the kill switch and images appeared in my head as Germans throughout the facility were electrocuted to death. Someone had rigged the switch. As chaos ensued, the prisoners and I ran off. As we entered a staircase, we saw some dead soldiers with their torsos slashed apart. I turned the corner to see a robotic alien aiming laser beams at me. We ran out of the staircase to find another exit.

The robotic alien may have looked something like this.

We then entered a theme park with a bike stand at the entrance. Everyone hopped on a bike and rode towards a long escalator. I couldn’t keep up; my quadriceps were very tired and I couldn’t pedal fast even when standing up. I hated this dream, and I woke myself up.

Analysis: While working on a final project with some friends yesterday, a lot of racist jokes were passed around between our respective ethnicities. None of us were German though…

I think I was starving while dreaming; I woke up very hungry. Perhaps I was looking at the prisoners’ last wishes as my own. The fictional giant police yacht (it was huge) makes no sense to me. I only saw it through the window panes of the walls of the facility.

I was trying very hard to keep my comrades alive, but I really thought they were going to be shot. I was also afraid for my own life which was why I didn’t surrender. Even in dreams, I fear death. The robotic aliens remind me of Battlestar Galactica cylons.

The theme park reminded me of Universal Studios with the long escalators to the lower level. My burning quadriceps felt the same as when we had dance practice every day for Cal Hawaii two weeks before the performance.

I remember a few of my dreams every night. Some of them are rather imaginative, so I want to share the most notable ones.

I was in my multistory contemporary penthouse apartment hiding from people. There were bad people after me and I was using parkour techniques to run around indoors, in the balcony, on the roof, etc. When they broke through the front door, they snatched up people and dragged them away.

Analysis: I watched the first 30 minutes of the movie Serenity. There was a scene of an innocent man being snatched away by “reavers” (ugly monsters) and he was shot by the protagonist to prevent suffering.

Also, I’ve been having trouble recalling dreams for the past two weeks. If I do remember portions, it would only be of one.

At 10:20am this Tuesday morning, I was en route back to my place. I had bought grapes from Sproul and multivitamins from Walgreens. I walked towards the Asian Ghetto food court and witnessed a scene.

There was a clipboard filled with voting ballots on the concrete floor and a supply truck emergency-parked on Durant. A homeless black man was yelling at two Latino workers dropping off supplies to Gypsy’s. They were right at the entrance of the Ghetto. As I walked past them, the older Latino started yelling back and the two exchanged hefty, vulgar, and hostile words. Asian Ghetto was pretty empty at this time, and both men challenged each other to fight.

At this moment, I turned around to step in. Which proved to be perfect timing.

While I stepped in, the black man stepped towards the older Latino. I got in between them and started exclaiming, “Guys, it’s not worth it!” I extended my arms to stop both men from fighting. The black man did over half the yelling. He shouted threats here and there, urging the Latino man to fight, and said that he was disrespected while minding his own business. Meanwhile, the Latino man was telling him to walk the walk, telling him to actually fight.

It was hard talking in between their verbal exchanges. Moreover, the younger Latino man revealed himself to be the son of the older man. He said that he won’t stand hearing the verbal abuse his father was taking. To make matters worse, a white homeless man walked from across the street and immediately supported the black man. It was now a 2-on-2 situation. Tempers quickly heated up as the son took off his sweater and said he was ready to fight.

Against my hopes, I soon became physically involved in the dilemma. I stayed in between both parties and gently shoved the black man and both Latinos away from each other; the white man was on the side, clearly crazy/intoxicated/high and very unstable, so I resisted having physical contact with him. I remember wondering if/when I was going to get hit by any of the four men. The two Latinos kept their feet planted on the ground so I diverted my attention towards the black man who was trotting forward and side to side. I put my hand on his chest and shoulders to stop himself from advancing; I’m glad I served as an invisible barrier, as he didn’t seem to take notice.

Everyone took their respective turns shouting. The black man shouted threats of what he would do to the two. The white man yelled that he would back him up and that the two Latinos were in the wrong. The Latino father kept his words brief and only urged the two on, while the son stood supportive and yelled back. In the meantime, I was yelling for the two Latinos to just walk away. I said “It’s not worth it. Both of you two are working right now. You’re professionals. It’s not worth your job. Walk away.” To the black man, I told him to forget about it, that this wasn’t worth his time.

It was impossible keeping four people stationary. I was soon pushed back to the inside entrance of Gypsy’s. I yelled for the two Latinos to walk away, and they eventually did. They entered Gypsy’s to do whatever their job required. In the meantime, I was able to drive the two homeless men back to the sidewalk. He was shouting threats and wouldn’t take his eyes off the two inside Gypsy’s. The white man kept shouting 101, in which I realized that the black man was a veteran from the 101st airborne division. The white man also said that he was from the 82nd airborne, although I felt he wasn’t much of a threat.

The two Latinos were inside Gypsy’s for a while. I spent the entire time in between the black man and the restaurant, as he remained unstable and upset. He continued shouting, said that he was mindlessly doing his own job. That his boss was going to be there at 11am to pick up the ballots. That he was trying to pick himself up and out of the streets and that the two Latinos had no right to knock his clipboard down. He also talked about his crates that he was sitting on being taken away from him. He started crying, although he was still very angry.

He asked why I only chose to restrain him, in which I offered to talk to the Latinos. I walked inside Gypsy’s and begged them to handle their business and leave. I reminded them that they were professionals, and that this wasn’t worth going to jail for or getting injured. I told them that I would be present until they drove off. They agreed and thanked me for staying around.

Back outside, the two homeless men were still shouting threats and beckoning the two to come out and fight. Once again, I completely ignored the white man (I was very annoyed with him — he was only making matters worse by saying that they were veterans who were trained to kill). I did everything I could to calm the black man down. I introduced my name to him, in which he eventually replied that his name was Warren. Warren explained how he wasn’t in the wrong, in which I consoled him about how he was right, but should be the bigger man and let things go. At one point, he said that they should buy him breakfast. I used that momentum to ask if he was hungry, in which he replied that he was starving. I offered to buy him breakfast, but he wouldn’t let me. This process repeated for 15 minutes.

Eventually, the two Latinos came out. With my back turned to Gypsy’s, I didn’t know they had exited and was barely able to restrain Warren by bearhugging him. Even then, he almost successfully reached them before I was able to regain my footing and hold him in place. The two Latinos drove off, and Warren continued crying. I spent more time consoling him and telling him that he’s okay. He was extremely unstable and was shouting threats of closing Asian Ghetto with the people he knew, boycotting Gypsy’s, saying how the Latinos’ actions were set up and how they were racist.

After what seemed like a long, long time, he allowed me to buy him breakfast. For some reason, he told me to hold onto his ID while I ordered his food; in the meantime, he went across the street to see if his boss had arrived. It was 11:10am at this time. I ordered a steak sandwich from I.B.’s Hoagies with some water. I looked at his ID, which was a veteran’s health care plan with his full name and portrait. When the order was ready, he had calmed down a little bit and was no longer crying. However, he was still upset. I eventually got him to hold his food and water and told him I had to go. He thanked me and said he was very grateful, that I didn’t have to buy him breakfast, and blessed me with his faith.

At 11:28am, I walked away. Okay, let’s take a breather as I’ve documented an extremely detailed, exhausting 1 hour 8 minutes of my life.

First off, street fighting is never worth it. Warren was trying to make some money to work towards sustaining himself. The two Latinos were in the middle of their jobs delivering supplies to a restaurant.  Getting in a fight could have had drawbacks on both parties. It’s not worth going to jail for. Nor is losing their jobs. Nor having a stained record. Nor their pride.

Avoid conflict when you can. It’s okay to swallow your pride and let a troubled person feel better about themselves. Being a man doesn’t need to involve fists.

Fighting. It’s not worth it.

I love perspectives.

I was recently taught the quote “I stand on the shoulders of giants” by Isaac Newton. It means that, as an individual, you develop further intellect by being influenced from wise folks (often older).

Here are some perspectives I’ve picked up from others. All have had an influence on me.

“Think of it as a drag race. You’re at the starting line with a powerful motor. 500 horse power. The light turns green and you shift gears and floor it. But all that happens is a burnout. Your rear tires are rotating in place and you aren’t moving at all. You try all that you can, but in the end your engine blows and your car breaks down. No matter how hard you try, sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“If you’re not using weed to escape from the stress, but merely to gain perspective from it… to see your life and the things that are on your mind from an altered perspective, then I wouldn’t consider it a bad thing. People need drugs on occasion to alter their perceptions because life is so much bigger than we are. It’s very difficult from a sober, normal perspective to really take in all of the implications of this crazy huge world. Using drugs can be a tool to explore yourself and your place in reality.”

“Half of every person is what you want them to be.”
I can’t accurately recall the details, so here’s my interpretation. You have hopes and expectations of people. While not knowing if it’s true or not, it gives you feelings of hope (but also anxiety) that they actually are the image you want them to be. Therefore, half of every person is a self-created, idealized vision of them. Even after developing a close relationship, that vision still exists on a smaller scale.

You studied really hard for a test. You worked your ass off and did everything you could to memorize, recite, analyze, and whatever else the material. You’re well-prepared for the test. You feel confident going into the exam.

You take the test.

You get that test back.

You got a C.

You’re upset and frustrated. You’re angry. You’re in denial. You’re sad and disappointed. You ask yourself how you messed up so badly. You thought you had done everything to do well on the test.

What happens next?

You’re not going to say “f this!” and never study ever again. You’re not going to stop working hard to get a good grade. You’re not going to simply give up.

What you will do is to study even harder for the next test. To be even more prepared, this time with the memory of previous exams in mind to help you out. You’re going to work your ass off even harder. You’re going to be even more well prepared for the test.

And you know what?

You’re going to get a better grade. You’re going to get that A.