Homecoming @ Christmas

Whether it's the familiar front door, or the distinctive smell of the living room, there's something about our home that provides us an ultimate comfort and security... Home, something I have taken for granted in all the years before this one. So what do you get when we cross 'Christmas' and 'home'? It is beyond words to describe, that fully captures the joyful spirits of the holidays.There's no better time to stick around at home than at Christmas; I can finally live independent of the $2 'Chaws' and Schulich library.

Sitting here by my bed 600KM away from Molson Hall, I'm once again to enjoy mom's cooking, and the battle against dad on the chessboard. I'm back to having talks over a beer, in Mandarin, on subjects stretching from atoms and molecules, to galaxy, astronomy; ancient histories, to global economy. Laying back, catching up, watching some good ol' television whose existence ceased in the 4 months leading up to now. And of course...there are also the old pals from the not-so-long-ago high school.. FML? I think not.

It's a neat break to get away from the college life, especially the last few weeks of exams and late-night studies. While McGill taught me arts and sciences, Montreal taught me "applied sociology" through its daily excitement and lively night-life. Semester one was the chapter of the riskiness, ruthless endeavors and the absolute liberty to pursue freedom in exchange for a lower GPA and loss of scholarship.

But hey, it's Christmas.
Obama's on vacation, so am I ;)

The Brick Wall Effect

Ever wonder what we'd be able to do if there are no brick walls? No fences, no gates to stop people from going anywhere. No brick walls to keep people from coming in, or going out - literally, and figuratively.

I recently hit a brick wall known as 'Professor Levitin's "Introduction to Psychology" course or commonly known on campus as "PSYC100" - a course I took for the heck of it because I was rarely exposed to it ;) Good times I had in the class but the 'not-so-good time' came last night when I discovered that I earned a C+ on the final that accounted for 100% of my course mark. And because of that, I am on my way out of the Loranian Circle, along with $75,000 in scholarship.

I don't know whether it's my lack of urgency or coolheaded-composure, I don't feel at all being affected by crashing the latest "brick wall". Personally, I feel I wouldn't have done any better if I were given a day or a month extra time to study.

It's sure tough to run into brick walls, but they're there for a reason. Brick walls are supposed to be there to keep people out. They're there to ensure the people who come in are in the right place. Will the C+ discourage me from taking another interesting psychology course in the future? No. But will I major in psychology? Ha! Maybe in the next life!

Forget about being "the next Einstein", how about I be the first "Peter Guo"?

Now, I need to earn back my Loranian status.
Thanks everyone for all the support you've given me ;)

Howls of A Lone Wolf

I haven't logged in a while; I've been pretty busy in my preparation for the final exams. Now that the dust has 'settled' down quite a bit here at McGill, the general atmosphere shows why it belongs in the top-tier world-class universities. Most of the time when I'm not running on the track, I'd be readings at the library, often the cafeteria.

During the periods of sitting alone at a peaceful place, I reflected quite a bit. A recent drama involving an friend from high school made me come to realize the egocentric side of me - dangerous and deadly. It made me think: if the cycle of life in Hinduism holds any validity, in my past life, I'd be a wolf - the lone wolf who wonders the wilderness at midnight, vicious and hungry, senseless, sometimes very cold-blooded.

Less and less I feel controlled by emotions. Sociable I am, or can be, as all wolves are, yet none of the experience can deliver the same thrill as that of the lone wolf, as he takes off from his pack and penetrates the deeper wilderness on his own, accompanied by the full-moon and the thin shadow cast beneath his paws.The need to belong? He is a class of his own, with his individuality, he cares for no one, needs no one. He tilts his head, howls the moon, expressing his independence that is never to be taken.

I, share with "him" some qualities of a lone wolf,
I am the way I am, and that's the way I'm going to be ;)

Flashback into the Future and Pieces of Thoughts

My recent work with Loyola Robotics as a mentor gave me a sneak preview of what the future might be like. In those commutes to Loyola Robotics, I sort of see new dimensions.

9:03PM Friday night, I walked out of Loyola Robotics lounge. I tapped my STM pass to get in the Metro station, bumping shoulders, squeezing through the gaps between commuters while voicing a series of "Excusez-moi". Sitting down, I turned on my laptop to do a bit of really unproductive programming as my mind was occupied with...stuff.

* * *

Thought #1
I can't wait to open that bottle of cold beer sitting in my fridge then go out for a cheap bite to release build-up of the day's stress.

Thought #3:
Those who say "high school is the best time of your life" have certainly not gone to college.
Besides the 8AM labs and the 11:59PM CAPA assignment, there's also time set aside for lectures, walking to lectures, lunch, an afternoon snooze. But what makes college different from high school is the power to choose WHEN (if I decide to) to do them.

Thought #68:
I like how learning is no longer focused on the textbooks and grades are just capital letters ranging from A to F, which has less variability on the future than they did in high school. Aside from cracking books every now and then, I am spending more and more time out in the city or taking a weekend trip somewhere.

Thought #79:
Being put in college on a full-scholarship certainly has created a disillusion of the value of money. My bank balance has been on a steady decline to keep up with the Montreal-style of life. They say that's exactly why idiots go broke after they win the lottery. I'm glad this part-time volunteering has made me conscience of my spending.

Thought #104:
Just look at all those people around me taking this train. There's a mother and her daughter on the other side, sitting safely on her mother's laps. There's a middle aged man to my left; he looks like he has a lot on his mind. There's a group of teenage high school girls to my right, dressed very well, and they are probably discussing Edward Cullen and the New Moon...now enters a business man in suit, he's certainly dressed to impress. At the other door, an old man enters, he looks like he's been out too long in the cold. I stood up, gave him my seat.

Thought #105:
No wonder 'college' isn't just an extension of high school; not only is 'college' spelled differently, it attaches an identity beyond the definition of "a learning institution". If I were to define 'college', it is a lifestyle set on that fine boundary between being a student and a citizen enjoying the full responsibility of himself and his role in the society.

* * *

"Station Magiiiiiille" the speaker announced, in French, as the train pulled to a gentle stop. The doors open. I stepped out. Doors close. I turned around to look back, a few pairs of eyes looked back. We had taken a part of journey together, but now we're off to different paths.

The beer is just up the hill.

Through wind and rain,
the fire burns on capital hill;
Especially,
when one makes note of its existence in a setting in the water that is far
too bold too cold,
to make a steady foothold for its continued luminescence in the dark in the light
Regardless of time,
old age or prime
So to wait...
Heaven closes its blinds


But what liking of it
is to a man's desire, his intrinsic fire
The power within him, the passion driving him
Topped by his confidence,
his humour, his transcendence
to make impossible a possible and probable
But hold...
so to speak
As the river floods, tide turns
Letters
fetter into words, words into meanings to conjure feelings
Turning history a mystery bringing misery
Of the days he's forgotten
Dug up old memories
buried at the core,
over on the other
side of shore
Underneath the floor behind a locked door
But wait but why wait
Clearly he's wrong, she's gone
But he's strong
The fire still burns
on the capital hill
He walks towards infinity
away from capital hill

Campus Squirrels

I wasn't having the greatest today, so instead of digging those Physics problems at the library, I spent the afternoon watching squirrels.

Late autumn calls for a time of busy preparation; for the squirrels, it's to store food, for us students, it's to ace those final exams...for the Toronto Maple Leafs, it's time to win some games. But doesn't matter if you're a squirrel a student or belong to the Leafs organization, we all share the same sense of urgency that is presently felt. We have feel this urgency because we have dreams and goals to realize. But maybe I'm just too eager.

The campus squirrels are interesting to observe. Unlike the squirrels from the wild, these lil creatures thrive in the urban culture by taking advantage of the litterers. I've seen squirrels dragging full-sized sandwiches, crackers, and fruits to their 'hide-out'. For the sandwiches, the squirrels would hide it somewhere first, then break it down to smaller pieces and make several trips making the deposit. And before they do so each time, they always swing their heads around to make sure other squirrels aren't watching. They don't ever seem frustrated by the size of their findings.

If I can be a bit more like a squirrel, I'd take learning piece by piece, take some time off to examine the situation and focus on the big picture. Consistently and efficiently, I know I'll make turn that B to an A ;)

Maybe the Leafs, too, can win some games this way.

The Friday Flow

Woke up at seven
Felt the morning twist
Snapped my watch
Right on my wrist
Brushed up
Washed up
Ready to put on a show
Locked the door
Walked the floor
I was ready to go

Grabbed a muffin
a coffee
from Bee-Em-Ehchb (BMH)
Down the hill I went
On a lingering stroll
The fresh air
Clean hair
Being undoubtedly flair
like a new wall
Clean stall
make the bathroom glare

13km per hour
chilly wind blew
North to south,
a flock of geese flew

Now sitting alone
in this lecture hall
Waiting for econ
class to begin

Took out my pen
And scribbled down a verse
And a verse and a verse
Right after a verse
Them verses combine
Pieced into a poem
A space they confine
Some call it a home

Now that prof's here
I better go
Another lecture
A conjecture
To get with the flow
I hope you too
are enjoying this day
Watch out - stay safe
Avoid swine flu

The Ghost of the Plains of Abraham

Halloween 2009 is a dark and gloomy day; but at least, the weather is in sync with the spirit of Halloween.

I spent this day in Quebec City, some 300KM away from Montreal - Halloween marks the championship day of the Quebec Provincial Cross-Country Championships. Location: Plains of Abraham, Quebec City.

The Battle of the Plains of Abraham was arguable the most significant battle ever fought in North America. Ironically, our race on the same battlefield 500 years later is our most important 'battle' this season.

My team and I arrived on Friday night. After 3 and a half hours on the Coach bus through the weekend traffic, we arrived at our hotel, had our team dinner, and did a bit of team bonding before we rested our bodies for the final battle next day.

6:30AM, morning of Halloween, we awakened our bodies, and drained in some high-octane breakfast. By 9:30, we arrived at the battlefield, the Plains of Abraham. The Redmen sworn loyalty to their General; we will not surrender until the last man is down, we did not plan to "live" after we cross the finish line.

I've been through this before, many times. As soon as that number is pinned on my singlet, I'm mentally ready to race, going through the same emotions as if each race is a movie, and I've rewinded it and hit replay. I remember giving the talks on the starting line, I remember the huddles we used huddles, and connect our souls to the bodies next to us... no difference this time.

* * *

The first gunshot sounded at 11:15AM, signaling the beginning of the battle. Rain began to fall, mixing well with the dirt on the hills. The Redmen formed a long, thin line, two-men deep as historically strategified by General Wolfe. We bursted out towards the Western front. Fierce fighting began. Row by row, men fell and they were left behind the pack.

Five loops, 10KM, 98 men, the battle couldn't have been more intense. Sherbooke, with its veteran generals, dominated the front. Behind them were McGill and Laval, who matched shot-for-shot, man-for-man...stride-for-stride. At 61 pts a piece, we tied Laval for 2nd place. Laval reserve army, however, outnumbered that of ours, claimed victory, and a trip to the Nationals...

I clocked my personal best, finished better than what had been expected of me, but the day remained to be dark and gloomy. Despite of a personal success and a rare gratitude from the coaching staff, I was more hurt than ever. As cold and stoic as I normally am, I was uneasy with the latest defeat. Could I have possibly had the feelings to feel a heart-break? After all the miles logged under the shoes, the loops through the woods, the push-ups, the ice-baths, the pain the dedication, all there left to say is, "better 'luck' next season"?

I fell on my knees, soaking in the rain in the open field. Body trembling in cold, lips purple, with two soul-less eyes staring down.
I am the ghost, on the Plains of Abraham.

The Arrival of Princess Snow

There's always something fresh and new going on each day. Today's honour goes to the Princess of Winter - Snow. As the temperature fell below zero, the droplets of water crystallized into flakes of snow, falling, making a soft landing onto earth as if controlled by the hands of a gentle pilot.

I was out on the campus and found myself in a mixture of wind and cold, with white flurries filling the spaces between heaven and earth. Despite the chill in the air, the campus is busier, warmer than usual, marked by McGillers finishing off their nth midterm that they over-studied for... cheers and laughters, filled the spaces between the snow flakes.

Oh that purity and comeliness of princess snow; watch her, and lose yourself in her beauty, her elegance, her charm. Arrogantly, she laughs upon the praises, and slowly retreats back to her heavenly palace.

Tomorrow,
the green leaves will turn a bit yellower, the golden leaves will turn a bit dryer, the dry leaves will turn a bit crispier, then, like snow, they'll melt and disappear...because of her.

Chemistry

The mental image of chemistry is often related to flasks of coloured solution sitting in a cold laboratory filled with scientific equipments whose names either make full logical sense, or none at all. From the scrutiny of empirical science of chemistry, we now know matter down to its core; right to the bosons, mesons, and etc.

But, I think there's another kind of chemistry, "People Chemistry", which logic and rationality fail to explain."People chemistry" has its own set of elements, and difference forces of attraction and reactions between the elements when put under certain conditions.

"People chemistry" gave rise to a new level of communication - a communication between potential lovers. It's indirect, implicit, yet crystal clear in meaning except to the outsiders listening in. Reaction could occur right off the bat, creating instantaneous attraction. Not affection, but attraction.

Chemistry is not so much about how you feel when you're with your "lover"; it's unique for the sense of excitement, mystery, ponder, and aspiration chemistry creates when you are not with that person. Unlike infatuation or obsession, chemistry takes two, thus, stronger bond - just as explained by science.

Poor me, stuck here thinking about this while the reaction takes place inside of me as the train of thoughts go by.

Thanks Thanks..giving

1621 was a great year of harvest. The fertile soil and pleasant climate brought enormous produce to the Native tribes settling along the St. Lawrence. In fact, the farmers stocked enough food to get through the entire winter, plus some more. To show their gratefulness to the nature, the Native Chiefs decided to have a celebration. And of course, they invited the Europeans to join them for this graaand feast, which is later known in the English language as.. "Thanksgiving".

Now as the festival was passed down from generation to generation, Thanksgiving is often associated with that big, juicy, turkey stuffed with goodies that make your tummy go "MmmHmm!" - it's a 'must-have'

Nothing wrong with that, but this Thanksgiving, I realized something more behind this holiday.

Friday night, Montreal was in pouring rain. On my night stroll along St. Catherine, the street was almost quiet, without the usual spirit of youth who are ready to blast off. How lovely the city on a peaceful night! But a bit of distance ahead, under the streetlight was a silhouette of a man, walking the street in pouring rain without an umbrella. I wonder if he feels miserable when Thanksgiving is just around the corner.

Unlike many of my more fortunate floormates at Molson, I didn't go home this weekend, but mom visited me. After showing her around the city on Saturday, Sunday night she was at my residence, and cooked an adequate dinner for me a couple of my friends. The dinner was nothing like a banquet, but mom made the best out of what we had. The little pieces of green vegetables, bits and strips of lamb meat taken with simply prepared sauce..it wasn't bad. We all sat around a little table and ate dinner, I won't forget it.

So sometimes there is no turkey at the Thanksgiving dinner table. Maybe sometimes we need to break the tradition in order to make new discoveries. For that man walking in the rain, maybe he is in search of something beyond my realm of understanding.

There's something so beautiful about simplicity.

My XC Singlets: From a Crusader to a Redmen

There's always an indescribable thrill when I slip on my race singlet.

In my Freshman year of high school, I paid $20 bucks and received my blue Crusader singlet. Back in the days when I barely know much about the sport of Cross Country, I was told to wear IT in my race instead of my beloved cotton T-Shirt, because, supposedly, this piece of clothing would make me run faster; Hmm..surely the design of it made every logical sense to improve the runner's speed. The feather-weight material complimented by strategically tailored cuts together provide a natural cooling system and allow the runner to glide through the air.

It wasn't until my Sophomore year that my blue Crusader singlet meant more than a piece of racing gear to me. My new-found meaning extended beyond its physical value. It was part of a part that makes a 'whole'. As individualistic a sport Cross Country is, I see that I am not sailing alone; I got teammates.

I guess maturity does come with age. In Junior and Senior years, the significance of my blue Crusader singlet was taken to another level. A reputation has risen. The blue singlet was known to be the "blue wave". It was a topic of coaches all over the province when the singlet made its appearance on the Provincial Podium, the top one might I add. Before the gunfire to start every race, with our feet behind the line, we put the reputation on the line.

So the XC life followed me to college, minus the responsibilities and pressure of being team captain. Everything else seem to be the same ol' boat except the new trails, new teammates, and a singlet with a new name at the front: "McGill" - a new legacy.

Redmen.

Cold, Cold Steel

Underneath the skin of every human being, there are muscles. Within the muscles there are nerve fibers, blood vessels etc. And if you were to trace these "routes", eventually they lead to two place, the brain and the heart, qualities that make human..well, human.

I remember the Februaries I spent at the Beaverworx machine shop. The cold cold Canadian Februaries - dark and damp. I was surrounded by machines; machines with their own specialties, manipulated under my hands to give rise to a new machine. Pile of steel, scrap metal turned into a structure, a body, minus the a soul. Oh how cold and senseless it was...until the programmer, I, brought it to life.

Keystrokes and clicks, transformed into rise and fall of an electrical pulse that forced strings of codes into the robot's "brain" to make it all but dead. Logic, that's what it had, transferred from the human brain to the machine "brain", of which computes purely on the basis of probability and strict, definite mathematical equations.

With a camera, it sees; with a motor, it moves. With a lines of command in its brain, it functions... while I, was slowly turning into a machine, being no longer controlled by the body chemistry but that pile of cold, cold steel staring at me - like a child I brought to life. I, operate on the rise and fall of an electrical pulse sent from my "brain", striking the keyboards while the distance clock strikes 3AM.

I, no longer feel.

When Fall Falls

It's that time of the year again.

Each morning I wake up, my room always feels a bit cozy; it makes me feel lazy and not want to get out of my warm bed. I struggle, I debate, nevertheless, I make a conscious effort to get up, and look out my window, watching the leaves move in the wind blowing across the forest of Mont Royale. How peaceful a morning, a new beginning.

Each morning there's a subtle change of colour on the leaves. Just weeks ago, they were green, deep green, ever-green, as if they would never fade. They seemed invincible, having withstood the thunders and lightnings of midsummer nights.

Now as temperature drops, the sky falls, burdening the mind already full with onerous thoughts... Wind picks up, carrying a sharp chill, cuts through the tender skin on the face. What does it mean to be in nature's cycle? The rise and fall of the tides to the histories of empires. The days and nights of the month to the man's Ying and Yang.

Oh that men's inner strife
Vulnerability of life.
Now this fallen leaf,
returning to nature,
more mature,
than what it once was.

The Transition: Part II - Off to College

Some of my best high lights happened in high school, but I'm not sure if I really miss it, or would ever want to go back to, what some call, the 'glory' days.

I was bad, with power; bad to the point that "power" became meaningless. To those action movie fans, you know that "bad" and "power" make a VERY bad combination... Since my Sophomore year I've been having my way around the school. According to my school record, I cut a third of classes I was supposed to attend without ever getting questioned. For those who want to follow my notorious act, not that you should, the trick is to earn respect from every school staff, from custodian ladies to principal and superintendent. It wasn't that I purposely cut class, but that they were simply a waste of time. Physics made every sense after completing calculus in Grade 10 - the same year I cleaned up in the 800, 1500, 3000, XC and singles-badminton champion titles. Perhaps, that helped me to get the Presidential key to the senate office and all those end-of-the-year awards. The Jr and Sr years went even better in different ways; my favourite being leading our robotics team to the top quarter at Robotics World Championship.

Everything seemed to be in place. Good grades, girls, driver's license, none of that was what I was looking for. If I had to pick the most important of the three, it'd be the driver's license, that allowed me to go on my adventures.

Then late August finally came and I headed to college thanks to CMSF's overly generous scholarships that enscounced me in the heart of Montreal, on the beautiful McGill campus. Daily, I immerse myself a sea of student rushing to lecture halls from all over the world, and often bumping shoulders to get in Leacock 132 and fight for that seat at 8th row center, a bit off to the professor's right. Late nights of readings, infinite learning, translate to quiet time in my dormitory. Put on some tunes of acoustic guitar, which I recently fell in love with, light a candle, and pour a glass of soy milk, there I am, forming my own little space within the noise and parties of the legendary Molson Hall.

Pressure? Yes, like the giant's foot on an tiny ant. Yet a block of time is set aside daily to log the mileages in Cross-Country. Workout, practice, practice, workout; time - turns into meaningless numbers that obstructs the renewal of the laws of physics, since only time changes and distance doesn't. If I done it right, each time I reach exhaustion, the next day I should be a split-second faster on that last interval. There are the occasional escapes from the city-vibe on the long-runs up Mont Royal, rewarded at the top with an one-of-a-kind view of Montreal skyline; only then, I realize doesn't matter how far I run away from civilization, I am never too far away from it.

On the first night at Molson Hall, as my parents' car pull away from my sight, the new life had began. Alone in the big city at first, but joined by my new college friends. At my weakest moment, he had proven his loyalty, she, her sincerely kind-heart.

I don't know what word would one use to describe "The Transition"; ...how about apprehension?

The Transitions: Part I - Kindergarten to High School

Attending college is really different than attending any other institutions...Really, I mean it.

I'm sure if you think hard enough, you still remember the early days of kindergarten. Learning is...well, pretty much playing, eating snacks, and taking afternoon naps. Being a good "student" meant you just had to keep your hands off others, and don't break any toys.

Then one day, you move from Junior kindergarten to Senior kindergarten, then you graduate" from kindergarten all together. For those of us who didn't attend kindergarten, no worries, you didn't miss much; graduation rate was 99.9%.

Elementary school days seem to be the longest. For the first time we were given something called "homework", of which we did in class...until when Grade 8 happens; teachers suddenly gave us assignments called seminars and essays. Our work became serious enough that plagiarism had to be discussed and dealt with in a bureaucratic manner.

I'm sure you've had memorable elementary school days without thinking too hard about it. Remember your best friend who you got into a fist-fight with? Or how about your first crush on that particular girl or boy who doesn't have cooties unlike the others?

Oh yeah, how can I forget; how about those awkward sex talks in class that made you feel awkward yet curious?

For a while we never understood why we do what we do. Those raging hormones in our bodies lead our rebellion against authorities; we won the battles, but lost the war. High school came...

Emotions, we developed; they allow us to laugh, they make us cry, they let us love...oh how your heart skipped a beat when you had your first kiss, with that girl or boy whom you thought to be your "true love", of whom you'll one day marry and have a family with...

Then reality struck. Groups form. Those buddies from elementary school? Maybe not your friends anymore. Forever takes on a different meaning than what you used to know. Questions lead to confusion, which lead to more questions. We were mature enough to know, but helpless to do. Off to senior year we go; finally, some power we were awarded after sitting through the most boring drivers' ed, 10 hours of risking-life-on-the-road, 99 near accidents, and a jokingly-easy road test. Remember that thrill when you first inserted that key into the ignition? Turn the key, turn on freedom, and accelerate! Instead of being ruled, we ruled the school. We took over and became council presidents.

Over the years, with the hundreds of lessons we learned not from the school but from the mistakes we made, we were handed our graduation diploma. Finally, high school's done...for good.