Awake my soul

Two years. It's been two years or close enough to it since I last posted on this blog. I can think of several reasons why I feel so inclined to write on it again, but what comes to mind the most is a lyric from Mumford and Son's "Awake My Soul":

Where you invest your love,
you invest your life.

I don't feel like I've invested enough of my time and care to friends and others. By extension that includes anyone who might read something I have to say and gain from it. It's a long shot that someone might gain anything from this, but even if it's just me getting the chance to sort out life events, it's worth it.

Rat Bites

"Rat bite." That's what Erik calls the fresh gouge that marks where a razor blade shaved off a small chunk of my ear.

Several days ago I had a semi-surprise dermatologist appointment - I was given a two day notice, hence the "semi." The doctor walked in, had me strip down and started marking moles that she "didn't like." Then came the shots and razor. 10 minutes later I was walking out with 5 pieces of me left behind. I didn't expect to become a human pincushion/ biopsy goldmine on a Friday after finishing a busy semester.

But the real highlight of last week was...


TRON! With SARAH! OOH YEAH! It was spectacular on the I-MAX screen. Glowing suits, pretty lights and lovely cinematography. After the dust settled we were ready to leap into the air and have our own rad bike or car warp into existence. And the glowing suits were sexy.

The remake certainly trashes the original Tron. The latter consists of painfully garbled dialogue that begs more questions than answers, a plot line that seems to jump from point A to point H and a Jeff Bridges who is hardly endearing. Honestly, he could have been 'derezzed' and I would have laughed. Laughed and clapped. But then there would have been no Tron: Legacy. Tragic dilemma we find ourselves in. Count your lucky stars, Jeff Bridges. You redeemed yourself this time.

Happy Last Day of Classes!

"I'm going to miss all of you... for a couple of weeks," Professor Stokes said.

Then, pointing out the student with the questions whose answers are always right in front of us, he said, "I'm going to miss you especially. You've made this class... interesting."

With the end of another semester in sight I bring up my new class schedule, check it against the requirements for my major, and GULP. I'm just barely nibbling at the fringes of PDBio. As in, if I were a mouse nibbling at cheese, I'm going to starve at this rate.

Still, I'm set in my decision of sticking with this major - that is, unless I get struck by a flash of inspiration or lightning. Either or.

The end of a semester is also the harbinger of other endings. A dear friend of mine was rejected from the photography program. That was a terrible blow for her, especially since we both know she's gifted. It cut short her dreams of getting into the program here at BYU. But it didn't cut short her ambition.

My friend's disappointment revived my own hunger to get into said program. Photography's my secret pleasure. I've had lofty visions of myself becoming a National Geographic photojournalist. Still, however much people might say, "Go for your dreams," I say in return, "Make sure your dreams are rooted deep in something real."

Like becoming a dancing, 'picture-perfect' doctor.

A Lovely Revelation

"You might be surprised to know that you have tons of viruses coursing through your veins right now."

-Dr. Berges, Molecular Biology 240 lecture.

I can't say I'm fond of being host to little demons floating around in my body. But then, I figure that I'm a parasite of sorts myself - or at least a symbiont. It's theorized that a long time ago our mitochondria were bacteria incorporated by eukaryotes and a beautiful symbiotic relationship was formed.

I like these little tidbits I pick up in class. It's too bad physics doesn't come as easily - it just consistently proves its own concepts wrong in the labs. Just one more semester....

Cheers to a resurrected blog!

Daikon Head

I'm on an A-Z movie list spree, and the other night the lottery fell on "H."

I have a strange infatuation with Miyazaki Hayao films- they're reminiscent of my sojourn to Japan, totoro's and all. "Howl's Moving Castle" had many of the themes common to other Miyazaki films, like redemption, Victorian clothing, and wonderous air balloons (so far they're up one against Ferrari).

But a hopping scarecrow with a turnip for a head? That won me for sure.

My family is not a bunch that takes to anime so well, and understandably so: with Dragonball Z and Power Rangers (they're fake enough for the category) as their only contact with the industry- in fact, with Japanese pop culture in general besides cuddly Godzilla or run-ins on my humble collection of J-Pop- I'm in no position to boo and point my finger of Kamehameha destruction.

I still remember a time when Katri dressed up in rag-tag fashion and spiked her hair and called herself "Dragonball Z." I still get teased for my love affair with Pokemon that turned salty like soy sauce. I still adore Pikachu. I still crave tonkatsu and donburi, tsukemono and the occasional natto. I still love my kawaiimono (Rilakkuma's lounging in the closet).

I still embody #58 of Stuff White People Like, with a few exceptions:

I had sushi at Furusato's in Waikiki yesterday. That was better sushi than the stuff I could afford in the big J, and

I don't have much of a desire to teach English over there. I did it for free, and I don't need to do it again.

But yeah, I do kind of ruin it for everyone else.

Forks

One step is followed by step followed by another toward someplace I ought to go.

Then I come across a fork in the road- two paths diverged, or three- and comes the decision to be made: left, or right, or straight?

Only, if I could only travel all three- just to walk and see what lies yonder that rock, hill, nook, cranny, tree.

But to plod along then backtrack is no way to go- forks lead to forks of forks. There's only one of me, and one of my destination-to-be, and one of a one-of-a-kind life- not three.

Besides, my feet are sore.

Left, right, or straight?

Onward it is then,

and I step-
followed by step followed by step

followed by choice.

Chopsticks... check!

rice... check!
sour-kraut... potent!
creative juice... where's 7/11 when you need it?

If I were an anthropology major, I would do a study on the migration from facebook to blogspot. I appreciate the former's services, but couldn't resist the personalization. Gmail gets another A+ for their ninja theme.
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Now begins the feast. I'm Jokke, and I will be your server today. I won't bore you with the usual introductory material- you're here to eat.