Excuse me, Ms. Lew, your photography sucks ass

The title says it all.

I could never imagine people have to take a major like “art” or “photography”.  Dance and music are even on the higher end than those, for which requires skills and years of training before taking on a professional route.

But photography and art are different. You don’t need to “learn” to paint or take a freaking picture.  All you need to do is move your fingers, and your performance is entirely subjective,  how freaking abstract is that. 95% of the time you are the only appreciator of your own work.  This is also a legendary major selection attracting emos, losers, lost in life, and do not have a effing idea of what they want to do.

I can even add on to the requirements: those who recently broke up with their partners; those who can’t do anything better, not even in social science.

“I want to become a photographer!!” . To me just sounds like a statement of giving up in life and trading in unproductivity, self-absordedness, and too emo to take an academic major or else I fail every class.

Unlike dance and music, you do have to learn ballet or play piano. Those stuff are for real, and to get into a professional school in that league- difficult, competitive, and have to undergo a strict range of performance standards when it comes to candidate selection.

I once attempted to spare my afternoon for a leisure besides crunching numbers and financial engineering. In a matter of two hours I put on make-up, posed, took hella pictures that later become widely acclaimed by perverted guys.  My profile picture is one example.

Trust me, there is such a thing as a good photographer.  However, they are born talents who do not need to pretentiously proclaim self as an artist.  If they do go to an art school, their work must be utterly impressive even as an 19 year old undergrad.

This lady dropped out from UCLA art school, and then transferred to some New York liberal fine art college that never been heard of in pursuing her dreams.  She recently wanted to pursue wedding photography business. I checked out her work.  They dull my eyes.

After two years of fine art training in numerous lower and upper division classes, I am surprised by the low quality of her work.  Obviously, Ms. Lew, your innate ability is far from calling yourself a photographer. Your portfolio does not even meet a decent level of impressiveness.  They fortunately only carry beyond the definition of mediocrity. They suck ass just as much as Heidi Montag’s performance at Miss Universe’s 2009 opening. Not even Anderson Cooper would bear taking a second look.

A new year.

The list of songs I listened to two years ago:

1) Lowlife- scanners

2) Lazy eye- silversun pickups

3) submarines

4) M83

5) Asobi

6) The shins.

I played these songs and bands repetitively and obsessively in my car’s radio. It was out of self-pitiness. And a desire to be extraordinary.

A friend of mine is in Paris, now, and just getting into the music genre that I used to adhere to. And most of all, it was odd. Because she got hooked on the Virgin Suicides.

It is like she is living my life from the past.

This year starts with a cold reality. I have to find an internship in no time,

which means, cutting back on being nostalgic.

A list of songs/bands that comfortably fits my vibe of the year, yet not to be too excessive:

1) CCR.

2) Sweet Child of Mine.- this song pops up in my head a lot.

3) human- the killers

4) Lynard Skynard

Good oldies. I like it being nostalgic and reminding me of Josh falling off to the bushes on New Years party. Sometimes life offers the most annoying moments as part of the precious memory.

My tastes in music and lifestyle slightly alters by year. I hope that is the sign of learning and maturing by time.

The Anniversary.

It was the second year, September 20th-something, since he first asked me out.

We were going to a local community during that year, it sits on top of the hill with winds always blowing, cold,

and we had been going to that gloomy place for a little while before we met each other.

That was the year when I was working on my internship and UC application, life wasn’t easy for a 19-year-old; besides, I just ended a short relationship with a guy, but was quite trying to get over the immature pain.

He was taking this political science class with me, on MWFs there was this weird and ambivalent chemistry in the class. And on TTHRs we had class right across the hallway from each other. So I saw him pretty much everyday.

It was weird how I fell in love. Somehow his bright blond hair looked super artificial and naturally would catch my eyes. On the crowded hallway I’d always spot him. He looked different back then, moodier, weirder, and less certain, with about everything.

I believe I looked different, in the same metaphorical manner. I bet people saw me as a porcelain china doll, quiet, study machine, grade grabber, and a fob.

Its been two years since our awkward, first date. That afternoon at the library, sitting across him at a table, I felt like it was a meeting between two aliens who just landed earth for the first time. We felt so wary, uncertain, nervous, yet hopeful.

German people wrinkle fast. His eyes look wearier and wrinklier compared to two years ago.

But I am quite certain he looks at me differently. Sometimes it is of dominance, affection, control, and jealousy.. too much of everything.

The locket he gave me before he left for the Navy is laying in my drawer. Handwritten letters, airplane and greyhound ticket receipts. More than a thousand pictures have been taken.

This two year has been a long journey of learning. So far, OK. If you try to look at it as two different people conciliating their differences. And they are not quite giving up yet.

How do human beings react to external negativity and psychological solititude.

I typically don’t like revealing too much of details on a blog.

But recently it has been a drag.

Sometimes I wish I have not taken Cal 2 during a six-week session,

I mean, I would rather be in an Abnormal Psychology class, where I could indulge my thoughts

of dissecting human motivations and behaviors.

My parents were planning on visiting me, yet some how, sometime during the past few months

they cancelled the trip. It has been a bad timing, my grandpa is sick, the economy is running down,

and several typhoons hit Taiwan during the past month.

I did not get notified of the cancellation until two days prior to their supposedly arrival.

As usual, relationship wise it has always been abusive and ridiculous,

where every phone call accompanies arguments and stomach ache.

On the other hand, I saw something on the World Wide Web that only proves the world is small and

technology has been only too advanced. Or maybe I simply have too much potential to become a CIA agent.

I soon noticed my declined mental health and the significant increase of emo time-lapse during regular days.

Things are getting bad, and Diet Red doesn’t even help anymore.

Pray that soon after the finals, the ambitious and strong-willed myself will make a neat come-back.

Escalating Commitment, a managerial jargon that applies to all.

I wasn’t too concerned about having a crappy relationship until about a while ago,

when I witnessed how a few of my friends successfully self-healed after a breakup.

There are some lame reasons for keeping a relationship, as follows:

1) We have been together for so long. (and the total incidents we have gone through just outlast the fact that we are not happy anymore)

2) But its ok because we don’t live in the same city. ( I could just stay busy and ignore the fact that we are not happy with each other)

3) I am afraid I might miss him to death. ( There may not be another person who would put up with me than he had).

I saw a very good friend of mine this weekend, who previously made a critical decision in his life and shoved off inconsistency in other related areas. I am not sure if I see a happier person, but there is definitely more lively energy overall.

In a lot of ways, having a stable relationship is like, being stabilized and dead. The worst part takes place when your partner has been less and less appreciative of you. This is the new realization I am getting in these days. Or maybe not just in these days, it is long overdue.