Note to self: never wind up packing up to leave a place by yourself. Somehow it winds up being more wistful and depressing.
It's been fun, 122. I'll see you around.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Memory Sketching
My first ever major league baseball game was less glamorous than my little league game that previous week. I had gone 2-3 with a couple of infield singles, and I had been plunked on the hip by an errant pitch. We had lost by a wide margin, but at least I had played every single inning. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for the game between the big boys later that evening.
My father had received two free tickets to the Cardinals game against the Pittsburgh Pirates, a relatively normal game in a long season of baseball. The game started at seven, but I knew we would probably be a little late as my dad usually got home around 6:30. By the time we left the house, it was already seven. Driving away from our comfortable suburban brick house and into the doom and gloom of downtown St. Louis was a daunting experience for a third grader. As we drove farther and farther in, more and more graffiti lined the undersides and pillars of towering highway bridges and rundown factory buildings. As we exited the highway, I tried to look unfazed by the homeless people roaming the streets. Steam rose from the manholes covering the streets as if we were in Gothem City. I couldn’t wait until we actually got into the ballpark.
Unfortunately, my dad had rarely been downtown either, and did not know where to park. For some reason, he decided to pull into a random lot with no attendees, under one of the soaring highway bridges that I had marveled at earlier. Now we were directly underneath one of them, cars roaring by some 50 miles overhead, shaking the very beams that supported the concrete behemoth of a structure. There were some other cars in the lot, as well as a rickety coin slot machine where you were supposed to pay according to your parking stall. After deciphering the coded hieroglyphics from the chipping yellow paint, my dad put a quarter in.
It simply fell to the bottom. He tried again, and the same thing happened.
My dad shrugged, and chuckled to himself. “Uh-oh. I guess we don’t have to pay.”
By the time we maneuvered our way into the outfield bleachers, it was the fourth inning already. The entire game itself was hard to follow. The outfield seemed an awful long ways away, and every time a major play happened, everyone stood up and blocked my vision. As my interest in the game waned, my nervousness over our parking situation overtook my mind.
What happens if we go back there and our car is gone? What if there’s a huge parking ticket? What if there’s graffiti all over our car?
As my panic level arose, I grew fidgety.
“How long did you want to stay?” my dad, who wasn’t a fan of baseball asked after an inning.
“We can leave after the next inning…” I quickly replied.
We went back to our car shortly after the sixth inning. Our car was sitting there as we left it.
My father had received two free tickets to the Cardinals game against the Pittsburgh Pirates, a relatively normal game in a long season of baseball. The game started at seven, but I knew we would probably be a little late as my dad usually got home around 6:30. By the time we left the house, it was already seven. Driving away from our comfortable suburban brick house and into the doom and gloom of downtown St. Louis was a daunting experience for a third grader. As we drove farther and farther in, more and more graffiti lined the undersides and pillars of towering highway bridges and rundown factory buildings. As we exited the highway, I tried to look unfazed by the homeless people roaming the streets. Steam rose from the manholes covering the streets as if we were in Gothem City. I couldn’t wait until we actually got into the ballpark.
Unfortunately, my dad had rarely been downtown either, and did not know where to park. For some reason, he decided to pull into a random lot with no attendees, under one of the soaring highway bridges that I had marveled at earlier. Now we were directly underneath one of them, cars roaring by some 50 miles overhead, shaking the very beams that supported the concrete behemoth of a structure. There were some other cars in the lot, as well as a rickety coin slot machine where you were supposed to pay according to your parking stall. After deciphering the coded hieroglyphics from the chipping yellow paint, my dad put a quarter in.
It simply fell to the bottom. He tried again, and the same thing happened.
My dad shrugged, and chuckled to himself. “Uh-oh. I guess we don’t have to pay.”
By the time we maneuvered our way into the outfield bleachers, it was the fourth inning already. The entire game itself was hard to follow. The outfield seemed an awful long ways away, and every time a major play happened, everyone stood up and blocked my vision. As my interest in the game waned, my nervousness over our parking situation overtook my mind.
What happens if we go back there and our car is gone? What if there’s a huge parking ticket? What if there’s graffiti all over our car?
As my panic level arose, I grew fidgety.
“How long did you want to stay?” my dad, who wasn’t a fan of baseball asked after an inning.
“We can leave after the next inning…” I quickly replied.
We went back to our car shortly after the sixth inning. Our car was sitting there as we left it.
Friday, June 10, 2011
X-Men and Related Thoughts
A bunch of us celebrated the end of senior year by going to see X-Men: First Class last night. It appealed to me a lot because it was actually my first X-Men film/real exposure to the world of Doctor Xavier and co. Similar to watching the latest Star Trek movie last year, it was a cool new world with compelling storylines that I was getting to know all at once.
Marvel has made a lot of money from this super hero motif, one of normal people becoming unnatural people in some way or form, and then adapting to their new world. They are so successful because everyone wants to be taken to this whole new world, to make believe that there are these cool characters out there that can defy normal rules of gravity. Now, starting in a couple days, us graduates have our own real-life opportunity to do just that.
The grand connection: graduating college is like getting this new power. Albeit it is not that cool or rare, but for the first time, we have a freedom and unwritten script ahead of us.
With great power comes great responsibility... or something like that.
Marvel has made a lot of money from this super hero motif, one of normal people becoming unnatural people in some way or form, and then adapting to their new world. They are so successful because everyone wants to be taken to this whole new world, to make believe that there are these cool characters out there that can defy normal rules of gravity. Now, starting in a couple days, us graduates have our own real-life opportunity to do just that.
The grand connection: graduating college is like getting this new power. Albeit it is not that cool or rare, but for the first time, we have a freedom and unwritten script ahead of us.
With great power comes great responsibility... or something like that.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Softball, I will miss thee
After four years of playing softball at the ARC, I can honestly say it is one of my most cherished memories of college. We've come a long ways since freshman year in housing league when I desperately tried and failed to recruit a full team, scrounging together a "Cielo" team with the help of some random guys that were already at the field.
Sophomore year, we came within one game of winning the softball classic with a random group of players, including a certain outfielder named Jason Chung. And from there, a friendship was born.
In the spring of sophomore year, we found some takers to form another housing team, this time for VDC Norte. I still remember getting womped 17-1, 15-0, 9-3 which was seen as a good game. But then in the playoffs, everything clicked. Maybe it was because we had Smalls, maybe it was because we finally figured out our defensive alignment. But who am I kidding? It was all because of "the red bat."
In the summer between sophomore and junior year, Mwen couldn't play, and we unfortunately went 2-3 or something like that.
Junior year, we were able to take the softball classic, but scuffled in the Spring with too many players missing again.
Summer season before senior year, we were dominant. Unfortunately, the whole Jason Chung coming back from Spain fiasco happened, but we can take solace in being the best team in that league.
And then this year, after getting over the heartbreak of not being able to play in the Classic, I had a grand time with both my co-ed and men's teams, which was able to win the championship against the Balco Beasts this past Tuesday.
I will miss being out on those fields with so many friends and great teammates. It was an honor being captain, really cool to play shortstop and master my opposite field stroke, and obviously nice to experience some success. I am proud that none of us really had prior baseball experience past little league, but that we all were able to improve our skills through the years. Special shoutouts to Yi Bu's transformation into an outfielder, Anne's overall learning of the game, and of course Vanessa's emergence as an all-star second baseman. But beyond all of that, there is nothing quite like being on the good old baseball diamond, rooting on your teammates swinging the bat and throwing the ball.
Sophomore year, we came within one game of winning the softball classic with a random group of players, including a certain outfielder named Jason Chung. And from there, a friendship was born.
In the spring of sophomore year, we found some takers to form another housing team, this time for VDC Norte. I still remember getting womped 17-1, 15-0, 9-3 which was seen as a good game. But then in the playoffs, everything clicked. Maybe it was because we had Smalls, maybe it was because we finally figured out our defensive alignment. But who am I kidding? It was all because of "the red bat."
In the summer between sophomore and junior year, Mwen couldn't play, and we unfortunately went 2-3 or something like that.
Junior year, we were able to take the softball classic, but scuffled in the Spring with too many players missing again.
Summer season before senior year, we were dominant. Unfortunately, the whole Jason Chung coming back from Spain fiasco happened, but we can take solace in being the best team in that league.
And then this year, after getting over the heartbreak of not being able to play in the Classic, I had a grand time with both my co-ed and men's teams, which was able to win the championship against the Balco Beasts this past Tuesday.
I will miss being out on those fields with so many friends and great teammates. It was an honor being captain, really cool to play shortstop and master my opposite field stroke, and obviously nice to experience some success. I am proud that none of us really had prior baseball experience past little league, but that we all were able to improve our skills through the years. Special shoutouts to Yi Bu's transformation into an outfielder, Anne's overall learning of the game, and of course Vanessa's emergence as an all-star second baseman. But beyond all of that, there is nothing quite like being on the good old baseball diamond, rooting on your teammates swinging the bat and throwing the ball.
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