What is it about a mother’s love for her children that strikes a resonant note in my heart?  Observe:

• a to-be 20-something mom blogs, "I want you to keep moving, because when you move my world stops."

• a baby-boomer mother mails a card to her daughter at college, "I am so proud of you."
• from one sister to another, "S: You should have seen me before Paige came
  K: I did.  You seemed fine.
  S: Yeah, on the outside.  On the inside?  I was a bundle of anxiety.  I was worried that I’d have to go back to work too early, that I wouldn’t be able to give Paige what she needed, that I’d ruin her life, that she’d ruin mine.  And then she came, and everything was so much more amazing than I could’ve imagined."

Motherhood is something profound, that much I know, but it’s something I don’t understand..

On certain nights, I have walked home from class feeling burdened by the injustice and ignorance in the world.  As cars zoom by me and a late-night runner circles the track, I drag my feet, furrow my brows, and wish for a solution I know will not magically appear because of my worrying.

Action is the antidote to despair.  –Joan Baez

I came across this quote—I don’t remember where, now—and couldn’t agree with it more.  Even in my brooding, I want to reprimand myself because who doesn’t suffer in the world?  Who is free from want and need?  Who has not experienced pain, suffering, misunderstanding, hunger, prejudice, racism, or injustice?

I am almost paralyzed by the stark hopelessness I feel because of the prevalence of these problems until I realize that everyone faces them.  There are times when I question whether people have woken up to the real state of our existence on this planet, but then I realize everyone knows.

People are not content to stay where they are and be complacent, and neither am I.

The question is, am I going to sit and think and brood and be in despair or am I going to pick up the pieces of shattered hope and say well, I’m not going to let this paralyze me.  What might happen if I refused to give in to despondency and refused to shirk my responsibility to my conscience?  Here's hoping I furrow my brows less.

Last quarter was likely the most stress-free quarter I have had in my time at UCSB.  I took the minimum course load of three courses to qualify for a full-time student, assignments were nicely staggered, and I never felt a time crunch until the last week of classes.  By all means, I should have been having a relaxing quarter back from Hong Kong.  But that was not the case.

Despite it being my "easiest" quarter at UCSB, I noticed I stressed out over any small thing.  Inconsequential matters that caught me off guard or disrupted my schedule in the slightest way caused a surge of adrenaline in me, which left me panicked for prolonged periods of time.  To put it bluntly, I found myself internally screaming in agony because of how stressed I felt.

Thus, I developed this theory that my body had adapted to giving me a lot of adrenaline (because in Hong Kong, the different culture, environment, people, living situation, etc., made my stress levels balloon), such that when I got back to the U.S., a small stressor would trigger an exaggerated fight-or-flight response.

Something as minor as forgetting a workbook at home and having to go back to retrieve it would have caused me to break out in a sweat at CU.  My unfamiliarity with the campus, the professors, and cultural norms, etc., would have led me to wonder, "Should I bother going back to get my workbook?  Will the teacher even care?  Is it better to have it or to be on time to class without it?" whereas at UCSB, it would be a quick decision without undue stress.  At CU, I discovered that something like ordering lunch can turn out to be an ordeal because of the language barrier.  Obviously, this is not the case in Santa Barbara.

The human body is praised for all sorts of amazing feats: if you’ve ever woken up before your alarm goes off, or if you’ve found yourself getting accustomed to having n amount of sleep (0 < n < 24 but it’s probably more like 4 < n < 9 for college students depending on variable x, for “day of the week”), you’ve experienced some of what the human body is capable of.  Last quarter, I found out my body had (temporarily!) adjusted to responding to high stress levels.

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Ever since a third of the way into last quarter, I have started incorporating more vegetables into my diet than ever before.  It feels great to eat steamed broccoli florets, carrot coins, zucchini, salad, you name it.  I never knew I could fall in love with vegetables to this degree.

I used to make meat the priority of my meal, but now I try to shift my focus to making vegetables the priority of my meals.  I started doing this all because I had brought a bunch of Asian veggies up to SB from the LA area.  Before long, the leafy greens started wilting and yellowing, so I decided to plan my meals so I would finish them faster.

I feel and think I look healthier – I am reaping the benefits of a high-fiber diet.  Doing this does not take a toll on my wallet.  It is also good for the environment. 

Need some meal ideas?  Try some salmon with herbs and lemon juice, and add half a plate of steamed veggies, or stir-fry broccoli with chicken and add hoisin and oyster sauces to taste.  Serve with rice or pasta.  There are so many variations if you are into salad.  The possibilities are exciting!  You can add chickpeas, corn, peas, broccoli, cauliflower, tomato, tofu, carrot, mushroom, alfalfa sprouts, and more, to a base of mixed greens, romaine, iceberg lettuce, or spinach.  Top with your favorite dressing—I like 1000 Island—and you're ready to go!

Brakes screech and all of us on the steps and those on the sidewalk turn our heads toward the intersection.  We strain our necks to see what is happening.  A woman gets out of her car and talks furiously, gesturing with her hands.  My classmates’ heads turn to me, their eyes glancing my way to gauge my reaction.  My parents have almost gotten into a car accident after dropping me off at school.

A large van had parked on the street and blocked the view of oncoming traffic.  My dad stopped at the stop sign and approached the intersection when the second car rapidly appeared.  The crossing guard saw everything and knew--as my parents did--that there was no contact between the two vehicles.

My dad gave her his insurance information.  If you’re not in an accident, there is no reason to disclose proof of insurance or driver’s info.  The woman sued us years later just as the statue of limitations was about to run out.  She alleged scratches to her car, emotional distress, and physical injury.  There were clearly no grounds for the suit.  It eventually closed, but not without first giving my parents a big scare.
 
This incident would provide a good reason for why I would be interested in going into law: to fight for justice, to help people who are wrongly accused, to advocate for those who do not know how to navigate the legal system, etc.  But I'm not interested.  This is kind of a long-winded way to say it, but hopefully it answers the question that many people ask me after they find out my major, “Are you going to be a lawyer?”

Any Newsweek readers out there?  Columnist George Will writes The Last Word for Newsweek, featured appropriately on the last page of the magazine.  I am going to try my hand at being a columnist, too.  My column will be titled The First Word—thanks to Mr. Will for inspiration for the name—because I hope to spark a conversation between my readers and I.  I do not want or expect my views to be the last word.

I was inspired to write my column by the film Marley&Me (no, I haven’t read the book).  In the film, Owen Wilson plays John Marley, a columnist whose life at home becomes the substance of his writing.  His columns throughout his career cataloged turning points in his life and provided lasting snapshots of his memories.  My purpose is not to get personal, or even sentimental.  Instead, I will write blurbs motivated by the going-ons in my life and put a thought-provoking spin to it.

I hope to hone my writing skills and spice up my Xanga a bit with the column.  The inaugural post is posted in the entry below.  See you in two weeks.

I currently have an internship at the District Attorney’s office downtown, where I run errands and deliver court documents, among other things.  It is a valuable internship for the “behind-the-scenes” look at how the Santa Barbara Superior Court is run and what the lawyers do to prepare for trial.

What we do when there is downtime, which happens fairly often, is court-watching.  We sit in the gallery and watch prelims, trials, and jury selections.  One day, I had the chance to watch an opening statement—which I had not seen before—given by one of the D.A.’s in our office.  As I sat in the relatively comfortable chairs in the gallery of Dept. 1, listening to one side’s presentation of the facts, I noticed a gaping, racial, divide among the people who were taking part in the proceedings.  The jury was composed of what seemed like your typical Santa Barbarian, or Goletian, man or woman.  There was one younger man who stood out to me because he could not have been much older than I am.  He was white.  Among the rest of the people in the jury box, not one was Chicano/a.  The Chicano defendant sat fifteen feet away.

The fact that race is a social construct and that the concept of whiteness is really an amalgamation of differences is valid, but here was a man who is entitled to a speedy trial and equal protection under the laws.  The Constitution does not specifically enumerate the right to a jury of one’s peers (the words do not appear in the Constitution), but something seemed amiss as I sat there listening, and learning with the jury for the first time what had happened to lead up to this murder trial, and noticing all the while that not one of the people in the jury box came from the same background as the defendant.

The judge, the D.A., and the defense attorney were white, by the way.

i have too much adrenaline in my body and this has been happening since.. a little after 3 >.<  (it's been four hours).  basically i feel my heart pumping, shortness of breath, find it hard to concentrate, and sometimes feel panic.  it's uncomfortable.  that last time i talked about tunnel vision when confronted by a math problem in cantonese class was a condensed version of this... like it was extreme shortness of breath, my brain just went into shock mode or something and stopped processing, but it was over in a matter of minutes.  this time it is drawnnnnn out... and i don't know how to stop it x|  i'm pretty sure this isn't healthy for my heart..