Mindset

New study yields instructive results on how mindset affects learning.

"According to Dweck, people's self-theories about intelligence have a profound influence on their motivation to learn. Students who hold a 'fixed' theory are mainly concerned with how smart they are—they prefer tasks they can already do well and avoid ones on which they may make mistakes and not look smart. In contrast, she said, people who believe in an 'expandable' or 'growth' theory of intelligence want to challenge themselves to increase their abilities, even if they fail at first."

And even though this wasn't really the point of the article...

"Last year, Dweck taught a freshman seminar based on Mindset. She chose 16 students from more than 100 who applied, selecting those who expressed personal motivation rather than intelligence. 'You can impress someone with how smart you are or how motivated you are, and I picked students who expressed their motivation,' she said."

Then, as my peers and I are in the midst of the college application process, thinking about those not deemed "smart" but who still have ambitious goals, thinking about myself, I thought, "Wow, if the entire world would think like that... wouldn't that be nice?"

It Really Doesn't Look A Lot Like Christmas

I woke up, or rather I was woken up, my door flying open, the bell hanging on the doorknob by a single string of lanyard jingling as much as the little thing would allow. The family bursted in one by one, not to greet me, but rather to take their turns being obnoxiously loud. It was Christmas, but I wasn't happy.

But I had already experienced about five hours of Christmas. I couldn't sleep that night, and so it took me until the very early hours of the morning to finally pass out. In general though, to be woken up after three hours of sleep is always rather unpleasant. I reluctantly sat up in bed though after my brother decided to throw my gift at me, my sole gift. Even the family friend I could rely on to get my brother and me oversized sweaters resorted to gift cards this year. But anyway, I picked up my brother's gift and started to unravel the unnecessary layers of wrapping paper that was the result of his bad gift-packaging job. "At least you made the effort," I said to him with a half-smile. I didn't bother to go to the tree either. Why? Because we didn't have one.

When I finally felt like it, I got up to brush my teeth and such. I looked out the window. It was bright. Were the trees not stark naked, I could have believed that it was actually somewhat warm outside, but like everything else they were bare; there wasn't a touch of spirit anywhere.

I looked at the ground. The snow from the past two weeks had finally melted. Ironic, I thought. Then I remembered how much I wanted it to snow. A white Christmas I had wanted. Wouldn't that have been nice?

...

After showering, I got dressed. I was going to New Jersey to see my cousins, something I was looking forward to as I hadn't seen them in months. Around noon, my family got in the car after much delay and we set off.

But the car ride was not pleasant.

"I don't know! You didn't raise us!"

I've never told my brother about any of that. So for him to notice it as well brought a new wave of tears to my eyes. It wasn't just me then. It was true.

I kept quiet the whole time. My brother retorted for me.

"So what do you want us to do? Put up a tree? Buy you whatever you want instead of giving you money?"

"It's not about that! Not everything is about money, you know?"

"Would you rather us work from only 9-5 and suffer because we'd just be getting enough money to get by?"

"Maybe. I guess. I mean, suffering teaches you things."

More arguing.

"So what do you want us to do? Tell us."

"I don't know! It's... not something that can be explained."

Even if it was though, my parents would never understand. They may care about us, and love us and are concerned about us, but they don't know what it means to be family.

We finally arrived at my cousins' house about an hour after the whole argument started. I greeted them, trying not to show any traces of that car ride conversation, but failing somewhat because subconsciously I think I needed to talk to someone right then and there. But their house was small and there wasn't any privacy, and the mood was too jovial to ruin anyway with my selfishness and personal pain, so I refrained myself from actually saying anything.

...

While I really was glad to see my cousins, there was something sad about it as well. With everyone sitting over a late lunch, my cousin started to talk about his experience with the police academy so far. I sipped my soda quietly as he casually told us about the difficult trials and constant training they had to go through.

"Yeah, I gained back my father's love," he said jokingly.

Except we knew he wasn't joking, or at least I did. His father really did disown him when he dropped out of Rutgers to pursue film. While he did graduate from another school I believe, he couldn't find a job anywhere, which has led him to his current state.

His father patted him on the back and smiled. He smiled back too, but I cringed at the sight. There's something wrong with pursuing what you love, but nothing wrong with putting your life on the line? Maybe there isn't anything wrong with the latter, but what's wrong with the former? Is that the only way a son can gain back his father's love? "Does he even want to do it?" I wondered to myself. Judging by the way he spoke, I couldn't even be sure.

...

On the way home, when I reached Manhattan, my friend called. Though I'm used to going long periods of time without speaking with her, after two days it was comforting to hear her voice again. I continued to speak with her until I had actually fallen asleep while still on the phone, and while our conversation started out casually, by the time I was home, alone in my room, and it was one or two in the morning, it began to get more serious.

"Ugh! I just can't believe they didn't spend Christmas with me," she said in frustration. Her family was somewhere in New Hampshire. "It's like they don't even know how much Christmas means to me."

Ironically, I chucked. "I know what you mean." Then I told her what happened.

"It's like I don't even care anymore!"

"I know," I replied. "But I mean, when you're used to growing up without anyone there, you don't want to spend time with them in the first place."

...

And as perfect as we want to think our lives are, as happy as we want to be and as fortunate as we think we are, we realize that our lives are probably missing the most important element in life. We may feel happy and fulfilled, but when you lack this feeling of familial warmth, you cannot help but feel horribly and haplessly hurt.

And when I think about it, when I think about all my friends, I wonder if it is that lack of warmth, that lack of feeling, that lack of family that draws us all together in the first place.

Soon the bells will start,
And the thing that will make them ring
Is the carol that you sing
Right within your heart.

Sweeney Todd

I am a sucker for musicals. And if you're like me, this isn't something you're going to want to miss.

Twisted plot. All-Star cast. Stellar singing. Stellar songs. And blood, blood, blood everywhere.

(Note: There's a reason why it's rated R.)

But unless you a person that will pass out from seeing large amounts of blood (which aside from the color does not even look remotely real), I wouldn't let it stop you from watching this excellent adaption by none other than Tim Burton himself.

The mood is gloriously dark, and there is quite a bit of contrast and parallelism between characters throughout the film. Aside from the bits of CG motion in the very beginning of the film (something I simply never liked), the movie was extremely well put together and the cinematography flowed beautifully.

The plot is magnificent itself. It is incredibly bloody obviously, but those with an appreciation for the macabre will take delight in this murderous musical. The killings are overly dramatic, I admit, however, it seems strangely appropriate for this grotesque story.

As for the cast, it is clear from the opening credits that the movie is dense with quality acting. Veterans such as Johnny Depp (Sweeney Todd), Helena Bonham Carter (Mrs. Lovett), Alan Rickman (Judge Turpin), and Timothy Spall (Beadle Bamford) portray their characters with ease and perfection, while other actors such as Jamie Campbell Bower (Anthony Hope), Laura Michelle Kelly (Beggar Woman), Jayne Wisener (Johanna), and Ed Sanders (Toby) make their noteworthy big screen debuts.

Despite not being professionally trained singers (with the exception of Laura Michelle Kelly), however, the entire cast executes their respective songs superbly. Disproving all criticism concerning the casting of the musical, all have surprisingly gorgeous voices, even Ed Sanders, who I would naturally assume is really quite young and inexperienced. Especially since Steven Sondheim's lyrics are so unique, for all the actors to have sang the songs with such emotion and beauty is a true accomplishment on their parts. Additionally, even the orchestral background music is full and fulfilling, complimenting the singing perfectly.

Holistically though, the story itself is certainly one to watch. Though I admit that I was worried that despite the excellent music and lavish display of blood, such a magnificent musical would lack a decent ending, I must say that the end is actually quite satisfying.

A macabre musical that is genius itself, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a must-see for musical lovers and [open-minded] moviegoers alike.

(I think I'm going to run out and get the soundtrack now too.)

Rating: 5/5

Picture copyright (c) Dreamworks/Paramount and WB.

Life and the Absurd

So today was not a very pleasant day in terms of my encounters while meandering up and down the social grapevine. I made quite a few discoveries, none of which I am happy about at all.

Item One: Fat Bastard, as he shall hence be called, a boy (if he may even be called that) who has lived an overpampered, overprivileged life, cocky with conservative ideals and repugnant with racist thoughts, a boy who has indeed been "diagnosed" I suppose as being retarded, has been officially accepted to Cornell, on a golf scholarship no less.

Item Two: While they are indeed very, very, very good runners, the M Twins have apparently been accepted into Columbia University and Brown University on running scholarships. While the Brit has also been accepted to Brown on a sports scholarship, at least she really is smart. The M Twins, however, really aren't. I've heard they have 92 averages? I assume that's weighted already too.

Item Three: The Pig has been feeding off the community trough again. In other words, because she was deferred from Yale, she is now applying to approximately thirty schools, including all the Ivies except Harvard (oh the irony) and several safety schools. So in addition to making us all look horribly stupid by having a GPA that is two points above the usual Valedictorian average (making the difference between oneself and the Valedictorian SO much greater), she insists on barring us from the schools we love most.

MY OPINION ON THE MATTER:

While I'm not interested in Cornell myself, I've found out from my confidant, FatMan, that my coworker, who has been worrying for at least the past week, has been deferred from the university. While I'm not sure how he compares to students in his own school, one can be sure that he is certainly smarter than the fat lard that did get in. What pisses me off further is the fact that a girl last year, eighth in the class, Intel Semi-Finalist and everything, still got deferred to the January term. So how did this retarded mama's boy, who isn't even good at golf, get accepted into this Ivy League institution? "How much did his dad donate?" was the first thing my friends assumed. I laughed. He kept saying,"Oh, the coach called me last night," however, so I personally think they bribed the coach. While I admit that I really don't have any basis for these assumptions, my peers and I have spent enough time with him to know that he really has lived an overprivileged life. His family truly knows how to pull strings, and it has been like that since the beginning. There was never anything we could do about it, and even now, all we can hope for is that upon arriving at college, away from his mommy, he will crash and burn.

As for the M Twins, as kind and talented as they are, they do not deserve to go to Ivy League institutions at all. What pisses me off here is that I simply could have not studied, played tennis instead, and I would probably have the same average, perhaps even higher. Yet at the same time, according to our school's acceptance history, I'm probably going to be waitlisted or outright rejected from Columbia, and outright rejected from Brown.

Speaking of Brown, the fact that the Pig is applying there does not make the situation any better. Aside from the two girls who have been accepted on athletic scholarships, one of whom is more or less third in the class, the Salutatorian and now Valedictorian are both applying as well. So what does it make me? Some little insignificant creature that's just floating around in the back of the line, that's what it makes me. Just like a piece of crap in the toilet...

Anyway, the fact of the matter is that by applying to so many schools, schools she probably personally doesn't want to go to herself, she is certainly barring some lone person from the school of his or her dreams. (There's no shame in it at all. Only selfishness and greed.)

I only hope the school of my dreams knows a real person from this phony. Like a loyal wife, I'd like to think that I know my husband well, and that his morals and ideals will not falter in the presence of an invasive whore.

Except, in that sense, we're not married yet.

But anyway, if I'm wrong, the last chapter of my memoir will have been written.

I'm outraged about a few other things too, but I'll allow this to be the topic of the day.

Pebble

I'm not as great as everyone thinks. As much as I'd like them to think that I am, I'm really not.

"Don't worry! You'll get in!"

"Someone as smart as you... it shouldn't be a problem!"

"Pfft... oh please. What have you got to worry about?"

Then the result.

"I can't believe someone like you didn't get in right away!"

"If you didn't get in, I don't see how anybody could!"

"How could they not accept you?"

Easy.

When the university you think epitomizes and lauds the idea of being a well-rounded person decides not to accept you, you begin to wonder what went wrong.

Could it be that I'm not well-rounded enough?

No. Rather, I think I'm too well-rounded.

Indeed, I think I've attempted to cover more areas than I perhaps should have. It is not to say that my involvement in things have been shallow, but like water with no cracks to seep into, I've become an unexceptional puddle that remains stagnant and immobile.

Even if I cannot be considered immobile, I shall then be compared to a stone that has been tossed around by the waves, my edges smoothed so that my faces become indistinguishable. This is opposed to the rocky land, which instead dictates the path of the river or stream that attempts to carve it, that fails and consequently makes the rocky land seem only greater.

And in the end, I've become a pebble on a planet of rocks. And instead of being the canyon or the gorge or the mountain or the cliff, I've become a faceless part of existence, good at everything, but not good enough. I am everything, yet at the same time, I am nothing.

Carve me into something great.

Small and nondescript, lost in this world with endless hope... so the pebble goes, towards destiny, floating on forever more.

The Early Decision

So I had this whole blog entry planned out about how disappointed I was after finding out that I got rejected from Penn.

Fortunately, I won't be needing it.

That does not mean, however, what I would like it to mean.

And in fact, what this means to me is that the story of my memoir has not yet come to an end.

And these past four weeks will be nothing compared to the next four months I have to wait, only an hour of which has passed.

So it continues...

As I continue to live with hope in my days.

Cake!

But stupid me forgot to take the picture before cutting it.

My bad.

Amazing what the angle can do though...

Troublesome

So I realized after first period that the only way I could get into my house was if my brother got home before me. When the thought finally occurred to me that I had forgotten to replace my garage door opener back into my bag, slowly sliding my hand back and forth across the inside pocket, I confirmed that there was indeed no familiar lump that was the remote to my garage.

This upset me, as I knew it would rain the entire week, and I was not too keen about being locked outside my house, not only in the cold, but in the rain as well. My nose was excessively runny the entire day too, and I was not pleased with the idea of catching a real cold.

Luckily for me, by the time I did get home the rain had stopped, although I was still in the same predicament. Clever me then comes to the conclusion, however, that I would just walk to the neighboring shopping center and just waste away the time there.

So I did, though I encountered a man while I was there. He seemed to be an average man, not a bum but not wealthy either, dressed in the plainest clothes.

I accidentally made eye contact upon leaving the store.

"Excuse me," he said in a very soft-spoken voice. "Can you do me a favor?"

I stared. Never speak to strangers, right?

"I was wondering if you could spare a few singles. I ran out of gas and I can't get home."

I hesitated for a moment. In that moment, my stomach lurched forward slightly. I remembered my friend's mother telling us about how she was placed into a similar situation. Was it a scam? Would he attack me? When I came back to the present, I was suddenly struck with the dilemma of being nice or maintaining my distance. Standing there under the lights in my new, pink, strawberry-printed scarf, he must assume that I had some cash on me. In the next two seconds, however, I reasoned that as a child, my money was limited and it was not my own to give.

I shook my head slowly. "No. Sorry," I mumbled into my scarf.

Luckily, my brother had just arrived to pick me up. I hopped into the car, quickly, not so much because I was scared but because I knew thoughts must be running through the man's head after seeing my brother's well-kept, shiny black car. Indeed, I saw him eyeing us as we pulled away, and I felt relieved to be gone.

And to think that all that resulted from one forgetful move on my part.

How troublesome.

Perfect Isn't Perfect

Unhappy? Self-Critical? Maybe You're Just a Perfectionist

Alas, someone agrees!

And yes, I know I'm quite the perfectionist myself. But that's why, even for me, there's always a point where I just don't care anymore.

Hah...

Agarose Man

Blogger's Note: For those not science-savvy, agarose is a gel-like substance that can be liquefied when heated. It is usually used for gel electrophoresis, and will take the shape of the tray it is poured into. However, in this case...

So while carrying out my duties at the lab (which was, at that moment, loading the dishwashers), I came across the usual bottle with leftover agarose at the bottom. I performed the usual procedure by flushing the bottle and attempting to remove the hardened excess. When I was able to extract the piece from the bottle, however, I could not help but notice that the piece was actually quite perfect and round, which led me to my short little adventure...

He's cuter in person.

Meet Agarose Man, the Intern Mascot. I'd like to continue telling the story of his creation, but it's definitely one of those "be there" moments.

Snow and Procrastination

Happy December.

And for record-keeping purposes...

It snowed today!

Hooray.

But away I go now.

Conrad's Heart of Darkness awaits.

As does his unnecessary verbosity...

Boo.