Liberal Bleeding Heart

It’s just an old song by The Beatles but its lyrics are so brilliant. “For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.” Below is the song by them.

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Hola everyone! Long time no see. Howdy!

It’s been such awhile since the last time we were here, huh? Well, we’ve been busy “coping with life.” Working, studying (just an ordinary ESL class) and sometimes daydreaming. Sound easy but it’s not what it seems to be. Life’s often tougher than we thought. Not being guided, you have to figure things out by your self, often times, in a hard way. We were going through long enough to realize that it’s not easy to be what we want to be. (Duh!) It’s not wrong with anybody. It’s just wrong with us. We know it but somehow we couldn’t fix it. Guess it was because our pride is so big and we’re on a so high horse. Do you think it’s a common feeling among the teenagers? Want to be grown-ups and everything.

Being off from the blogging world was not awful at all. Day after day, we came to understand that what we wrote was not what we really want to write, freely. Care too much about clothes but not the body, we can tell it that way. We were always finding some most awesome blog writing tool—such as Windows Live Writer or Wblog (we don’t remember it exactly)—but not to give all our concentration on things we was about to write. Focusing on means too much, we forgot the meanings which are much more important than the blog itself. We now longer have to push ourselves to post anything up to our blog everyday. It’s not a journal blog and so no need to be daily updated. Therefore we have more time to think. Read the rest of this entry »

If you scroll this page downward a little bit, it’s a column named We see the world–my tumblr blog–where I save some interesting things on the Internet. They maybe helpful for you so why not give it a try? I should have noticed you guys earlier but thought I would have more content on my tumblr; and so, I guess it’s now the time.

You can subscribe it through RSS or just visit my blog more often to see updatings. This time, we have lots of beautiful wallpapers for your desktop featured a calendar of June. Not bad, checkidow!

[You can find the rest of the 3-episode series here.]

There are tons of articles, interviews and advertisements out there talking about the battle between Mac and PC (or say between Apple and Microsoft), you know. But this redmaloo’s made some very good video shots so I can’t help showing one of them here. Do you hear the “bip” sound when the green guy said “Mac”? It’s kind of a mock, I think. Since the PC is “for everyone”, for the whole universe, Mac is not. Then it became a “bad word.” Very funny, those ad-makers!

There are more than one reason I’d like to have a Mac on my laps (and in my most-wanted list): good typeface selection in UI design, sophisticated performance, reliable hardware platform, a neat looking (its CPU is assembled into the display, see the picture below), et cetera.

Apple iMac compared to Dell XPS 410: It maybe an ad but it’s pretty true. I hate those many cords hanging all over the workplace. » Ad by Apple

But money go with the goods. A Mac on average is fairly more expensive than a PC. Who knows why! Can you guys some marketing/economic experts explain this?

Carl’s Jr. banner: One of the most favorite fastfood stores at America. (For illustration only.) » Pictured by Xurble

So this is the second day at work. And I’m on-job-training. For these two days, me look like a jungle monkey playing Guitar Hero III for the very first time. But I think things are gonna be okay after one or two weeks later. All of the crew from cashier to manager are all Mexicans. But gosh, what’s the problem? They’re all kind and have helped me a lot. Without them, I cannot do my best.

All I have to do are these:

• Clean tables,
• Clean floor,
• Change trash bags,
• Serve dishes,
• Clean men’s room,
• Clean women’s room (the nearly hardest part),
• Clean the bars,
• Make shakes,
• Refill napkin boxes, and
• Take orders from folks

Let me draw you a picture: You’re standing in front of a black cashing machine with ugly user interface. There’s a mess of names stuck in there and you have to find one very quickly when costumers ask for things. They might want to have onion, but no mayo, add some CrissCut but “have no cheese on my food, please.” And I mistaken an order for once. You’re not supposed to mis-entered the items because if you want to clear the wrong ones, the manager has to approve for that deletion. I have my manager approve no less than six times. Y’know, this is a mad-driving machine.

Cashier: This is not the store I’m working in and of course it’s not me. This best describes how a cashier’s doing behind the bar. » Pictured by the jof

I clocked out at 3 PM. Siting at a bus stop after a hard-labored day, I’m exhausted and wanted to let go. But hell, I do know that was a stupid thought. If I let it win over me again, I’m gonna be forever a Charlie Brown. I mean an unlovable one. C’mon dude! Chill out!

One day, I suddenly realized that I’m no more than an empty barrel. No gasoline so end up running road. No destination so stop thinking. I blamed everything including me myself. On a Saturday afternoon, I was reading a book my Uncle had lent me and learned blaming is one of the human nature. That’s pretty true! I then stopped blaming and closed my blog.

There are actually some events brought me those thoughts, which made me perceive boldly the truth that I’m still a kid. And I was thinking of changing.

“Immigrator”? There’s a red zigzag line appears at the word’s serifs as I typed it. Any more interesting than that shitty immigrator? The blog’s name is not supposed to change so often, yet this is not a pro blog or ones of a journalist’s articles. I’m not a logical-thinking person, y’know. I do things according with my feelings and am hunger for liberty of men. That’s why this name appears.

Improvement is good, right?

The best place to learn a language is its native country.

In this case, it is American English spoken in the U.S. I totally agree yet mind you, it’s true if only you had no idea about the language widely spoken in that country OR/AND you were a very small kid. So for the guys like you and me, with twenty one passed springs, ain’t way suited the statement.

Here are two words, “port” [pawrt]^* and “pot” [pot]^*. They differ by just the letter r. Could you sound them differently? If you couldn’t observe the diffence in those two’s sounds, you didn’t get the rules.

For more examples, try “rich” and “reach”, “bitch” and “beach” (be very careful when you’re using these words), and “off” and “of”.

For a very long, long time, me and some of my English classmates believed these words are pronounced just like each other. We don’t know how to move our tongues and lips and how to vibrate our throats in a proper manner. Read the rest of this entry »

Here are just some minor things I saw in America. “America” is not a right word, “my city” better. So below are some stuff I saw in my city, Garden Grove, CA.

Garden Grove Boulevard: near my house. This picture is specially related to my beloved bicycle. » Pictured by chapsuy

If you fly on a helicopter and look down at the streets in Garden Grove (and in America at large), you will think of a huge chess board. (Get Google Earth or Google Maps for a real look.)

But this one is not a black-and-white woodboard, a gray-and-white-and-dark roofs instead. Every street only leads to one of these directions: horizontal, vertical or diagonal. Horizontal means going from North to South, vertical means going from West to East and so forth.

On an average street, there are usually two up to four lanes for each direction. A car must run within one lane at a time. You can change to another lane while driving, but you’re not supposed to change so many time that you might block the traffic flow and you might get a ticket (of $500, or double if you were driving near a road construction area). Read the rest of this entry »

I am grateful for all of the comments. Big thanks to all of you guys. You don’t know how happy I am. Especially thank to kem_soocoola for the correct word (immigrant not immigrator). But you know what? That’s my choice. There are imperfections in life, right? So I just keep it as it used to be.

This house is not ours. Of course. It’s my uncle’s. Nearby stands my aunt’s house. They both locate in a place called “mobile home zone”. Yep, you’re thinking right, “mobile homes” because they can take the houses away if they want to. If we want to be there, we must buy a house. But I have to say this: it’s not including the land beneath it, which means, we must pay for the land monthly, about $900 or so (at the time this post was written). Don’t think of mobile home as something that’s uncomfortable. A mobile home has everything you need. There are bed rooms, dinner room, bath room and a heating system too (but that’s a problem, I’ll let you know later). Read the rest of this entry »

Late noon.

The airplane was now landing on the ground, while a smooth, peace sound was falling through out the cabin. They made it a little bit serious, seemed like we had just come to a holly land, a promised one.

Everyone was so tired an exhausted. After the airplane stopped, all of the passengers got out of the plane quickly with tiredness on their face. We made some final procedures and then advanced to the exit gate. We were now standing on a road. It was 15 Celsius degrees but I don’t feel cold. I think it was because of the low humidity here. Streets were noisy as there are lots of cars running up and down: buses, inn cars, taxis and the likes. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. They walked wide steps and in a fast motion. And they were big two! What had they eaten?

“Yeah, so here we come to America, or the US you might say.” A slight smile appeared on my brother’s face while I was saying those words. I borrowed a cellphone from a kind black man standing on the sidewalk and called my grandma. About 30 minutes later or so, she came with my uncles and cousins. Then we went home.

It was strange. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that I was here, in America.