Okay, I can’t make this too long, because not only do I have an online course to finish up and a whole lotta homework, the spacebar on this computer is busted and all I’m using right now is that tiny suction cup thingy anchored down with tape.

I’m not a very technical person. I don’t know what the heck the suction cup’s for.

I know I’ve neglected all my emails. But ever since I made a Facebook, all I’ve gotten is somewhere around twenty messages in my inbox, and people like Jess know that if I see a small army of email, I freak and log off immediately.

Which is probably why people try not to email me that often, thank goodness.

IB starts again. Boohoo. Mom’s giving me even more pressure to shapen up and get all set for Ivy League. I was Googling up people’s opinions on the Ivy colleges, wondering if it’s worth all my misery, and I came across an interesting section that said many Ivy League hopefuls/students (lucky ducks) didn’t have a plan beyond getting that big fat acceptance letter in the mail.

Which is TRUE TRUE SO VERY TRUE!!! I mean, I know I want to be a pediatrician or something (I gave up on the graphic design dream when my mom pressured me to stop wasting my time with street jobs like that), but I haven’t exactly planned out how to get there, besides show an office that I’m an Ivy League graduate and be handed my ticket to that prestigious career.

Which, turns out, won’t work because hospitals and offices don’t care if you went to Ivy League or not. The only field where you might get a golden ticket is if you go to Wall Street, and I’d probably escape to Antarctica if I do anything related to business.

See?! Why can’t my mom stop living in the 80’s and freakin’ see that Ivy Leagues aren’t all that jazz anymore?! I bet she doesn’t even know that the whole clique started not because of good education, but because of their ultra-amazing football teams.

Okay, fine, I didn’t even know that until I Wiki-ed Ivy League colleges yesterday, but at least I know NOW. My mom still insists on reading these stupid stories about how brilliant Asian kids make their way to the great colleges, not knowing that THOSE BRILLIANT ASIAN KIDS ALSO HAVE MISUNDERSTANDING PARENTS WHO WANT TO LIVE THEIR DREAM LIVES THROUGH THEIR POOR CHILDREN.

I mean, yesterday, my mom told me (and I quote, translated directly from her snippy Chinese), “I’m making you take piano lessons just so you can win an award and make it to a top college.“

She’s beyond blind. I’M NOT GOING TO WIN A PIANO AWARD BECAUSE I’M THROUGH WITH MY PIANO LESSONS. I want to be happy my whole damn life, woman. I could care less if I get into Cornell or Brown or whatever. I could care less if I make half a million dollars a year.

Ack. Okay, I’m ranting about mom again. Bad Zoey, you’ve spent enough blog space ranting about her.

So, the Olympics are over, Phelps finished his quest (Although with some debate over his win over Cavic), and Beijing is now going back to its hazy old habits with the jumbled traffic and mass construction. I hope Beijingers will realize that having less pollution is an awesome thing in life and push the government to keep things ‘Olympic-ized’.

I love how they named the main arena the Bird’s Nest. Teehee, and it looks like one, too. Wonder who’s the crazy architect who came up with that?

And now all the Asian American families here are rejoicing, because now they can return to their beloved families without worrying about being frisked, cuffed, and booted out at the airports or going to court over attempted Olympic sabotage (“All I did was order a Happy Meal! How was I suppose to know that the cashier was a Tibetan?”). Oh, and Beijingers are also rejoicing, because now they can open up their street shops again and chug out as much pollution they want on the streets. Wahoo! No more having to check if it’s odd or even license plate day!

Gaaah! Twelve-thirty already?! Must go do homework now!