I envy doctorfabulous. Asian parents who actually want their kid to go to a state college? GASP GASP! Whodathunk that such a thing existed?

I may sound a bit spoiled, going against my mom on things that might be good for me to get into a good college, but to put things in perspective, the main reasons why I rant on and on about this are:

1) I don’t have freedom. At all. I mean, I don’t have a curfew, but I don’t need one because of my metaphorical house arrest. My mom takes joy in dragging me along the path in life that she wants me to take.

2) Take away the piano, please. It’s not going to make much of a difference on my college transcript, and I hate it anyway.

3) Oh, and while those miracle workers are at it, could they eradicate all the narrow-minded Asian parents? Wait, nevermind. That would pretty much wipe Asia off the face of the planet.

I probably am spoiled. But because of the verbal and slight physical abuse I take everyday, I consider myself to be a very depressed, spoiled brat.

… Depressed and spoiled work with each other, right?

My friends find my Chinese nickname, Zhao Zhao, to be very… ambiguous, I guess. Apurva, Jason, Sean, and Naveen (My afternoon carpool on Fridays) claimed that it can be incorporated into anything and everything, and to prove it, they’ve sung my name to that cat food commercial (the “meow meow meow” one), the Star Wars theme, the Mario theme, and even laughed with it.

HOW TO YOU LAUGH WITH “ZHAO ZHAO”? HOW DID THEY EVEN MAKE IT WORK?!

That’s not all they did, either. They spent the thirty minutes of driving time saying my Chinese nickname over and over, and practically made an entire language out of it. Imagine, a language with one syllable. If they ever make different dialects with it, my ears are going to shrivel up and die.

Oh well. It’s nice to hear my name used in a different tone than the “ZHAO ZHAAAAAOOOOO!!!!” that my mom yells everyday. Makes me feel a little happier about my cultural nickname.

Speaking of which, Jason also used my nickname in Beijing Opera. For those of you fortunate enough NOT to know, Beijing Opera is an extremely annoying style of Chinese singing in which there’s a nails-on-a-chalkboard instrument called the erhu, some annoying clackity clackers, and singers wearing ridiculously colored/coordinated robes and headpieces and sing in a nasally, shrilly tone that would drive anyone who isn’t used to hearing this daily INSANE. And to hear my name being used in such a way pretty much tore my insides apart, because he did such a good impression!

Still, I never thought I’d hear my name be used for thirty minutes straight in a positive way. Wahoo! Guys can be helpful/supportive (Jeez, I never thought I’d see that day)!

… I am going to stop talking about my mom. I swear.