I actually wrote a whole entry about this movie because it touched me so much.  But then I realized that in instances like these the only thing that can express my love is a big fat

Those who know me well know that I have an unholy obsession with zombies and the end of the world.  Movie series like Resident Evil and 28 Days Later thoroughly satisfies that need in me only slightly more than a good round of Gears of War or House of the Dead 1, 2, 3, and 4.  Grindhouse, which was everything a girl could ask for, left me salivating for more.  The old thing better is having a too-big-to-fit-in-my-mouth cheeseburger to enjoy alongside.  Last night, I had the pleasure of consuming both.  All thanks to my super boyfriend Larry Ge.  Who, by the way is one of the few who accepts this unusual side of me in a stride and even rented first two Resident Evil DVDs for me in preparation for the upcoming finale.  Hell yea.

It was moments like those that makes me wonder, really wonder, if true love is here.  Which brings me to the point of this entry: moving in with you boyfriend is a big deal.  Stupid me, I hadn't realize that.  I assumed it would be one big sleepover, but living with someone means dealing with all the things you could walk away from before, or not had ever even seen.  You see the good and the bad and you end up disagreeing on a lot of things.  It means spending every free waking moment with each other.  And sometimes, even at night when your eyes finally close, you find him invading your dreams and into every unconscious thought.  And one moment you wonder how and when this came to be, and the next you can't remember what life was like before this.

I have no epiphany or wise conclusive thought for this.  All I know is that at 2 in the morning, when I'm thoroughly drunk in a foreign city on the other side of the earth, there's is nothing I'd rather do than beat House of the Dead 4 in a shiny arcade with this boy, who just might be the love of my life.

And then we'd roam the streets of Shinjuku in victory with our loot tucked in the front of my shirt

It's funny how you never can tell what you will become.  It feels like I havn't changed much since 4 years ago, entering Columbia as a freshman, or 8 years ago entering Columbia for my first summer internship.  Or even 12 years ago sitting on a big swirly chair watching my mom dissect mice and asking if I can take the rest of them home, because they were so cute.

Watching Good WIll Hunting yesterday intensified that feeling I got during graduation and class dinner.  Seeing all those awards handed out to fellow students, some I met during orientation week freshman year, gave me an odd feeling.  That these people, were quite literally, going to change the scientific and engineering future.  When I was little, I had wanted to be one of those people.  My first pets were two bunnies my mom brought home for me from her lab.  They died almost immediatly, either under my care or from whatever strange experiments they were subject to prior to my ownership.  Many many many years later, and half way around the world, I tried raising a bunny again with my boyfriend.  Sadly, this bunny who was probably created purely for my ownership, died also.  So apparently, I'm only good with animals when I'm injecting them with stuff, or cutting them up (I took a hands on seminar on this at Columbia freshmen summer of HS, along with a less hands on seminar on what a radioactive thing will do to ur butt if you put it in ur pocket.)  The point is, I was so proud when I created my first beautiful heart tissue slide.  I was proud when I learned HTML, Photoshop, Javascript, and anything else out there, by myself simply by doing it.  I was proud to be an engineer.  I still am.  I was one of the first to hurl back some applecores last week.

My point is, again, somewhere along the way, I feel like I sold out.  But, in a way, I didn't, because it was more like I was kicked out.  Because I didn't have the motivation, inspiration, or simply brains to be something greater.  I won't be able to design the first public shuttle to the moon, or cure cancer, or build a fully intellegent robot, or even keep up with the latest trends in Javascript or CSS.  Do they even use Javascript or CSS anymore??  And in 10 years, the only thing Columbia will contact me for will be for my money not my brilliant ideas.  At least my job in bond insurance will make me useful in that aspect.

So I walked into Columbia with my computer and friends as my most precious things, and I left with a laptop and an lv bag large enough to kill a small child upon impact.  It's weird, definitely weird.  But, I think among all the saddness and letting go of old dreams, there are new ones.  Traveling the world, earning lots of money, and of course something else I never had before: true love.  And who knows, so I can't write a code to download my brain into a computer and take over the world via the internet.  But maybe one day I'll be able to pay someone to do it for me.