Jolly Folly, Mighty Morphin'

I set up a bank account in my school with Bank A. Bank A sets it up and a debit card was set to me in a week. All looks fine.

But suddenly I found myself sending money to a certain Vietnamese with the initials T.H. instead of to my own account. The lady in Bank A admitted it was all a screwup. Then a new card was sent to me a few days later.

The card had the wrong name on it --> Teck Brandon Ho (My real name is Teck Hon Brandon Ho)

I also applied for card from a more international Bank B, who sent me a card --> Tech Hon B Ho (I am no tech. person)

So now I'm back to square one with no usable card because my name is all screwed up.

The little frustrations of getting to the real academic and fun part of college life.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, August 31, 2008 | Permalink

Today's a Sunday, where the birds are chirping and the sun is shining and once in a blue moon, Cornell is actually kinda warm. Other than the distant and sleepy mall and the alluring scenery, Sundays are spent rotting and (gasps!) reading!

Speaking of rotting, there's this rotting smell in my room, because I am too lazy to hang my clothes out to dry. (Cue: When I was in OCS, my buddy Wilson Ong will always tolerate that. An underwear on the study table, a sock on the computer terminal and the musty odour)

The dining halls in Cornell are rated Number One in the country for superior campus dining. As a discerning eater, I LOVE MY MEALS HERE! Since it's Sunday today, there's Sunday brunch in our dining halls. (Cue: When I was at Fullerton, every Sunday is a low-occupancy day, but they are filled with Caucasians with fake tans and bare cleavages sashaying into the halls of overflowing champagne and indulgent dining. They leave with stupors so damning, it's hard to walk in a straight line.)

I had a blast in New York City. As I was jogging the trails of Central Park, roaming 5th Avenue, soaking in Broadway's bright lights, romancing the Brooklyn Bridge, I felt like I could find a place here for my fears to be allayed, for there is nothing more familiar than the buzz of activity, the heat of the beat and the diversity, the intersecting paths.

Of course, when the bus I was in rumbled into the plains of Ithaca, hitting the roads toward Cornell, it brought me into another realm. So calm and beautiful, I almost forgot how it felt like needing to run all the time instead of choosing to walk. Wineries with rows of vines dancing towards the sun, winding roads, and mountains that rise from the hoizon. It felt uncomfortable to be far from the city.

I have well settled into this community. When I was there for the very first Dean's address just yesterday, now that was the very moment I felt like this was why I'm here. It was this spark of adrenaline, hearing about the amazing networks that Hotelies make, the interesting, almost unacademic courses like wine appreciation, interior design, all very vibrant and absolutely out of the world. People travel all over the world for their internships, with as much rigour and passion as faculty staff engage us in discourse, about the limitless possibilities and opportunities that are waiting for us all out there.

For once, I am glad that I am 21 and young, fit and raring to go. Soar.

---

Address : 8444 Low Rise 8, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY 14853
HP: 607 220 7944

Posted by Brandon at Monday, August 25, 2008 | Permalink

I must have read from somewhere:

When the bride walks down the aisle, everyone forgets to look at the groom, though he is showing the finest glow, though he is the happiest in the purest form.

As I walked past the immigration gate, I can almost see how this fits into my situation. Who looks at the tearing mother who is just heartbroken to see his son leave for years? Who looks at the silent father who is expressionless but brimming with emotion?

On the plane, I mentally rejected reading the notes that my kind friends have given me prior to departure. But a huge bunny of an urge jumped out of my stomach and brought all the letters before my very eyes, and wove the last strands that linked my mind with home, with that darned place of an airport. Fading memories re-emerged clearer than the present.

Today, I am a kite let loose by a child who decides that he has outgrown this childish kite-flying hobby. But this kid doesn't know that one day, he will become a kite, yanked by yet another child with his own dreams, aspirations and fresh hopes.

As I nibbled on my first meal in New York City at a very decent Japanese joint, the sound of Cantonese and Malaysian-accented Chinese from the owners filled my ears, and my heart with an intense longing. I liked how the tea vapourised nicely above the rims of the mug, the softness of the rice which I seldom choose to eat and the faint yangqin instrumental music. It was calm, yet lively.

Now I look at every Asian, and have this urge to ask, "Are you Singaporean?" haha. O well, time to sleep. Work on tagboard/chatterbox/livejournal another day, as per Helen.

Posted by Brandon at Sunday, August 17, 2008 | Permalink