Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

Three weeks into classes, and it seems like the level of stress among the newly enrolled graduate students are reaching its first peak. No. It is not because of the hundreds of pages assigned to read for weekly discussion seminars. The reading lists, so far, have been largely neglected by the students, who instead, have been busy wondering around the exhibition rooms of the LSE and various high end luxury hotels of central London. Ubiquitously, they spot freshly ironed suits, their newly purchased LSE decorated folders, and, most prominently, an unchanging anxious facial expression. The biggest event of the school year, the great hunt of post-graduation employment, is already underway among a population that has barely gotten used to the life of a studying "academic" here in London. Oddly, even the professors seem to have accepted such a phenomenon as a "necessary evil" distracting students from course contents. My person 5-minute chat with my adviser in the

From the iPod, to iPad, to the slim MacBook, the Apple products that inundate our lives today are not simply technological products touted by so many as "cutting edge," as "revolutionary," and as not surpassed or comparable with any rivals. Above everything else, these products are cultural phenomenons, symbolizing the very definition of a modern life and harbinger of a great optimistic future of technological innovations, triggering the endless imaginations of the tech-savvy youth and the fashionable across the world. Yet, mortality of human beings, unfortunately, cannot be annulled by that promise of an ever-increasing optimism of a technological future. And as its chief architect, who has captured our imagination and expanded our dreams, leaves us all of a sudden, we cannot help but wonder if the dreams, so well-encapsulated by his very presence, must now be deterred somewhat. The fact that physical legacies of his achievements are now so ubiquitous, only make

Britain is by no means a cheap country to live in. This is a fact established by the experiences and constant complaints of so many expatriates calling the city their temporary home. But the existing prices, just as death and taxes, are something that people simply have to accept as constants, barring any sort of sudden economic meltdown that cannot possibly serve anyone any sort of long term benefits. Yet, many seem to just completely unwilling to let the prices off their minds. From the Americans meticulously (and vocally) converting the price of every little thing into US dollars before opening their wallets, to many from developing countries who simply disappear from common activities with friends for fear of excess spending, the financial cost of London, in a way much ore than I could have imagined, is affecting the very fabric of our lives. First-time “nice to meet you” events become inundated with stories of exorbitant prices paid for otherwise ordinary goods, providing readi

Walking around the meticulously kept grassy grounds of the Windsor Castle, the hordes of foreign tourists simply could not hide their excitement. Snapping away with their cameras at every wall sculpture, every statue, and every traditional-looking signage, they shouted to their friends to stop and look, filling the traditional heart of the British monarchy with simultaneous calls in dozens of foreign tongues. The keepers and guards of the Castle, dressed in the traditional costumes little changed since the Empire's heydays, can do little but to smile politely at the incomprehensible noises. Once, the Castle was the home of a ruler governing half the world, including the lands that now send these enthusiastic tourists. And for centuries, the rulers of the Empire sought to educate these colonial subjects in all matters British, from that standard Queen's accent (which I still find exotically attractive after a week here) to every aspect of the British culture, the highest mate

The registration of new LSE students on the first day was by any means “epic.” Even with a dozen computers working simultaneously to complete a process that takes no more than 2 minutes each, the registration staff was soon overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. The queue of students, minutes after registration opened, snaked out of the largest auditorium on the campus and spilled onto the busy main boulevard in front of the building. And the crowd that had gathered was, well, a curious bunch. Most came in groups of twos and threes, easily identifiable by their respective nationalities. Small talks consistently appeared to be something not local. Overwhelming noises of Mandarin Chinese are mixed in with various European and South Asian languages, occasionally broken by spurts of American English. Distinctive British accent only came from the administrators trying to keep the whole place in order. Indeed, judging from the actual registrations, the vast majority of the people i

The roads in the heart of London are not straight; they are designed not to be. Going about my usual exercise of walking around the immediate neighborhood around my dormitory, I found out the hard way just how difficult it is to get acquainted with the historical neighborhood. Every road curved, beginning and ending in completely random places so that the very concept of cardinal directions became completely useless as one tries to get from point A to B. And the physical appearances do not help. Looking down every street, both sides are packed with five-story-high stone buildings that seemed to have persevered through centuries of urban development. They remain utterly devoid of any commercial signs: no advertising, no store signage (except on the occasional shop fronts on the first floor), and no unique colors to distinguish one building from the dozens around it. All buildings harmoniously blend into two long stone rows extending down every street. In awe at the first sight, one