Monday, January 16, 2012
Cliffhanger
With the weight of the world on my shoulders, sometimes I forget that I'm on the verge of tears....
Friday, October 28, 2011
Lesson from a bird
It has been a long three years spent away from home and I feel like I am ready to return.
I have met a lot of people who have left and never looked back. Some people have never left and cannot wait to leave. While it is difficult to know what compels people to leave their home, I can truly say there is no place like it.
I remember a time when I was frustrated with living at home. I would not be able to go and leave as I pleased without the constant nagging of my parents. There was a lack of freedom in living at home. What I received in return, however, was all the amenities of a child’s life -- two meals a day (at least), a clean place to live, clean laundry every week (whether or not I was too busy to do it), caring and nurturing (if bothersome) parents, and numerous other little things I gave up when I moved out.
The ironic thing is that I did not want to leave in the first place, but because I had enrolled in UC San Diego, I had no choice but to pack up a part of my life and move out. In contrast, my brother could not wait to leave the house, but was unable to because he was not accepted into a distant school. Over the years, I have only returned home for breaks -- rarely more than a few weeks at a time -- to visit my family and friends. What compelled me most were my friends; I looked forward to hanging out with them every time I came back. This year, a handful of them have entered their third year as transfer students and have consequently moved elsewhere. So when I return at the end of this academic year, I would have no one to see except my family.
I have grown fonder of my family over the past three years, so I would be content with simply that. I do not think the sole reason for my longing is the time I spent separated from them. One of the reasons, I believe, originated from my time caring for birds.
A little over a year ago, when I still lived with my ex-girlfriend, she pleaded to get a pair of budgies (formally, Budgerigar or Parakeet). I did not fully understand her compulsive behavior at the time, and though I did not find the idea of raising birds attractive in any way, I conceded to her request so long as she paid for the whole endeavour. We went to PetSmart that day and bought two wonderful budgies. We were like children, fascinated by new toys. We spent all day with our budgies the next week or so, trying to pet them and pampering them in general. Although it seemed forever until they warmed up to us, in retrospect it was much faster than any of the budgies we bought afterwards.
Both were very young and subsequently we were unable to discern what gender they were. The shop assistant who helped us purchase the birds indicated that the yellow one was male and the blue one was female. We did not name them until much later, but eventually called the yellow one “Little Brother” and the blue one “Big Sis.” This was because Big Sis seemed more aggressive and pushy than Little Brother, who was often easier to warm up to. They also occasionally fought, which reminded us of two siblings. The implication was that we were their parents, and we spent a lot of time invested into their welfare. It is hard to describe the amount of time, commitment, and love to someone who has never owned a pet, but it was very akin to raising children of our own.
We eventually trained them to perch on our fingers comfortably, and soon we would let them out of the cage to fly freely. We initially had difficulties returning the budgies to their cage, but after a few weeks of training we were able to effortlessly let them in and out of the cage. We also trained them to fly to us from the cage and back. We adored our budgies and felt very content with them.
Then school started and we rarely were at home. Suddenly, we went from spending nearly the entire day playing with the budgies to only an hour or two a day. This had a noticeable effect on the way our budgies interacted with us, but we spent as much time as we could spare. The excitement of new birds was also wearing off and many days it was a chore to take care of the budgies. Still, interacting with our budgies on a day-to-day basis brought some inexplicable joy. We would put them to sleep every night by draping a white cloth over their cage and wake them up every morning by removing it. Sometimes they would fall asleep before we were able to put them to sleep and there was an intense feeling of love watching them sleep peacefully.
One day, as my ex-girlfriend came home from school, she found Big Sis dead at the bottom of the cage. We were shocked and heartbroken at her sudden death. We were even more frightened that we did not know the cause. We gently removed her body from the cage and disposed of it. I had never in my life ever imagine I could feel such sorrow at the loss of a simple bird. My own grandmother had died early that year and I felt no remorse at her passing, yet this bird which I had known only a few months crushed my heart. To see her lying dead and lifeless invoked such intense feelings I did not realize I was capable of.
After that event, we could not bear to replace her. It is said that when a budgie does, the other budgie calls out to it constantly to return. It does not realize that the budgie has died, but has simply abandoned it. It made me incredibly sad to see Little Brother calling for most of the days following Big Sis’s death. We tried to make the best of it by showering Little Brother with attention, both for his benefit and ours. Losing a budgie that we had raised as our own was gut wrenching and I hoped I would never have to experience another death again.
As the weeks pass, Little Brother grew steadily reclusive. Where before he was an active, cheery budgie who was secretly our favorite, he became sullen and quiet. He shied away from our presence and became generally fearful of us. I wished I could somehow comfort Little Brother, but there was nothing I could do for him. Eventually we just stopped giving him attention beyond the bare minimum -- feeding him, replacing his water bowl, etc. This continued for a couple of months until I could not stand seeing him so lonely. I told Beverly that we need to get him another companion, so we went to PetSmart again to look for a friend for Little Brother. At the store, we could not decide between two budgies, so we decided to get both. We were unsure how much time we could devote to training two new budgies, but we decided that having a companion for Little Brother was the best solution.
We named them on the way home -- one was a blue one like Big Sis but the other one was a milky blue white that looked like an owl. We named the milky blue white budgie Owl and the other one simply “Fatty” because it seemed fatter than the other budgies. We underestimated how difficult it would be to train new budgies and we never were able to train them to properly come out. They would constantly fight and bicker as well but overall it was jovial.
Inexplicably, Owl died overnight. Again, I was intensely sorrowful and confused. Clearly, something is killing the budgies but with no idea what and not really the money to go visit a veterinarian to find out, we could not do anything but dispose of Owl’s body. Looking back at that period now, it is hard to evoke the same emotions I felt coming home to a lifeless bird. I would never know if Owl suffered or died quickly because they would always be dead when I find them.
Fatty and Little Brother continued on, unaffected by Owl’s disappearance. They continued to bicker from time to time but were otherwise uneventful. I was glad Little Brother was still with us because though he had become quiet, reserved, and fearful of us, he was still secretly our favorite bird and all we had left as a reminder of those wonderful times when Little Brother and Big Sis would fly freely and play with us.
I remember waking up one morning to the sound of a single crash in the birdcage. It was not uncommon for budgies to jump around and, in general, cause noise in the morning. They typically woke up much earlier than me or Beverly, but I felt a general uneasiness in the air so I got up. It was a bright morning and light flooded through the blinds. Beverly was waking up slowly as I got up so I decided to wake up the budgies. As I pulled back the covers, I see Fatty perched atop one of the high branches near the back of the cage, staring silently at me. I returned her stare, for I was not much fond of Fatty anyway, but immediately wondered where Little Brother was. I looked down expecting to see him peering up at me in his curious budgie look and found him face up staring pitifully at me. I cried out his name inadvertently and quickly opened up the cage to pull him out. His warm, fluffy body fit in the entirety of my hand as I brought him close to me to quickly find out what was wrong. He was clearly ill, but still alive. Beverly startled awake and looking at me, rushed over to see what was wrong. I told her, “he’s dying Bev.” I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I could not speak. We just stood around him, his small, yellow body weakly moving up and down, gasping for air. I thought to myself, this was the first time since Big Sis’s death that I have held Little Brother in my hand. I had never gone more than a few inches close to him before he would fly away. Here I was, holding and caressing Little Brother while he was dying in my hands. We could do nothing but watch, and within a few minutes he quietly left us.
I understood then, profoundly, why we grieve for others. We grieve not their passing, but the fact that while they are with us, in our arms, there is nothing we could do to hep them. Standing there and simply watching Little Brother, I wanted to yell at him, cry at him, anything to stop him from dying, but it was no use. There was nothing I could do to reverse what was happening and soon after it was over. At the very least, during the last few minutes of his life, me and Beverly could be with him and hold him one last time.
None of the other budgie’s death had been so powerful. We loved every budgie we had owned, but never had I been forced to watch my bird die in my hands while I did nothing but look on. Truly, a parent should never have to bury their children. While these birds were not even human, I thought of them as my children. I nurtured them and cared for them in much the same mindset as I would any child of my own. My capacity for empathy left me troubled and disturbed, but I had acquired a great lesson.
Just recently, Beverly let Fatty go. Fatty would make a lot of noise and some of the neighbors began to complain, so we took her outside and let her go. There is a very low chance that Fatty would live in the outside world, but unfortunately we had no choice. The cage is still in Beverly’s apartment; empty, but full of painful memories. When I gaze upon the cage, I long for some activity inside, some new budgies to flesh out that corner of the apartment, but it is better that the cage remain empty.
I think that my increased understanding and appreciation for parenthood has resulted in my desire to return home and see my family. If I was moved by a simple group of budgies, how much joy and suffering do my parents endure as I stumble through life blindly?
I have met a lot of people who have left and never looked back. Some people have never left and cannot wait to leave. While it is difficult to know what compels people to leave their home, I can truly say there is no place like it.
I remember a time when I was frustrated with living at home. I would not be able to go and leave as I pleased without the constant nagging of my parents. There was a lack of freedom in living at home. What I received in return, however, was all the amenities of a child’s life -- two meals a day (at least), a clean place to live, clean laundry every week (whether or not I was too busy to do it), caring and nurturing (if bothersome) parents, and numerous other little things I gave up when I moved out.
The ironic thing is that I did not want to leave in the first place, but because I had enrolled in UC San Diego, I had no choice but to pack up a part of my life and move out. In contrast, my brother could not wait to leave the house, but was unable to because he was not accepted into a distant school. Over the years, I have only returned home for breaks -- rarely more than a few weeks at a time -- to visit my family and friends. What compelled me most were my friends; I looked forward to hanging out with them every time I came back. This year, a handful of them have entered their third year as transfer students and have consequently moved elsewhere. So when I return at the end of this academic year, I would have no one to see except my family.
I have grown fonder of my family over the past three years, so I would be content with simply that. I do not think the sole reason for my longing is the time I spent separated from them. One of the reasons, I believe, originated from my time caring for birds.
A little over a year ago, when I still lived with my ex-girlfriend, she pleaded to get a pair of budgies (formally, Budgerigar or Parakeet). I did not fully understand her compulsive behavior at the time, and though I did not find the idea of raising birds attractive in any way, I conceded to her request so long as she paid for the whole endeavour. We went to PetSmart that day and bought two wonderful budgies. We were like children, fascinated by new toys. We spent all day with our budgies the next week or so, trying to pet them and pampering them in general. Although it seemed forever until they warmed up to us, in retrospect it was much faster than any of the budgies we bought afterwards.
Both were very young and subsequently we were unable to discern what gender they were. The shop assistant who helped us purchase the birds indicated that the yellow one was male and the blue one was female. We did not name them until much later, but eventually called the yellow one “Little Brother” and the blue one “Big Sis.” This was because Big Sis seemed more aggressive and pushy than Little Brother, who was often easier to warm up to. They also occasionally fought, which reminded us of two siblings. The implication was that we were their parents, and we spent a lot of time invested into their welfare. It is hard to describe the amount of time, commitment, and love to someone who has never owned a pet, but it was very akin to raising children of our own.
We eventually trained them to perch on our fingers comfortably, and soon we would let them out of the cage to fly freely. We initially had difficulties returning the budgies to their cage, but after a few weeks of training we were able to effortlessly let them in and out of the cage. We also trained them to fly to us from the cage and back. We adored our budgies and felt very content with them.
Then school started and we rarely were at home. Suddenly, we went from spending nearly the entire day playing with the budgies to only an hour or two a day. This had a noticeable effect on the way our budgies interacted with us, but we spent as much time as we could spare. The excitement of new birds was also wearing off and many days it was a chore to take care of the budgies. Still, interacting with our budgies on a day-to-day basis brought some inexplicable joy. We would put them to sleep every night by draping a white cloth over their cage and wake them up every morning by removing it. Sometimes they would fall asleep before we were able to put them to sleep and there was an intense feeling of love watching them sleep peacefully.
One day, as my ex-girlfriend came home from school, she found Big Sis dead at the bottom of the cage. We were shocked and heartbroken at her sudden death. We were even more frightened that we did not know the cause. We gently removed her body from the cage and disposed of it. I had never in my life ever imagine I could feel such sorrow at the loss of a simple bird. My own grandmother had died early that year and I felt no remorse at her passing, yet this bird which I had known only a few months crushed my heart. To see her lying dead and lifeless invoked such intense feelings I did not realize I was capable of.
After that event, we could not bear to replace her. It is said that when a budgie does, the other budgie calls out to it constantly to return. It does not realize that the budgie has died, but has simply abandoned it. It made me incredibly sad to see Little Brother calling for most of the days following Big Sis’s death. We tried to make the best of it by showering Little Brother with attention, both for his benefit and ours. Losing a budgie that we had raised as our own was gut wrenching and I hoped I would never have to experience another death again.
As the weeks pass, Little Brother grew steadily reclusive. Where before he was an active, cheery budgie who was secretly our favorite, he became sullen and quiet. He shied away from our presence and became generally fearful of us. I wished I could somehow comfort Little Brother, but there was nothing I could do for him. Eventually we just stopped giving him attention beyond the bare minimum -- feeding him, replacing his water bowl, etc. This continued for a couple of months until I could not stand seeing him so lonely. I told Beverly that we need to get him another companion, so we went to PetSmart again to look for a friend for Little Brother. At the store, we could not decide between two budgies, so we decided to get both. We were unsure how much time we could devote to training two new budgies, but we decided that having a companion for Little Brother was the best solution.
We named them on the way home -- one was a blue one like Big Sis but the other one was a milky blue white that looked like an owl. We named the milky blue white budgie Owl and the other one simply “Fatty” because it seemed fatter than the other budgies. We underestimated how difficult it would be to train new budgies and we never were able to train them to properly come out. They would constantly fight and bicker as well but overall it was jovial.
Inexplicably, Owl died overnight. Again, I was intensely sorrowful and confused. Clearly, something is killing the budgies but with no idea what and not really the money to go visit a veterinarian to find out, we could not do anything but dispose of Owl’s body. Looking back at that period now, it is hard to evoke the same emotions I felt coming home to a lifeless bird. I would never know if Owl suffered or died quickly because they would always be dead when I find them.
Fatty and Little Brother continued on, unaffected by Owl’s disappearance. They continued to bicker from time to time but were otherwise uneventful. I was glad Little Brother was still with us because though he had become quiet, reserved, and fearful of us, he was still secretly our favorite bird and all we had left as a reminder of those wonderful times when Little Brother and Big Sis would fly freely and play with us.
I remember waking up one morning to the sound of a single crash in the birdcage. It was not uncommon for budgies to jump around and, in general, cause noise in the morning. They typically woke up much earlier than me or Beverly, but I felt a general uneasiness in the air so I got up. It was a bright morning and light flooded through the blinds. Beverly was waking up slowly as I got up so I decided to wake up the budgies. As I pulled back the covers, I see Fatty perched atop one of the high branches near the back of the cage, staring silently at me. I returned her stare, for I was not much fond of Fatty anyway, but immediately wondered where Little Brother was. I looked down expecting to see him peering up at me in his curious budgie look and found him face up staring pitifully at me. I cried out his name inadvertently and quickly opened up the cage to pull him out. His warm, fluffy body fit in the entirety of my hand as I brought him close to me to quickly find out what was wrong. He was clearly ill, but still alive. Beverly startled awake and looking at me, rushed over to see what was wrong. I told her, “he’s dying Bev.” I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I could not speak. We just stood around him, his small, yellow body weakly moving up and down, gasping for air. I thought to myself, this was the first time since Big Sis’s death that I have held Little Brother in my hand. I had never gone more than a few inches close to him before he would fly away. Here I was, holding and caressing Little Brother while he was dying in my hands. We could do nothing but watch, and within a few minutes he quietly left us.
I understood then, profoundly, why we grieve for others. We grieve not their passing, but the fact that while they are with us, in our arms, there is nothing we could do to hep them. Standing there and simply watching Little Brother, I wanted to yell at him, cry at him, anything to stop him from dying, but it was no use. There was nothing I could do to reverse what was happening and soon after it was over. At the very least, during the last few minutes of his life, me and Beverly could be with him and hold him one last time.
None of the other budgie’s death had been so powerful. We loved every budgie we had owned, but never had I been forced to watch my bird die in my hands while I did nothing but look on. Truly, a parent should never have to bury their children. While these birds were not even human, I thought of them as my children. I nurtured them and cared for them in much the same mindset as I would any child of my own. My capacity for empathy left me troubled and disturbed, but I had acquired a great lesson.
Just recently, Beverly let Fatty go. Fatty would make a lot of noise and some of the neighbors began to complain, so we took her outside and let her go. There is a very low chance that Fatty would live in the outside world, but unfortunately we had no choice. The cage is still in Beverly’s apartment; empty, but full of painful memories. When I gaze upon the cage, I long for some activity inside, some new budgies to flesh out that corner of the apartment, but it is better that the cage remain empty.
I think that my increased understanding and appreciation for parenthood has resulted in my desire to return home and see my family. If I was moved by a simple group of budgies, how much joy and suffering do my parents endure as I stumble through life blindly?
Monday, August 22, 2011
Idolization
A recent conversation with my friend touched upon the idea of idolization. They found the idea of idolizing Korean pop stars as disgusting, revolting, and just plain stupid. I nodded in agreement, though it never occurred to any of us why people do it.
Why DO people idolize anyone? I personally found it unhealthy, because there is a difference between respect, having a role model, versus adoration and idolization; one is constructive and the other is obsessive. Is it possible to both respect someone or some group as a role model AND adore them for what they do? Perhaps. I do not think these things mutually exclusive, but I think any sort of idolization may be indicative of an unhealthy mind.
Take for example, my friend. He is strong-willed, content, intelligent, accomplished, and has a very bright future ahead of him. I have no doubt that he will aspire to whatever his dreams are. He is confident in himself and his abilities, even though he is not in a prestigious school. He tells me that opportunities are everywhere and I agree an ambitious person in a poor school may very well be more successful than an apathetic person in a prestigious school. Certainly there is some advantage to studying at a prestigious school, but he does not consider that a setback.
Another friend I have is studying at what I consider a prestigious school. They have high academic ability, lots of extracurriculars to complement their grades, and is more or less set to become successful. Intelligent, ambitious, and also very accomplished. However, they are also unsure what direction to take, unconfident in their work, and in general what I consider weak-willed.
That particular friend, coincidentally, also adores Korean pop stars.
Is it truly coincidental? After some discussion, I hypothesized that self-esteem may be the driving factor in idolizing others. Looking at myself, I feel confident in where my life is headed and have already considered myself successful in what I do. I must admit there have been days where I feel utterly alone (which have occurred more frequently lately), or where I feel completely inept, but they are typically far and few in between.
I do not adore Korean pop stars or anyone. I have never showed more than a fleeting interest in those who have achieved so-called "greatness." It is not due to lack of respect, but it simply generates a shrug response from me. There are always going to be great people, and good people, and bad people. While it is great that some 13-year old has discovered the fibonacci sequence in trees and used it to improve solar panel efficiency (though I doubt his claim), it has no bearing on me that someone so young can accomplish this. I have my own ideas for my future, and whether or not they contribute to society in the long run is irrelevant. The question is, can I do what I want to?
There is an interesting quote at my school, that goes something like this: It is an interesting experience, this dual-vision, constantly seeing yourself through the eyes of others. I interpret this quote as calling up the fact that so often we live our lives by how others think of us. Damn what other people think of you! What do people know about you? How can they judge you like they judge a movie or a game. Movies and games remain static, at their core, unchanged. As a human, you constantly change, even day to day.
That is not to say you should ignore what other people have to say, and live in your own fantasy world. There must always be balance in everything you do. Do not live your life through the eyes of others, but do not live your life in isolation. Use their feedback to improve your evaluation of yourself, not define it.
I feel that those who do the latter succumb to acts of idolization and adoration. If there is any one thing in this world that we should do, it is understanding ourselves. Our limitations, our strengths, and our style. So many people have gaps in their understanding that they fill it with the first they can find. They are unconfident, unsure, and unable to believe that they are equals as human beings. A person should never have to believe they are lesser than anyone else -- at the core we are all humans. Until someone starts sprouting wings and a halo, we will continue to be human and continue to be equal. Respect others for their skills and abilities, but do not idolize them. To idolize someone means to put yourself beneath them.
Why DO people idolize anyone? I personally found it unhealthy, because there is a difference between respect, having a role model, versus adoration and idolization; one is constructive and the other is obsessive. Is it possible to both respect someone or some group as a role model AND adore them for what they do? Perhaps. I do not think these things mutually exclusive, but I think any sort of idolization may be indicative of an unhealthy mind.
Take for example, my friend. He is strong-willed, content, intelligent, accomplished, and has a very bright future ahead of him. I have no doubt that he will aspire to whatever his dreams are. He is confident in himself and his abilities, even though he is not in a prestigious school. He tells me that opportunities are everywhere and I agree an ambitious person in a poor school may very well be more successful than an apathetic person in a prestigious school. Certainly there is some advantage to studying at a prestigious school, but he does not consider that a setback.
Another friend I have is studying at what I consider a prestigious school. They have high academic ability, lots of extracurriculars to complement their grades, and is more or less set to become successful. Intelligent, ambitious, and also very accomplished. However, they are also unsure what direction to take, unconfident in their work, and in general what I consider weak-willed.
That particular friend, coincidentally, also adores Korean pop stars.
Is it truly coincidental? After some discussion, I hypothesized that self-esteem may be the driving factor in idolizing others. Looking at myself, I feel confident in where my life is headed and have already considered myself successful in what I do. I must admit there have been days where I feel utterly alone (which have occurred more frequently lately), or where I feel completely inept, but they are typically far and few in between.
I do not adore Korean pop stars or anyone. I have never showed more than a fleeting interest in those who have achieved so-called "greatness." It is not due to lack of respect, but it simply generates a shrug response from me. There are always going to be great people, and good people, and bad people. While it is great that some 13-year old has discovered the fibonacci sequence in trees and used it to improve solar panel efficiency (though I doubt his claim), it has no bearing on me that someone so young can accomplish this. I have my own ideas for my future, and whether or not they contribute to society in the long run is irrelevant. The question is, can I do what I want to?
There is an interesting quote at my school, that goes something like this: It is an interesting experience, this dual-vision, constantly seeing yourself through the eyes of others. I interpret this quote as calling up the fact that so often we live our lives by how others think of us. Damn what other people think of you! What do people know about you? How can they judge you like they judge a movie or a game. Movies and games remain static, at their core, unchanged. As a human, you constantly change, even day to day.
That is not to say you should ignore what other people have to say, and live in your own fantasy world. There must always be balance in everything you do. Do not live your life through the eyes of others, but do not live your life in isolation. Use their feedback to improve your evaluation of yourself, not define it.
I feel that those who do the latter succumb to acts of idolization and adoration. If there is any one thing in this world that we should do, it is understanding ourselves. Our limitations, our strengths, and our style. So many people have gaps in their understanding that they fill it with the first they can find. They are unconfident, unsure, and unable to believe that they are equals as human beings. A person should never have to believe they are lesser than anyone else -- at the core we are all humans. Until someone starts sprouting wings and a halo, we will continue to be human and continue to be equal. Respect others for their skills and abilities, but do not idolize them. To idolize someone means to put yourself beneath them.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Alone
Maybe not all the time. Maybe not even some of the time.
Maybe less than one in a million moments.
But right now, I definitely feel alone. My parents left not an hour ago, and my brother is just outside my room, playing his games. At least two different people online who I could talk to; whom I usually talk to, but I don't. A missing-you message lighting up my phone from a girlfriend hundreds of miles away.
Yet still alone. Still not anyone whom I can connect with emotionally.
Every once in a while I let myself think that the people I interact with can provide that; a cure for my inexplicable hunger. I let myself hope too much.
And then it happens.
My illusions are shattered. I fall back into a darkness that I have known for years. A bittersweetness that I am intimate with; even enjoy. Maybe it is this season. Maybe it is my situation. When I go back to San Diego, I will forget about all of this.
But for how long? A few months, or half a year, and then I slowly return. Like clockwork. More and more I believe that I am being treated, and not cured. That I am ignoring my problem; this problem, by throwing myself into the company of others. How many people know that I am not the one they see, or like to hang out with? How many people have dismissed my true self as a condition of who I am, and not realize the truth.
I think there is some fundamental problem. Something I have yearned to cure, but have only learned to alleviate. I am looking for something; someone, to help me. But I don't know who, or what. Or how.
I hope I found out soon.
Maybe less than one in a million moments.
But right now, I definitely feel alone. My parents left not an hour ago, and my brother is just outside my room, playing his games. At least two different people online who I could talk to; whom I usually talk to, but I don't. A missing-you message lighting up my phone from a girlfriend hundreds of miles away.
Yet still alone. Still not anyone whom I can connect with emotionally.
Every once in a while I let myself think that the people I interact with can provide that; a cure for my inexplicable hunger. I let myself hope too much.
And then it happens.
My illusions are shattered. I fall back into a darkness that I have known for years. A bittersweetness that I am intimate with; even enjoy. Maybe it is this season. Maybe it is my situation. When I go back to San Diego, I will forget about all of this.
But for how long? A few months, or half a year, and then I slowly return. Like clockwork. More and more I believe that I am being treated, and not cured. That I am ignoring my problem; this problem, by throwing myself into the company of others. How many people know that I am not the one they see, or like to hang out with? How many people have dismissed my true self as a condition of who I am, and not realize the truth.
I think there is some fundamental problem. Something I have yearned to cure, but have only learned to alleviate. I am looking for something; someone, to help me. But I don't know who, or what. Or how.
I hope I found out soon.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Taken ahold
Were it so easy,
that I lay down my head and sleep,
Dreaming of that which may never come.
Of things long gone,
or never have been.
I wander day to day
cherishing. Not a drop of regret.
Not a tear of relief.
Faces of people I once knew,
Feelings I could never have,
they manifest themselves, as
Apparitions.
I reach out and touch them,
and begin what has already been forgotten.
A great sorrow was planted,
and its seeds I cultivate.
The best nutrient is time
for a soiled memory, lest it grow
thorns and gnarled.
At night it will blossom
but for a fleeting moment.
A sweet nectar will flow
and privileged are those who drink it.
I have tasted the sweat of my labor.
It is by far sweeter
than all of my waking days.
Yet tinged with a bitterness I cannot describe.
It would be simpler to just write and not compose, but through this medium, I am somehow able to channel my feelings directly. What you read is garbled, erratic, and unsophisticated, but at the same time, the purest form of thought and emotion I can bring to bear. It is an outpouring of my current state of mind, to which even I cannot explain. I only try to capture it in the moment. What you interpret is up to you - it is simply a window that you may peer inside. Perhaps you will walk away seeing something you had not seen before.
More likely, you will walk away with nothing, confused.
I would like to end my post here, but will supplement with a little more - if only to provide some context. Lately I have been dreaming again. I do not associate my dreams with anything physical (e.g. subconscious desires), but I often develop very strong emotional responses. Sometimes they linger for days. They interfere with my day to day life, but I cannot say with any certainty that it is constructive or destructive.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Humility + Integrity (old draft)
I was watching myself play guitar on YouTube and felt very embarassed. Most of the comments were favorable for what I still think is a subpar performance. I am not going to link to those videos here, nor shall I ever actively do so, but it is simple enough to search my name on YouTube, if you are really interested.
You might wonder why I keep them up. It is a reasonable question - if I am so embarassed, why not just remove them? I have removed personal information from the internet before (two Xanga accounts, my Facebook), but very few people frequent those pages, if at all. Letting them mothball on some web server somewhere might one day come back to hurt me, considering how sensitive some of that information was.
A lot of people (or maybe, the same few people) have viewed my videos. Some are more embarassing than others, but at the time, I was going to showcase all the songs I knew on YouTube. I was proud of playing guitar, especially since few others deviated from strumming and linking chords together. But very few of my friends were impressed, I think, with my performance. They have usually never heard of the songs I play, and listen with polite interest. It does not rile them up as much as someone playing their favorite pop song while singing the lyrics.
The internet was a much easier audience to entertain - especially those who could appreciate it. I was surprised to see that a song or two I thought very simple meant a lot to some people. I believe they still listen on a typical basis, so for those I leave my videos up.
I have not played as much as I used to. Perhaps I have lost interest, but I mainly blame college. Growing up. I do not remember the last time I enjoyed a relaxing summer.
(old draft - revised for publication)
A while back, I was late to my class (as usual). The reason I am perpetually late is because I have to walk about 0.7 miles across campus within 8 or 9 minutes. I arrived at the lecture hall behind a girl who was also in my class.
Lecture halls, for those of you not well versed in college life yet, are huge. There may be over a hundred to a hundred and fifty students. I certainly did not know this girl, nor did she me. Nevertheless, she held the door open for me to go in first.
Has it been so long since I have seen kindness from other people? That I was taken aback at her gesture speaks volume. College students, I have come to conclude, are one of the worst people in the world. Loud, obnoxious, arrogant, ignorant, inconsiderate, short-sighted... if I could go on, I would, but it would no doubt fill the entire Internet. It is depressing, sometimes, to have to live in such a toxic atmosphere. It weighs down on you; it makes you think it's okay to be like them.
Perhaps this is the change Jenny referred to years ago. It is hard not to change when you're surrounded by people who challenge your every moral fiber. Who cheat and drink and smoke, who waste money irresponsibly; who are irresponsible themselves and to their families who put them in college. It is certainly NOT okay to be like them. Were I so blinded in youth that I missed the signs? Where were we four years ago? Did we think it okay to ever drink? It is not narrow-mindedness that precludes this accusation, but moral integrity.
I admit I have changed, too, but only to seclude myself from such people. I have become more withdrawn and disinterested with the general populace and their wellbeing.
It would be simple to declare that I have no more interest in the world itself; that humanity is naught but a gigantic cesspool of college students. Daniel and I discussed this as well. But ultimately, there is a world beyond college. No doubt a world equally, if not more, depressing as college was, but still unknown.
I eyed her curiously throughout the first part of lecture, but did not pursue. In retrospect, I wonder if she would have been another being I dare call a friend in this world, but it is moot now. I do not even remember what she looked like.
You might wonder why I keep them up. It is a reasonable question - if I am so embarassed, why not just remove them? I have removed personal information from the internet before (two Xanga accounts, my Facebook), but very few people frequent those pages, if at all. Letting them mothball on some web server somewhere might one day come back to hurt me, considering how sensitive some of that information was.
A lot of people (or maybe, the same few people) have viewed my videos. Some are more embarassing than others, but at the time, I was going to showcase all the songs I knew on YouTube. I was proud of playing guitar, especially since few others deviated from strumming and linking chords together. But very few of my friends were impressed, I think, with my performance. They have usually never heard of the songs I play, and listen with polite interest. It does not rile them up as much as someone playing their favorite pop song while singing the lyrics.
The internet was a much easier audience to entertain - especially those who could appreciate it. I was surprised to see that a song or two I thought very simple meant a lot to some people. I believe they still listen on a typical basis, so for those I leave my videos up.
I have not played as much as I used to. Perhaps I have lost interest, but I mainly blame college. Growing up. I do not remember the last time I enjoyed a relaxing summer.
(old draft - revised for publication)
A while back, I was late to my class (as usual). The reason I am perpetually late is because I have to walk about 0.7 miles across campus within 8 or 9 minutes. I arrived at the lecture hall behind a girl who was also in my class.
Lecture halls, for those of you not well versed in college life yet, are huge. There may be over a hundred to a hundred and fifty students. I certainly did not know this girl, nor did she me. Nevertheless, she held the door open for me to go in first.
Has it been so long since I have seen kindness from other people? That I was taken aback at her gesture speaks volume. College students, I have come to conclude, are one of the worst people in the world. Loud, obnoxious, arrogant, ignorant, inconsiderate, short-sighted... if I could go on, I would, but it would no doubt fill the entire Internet. It is depressing, sometimes, to have to live in such a toxic atmosphere. It weighs down on you; it makes you think it's okay to be like them.
Perhaps this is the change Jenny referred to years ago. It is hard not to change when you're surrounded by people who challenge your every moral fiber. Who cheat and drink and smoke, who waste money irresponsibly; who are irresponsible themselves and to their families who put them in college. It is certainly NOT okay to be like them. Were I so blinded in youth that I missed the signs? Where were we four years ago? Did we think it okay to ever drink? It is not narrow-mindedness that precludes this accusation, but moral integrity.
I admit I have changed, too, but only to seclude myself from such people. I have become more withdrawn and disinterested with the general populace and their wellbeing.
It would be simple to declare that I have no more interest in the world itself; that humanity is naught but a gigantic cesspool of college students. Daniel and I discussed this as well. But ultimately, there is a world beyond college. No doubt a world equally, if not more, depressing as college was, but still unknown.
I eyed her curiously throughout the first part of lecture, but did not pursue. In retrospect, I wonder if she would have been another being I dare call a friend in this world, but it is moot now. I do not even remember what she looked like.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
kevingoes.tumblr
So if you're here, it is probably because you came across my tumblr and then clicked on a link inside said tumblr.
Why did I make a tumblr?
I have been pondering on the idea that I may be suffering from slight cyclothymia, or a mild form of bipolar disorder. At the very least, I am quite susceptible to mood swings, induced or otherwise. I feel that one blog dedicated soley to reflection brings out a quiet - if not, depressive - state of mind.
I AM NOT CONSTANTLY EMO!
I have my ups and downs like a regular person, but probably TOO much and so I believe it is best served by another blog. A different kind - more rapid fire, short, and completely in the opposite spectrum.
Hence, kevingoes.tumblr.
I have been called bipolar from at least 2 or 3 people. I do tend to have abrupt mood swings sometimes, but nothing so severe as the aforementioned. Is it so strange? These swings tend to occur for specific reasons, but I seem more sensitive to them than others. Add to that my mood-resetting sleep patterns and I suppose you have an unstable person.
Oh well. I am in an elated mood today, so I will fret not.
Why did I make a tumblr?
I have been pondering on the idea that I may be suffering from slight cyclothymia, or a mild form of bipolar disorder. At the very least, I am quite susceptible to mood swings, induced or otherwise. I feel that one blog dedicated soley to reflection brings out a quiet - if not, depressive - state of mind.
I AM NOT CONSTANTLY EMO!
I have my ups and downs like a regular person, but probably TOO much and so I believe it is best served by another blog. A different kind - more rapid fire, short, and completely in the opposite spectrum.
Hence, kevingoes.tumblr.
I have been called bipolar from at least 2 or 3 people. I do tend to have abrupt mood swings sometimes, but nothing so severe as the aforementioned. Is it so strange? These swings tend to occur for specific reasons, but I seem more sensitive to them than others. Add to that my mood-resetting sleep patterns and I suppose you have an unstable person.
Oh well. I am in an elated mood today, so I will fret not.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Addendum
So I have been gaining weight, to nobody's surprise. I cannot say I am happy about it, and the realization is that I weight almost as much as my brother now. The noticeable height difference allows me to get away with it, but only for so long.
For reference, I weigh approximately 210lbs. Why am I disclosing my weight? Well, I was never one to really hide it (if you pressed me enough). At the end of winter break my sophomore year of high school, I weighed 218lbs. Granted, I have gained significant height since then, but it is still a disturbing thought.
I was a fat ass when I was young, and for a brief period between junior year and senior year of high school, I was actually pleased with my weight. Now I am a fat ass again.
Some people tell me I hide my weight relatively well. Everyone is surprised to know I weigh so much. My own martial arts master underestimated my weight when performing a takedown; I believe he hurt himself. But now that Jennifer S. herself, who has always disregarded my insistence that I was fat, has pointedly decided that I was "chubby," it is official.
As a sophomore, after returning from Winter Break, I decided that 218lbs. was it. That I would not, absolutely not, gain any more weight. I made good on that promise, but the way I went about it was to basically starve myself. And I did. I starved myself all through sophomore year, coming down to 200lbs. by the end of the school year.
I was pleased. There is a noticeable difference when you lose 20lbs. Over the summer and well into junior year, I remained at 200lbs., but I had wanted to lose more. I joined badminton that year, and I worked my ass off. I was sensitive about my image; I still imagined everyone thought of me as a fat ass so I worked hard to prove that I was not. I stayed late every practice and did all the exercises to their fullest. To that end, at my lowest, I was 178lbs.
Quite an achievement, I thought. To go from 218lbs. to 178lbs. - literally 40lbs. Because I played badminton so much, I was able to keep my weight consistant.
But now I do not do much more than eat, sleep, and study. I have slowly went up from 185lbs. the summer after I graduated, to 210lbs. 25lbs more over roughly two years. I am slowly returning back to my previous weight, and I am concerned.
With Mr. Johns's transformation, he has inspired me to lose some weight of my own again. Although I am not sure how to go about it, I will try to stablize my weight and perhaps even begin losing it starting next quarter. I always make these promises to myself, but I feel like I am, again, reaching that saturation point. I cannot gain any more weight!
Coincidentally, Mr. Johns told me the other day that I had inspired him to lose 80lbs. How utterly ironic.
For reference, I weigh approximately 210lbs. Why am I disclosing my weight? Well, I was never one to really hide it (if you pressed me enough). At the end of winter break my sophomore year of high school, I weighed 218lbs. Granted, I have gained significant height since then, but it is still a disturbing thought.
I was a fat ass when I was young, and for a brief period between junior year and senior year of high school, I was actually pleased with my weight. Now I am a fat ass again.
Some people tell me I hide my weight relatively well. Everyone is surprised to know I weigh so much. My own martial arts master underestimated my weight when performing a takedown; I believe he hurt himself. But now that Jennifer S. herself, who has always disregarded my insistence that I was fat, has pointedly decided that I was "chubby," it is official.
As a sophomore, after returning from Winter Break, I decided that 218lbs. was it. That I would not, absolutely not, gain any more weight. I made good on that promise, but the way I went about it was to basically starve myself. And I did. I starved myself all through sophomore year, coming down to 200lbs. by the end of the school year.
I was pleased. There is a noticeable difference when you lose 20lbs. Over the summer and well into junior year, I remained at 200lbs., but I had wanted to lose more. I joined badminton that year, and I worked my ass off. I was sensitive about my image; I still imagined everyone thought of me as a fat ass so I worked hard to prove that I was not. I stayed late every practice and did all the exercises to their fullest. To that end, at my lowest, I was 178lbs.
Quite an achievement, I thought. To go from 218lbs. to 178lbs. - literally 40lbs. Because I played badminton so much, I was able to keep my weight consistant.
But now I do not do much more than eat, sleep, and study. I have slowly went up from 185lbs. the summer after I graduated, to 210lbs. 25lbs more over roughly two years. I am slowly returning back to my previous weight, and I am concerned.
With Mr. Johns's transformation, he has inspired me to lose some weight of my own again. Although I am not sure how to go about it, I will try to stablize my weight and perhaps even begin losing it starting next quarter. I always make these promises to myself, but I feel like I am, again, reaching that saturation point. I cannot gain any more weight!
Coincidentally, Mr. Johns told me the other day that I had inspired him to lose 80lbs. How utterly ironic.
An odd assortment of things.
That is what this is.
In case some of you have not known yet, my grandmother died two weeks ago on Thursday, I believe. She was buried last week, and I went to visit her the Sunday I came back. I also went to a little shrine but I do not wish to talk about it.
There is an odd feeling of absence. I am not sure what to make of it. I was never really close to her, and I can only say I am glad suffering is over. It had been stressful for my entire family, extended and all. Perhaps I am a cold and heartless bastard. I am not sure I would feel pain at the loss of my own parents.
Yet this feeling of absence... again, what does that mean? I wonder what other people feel in times of death. My parents, obviously, feel pain at her loss. Even my dad, who I have never seen cry, broke down in news of his own mother's death (this recent one was my mother's). Not I, however. I feel an absence, that she is out and about and will return someday.
I wonder when that day will come? Maybe I am just subconsciously denying her death; unwilling to accept it. It would be nice to have someone to relate with, but I digress. In case you did not know, it is now out there.
Before starting this post, I started reading my girlfriend's blog again. For the first time in perhaps months, she has made a post. Actually, it is her first post.
Though I tend not to write about her matters, for she is always so secretive about them that it boggles me, she has been diagnosed at the school clinic as clinically depressed. When I first heard about it, I instinctively expressed disbelief and tried to downplay it.
I am such an asshole.
I have never cared much for those who called themselves depressed. I have always thought it was something people whine about; that it was just another thing ALL of us go through and that making a big deal out of it was just exacerbating the problem. You just had to pull yourself up and keep going.
I imagine I was depressed throughout high school. I practically had no friends, extremely low self confidence; I did not do much more than eat, sleep and school. But I did not let it stop me from living my life. I took refuge online, where my image and personality was however I wanted it to be. Eventually, I did not need to emulate anymore; people did like me for who I was. Among these people were Colleen Dorsey and Michelle Ty, none of who talk to me anymore, but I have added them on Facebook as a token of remembrance. I started to develop some confidence for myself, and re-tackled the world.
So it seems almost silly to me that anyone would call themselves depressed and really mean that they are incapable of pulling themselves out of it. Jennifer S. tells me otherwise, and I accede to her wisdom that depression really is a scary thing. A constant battle to stay happy, or even normal.
Depression is a broad disorder. The worst thing, I think, is that the temptation to merely write yourself off as depressed and not better your situation is very powerful. To even think that you are depressed can send you spiraling into its vicious cycle.
I did not want that. I did not want Bev to start thinking that she truly was depressed - clinically or otherwise - for she would sound her own horn and become the prophecy herself, so to speak. What came out of my mouth was something along the lines of "I think you're being a whiner."
I think I even SAID it. Why am I so terribly, accursedly inapt?! You would think someone of my caliber could have the decency to shut the fuck up and not say something so stupid and hurtful. But there it is: I said it and in my attempts to clarify, I think I even made more of an ass of myself.
It pains me, like nails on chalkboard, to think that I did not, in the moments she told me, sweep her into my arms and reassure her. To tell her that I understood her pain and frustrations, for I was once there, and tell her I would be there for her, always.
No. What the hell do I do? You whine. Great thinking there, soldier. We're promoting you to Major. Major Dick.
My feelings of her depression, as of now, are mixed. On the one hand, I still do feel as though it is something she can get over herself. That we all go through the same thing, sort of. But as her boyfriend, or just friend alone, I worry for her. I know she goes through shit no one else has to. Whatever I have, she's had it ten times worse.
I want her to be happy; I've always wanted it.
We had this huge fight at the beginning of our relationship: she was talking to her friend behind my back about our problems. That she just needed someone to listen to her and agree. And I told her I was that person. That's what I agreed to when I signed up for the job.
But no one tells you if you're doing a bad job. Maybe you get lucky, and your boss comes in and let's you know you've been slipping. But really, you screw up, and you're out on your ass. I do not feel like I will be ass hopping down the street quite yet, but I've done a terrible thing. I can only hope it is repairable. Once you close psychological doors, you can never know if someone is holding back on you.
Anyway, leaving memory lane now.
Today was the most interesting concoction of poor planning and awesome coincidences I have ever seen in my life. I would almost say it is God's work, but it would incur the wrath of Melissa L. (yet sweetly counterbalanced by the praise of Meagan S.).a
Yesterday, Jennifer S. invited me to dinner. Knowing my parents like to have dinner with me, I ask her why not lunch? So we decide on a time of 1:30pm again, which was when we were SUPPOSED to meet up the day before but never did. This morning, I wake up to Melissa L.'s phone call again (she also woke me up Monday), telling me that she is bored with her friend Quincy. Thinking nothing of it, I get on my laptop and talk to Daniel N. who says we should hang out. I invite him to lunch and had the idea to invite bored Melissa and Quincy.
I wasn't quite sure where Daniel lived, but I knew it was probably not near me and, in fact, he lived quite near Melissa which was where they were at! So I told him he should go over and pester them, and then take them to lunch with us. When it was almost time, Daniel told me that Jonathan L. would be getting back from school at 1:30pm. I figured he would like to come too so I called him.
He then informs me that he had planned to go eat with us the whole time this morning.
I was rather confused, so I let Jennifer know that Jonathan knew that we were coming to pick him up. Except that Jennifer already knew which just added more confusion. I told Daniel to meet us there while we picked Jonathan up, who explained the whole matter to us. He had talked to Daniel yesterday and said that we should meet up to eat, while Jennifer and I independently agreed to do the same.
Except DANIEL was supposed to pick Jonathan up, not us. But in the end it worked out anyway.
It is rather late, so I will end here.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Calculus
My girlfriend often quips: "you know, Calculus is a biology term for bacterial poop." I believe this succinctly describes biologists' views on mathematics.
Melissa L. argued with me once, no matter how much time and resources you threw at someone, it wasn't possible for them to learn beyond their capabilities - one practical example being Calculus.
I argued back, claiming that, given enough time and resources, you could teach someone all there is to comprehend. At this point in time, I am beginning to disbelieve myself. Sometimes I really do feel as though, despite all efforts on both parties, it is not possible. I always thought to myself: if you understood what you needed and how to get it, math would be simple; mindless, almost.
Maybe I am just expecting too much. I can't reasonably expect someone to comprehend what I have spent years of my life formulating in the course of a few months. I had only thought, if one could bypass the painful and tedious formulation of concepts that I had suffered, that math itself would no longer seem like that mythical and magical "black box" of problem solving. No doubt, others feel as though, by taking these formulae and using these methods, they would merely have to put the numbers in and get the answer. I had times where I would sit and memorize formulas, "plugging and chugging" my answers out. I made a promise to myself eventually, that I would at least attempt to understand what it is that I was doing. It's easy to forget formulae, but more difficult to forget concepts.
I have been tutoring my girlfriend in math for quite some time, and I am disappointed to say she doesn't seem like she is doing any better than she was before. I can't blame her lack of effort (that doesn't mean I don't think you slack off, Bev; I know you do), but the time in which she must absorb these concepts are probably way too short. Despite several days of studying, her last midterm was unsatisfactory.
It's a moot point at any rate; she's changed majors. History major. And I approve. Why?
I never figured out why she was a Biochemistry/Chemistry major. She didn't like it; she didn't even pick it - her brother suggested it, I believe. I would always argue that one should study what one wants. The difference, however, is that you keep in mind the rest of your life as you hit the books. True, a history major is a terrible career path, if you aren't careful. A history major with modern world applications - and believe me they exist - is a worthwhile endeavour. We both made sure of it and I have to say, I am relieved. Although I would not turn away from tutoring her personally in math and physics while she needed it, it would most likely have been a drain on my time for very little return. I guess I cannot say I am a good teacher.
Ironically, I have very little patience for Beverly. I always expect much more, and so I get annoyed and angry when she comes up short. I don't have this problem with others, but then I always naturally assumed they were inadequate or lacking. I suppose neither statement is very redeeming. I am only thankful she is patient with me, sometimes, in my anger and frustration. Despite all our quibbles and fights, we still manage to stay together. I would almost say it is healthy, but certainly stressful.
But I'm glad she has changed majors, mostly because she will be [somewhat] happy, and that I am always thankful for. Hopefully this will also alleviate some frustrations...
On the subject of frustrations (not really), I must say that Jay Chou no longer remedies my bouts of depression. Not that I have much to be depressed about, I suppose, but it certainly doesn't work. I listen to it on and off for nostalgic purposes.
I rarely listen to anything actually. Other than RO BGM music. So catchy~ I'm even listening to it right now.
I hum my own tunes sometimes; I never write them down because I forget them, but when I do they never turn out as I hope anyway. Someday I will finish a melody, though; I promiesd Stella C. I would. She would be the first to know, though that might be some time from now.
I visited my Vietnamese teacher last Thursday to have her translate a Viet song for me. It was a favorite song my dad introduced me to, and is considered timeless for "old folks like her," she said. I think the melody is quite entrancing, and will post some lyrics which I translated with her help. They are probably not accurate, as I have JUST finished them from memory; I will try to update them so that they're as accurate as possible.
Tôi đưa em sang sông
by Nhật Ngân & Y Vũ
[verse 1]
Tôi đưa em sang sông, chiều xưa mưa rơi âm thầm
I took you across the river, the rain falling silently,
Để thấm ướt chiếc áo xanh, và đẫm ướt mái tóc em
Soaking my green shirt and wetting your hair.
Nếu xưa trời không mưa, đường vắng đâu cần tôi đưa
If that day had not rained, [you] would not have needed me to take you [down an empty road.]
Chẳng lẻ chung một lối về mà nở quay mặt bước đi
Yet would we have walked the same path with heads turned away?
[verse 2]
Tôi đưa em sang sông, bàn tay nâng niu ân cần
I took you across the river, holding your hand tenderly,
Sợ bến đất lấm gót chân, sợ bến gió buốt trái tim
Afraid that the dirt would soil your heel; afraid that the wind would freeze your heart.
Nếu tôi đừng đưa em, thì chắc đôi mình không quen
If I had not taken you, then we would never have met,
Đừng bước chung một lối mòn, có đâu chiều nay tôi buồn
And had we not walked together, I would be happy tonight.
[verse 3 / bridge]
Rồi thời gian lặng lẽ trôi
Then time flowed silently by.
Đời tôi là chiến binh đi khắp phương trời
I had become a soldier, serving in lands far away.
Mà đời em là ước mơ,
But your life was like a dream,
Đẹp muôn ngàn ý thơ, như ngóng trông chờ
As beautiful as a thousand poems, [as beautiful] as waiting.
[verse 4]
Hôm nao em sang ngang, bằng xe hoa thay con thuyền
One day you pass by, a [wedding] carriage replacing [my] boat
Giờ phút cuối đến tiễn em, nhìn xác pháo vướng gót chân
I find you at the last minute, firecracker remains* stuck to your heels
Gót chân ngày xa xưa sợ lấm trong bùn khi mưa
Heels which I had worried would be soiled long ago [in the mud]
Nàng đã thay một lối về, quên cả người trong gió mưa
She has changed paths now, forgetting all else in the wind [of the rain].
(repeat)
*firecrackers are traditionally set off to celebrate a wedding
This song was originally a poem, I believe, and was written to music and melody. That would explain the unorthodox arrangement of verses.
It's hard to fully translate the poetic nature of songs. In any case, it is much too late right now. I append my unfinished draft from last time, and will hopefully update this will more accurate translations later.
>> Sometime before Christmas, when I was at home [unfinished]
Title: Insignificant
My brother told me about this video he watched which really opened his eyes to how BIG our universe is. It's nothing special to me, because I've known for a long time now just how small we are, but the video was well done and I really enjoyed it. You can watch it here.
I'll repeat what I said on facebook: "in terms of current events of the universe, humans are probably always the last to know." We're like the epic fail outcast that hears about things 3 days later (in this case, billions of years later). Black hole formation? Probably happened a couple hundred million years ago. Supernova? That was so a billion years ago. Where WERE you? Oh, that's right.
Earth.
I'm starting to have a better understanding of just what it means for TIME and SPACE to be intertwined. Humans measure time relatively, in terms of events we have seen. It is important to note that we rely on our eyes, and therefore, light as our means to measure time. Take for example, kicking a ball. There's an organized procedure: kick, ball goes up, ball comes down. Done. And that's how we do it.
If we're standing right next to them, or even as far as possible without losing sight, things coincide almost instantaneously. That's because the speed of light is incomparable to humans; it just moves too fast. Although there's a physical and measurable delay between being there and being over there, as humans, we cannot tell the difference.
Let's take it up a notch, suppose we move, not yards, but miles. Billions of miles. Then there's a difference. Then you start noticing a couple minutes worth of lag, because light travels roughly 186,000 miles per second. Light is emitted, and it is from that that humans reconstruct images and interpret them. If we receive them far later than they were emitted, we're actually looking back in time. So if a star went nova a billion miles away, it'd takes a minute or so to know it.
- there was a pause here where I went to look up impossible math problems -
Okay, my head is starting to hurt. I looked up some stuff about the speed of light, and then that lead to Einstein's mass-energy equivalence equation, and yeah. Damn you, Wikipedia.
Anyway, it just occurred to me that no one probably cares about this crap. Only me~ The point is, we're very small in this universe.
It's things like the video that gets me interested in space and physics and science. I was never too interested in the stuff I learned in physics, I wanted to learn modern physics. Ironically we never covered it in high school because we never had enough time, but I am going to take it this coming quarter. I've heard it is hard, but hopefully it'll be interesting.
Actually, I just hope my other classes are easy this quarter. My overall GPA dropped 0.1, down to 3.5, despite having a 2.85 last quarter, but that doesn't mean I can take it easy. As an electrical engineer, I'm allowed some leeway with my GPA, but nevertheless I have nothing to show for it, so I need to keep it high.
Lately, I've been feeling like I cannot do anything, and I'm beginning to expect too much from people, I suppose. Something occurred to me while I was at home, too; the only reason I did so well my sophomore/junior year, and possibly why I had gotten decent at guitar was because I LITERALLY HAD NOTHING TO DO. I was such a loner back then, and with no TV/cable/anything to boot, I just played guitar and did homework. I remember, when I got home, I would just do homework, and then play guitar. I loved playing classical because it sounded so... emo, but at the same time, melodic and - probably this the most - I could do it by myself. I didn't need friends to entertain myself (not like I had any).
Half way through junior year, me and Jennifer S. started becoming friends. I joined the badminton team; I met Nancy L. and Jonathan L. and Samuel L. and Raymond L. (What's with all these L's?) I actually had something to do, and people to do it with. Not to mention I actually got into shape. I'm competitive like that; I wanted to prove I wasn't just another fat, lazy asian kid who just played badminton so he could put it on his college application (I don't think I ever did, either). So I actually felt good about myself. Don't get me wrong, I sucked at badminton, but I would stay until the end every day. I would do all the exercises as best as I could; no shortcuts! I did it because I didn't want to cut myself short - I can do it, I told myself.
Since then, I haven't been by myself as much. Though I barely talk to anyone other than my girlfriend and Melissa L., when she's not busy, it's still better than before when I had no one. Maybe that's why I wanted a girlfriend so much. Just to have someone to hang out with and care for me, to know that I actually mean something to someone.
But I've neglected guitar ever since I've come down to UCSD. I haven't sung at all since the end of choir before summer. My voice has gone to shit, and I really regret it. Not that it was any good to begin with, but I've really let it go. And my weight, ugh. That too. I suppose I can list out what I'm disappointed in: my singing, my guitar, badminton, my weight, my appearance, my grades. Not in any particular order.
So that's why I haven't been feeling good about myself. My girlfriend told me, a while back, that she likes the Anglo Saxon look. I've pretty much equated that to mean White people, though I believe it refers more to English Europeans. And also that she thinks of hair as being important in terms of aesthetics and beauty.
And to think I told her that I was thinking about just cutting my hair short and forgetting about it because I don't know what to do with my hair.
Ironically, that's when I started reading about depression, which made me feel BETTER. Why? No idea.
I tried cheering myself up by doing what I used to do: sing Jay Chou songs. That's when I realized I couldn't sing anymore and so you can assume it didn't help very much. You know it's bad when EVEN JAY CHOU CAN'T HELP YOU.
I'm just back to being lonely. Although it's not really a new revelation, I suppose it comes from expecting too much again. I've always had to set things up with people; set up meetings and hang out times. They don't work out, but I still did them. Now, I don't feel like it. I'm tired of having my plans going to shit and I'm tired of being the only one organizing it. It would be nice to just be invited for once, to be like "hey Kevin, hang out with me/us!" AND ACTUALLY FOLLOW THROUGH WITH IT! Make the plans, and not just throw it out there. But like I said, I'm expecting too much. It's not like, oh it's Kevin we must hang out. Nothing particularly special about me. Not that I'm trying to inspire pity; I don't want to. You're just average, Kevin. Got to keep that in mind.
I have to thank Jenn and Jon for keeping me sane, though; they've really made my break, but I haven't gotten them anything special for Christmas. GAH. Christmas presents. I don't even know what to give them. I'm hoping for an epiphany right now. An EPIPHANY of PRESENT GIVING.
Melissa L. argued with me once, no matter how much time and resources you threw at someone, it wasn't possible for them to learn beyond their capabilities - one practical example being Calculus.
I argued back, claiming that, given enough time and resources, you could teach someone all there is to comprehend. At this point in time, I am beginning to disbelieve myself. Sometimes I really do feel as though, despite all efforts on both parties, it is not possible. I always thought to myself: if you understood what you needed and how to get it, math would be simple; mindless, almost.
Maybe I am just expecting too much. I can't reasonably expect someone to comprehend what I have spent years of my life formulating in the course of a few months. I had only thought, if one could bypass the painful and tedious formulation of concepts that I had suffered, that math itself would no longer seem like that mythical and magical "black box" of problem solving. No doubt, others feel as though, by taking these formulae and using these methods, they would merely have to put the numbers in and get the answer. I had times where I would sit and memorize formulas, "plugging and chugging" my answers out. I made a promise to myself eventually, that I would at least attempt to understand what it is that I was doing. It's easy to forget formulae, but more difficult to forget concepts.
I have been tutoring my girlfriend in math for quite some time, and I am disappointed to say she doesn't seem like she is doing any better than she was before. I can't blame her lack of effort (that doesn't mean I don't think you slack off, Bev; I know you do), but the time in which she must absorb these concepts are probably way too short. Despite several days of studying, her last midterm was unsatisfactory.
It's a moot point at any rate; she's changed majors. History major. And I approve. Why?
I never figured out why she was a Biochemistry/Chemistry major. She didn't like it; she didn't even pick it - her brother suggested it, I believe. I would always argue that one should study what one wants. The difference, however, is that you keep in mind the rest of your life as you hit the books. True, a history major is a terrible career path, if you aren't careful. A history major with modern world applications - and believe me they exist - is a worthwhile endeavour. We both made sure of it and I have to say, I am relieved. Although I would not turn away from tutoring her personally in math and physics while she needed it, it would most likely have been a drain on my time for very little return. I guess I cannot say I am a good teacher.
Ironically, I have very little patience for Beverly. I always expect much more, and so I get annoyed and angry when she comes up short. I don't have this problem with others, but then I always naturally assumed they were inadequate or lacking. I suppose neither statement is very redeeming. I am only thankful she is patient with me, sometimes, in my anger and frustration. Despite all our quibbles and fights, we still manage to stay together. I would almost say it is healthy, but certainly stressful.
But I'm glad she has changed majors, mostly because she will be [somewhat] happy, and that I am always thankful for. Hopefully this will also alleviate some frustrations...
On the subject of frustrations (not really), I must say that Jay Chou no longer remedies my bouts of depression. Not that I have much to be depressed about, I suppose, but it certainly doesn't work. I listen to it on and off for nostalgic purposes.
I rarely listen to anything actually. Other than RO BGM music. So catchy~ I'm even listening to it right now.
I hum my own tunes sometimes; I never write them down because I forget them, but when I do they never turn out as I hope anyway. Someday I will finish a melody, though; I promiesd Stella C. I would. She would be the first to know, though that might be some time from now.
I visited my Vietnamese teacher last Thursday to have her translate a Viet song for me. It was a favorite song my dad introduced me to, and is considered timeless for "old folks like her," she said. I think the melody is quite entrancing, and will post some lyrics which I translated with her help. They are probably not accurate, as I have JUST finished them from memory; I will try to update them so that they're as accurate as possible.
Tôi đưa em sang sông
by Nhật Ngân & Y Vũ
[verse 1]
Tôi đưa em sang sông, chiều xưa mưa rơi âm thầm
I took you across the river, the rain falling silently,
Để thấm ướt chiếc áo xanh, và đẫm ướt mái tóc em
Soaking my green shirt and wetting your hair.
Nếu xưa trời không mưa, đường vắng đâu cần tôi đưa
If that day had not rained, [you] would not have needed me to take you [down an empty road.]
Chẳng lẻ chung một lối về mà nở quay mặt bước đi
Yet would we have walked the same path with heads turned away?
[verse 2]
Tôi đưa em sang sông, bàn tay nâng niu ân cần
I took you across the river, holding your hand tenderly,
Sợ bến đất lấm gót chân, sợ bến gió buốt trái tim
Afraid that the dirt would soil your heel; afraid that the wind would freeze your heart.
Nếu tôi đừng đưa em, thì chắc đôi mình không quen
If I had not taken you, then we would never have met,
Đừng bước chung một lối mòn, có đâu chiều nay tôi buồn
And had we not walked together, I would be happy tonight.
[verse 3 / bridge]
Rồi thời gian lặng lẽ trôi
Then time flowed silently by.
Đời tôi là chiến binh đi khắp phương trời
I had become a soldier, serving in lands far away.
Mà đời em là ước mơ,
But your life was like a dream,
Đẹp muôn ngàn ý thơ, như ngóng trông chờ
As beautiful as a thousand poems, [as beautiful] as waiting.
[verse 4]
Hôm nao em sang ngang, bằng xe hoa thay con thuyền
One day you pass by, a [wedding] carriage replacing [my] boat
Giờ phút cuối đến tiễn em, nhìn xác pháo vướng gót chân
I find you at the last minute, firecracker remains* stuck to your heels
Gót chân ngày xa xưa sợ lấm trong bùn khi mưa
Heels which I had worried would be soiled long ago [in the mud]
Nàng đã thay một lối về, quên cả người trong gió mưa
She has changed paths now, forgetting all else in the wind [of the rain].
(repeat)
*firecrackers are traditionally set off to celebrate a wedding
This song was originally a poem, I believe, and was written to music and melody. That would explain the unorthodox arrangement of verses.
It's hard to fully translate the poetic nature of songs. In any case, it is much too late right now. I append my unfinished draft from last time, and will hopefully update this will more accurate translations later.
>> Sometime before Christmas, when I was at home [unfinished]
Title: Insignificant
My brother told me about this video he watched which really opened his eyes to how BIG our universe is. It's nothing special to me, because I've known for a long time now just how small we are, but the video was well done and I really enjoyed it. You can watch it here.
I'll repeat what I said on facebook: "in terms of current events of the universe, humans are probably always the last to know." We're like the epic fail outcast that hears about things 3 days later (in this case, billions of years later). Black hole formation? Probably happened a couple hundred million years ago. Supernova? That was so a billion years ago. Where WERE you? Oh, that's right.
Earth.
I'm starting to have a better understanding of just what it means for TIME and SPACE to be intertwined. Humans measure time relatively, in terms of events we have seen. It is important to note that we rely on our eyes, and therefore, light as our means to measure time. Take for example, kicking a ball. There's an organized procedure: kick, ball goes up, ball comes down. Done. And that's how we do it.
If we're standing right next to them, or even as far as possible without losing sight, things coincide almost instantaneously. That's because the speed of light is incomparable to humans; it just moves too fast. Although there's a physical and measurable delay between being there and being over there, as humans, we cannot tell the difference.
Let's take it up a notch, suppose we move, not yards, but miles. Billions of miles. Then there's a difference. Then you start noticing a couple minutes worth of lag, because light travels roughly 186,000 miles per second. Light is emitted, and it is from that that humans reconstruct images and interpret them. If we receive them far later than they were emitted, we're actually looking back in time. So if a star went nova a billion miles away, it'd takes a minute or so to know it.
- there was a pause here where I went to look up impossible math problems -
Okay, my head is starting to hurt. I looked up some stuff about the speed of light, and then that lead to Einstein's mass-energy equivalence equation, and yeah. Damn you, Wikipedia.
Anyway, it just occurred to me that no one probably cares about this crap. Only me~ The point is, we're very small in this universe.
It's things like the video that gets me interested in space and physics and science. I was never too interested in the stuff I learned in physics, I wanted to learn modern physics. Ironically we never covered it in high school because we never had enough time, but I am going to take it this coming quarter. I've heard it is hard, but hopefully it'll be interesting.
Actually, I just hope my other classes are easy this quarter. My overall GPA dropped 0.1, down to 3.5, despite having a 2.85 last quarter, but that doesn't mean I can take it easy. As an electrical engineer, I'm allowed some leeway with my GPA, but nevertheless I have nothing to show for it, so I need to keep it high.
Lately, I've been feeling like I cannot do anything, and I'm beginning to expect too much from people, I suppose. Something occurred to me while I was at home, too; the only reason I did so well my sophomore/junior year, and possibly why I had gotten decent at guitar was because I LITERALLY HAD NOTHING TO DO. I was such a loner back then, and with no TV/cable/anything to boot, I just played guitar and did homework. I remember, when I got home, I would just do homework, and then play guitar. I loved playing classical because it sounded so... emo, but at the same time, melodic and - probably this the most - I could do it by myself. I didn't need friends to entertain myself (not like I had any).
Half way through junior year, me and Jennifer S. started becoming friends. I joined the badminton team; I met Nancy L. and Jonathan L. and Samuel L. and Raymond L. (What's with all these L's?) I actually had something to do, and people to do it with. Not to mention I actually got into shape. I'm competitive like that; I wanted to prove I wasn't just another fat, lazy asian kid who just played badminton so he could put it on his college application (I don't think I ever did, either). So I actually felt good about myself. Don't get me wrong, I sucked at badminton, but I would stay until the end every day. I would do all the exercises as best as I could; no shortcuts! I did it because I didn't want to cut myself short - I can do it, I told myself.
Since then, I haven't been by myself as much. Though I barely talk to anyone other than my girlfriend and Melissa L., when she's not busy, it's still better than before when I had no one. Maybe that's why I wanted a girlfriend so much. Just to have someone to hang out with and care for me, to know that I actually mean something to someone.
But I've neglected guitar ever since I've come down to UCSD. I haven't sung at all since the end of choir before summer. My voice has gone to shit, and I really regret it. Not that it was any good to begin with, but I've really let it go. And my weight, ugh. That too. I suppose I can list out what I'm disappointed in: my singing, my guitar, badminton, my weight, my appearance, my grades. Not in any particular order.
So that's why I haven't been feeling good about myself. My girlfriend told me, a while back, that she likes the Anglo Saxon look. I've pretty much equated that to mean White people, though I believe it refers more to English Europeans. And also that she thinks of hair as being important in terms of aesthetics and beauty.
And to think I told her that I was thinking about just cutting my hair short and forgetting about it because I don't know what to do with my hair.
Ironically, that's when I started reading about depression, which made me feel BETTER. Why? No idea.
I tried cheering myself up by doing what I used to do: sing Jay Chou songs. That's when I realized I couldn't sing anymore and so you can assume it didn't help very much. You know it's bad when EVEN JAY CHOU CAN'T HELP YOU.
I'm just back to being lonely. Although it's not really a new revelation, I suppose it comes from expecting too much again. I've always had to set things up with people; set up meetings and hang out times. They don't work out, but I still did them. Now, I don't feel like it. I'm tired of having my plans going to shit and I'm tired of being the only one organizing it. It would be nice to just be invited for once, to be like "hey Kevin, hang out with me/us!" AND ACTUALLY FOLLOW THROUGH WITH IT! Make the plans, and not just throw it out there. But like I said, I'm expecting too much. It's not like, oh it's Kevin we must hang out. Nothing particularly special about me. Not that I'm trying to inspire pity; I don't want to. You're just average, Kevin. Got to keep that in mind.
I have to thank Jenn and Jon for keeping me sane, though; they've really made my break, but I haven't gotten them anything special for Christmas. GAH. Christmas presents. I don't even know what to give them. I'm hoping for an epiphany right now. An EPIPHANY of PRESENT GIVING.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Rain
20091208
I woke up from a dream of Gloria Y. again today. Or I think I did - I don't actually remember what it was about.
But I knew.
I knew in the way people just know things in dreams. I knew that me and Gloria were sharing time together. I knew that it was a kind of intimate moment. The kind that she probably wished we had more of. The kind I wished we had more of, back then.
But I also know that it doesn't mean anything. To me, dreams don't tell you anything new. They take from what you have and play around with it. How you interpret it is up to you. Does this dream mean that I still have feelings for Gloria? That I still care and want to be with her? Or is it merely replaying my longing and unrest at the time? To some degree, it's all true. Which one is it? Probably none of them. I admit I do care for Gloria, in the same way I care for most of my friends. I care that I've hurt her and then ignored her. I even blamed her for what happened, and not getting over it. That she was being naive for thinking I was special just because I showed her a little attention.
We can't help who we end up falling for.
I used to think you could get over anyone. That it only took time and patience. I've done it time and time again, why not? But I can understand now, what Gloria had to go through. Or is still going through? I won't hope for that. I admit, for a while after we broke up, I was happy that I was still her center of attention. It made me feel wanted in a way that I've rarely felt in my life. I would still talk to her from time, whenever she'd call me. Unless I was with Beverly - then I'd put it off until I was by myself (this was before me and Bev got serious). I've grown to take it for granted, but at the same time I wanted her to let go. To move on.
It was selfish.
I could do nothing for her. I had a girlfriend; even if I wanted to help her or comfort her, I have a responsibility to my girlfriend first. I tried to explain that to her. That I cared for her wellbeing, that the only way for her to be happy was to move on. That I could do nothing more than be her friend, and be there when I was free. But that time began to disappear as my girlfriend and I became closer. Soon I had no time for her at all; I basically ignored her calls because I was with my girlfriend most of the time. At first, I would squeeze in a call to her after class was over, before I saw my girlfriend again. They were short, and I knew she wanted to talk. But I did not have the time without my girlfriend wondering where I was. Later, I just stopped calling her at all. I told myself that I wanted her to have some space; to be herself again. But really, I just didn't have the time and wouldn't make the effort.
That's when I blamed her. I blamed her for not getting over me. For not being able to let go. But at the same time, I didn't want her to. I still wanted to be important to someone. Looking back on my high school years, I always thought I was the victim. First, Emily L., then Nancy L., and then Gloria and Jenny Y. Even Melissa L. I always thought that fate had wronged me. That God had wronged me - that I was to have a depressing love life. That I was truly pitiful. Am I really the victim? I've drawn so many parallels with Gloria that I can only blame myself.
Maybe I am the naive one after all.
Now, Gloria seems to have gotten over it. Or maybe she has become so good at feigning it, that I can no longer tell. I am still a long way from that; I get carried away too easily. I hope it is the former and not the latter. God is so utterly ironic. Of my two biggest problems, with Nancy and Gloria, I have come to relive both of them personally. Humbling, but painful.
In any case, my relationship with Gloria has waned since Spring. Our conversations, when we have them, have dulled. Her excitement and personality that used to captivate me is gone; she is a little more reserved than what I'm used to. Funny how Jenny said the exact same thing of me. I wonder sometimes what my best course of action is. My ideas about rebuilding our relationship and helping Gloria return to what she used to be are attractive, but then I think about my own situation and start to wallow. Jenny is very likely doing the exact same thing.
We all smile our fake smiles, and pretend nothing is wrong.
In any case, I did not think much of that dream. Just memories and feelings of me and my girlfriend, mixed in with images of Gloria in her place. That's what it all is: reaffirming our intimacy. It's easier to believe that, especially when I awaken to see her next to me.
I saw a few pictures of Melissa on Facebook a couple of days ago. Why am I talking about this? I don't know. Maybe because I know she is reading this right now. It was very striking; I haven't actually seen her in person for a very long time. Almost a year, now. I try to make plans, when we're both in town, but they never work out.
It stood out. Not the picture itself, but the fact that it's been so long since I've seen her. She hasn't really changed; in fact, she looks a lot more like what I remembered than her recent pictures. Come to think of it, I am not sure why I am so piqued by those pictures, since she occasionally sends me some (such a camwhore). Probably because they WERE so similar to what I remembered her as.
Either way, I talk to her way more on AIM - perhaps even by phone - than I actually see her. I suppose I am in no rush to see her in person, or to hang out. Perhaps she even prefers it this way; it seems like a huge inconvenience for her to physically hang out with me. I only remember coming to her house once to hang out. And that ended up with me going out a window, so I can't comment much on that. I'm nothing special, anyway. We talk on AIM and share in each other's problems from time to time, and I don't expect much more than that.
The photos were of a banquet or some sort. She was in a dress and looked quite pretty. Sophisticated almost; intelligent. It's the kind of look that I want her to go for, but is probably far from what she wants. I must make a few recommendations, though: glass frames that match your hair and lose the fake smiles. Maybe a small smile, or a real smile, but fake smiles are the worst. I think a slight curve of the lips is sufficient. An I-know-something-you-don't would be perfect.
I'm oddly reminded of our senior prom. Yes, yes, it was awkward but I think before that, it was mostly fun. Melissa had, for better or worse, no one she wanted to take. She did list off to me a few potentials, I think, maybe to rub in how un-special I was, or to dash any ideas I had about the subject. Not that it made much of a difference. Nevertheless, she asked me to go with her. At the time, we had only known each other for a few months, no more than five. I don't think we talked much in school, but we certainly did talk a LOT on AIM. I have no idea what force of nature convinced her that I was an acceptable date, or one that she was willing to go with senior prom to, but I digress. I actually declined, at first, because I had promised my friend Jennifer S. to take her to junior prom. I, who have never went to junior prom, was even more reluctant to go to senior prom because I did not know many of my class. Even less so Melissa, or any of her friends. One of them was surprised, the day of, that I turned out to be a decent date, since she seemed to think I would be "aloof and distant." I think she felt sorry that Melissa had to take me to the dance, and I certainly did get the feeling that I was the last minute stand-in. I don't blame her, though; I mostly kept to myself and rarely talked to them before senior prom. I was still an introverted loner, though things haven't progressed much since then.
I didn't make any plans for it at all; the person I wanted to go with said no and so I had planned to take Jennifer. But it turned out it was too expensive and so we fell back on other plans (which we never did, Jenn reminded me disapprovingly one day). So I asked Melissa if she had a date. She replied, probably sullenly, with a no and so that was that. I wanted to go to a prom, if just for the experience, and she wanted a date.
Luckily, she and her group had it all planned. (I wouldn't know what I would do if I had to do it myself.) All I had to do was cough up the money, show up, and pretend like I was having a good time. But for some reason, I didn't want to show up and just pretend. I wanted to have a good time, period. I knew, ahead of time, the people we were going in the limo with, so I made sure I was on friendly terms with them. It wasn't too difficult, since I sat next to them in class. In fact, I sat right behind Melissa, so I made it a point to at least get to know her. Somewhere between my getting to know her well enough to be comfortable and the prom itself, I got caught up. She would ask me to and I would help her pore over dresses online, despite my homework. That my opinion, for what it's worth, on dresses was being seriously requested was something I looked forward to giving. It's a sad sort of bonding that I would probably not have gotten otherwise: looking at and giving opinions on dresses that would look good on her. Like going clothes shopping, minus the mall and walking.
And the being there.
For most of the experience, I clung to her. I didn't know anyone else in our group that well, and as soon as we got there, we were pretty much left to our own devices. We danced and took breaks and walked around and talked and ate. (We actually fed each other once, I think, but it was hardly as suggestive as I would believe it to be now.) The dancing was alright. Hell if I know how to dance... I just moved around with the rhythm of the music. I guess that's what high school dancing is: holding hands and moving around. Then there's dancing, which some can, and then there's public indecency, in which I won't go in to. She insists to me, to this day, that those slow dances were the closest she ever got to a guy (at the time). That may very well have been true but my spatial senses told me there was a giant chasm between us. I wasn't aloof about THAT, and I made it a point to bridge that on the last dance. I could feel her pushing against my hand with her back, like she wanted to get away badly, but it was the last dance so I didn't care too much. It was Backstreet Boys so, I mean, c'mon.
I woke up from a dream of Gloria Y. again today. Or I think I did - I don't actually remember what it was about.
But I knew.
I knew in the way people just know things in dreams. I knew that me and Gloria were sharing time together. I knew that it was a kind of intimate moment. The kind that she probably wished we had more of. The kind I wished we had more of, back then.
But I also know that it doesn't mean anything. To me, dreams don't tell you anything new. They take from what you have and play around with it. How you interpret it is up to you. Does this dream mean that I still have feelings for Gloria? That I still care and want to be with her? Or is it merely replaying my longing and unrest at the time? To some degree, it's all true. Which one is it? Probably none of them. I admit I do care for Gloria, in the same way I care for most of my friends. I care that I've hurt her and then ignored her. I even blamed her for what happened, and not getting over it. That she was being naive for thinking I was special just because I showed her a little attention.
We can't help who we end up falling for.
I used to think you could get over anyone. That it only took time and patience. I've done it time and time again, why not? But I can understand now, what Gloria had to go through. Or is still going through? I won't hope for that. I admit, for a while after we broke up, I was happy that I was still her center of attention. It made me feel wanted in a way that I've rarely felt in my life. I would still talk to her from time, whenever she'd call me. Unless I was with Beverly - then I'd put it off until I was by myself (this was before me and Bev got serious). I've grown to take it for granted, but at the same time I wanted her to let go. To move on.
It was selfish.
I could do nothing for her. I had a girlfriend; even if I wanted to help her or comfort her, I have a responsibility to my girlfriend first. I tried to explain that to her. That I cared for her wellbeing, that the only way for her to be happy was to move on. That I could do nothing more than be her friend, and be there when I was free. But that time began to disappear as my girlfriend and I became closer. Soon I had no time for her at all; I basically ignored her calls because I was with my girlfriend most of the time. At first, I would squeeze in a call to her after class was over, before I saw my girlfriend again. They were short, and I knew she wanted to talk. But I did not have the time without my girlfriend wondering where I was. Later, I just stopped calling her at all. I told myself that I wanted her to have some space; to be herself again. But really, I just didn't have the time and wouldn't make the effort.
That's when I blamed her. I blamed her for not getting over me. For not being able to let go. But at the same time, I didn't want her to. I still wanted to be important to someone. Looking back on my high school years, I always thought I was the victim. First, Emily L., then Nancy L., and then Gloria and Jenny Y. Even Melissa L. I always thought that fate had wronged me. That God had wronged me - that I was to have a depressing love life. That I was truly pitiful. Am I really the victim? I've drawn so many parallels with Gloria that I can only blame myself.
Maybe I am the naive one after all.
Now, Gloria seems to have gotten over it. Or maybe she has become so good at feigning it, that I can no longer tell. I am still a long way from that; I get carried away too easily. I hope it is the former and not the latter. God is so utterly ironic. Of my two biggest problems, with Nancy and Gloria, I have come to relive both of them personally. Humbling, but painful.
In any case, my relationship with Gloria has waned since Spring. Our conversations, when we have them, have dulled. Her excitement and personality that used to captivate me is gone; she is a little more reserved than what I'm used to. Funny how Jenny said the exact same thing of me. I wonder sometimes what my best course of action is. My ideas about rebuilding our relationship and helping Gloria return to what she used to be are attractive, but then I think about my own situation and start to wallow. Jenny is very likely doing the exact same thing.
We all smile our fake smiles, and pretend nothing is wrong.
In any case, I did not think much of that dream. Just memories and feelings of me and my girlfriend, mixed in with images of Gloria in her place. That's what it all is: reaffirming our intimacy. It's easier to believe that, especially when I awaken to see her next to me.
I saw a few pictures of Melissa on Facebook a couple of days ago. Why am I talking about this? I don't know. Maybe because I know she is reading this right now. It was very striking; I haven't actually seen her in person for a very long time. Almost a year, now. I try to make plans, when we're both in town, but they never work out.
It stood out. Not the picture itself, but the fact that it's been so long since I've seen her. She hasn't really changed; in fact, she looks a lot more like what I remembered than her recent pictures. Come to think of it, I am not sure why I am so piqued by those pictures, since she occasionally sends me some (such a camwhore). Probably because they WERE so similar to what I remembered her as.
Either way, I talk to her way more on AIM - perhaps even by phone - than I actually see her. I suppose I am in no rush to see her in person, or to hang out. Perhaps she even prefers it this way; it seems like a huge inconvenience for her to physically hang out with me. I only remember coming to her house once to hang out. And that ended up with me going out a window, so I can't comment much on that. I'm nothing special, anyway. We talk on AIM and share in each other's problems from time to time, and I don't expect much more than that.
The photos were of a banquet or some sort. She was in a dress and looked quite pretty. Sophisticated almost; intelligent. It's the kind of look that I want her to go for, but is probably far from what she wants. I must make a few recommendations, though: glass frames that match your hair and lose the fake smiles. Maybe a small smile, or a real smile, but fake smiles are the worst. I think a slight curve of the lips is sufficient. An I-know-something-you-don't would be perfect.
I'm oddly reminded of our senior prom. Yes, yes, it was awkward but I think before that, it was mostly fun. Melissa had, for better or worse, no one she wanted to take. She did list off to me a few potentials, I think, maybe to rub in how un-special I was, or to dash any ideas I had about the subject. Not that it made much of a difference. Nevertheless, she asked me to go with her. At the time, we had only known each other for a few months, no more than five. I don't think we talked much in school, but we certainly did talk a LOT on AIM. I have no idea what force of nature convinced her that I was an acceptable date, or one that she was willing to go with senior prom to, but I digress. I actually declined, at first, because I had promised my friend Jennifer S. to take her to junior prom. I, who have never went to junior prom, was even more reluctant to go to senior prom because I did not know many of my class. Even less so Melissa, or any of her friends. One of them was surprised, the day of, that I turned out to be a decent date, since she seemed to think I would be "aloof and distant." I think she felt sorry that Melissa had to take me to the dance, and I certainly did get the feeling that I was the last minute stand-in. I don't blame her, though; I mostly kept to myself and rarely talked to them before senior prom. I was still an introverted loner, though things haven't progressed much since then.
I didn't make any plans for it at all; the person I wanted to go with said no and so I had planned to take Jennifer. But it turned out it was too expensive and so we fell back on other plans (which we never did, Jenn reminded me disapprovingly one day). So I asked Melissa if she had a date. She replied, probably sullenly, with a no and so that was that. I wanted to go to a prom, if just for the experience, and she wanted a date.
Luckily, she and her group had it all planned. (I wouldn't know what I would do if I had to do it myself.) All I had to do was cough up the money, show up, and pretend like I was having a good time. But for some reason, I didn't want to show up and just pretend. I wanted to have a good time, period. I knew, ahead of time, the people we were going in the limo with, so I made sure I was on friendly terms with them. It wasn't too difficult, since I sat next to them in class. In fact, I sat right behind Melissa, so I made it a point to at least get to know her. Somewhere between my getting to know her well enough to be comfortable and the prom itself, I got caught up. She would ask me to and I would help her pore over dresses online, despite my homework. That my opinion, for what it's worth, on dresses was being seriously requested was something I looked forward to giving. It's a sad sort of bonding that I would probably not have gotten otherwise: looking at and giving opinions on dresses that would look good on her. Like going clothes shopping, minus the mall and walking.
And the being there.
For most of the experience, I clung to her. I didn't know anyone else in our group that well, and as soon as we got there, we were pretty much left to our own devices. We danced and took breaks and walked around and talked and ate. (We actually fed each other once, I think, but it was hardly as suggestive as I would believe it to be now.) The dancing was alright. Hell if I know how to dance... I just moved around with the rhythm of the music. I guess that's what high school dancing is: holding hands and moving around. Then there's dancing, which some can, and then there's public indecency, in which I won't go in to. She insists to me, to this day, that those slow dances were the closest she ever got to a guy (at the time). That may very well have been true but my spatial senses told me there was a giant chasm between us. I wasn't aloof about THAT, and I made it a point to bridge that on the last dance. I could feel her pushing against my hand with her back, like she wanted to get away badly, but it was the last dance so I didn't care too much. It was Backstreet Boys so, I mean, c'mon.
I admit that I sung with the chorus. And that I actually knew the words. You can ask Melissa to verify that.
It was nice. I'll have fond memories of it. I can't say much on her part; she was probably terrified by the end of the dancing. HAHA. Not my fault, of course. ;)
The weather has gotten really cold today. I woke up to find a howling gale, complete with rain. Not thinking, I put on my trench coat and walked outside. In sandals.
Sandals.
I'm retarded.
It's not like it's the first time I've done it, either, but hopefully it will be the last. And it wasn't like I had time to go back and change because I had an engineering final in the morning that I needed to go to.
On another note, my girlfriend's sister and/or brother-in-law think I'm like a chubby bunny.
They mean it in a cute way, but I'm getting very self-conscious about my weight.
I haven't been able to maintain my weight like I used to back in Fremont. I don't get to play badminton every day of the week anymore, either, so I basically have stopped exercising. On top of that, I eat more because it's easy to get. I really hate myself right now, for not being able to maintain my weight. I come back to Fremont and lose two or three lbs, only to return her and gain it all in a few HOURS.
HOURS, PEOPLE.
I fear coming back to Fremont and wondering what my friends will think. No one will say anything, of course, but I know they're probably thinking it. I know I would.
I had something else to write about but it's getting late. I suppose I will do it next time.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Smile
I didn't sleep until 4:30am today. I returned from Wing Chun at about 11:30pm, and told myself I would shower and pack and get some sleep so I wouldn't miss class and my plane the next morning.
What I ended up doing was procrastinating until 3:00am in the morning, until I finally decided that I wanted to spend some time with my girlfriend before I left for Fremont. I seem to just stop functioning without her now. When I have nothing to do, my mind starts to wander to her. I remember a time when I disliked so much attention, so much time together. I felt like I couldn't do anything I wanted to because I always had to worry about her. Now, I have a sudden emptiness when she isn't there. I don't think for myself like I used to, or enjoy things because I want to. I think about US and not ME. I don't say this with frustration or relief - as a comment, only.
I woke up at 6:30am and showered, so that I could have one last breakfast with her. The dining halls open at 7:00am, but I have a class at 7:30am. She didn't sleep at all, I think. I hope she is doing okay. She is probably asleep - I'm tired myself.
On the plane ride to San Francisco, I sat next to a really classy lady. I think she was in her mid-20s. She was pretty much what I expected a white, classy woman to be like: well done make-up, stylish clothing, smooth skin and lightly perfumed. (She also reminded me a lot of Jennifer.) I wonder what she thought of me the whole flight. I wasn't attracted to her - I prefer Asians mostly - but I certainly was in a little bit of awe. And self-conscious. But there's not much to be done about that. Do I ever wish I was better off? Fit, healthy, toned, good looking? Of course.
Of course.
When I got home, I realized I had nothing to do. No plans, nothing to do. Nothing to eat, even. It was near 1:30pm, and I hadn't eaten since 7:00am. I was hoping to go out for dinner with my family... my dad's birthday was last Thursday but he postponed so that we could all go eat when I came back for Thanksgiving. But he called me later and told me we were going to my Grandma's and so the dinner was a no-go. Disappointed, but it meant I could do other things. Towards 3:00pm, I called Jonathan because I had absolutely no one else to hang out with. He seemed pretty inclined, to which later I found out was because he spent his entire week doing nothing. I normally would've hung out with Jenny and whoever she decided to bring along (usually Janine), but she said she was studying the whole day. Sure enough, not 5 minutes after I finished calling Jon, Jenny called and asked if I wanted to hang out. I was tempted to, but I told Jon I would come over so I declined. As I was walking to Jon's house, it occurred to me that I was hungry. Not that it was a new revelation, but that I merely forgotten. I decided to ask Jenny if she was hungry, and if so, we could all go eat.
Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Between Jon and Jenny and Janine (whoa, 3 J's...), it was more complicated than simply going to Jon's house to crap my pants (read: play Fatal Frame). We took a long time to decide where we wanted to go eat, because Jon wasn't hungry, Janine just wanted Starbucks (she mooched off Jenny anyway) and Jenny wanted fries from Wingstop and Chipotle. I was deciding between Panda Express and Ohana's, but after mooching off Jenny's fries I decided to go to Ohana's. It was almost 5:30pm when Jenny had to go home abruptly. I was a little disappointed that we didn't spend that much time together. After all it really had only been 2 hours or so, and I don't really know when I'll see them next.
It's hard to smile. To smile and pretend that everything's okay; that nothing in the world ever bothers you. Is it a guy thing? To show no emotions? No, I'd say not - more like hiding your emotions. Girls do that too. To convince everyone you're happy when deep down you feel like crying. Like curling up and just... stop. Stop thinking, stop feeling. And just sleep. Forget it all, even if only for a little while. It's worse when it's nobody's fault but your own. That your very unhappiness is self-imposed.
I'm reminded of my high school life. I thought those times were all behind me, but they never really go away. They just resurface in a different context. I had walked home once, and could barely keep myself from crying. Why? That's something else entirely. Not that I cried much back then. I cry more now; I wonder why is that.
I'm starting to sound like Gloria. She called me a while back and left me a voice message. I haven't called her back yet. I don't know how to respond to her anymore.
What I ended up doing was procrastinating until 3:00am in the morning, until I finally decided that I wanted to spend some time with my girlfriend before I left for Fremont. I seem to just stop functioning without her now. When I have nothing to do, my mind starts to wander to her. I remember a time when I disliked so much attention, so much time together. I felt like I couldn't do anything I wanted to because I always had to worry about her. Now, I have a sudden emptiness when she isn't there. I don't think for myself like I used to, or enjoy things because I want to. I think about US and not ME. I don't say this with frustration or relief - as a comment, only.
I woke up at 6:30am and showered, so that I could have one last breakfast with her. The dining halls open at 7:00am, but I have a class at 7:30am. She didn't sleep at all, I think. I hope she is doing okay. She is probably asleep - I'm tired myself.
On the plane ride to San Francisco, I sat next to a really classy lady. I think she was in her mid-20s. She was pretty much what I expected a white, classy woman to be like: well done make-up, stylish clothing, smooth skin and lightly perfumed. (She also reminded me a lot of Jennifer.) I wonder what she thought of me the whole flight. I wasn't attracted to her - I prefer Asians mostly - but I certainly was in a little bit of awe. And self-conscious. But there's not much to be done about that. Do I ever wish I was better off? Fit, healthy, toned, good looking? Of course.
Of course.
When I got home, I realized I had nothing to do. No plans, nothing to do. Nothing to eat, even. It was near 1:30pm, and I hadn't eaten since 7:00am. I was hoping to go out for dinner with my family... my dad's birthday was last Thursday but he postponed so that we could all go eat when I came back for Thanksgiving. But he called me later and told me we were going to my Grandma's and so the dinner was a no-go. Disappointed, but it meant I could do other things. Towards 3:00pm, I called Jonathan because I had absolutely no one else to hang out with. He seemed pretty inclined, to which later I found out was because he spent his entire week doing nothing. I normally would've hung out with Jenny and whoever she decided to bring along (usually Janine), but she said she was studying the whole day. Sure enough, not 5 minutes after I finished calling Jon, Jenny called and asked if I wanted to hang out. I was tempted to, but I told Jon I would come over so I declined. As I was walking to Jon's house, it occurred to me that I was hungry. Not that it was a new revelation, but that I merely forgotten. I decided to ask Jenny if she was hungry, and if so, we could all go eat.
Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Between Jon and Jenny and Janine (whoa, 3 J's...), it was more complicated than simply going to Jon's house to crap my pants (read: play Fatal Frame). We took a long time to decide where we wanted to go eat, because Jon wasn't hungry, Janine just wanted Starbucks (she mooched off Jenny anyway) and Jenny wanted fries from Wingstop and Chipotle. I was deciding between Panda Express and Ohana's, but after mooching off Jenny's fries I decided to go to Ohana's. It was almost 5:30pm when Jenny had to go home abruptly. I was a little disappointed that we didn't spend that much time together. After all it really had only been 2 hours or so, and I don't really know when I'll see them next.
It's hard to smile. To smile and pretend that everything's okay; that nothing in the world ever bothers you. Is it a guy thing? To show no emotions? No, I'd say not - more like hiding your emotions. Girls do that too. To convince everyone you're happy when deep down you feel like crying. Like curling up and just... stop. Stop thinking, stop feeling. And just sleep. Forget it all, even if only for a little while. It's worse when it's nobody's fault but your own. That your very unhappiness is self-imposed.
I'm reminded of my high school life. I thought those times were all behind me, but they never really go away. They just resurface in a different context. I had walked home once, and could barely keep myself from crying. Why? That's something else entirely. Not that I cried much back then. I cry more now; I wonder why is that.
I'm starting to sound like Gloria. She called me a while back and left me a voice message. I haven't called her back yet. I don't know how to respond to her anymore.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
(note: unfinished, confusing rant)
edit: I am posting this because my blog is and has always been a journal of my thoughts. Not all of which are coherent. I've spent a few days writing back and forth on this; overall, I am not satisfied (actually, I just stopped) with the writing, but I feel it needs to be seen just the same. Try not to take to heart what I wrote. It may be improperly expressed, and seem contradictory in future posts. It is posted "as-is."
---
For the longest time, I have never been able to explain what a girlfriend (or significant other) really was. Or what the difference was between that and a good friend. I've asked (and have been asked) this question several times. I knew there was something else, something more. A good friend is still a notch below a girlfriend. I couldn't explain how or why, but deep down I knew.
When Jenny and I were still going out, two of my senior classmates approached us about it. They asked about our relationship and the like, curious. They joked around by asking how good of a lover I was, but she simply responded that I was more of a good friend than anything else. Looking back, I think it was inevitable that we would break up. Not because we were incompatible, or because of any fault of ours. It was because we were exactly as how she described us: friends. I took that with a faked smile. Even though I knew it was much too early in the relationship, at the time, to have assumed anything, I did know that I thought of us quite differently. She was important to me in a way a good friend could not be. Just in what way was beyond me, but I knew it wasn't mutual. So it ended shortly thereafter; it was only about two weeks in total. The separation was clean. We both wanted it, albeit for different reasons.
The difference between a friend and a girlfriend always lingered in my mind. The question arose from time to time, and I would never come up with anything. How many people wonder the same thing? How many people enter into relationships thinking that a good friend would make a good signficant other?
In my time back at Fremont, I spent a lot of time going out with my friends. I think I also spent an equal amount of lying on my bed in the evenings, alone. My parents scolded me for going out so much with my friends, or rather, worrying too much about them. I was talking to them about my get-together I had planned months in advance. In all seriousness, they were right: I spent too much time worrying about my friends. My friends who, at the end of the day, go back to their homes and do their things. Their lives run closely parallel to mine, but never cross. Never do my friends and I build our lives together, nor do we construct our futures in alignment. At the end of the day, I suffer from a loss that was only momentarily forgotten. I realize, now, that my longing for such a relationship on a friendly level is grossly misplaced.
First and foremost are my parents unbounded love for me, who through all their faults and mistakes, still love me very much. Who go out of their way to make my life easier, happier. I often think about how lucky I am to have loving parents - I know my other friends don't have such a luxury. But I used to take it for granted. They're my parents, it's what they're supposed to do. When I left Fremont, I realized more and more that this was not true. They do it out of love, not responsibility. The people out in the world have neither love nor responsibility towards you. Fremont is such a friendly place, it's hard to think about how difficult people can really be. But I digress, my relationship with my parents, though seemingly one-sided, is one where our lives are entwined. Something I can call love.
My friends, even my good ones, do not love me. Not in this way. We share our sorrows and our company. Maybe even help each other in times of need, but ultimately we will come to find that we do not build our lives on each other. We try to do things together, in a sort of imitation love.. No matter how close we try, we will never cross lives. Like parallel wires, running towards the same future, but separately. We are friends, not lovers.
I try too hard, I think, in trying to find and build these impossible relationships. I find that no matter what I do, there will always be an invisible barrier separating us all. Something that I cannot breach. Because we are friends. That is one step too far outside our sphere. I look for love, only to find friends.
And how I cling to them so when I entertain some hope that it is different. That we are more than friends. That somehow, our futures ARE connected. That one day I may find a collection of lovers, and not friends. Of family. Why do we lack this ability to love one another? What is it about our generation that we can make a multitude of acquaintances, a handful of friends, but only one "lover." Someone who we can depend upon no matter what; who would give it their best and more. For you...
But friends are friends, and like anyone else, I believe that I have some of the best at my side. I refrain from listing names because I know someone out there will feel hurt if I leave them out. But to my friends, I gave them my all. My time, my energy; my love. Gave? I think it's time I face the truth about it all. I cannot endear my friends as to the point of love, because, in truth, they do not love me. That any one of them could bring our relationship to the level that I need or demand is ludicrous. Some are closer than others, but I reserve it as I do a precious resource. First, my parents, and then my girlfriend. Our lives have become so tightly connected as to be one. That we think for the whole, and not the individual. A reciprocated love is a rare thing. To my friends, I can only offer the remainder. A limited love; a friendship.
---
For the longest time, I have never been able to explain what a girlfriend (or significant other) really was. Or what the difference was between that and a good friend. I've asked (and have been asked) this question several times. I knew there was something else, something more. A good friend is still a notch below a girlfriend. I couldn't explain how or why, but deep down I knew.
When Jenny and I were still going out, two of my senior classmates approached us about it. They asked about our relationship and the like, curious. They joked around by asking how good of a lover I was, but she simply responded that I was more of a good friend than anything else. Looking back, I think it was inevitable that we would break up. Not because we were incompatible, or because of any fault of ours. It was because we were exactly as how she described us: friends. I took that with a faked smile. Even though I knew it was much too early in the relationship, at the time, to have assumed anything, I did know that I thought of us quite differently. She was important to me in a way a good friend could not be. Just in what way was beyond me, but I knew it wasn't mutual. So it ended shortly thereafter; it was only about two weeks in total. The separation was clean. We both wanted it, albeit for different reasons.
The difference between a friend and a girlfriend always lingered in my mind. The question arose from time to time, and I would never come up with anything. How many people wonder the same thing? How many people enter into relationships thinking that a good friend would make a good signficant other?
In my time back at Fremont, I spent a lot of time going out with my friends. I think I also spent an equal amount of lying on my bed in the evenings, alone. My parents scolded me for going out so much with my friends, or rather, worrying too much about them. I was talking to them about my get-together I had planned months in advance. In all seriousness, they were right: I spent too much time worrying about my friends. My friends who, at the end of the day, go back to their homes and do their things. Their lives run closely parallel to mine, but never cross. Never do my friends and I build our lives together, nor do we construct our futures in alignment. At the end of the day, I suffer from a loss that was only momentarily forgotten. I realize, now, that my longing for such a relationship on a friendly level is grossly misplaced.
First and foremost are my parents unbounded love for me, who through all their faults and mistakes, still love me very much. Who go out of their way to make my life easier, happier. I often think about how lucky I am to have loving parents - I know my other friends don't have such a luxury. But I used to take it for granted. They're my parents, it's what they're supposed to do. When I left Fremont, I realized more and more that this was not true. They do it out of love, not responsibility. The people out in the world have neither love nor responsibility towards you. Fremont is such a friendly place, it's hard to think about how difficult people can really be. But I digress, my relationship with my parents, though seemingly one-sided, is one where our lives are entwined. Something I can call love.
My friends, even my good ones, do not love me. Not in this way. We share our sorrows and our company. Maybe even help each other in times of need, but ultimately we will come to find that we do not build our lives on each other. We try to do things together, in a sort of imitation love.. No matter how close we try, we will never cross lives. Like parallel wires, running towards the same future, but separately. We are friends, not lovers.
I try too hard, I think, in trying to find and build these impossible relationships. I find that no matter what I do, there will always be an invisible barrier separating us all. Something that I cannot breach. Because we are friends. That is one step too far outside our sphere. I look for love, only to find friends.
And how I cling to them so when I entertain some hope that it is different. That we are more than friends. That somehow, our futures ARE connected. That one day I may find a collection of lovers, and not friends. Of family. Why do we lack this ability to love one another? What is it about our generation that we can make a multitude of acquaintances, a handful of friends, but only one "lover." Someone who we can depend upon no matter what; who would give it their best and more. For you...
But friends are friends, and like anyone else, I believe that I have some of the best at my side. I refrain from listing names because I know someone out there will feel hurt if I leave them out. But to my friends, I gave them my all. My time, my energy; my love. Gave? I think it's time I face the truth about it all. I cannot endear my friends as to the point of love, because, in truth, they do not love me. That any one of them could bring our relationship to the level that I need or demand is ludicrous. Some are closer than others, but I reserve it as I do a precious resource. First, my parents, and then my girlfriend. Our lives have become so tightly connected as to be one. That we think for the whole, and not the individual. A reciprocated love is a rare thing. To my friends, I can only offer the remainder. A limited love; a friendship.
Friday, September 4, 2009
A nice, pleasant day.
That's it. If you don't feel like reading, that's basically it. Today was a nice, pleasant day. You can continue on with your life now.
I actually loaded up HKO today. To no one's surprise, there was like a billion girl avatars. But there was also significantly more boys than I had thought. Not overwhelmingly, mind you, but it was like 2 or 3 more than I was expecting. Someone came up to me like four seconds after I entered the world and gave me a pet card. It allows me to summon a pet (a box pig, if you're wondering). I usually don't associate with people like that, who come up and randomly trade with you, but I figured "hey, why not?" I thanked him, and asked him about what it did. After that I friended him, as did him me. We talked the whole time I played, and it was nice not to have to play by myself. And I never have to worry about explaining myself to guys who play this game willingly. It's nice.
The game itself is kind of like Animal Crossing. There aren't any stats to worry about other than the different things you can do, like gathering or cooking. And there's mini-games I've heard. MINI-GAMES. Yes, this game is interesting; a kind of like Neopets targetted for MMORPG kids. I don't have to stress over what class I am, or what stat build to go for. The only thing I have to worry about is what clothes to get so I can look my BEST. And that is a really big selling point to me. I'm tired of games where your character looks like CRAP, especially when you have to WEAR CRAP just to have good stats. It's nice not to look like a piece of shit walking around! And this game actually cares about it.
Such a girly game, right?
In any case, after I came home today I had dinner with my parents. They were too lazy to cook so we went out to eat pho. It was a really bright, full moon at night today. Though not a lot of people I know share my appreciation of outer space, a full moon is still a beautiful thing to behold. The sky being lit up and all. My parents told me that it was the either beginning or end of the 7th lunar month yesterday (I don't remember), and that it was a special holiday in Vietnamese. It sounds like Halloween, but a little different.
On that day, people pray for their ancestors, but also for wandering ghosts who have died before their time. Instead of going to Heaven or Hell, they wander the Earth. People would throw candy or money outside for these ghosts as a gesture of good will, so that their ancestors may benefit from the good deed and pay off their karmic debt. The wandering ghosts would eat it or take the money to spend it. But really, that's just the custom. There's a story behind it in which I will not go into, but that's what the holiday is about. Nowadays, it's more of a Halloween; kids go pick up the candy or money. And every house does this. The story behind the holiday is probably less often told now. It's just another holiday to be enjoyed (though now I hear kids are getting bolder and bolder, since they have less to eat). My parents joked that people would bow with their hands just once (they do this several times), and by the time they come up their offerings would already be gone (they pray to their ancestors first and THEN throw food out to the "hobo ghosts" as my parents put it).
I like learning little tidbits of my culture like this. They don't happen often and I worry, often in fact, that my children will have none of that. I fear nothing more than my kids growing up to be American. Why? Because no matter how well they learn English, no matter how well they dress, or follow fashion trends. No matter what they buy or know or think... they will be Asian. That's what my father told me, and I take it to heart. Maybe people mistaken me for Chinese, or Korean, or some other ethnicity, but in America's eyes, I am Asian. It is important that I know my heritage, my culture. That I don't lose that. My own country might think I am American, or white-washed, but I have never met a single person who has laughed at me for knowing Vietnamese. Or that hasn't been proud that I retain some bit of my culture, even though I was born and raised in America. I thank my parents, especially at moments like this, for putting me through Viet school. For refusing to speak to me in anything other than Vietnamese. For forcing me to eat Viet food every day. I may not have pride in my own people, here or otherwise, but I do have pride in my culture.
It was a nice, pleasant meal with my parents. They were laughing and joking with each other, and it was a nice atmosphere. A good way to spend a Friday night, I think. I'm not much for parties. Just hanging out and chilling... that's all I really want. I always want to hang out with people, but I never have anything to do other than eat or go to the mall. I don't think a lot of people just want to come over and relax. Like they need something to do. But I've never felt that way. I remember last summer, I would drop by Jenn's house all the time. We'd end up watching the discovery channel or something. We'd always find something to do. Or do nothing! It didn't matter.
Anna came over yesterday, too. But she had told me to watch a drama before so we could watch it together. I felt bad when I told her I only watched the first episode because Youtube messed me up so much. But it was nice to have her over. Nice to just have her there. That and I haven't seen her for a while. We had fun watching Zettai Kareshi (Perfect Boyfriend). Or at least, I did. Anna was probably bored since she had already seen it. She pulled up some Korean music videos on Youtube afterwards. I urged her to sing the ones she did know. I have some kind of fascination about singing. I always want to hear people sing~ And Anna, especially, has a good voice. She's definitely on key almost all the time, and she has a good voice for pop music. I'm a little jealous, really. But I'm happy for her, and I hope she keeps on singing.
I'm going to go hiking for the first time tomorrow morning. My parents keep telling me about how difficult it is, but I don't think it could be worse than conditioning for badminton.
That's all for now.
I actually loaded up HKO today. To no one's surprise, there was like a billion girl avatars. But there was also significantly more boys than I had thought. Not overwhelmingly, mind you, but it was like 2 or 3 more than I was expecting. Someone came up to me like four seconds after I entered the world and gave me a pet card. It allows me to summon a pet (a box pig, if you're wondering). I usually don't associate with people like that, who come up and randomly trade with you, but I figured "hey, why not?" I thanked him, and asked him about what it did. After that I friended him, as did him me. We talked the whole time I played, and it was nice not to have to play by myself. And I never have to worry about explaining myself to guys who play this game willingly. It's nice.
The game itself is kind of like Animal Crossing. There aren't any stats to worry about other than the different things you can do, like gathering or cooking. And there's mini-games I've heard. MINI-GAMES. Yes, this game is interesting; a kind of like Neopets targetted for MMORPG kids. I don't have to stress over what class I am, or what stat build to go for. The only thing I have to worry about is what clothes to get so I can look my BEST. And that is a really big selling point to me. I'm tired of games where your character looks like CRAP, especially when you have to WEAR CRAP just to have good stats. It's nice not to look like a piece of shit walking around! And this game actually cares about it.
Such a girly game, right?
In any case, after I came home today I had dinner with my parents. They were too lazy to cook so we went out to eat pho. It was a really bright, full moon at night today. Though not a lot of people I know share my appreciation of outer space, a full moon is still a beautiful thing to behold. The sky being lit up and all. My parents told me that it was the either beginning or end of the 7th lunar month yesterday (I don't remember), and that it was a special holiday in Vietnamese. It sounds like Halloween, but a little different.
On that day, people pray for their ancestors, but also for wandering ghosts who have died before their time. Instead of going to Heaven or Hell, they wander the Earth. People would throw candy or money outside for these ghosts as a gesture of good will, so that their ancestors may benefit from the good deed and pay off their karmic debt. The wandering ghosts would eat it or take the money to spend it. But really, that's just the custom. There's a story behind it in which I will not go into, but that's what the holiday is about. Nowadays, it's more of a Halloween; kids go pick up the candy or money. And every house does this. The story behind the holiday is probably less often told now. It's just another holiday to be enjoyed (though now I hear kids are getting bolder and bolder, since they have less to eat). My parents joked that people would bow with their hands just once (they do this several times), and by the time they come up their offerings would already be gone (they pray to their ancestors first and THEN throw food out to the "hobo ghosts" as my parents put it).
I like learning little tidbits of my culture like this. They don't happen often and I worry, often in fact, that my children will have none of that. I fear nothing more than my kids growing up to be American. Why? Because no matter how well they learn English, no matter how well they dress, or follow fashion trends. No matter what they buy or know or think... they will be Asian. That's what my father told me, and I take it to heart. Maybe people mistaken me for Chinese, or Korean, or some other ethnicity, but in America's eyes, I am Asian. It is important that I know my heritage, my culture. That I don't lose that. My own country might think I am American, or white-washed, but I have never met a single person who has laughed at me for knowing Vietnamese. Or that hasn't been proud that I retain some bit of my culture, even though I was born and raised in America. I thank my parents, especially at moments like this, for putting me through Viet school. For refusing to speak to me in anything other than Vietnamese. For forcing me to eat Viet food every day. I may not have pride in my own people, here or otherwise, but I do have pride in my culture.
It was a nice, pleasant meal with my parents. They were laughing and joking with each other, and it was a nice atmosphere. A good way to spend a Friday night, I think. I'm not much for parties. Just hanging out and chilling... that's all I really want. I always want to hang out with people, but I never have anything to do other than eat or go to the mall. I don't think a lot of people just want to come over and relax. Like they need something to do. But I've never felt that way. I remember last summer, I would drop by Jenn's house all the time. We'd end up watching the discovery channel or something. We'd always find something to do. Or do nothing! It didn't matter.
Anna came over yesterday, too. But she had told me to watch a drama before so we could watch it together. I felt bad when I told her I only watched the first episode because Youtube messed me up so much. But it was nice to have her over. Nice to just have her there. That and I haven't seen her for a while. We had fun watching Zettai Kareshi (Perfect Boyfriend). Or at least, I did. Anna was probably bored since she had already seen it. She pulled up some Korean music videos on Youtube afterwards. I urged her to sing the ones she did know. I have some kind of fascination about singing. I always want to hear people sing~ And Anna, especially, has a good voice. She's definitely on key almost all the time, and she has a good voice for pop music. I'm a little jealous, really. But I'm happy for her, and I hope she keeps on singing.
I'm going to go hiking for the first time tomorrow morning. My parents keep telling me about how difficult it is, but I don't think it could be worse than conditioning for badminton.
That's all for now.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Antique Cowboy
RO BGM.
So I am now officially home, as some of you may have noticed (and by some, I mean all the people who went to UBC today). I'm starting to realize a lot more people go play badminton than before; they just don't invite me.
I spent an 8 hour car ride back to Fremont on Saturday. It's normal for me, though I'd have to say the shortest time I spent traveling between Fremont and La Jolla was 7 hours. That's when I was in a car with four other girls going back down. I agree that anything below the normal with 4 other girls seems ridiculous, especially for a guy, but I assure you it was more than made up for by spending 12 hours going North in the first place.
That reminds me of Winter Break. My friend Anna was at my house (for some reason I do not remember, probably because she was bored and wanted to go with me in delivering gifts). I ended up not telling Jennifer, again (I'm sorry!), that I had invited someone to go with us until the last minute. She's gone off on me about it before, but it completely slipped my mind this time. That whole day was all very random; I don't think Anna had plans to come home with me after I dropped off her gift until very late. So Jenn and her mom took me and Anna around, delivering gifts. I am contemplating making some gifts this year instead of buying them all and burning a giant hole in my wallet. But I've never been good with gifts or selecting one, especially for auspicious moments (holidays or otherwise), so we will see.
Iris was last on our list. When we got to her house, we thought about getting dinner. I don't know where that idea came from, but it did and we invited Iris along. Oh the spontaneity. She took some 10 mins to finally get out the door, but nonetheless it was all very jovial. It wasn't until we actually sat down at Elephant Bar did I realize (no, that's not true; I think Jenn or her mom pointed it out) that I was the only guy in our group.
Of 4 girls (technically 3 and a woman).
So we had our dinner, and our fun. We were all in a good mood. On the way home though, we had to pick up Jenn's little sister, Vivian, from wherever she was. But the thing was that Jenn's car was a 5-seater, and Jenn and her mom had to be in the front. So after some deliberation (and by deliberation, I mean Cold Stone because we're fatties), we had to stick me with three other girls in the back.
Just because.
Some guys would die for nights like this. I couldn't resist joking with Vivian about how I always wanted to get to know her better [and that this was the perfect time], but for the most part I didn't see it as much more than if I had to try to jam in with three other guys. Well, maybe that's not true. Gay levels would rise, and we can't have too much of that. Either way, it wasn't so much awkward that I was a guy and they were girls but more so that I was freaking fat (especially compared to Anna) and that in no way was it going to be comfortable. Anna suggested she ride in the trunk, but of course no one would want her to (because we all love her so much). I thought it was kind of funny how she almost immediately insisted that she would NOT ride on anyone's lap. I'm not sure if she was referring to me specifically, though she HAD sat on my lap before (Jenny refused to do so at that time, but I don't blame her). That was many months, if not a year, ago.
Sometimes I wonder if my life would be very much different if I was a girl. I'm very comfortable with physical contact, though unfortunately most of my friends are girls and there is that social taboo about guys and girls touching. But when there isn't that, it's much less awkward on my part. I'd be lieing if I told you I didn't KNOW about them. But if my friends like to think it's not a problem, then I don't make it out to be. That's why I could sit in the back with three other girls and only worry that we were going to be very cramped because I'm a fatty. Or fall asleep in a car with four other college girls and not think about how awkward it is to be there in the first place.
In any case, the A/C was blazing (lol, irony) the entire time I was in the car. I was cold for much of the trip (and if you remember Saturday, it was HOT). I passed by two wildfires on the way up, one in LA and one near Gilroy. I could actually see the one near Gilroy; it slowly built up smoke as we drove on. I wasn't sure whether or not the clouds were smoke because they seemed very similar to the one I saw in LA. After a few minutes, we drove right into the heart of it. I was both surprised and a little worried, because I didn't think we'd actually drive so close to it. At the same time, the sky above us darkened with a red hue, and you could look directly at the sun under the smoke. It was all very reminiscent of some games I've played before. Involving death. But on the way by, I could very clearly see smoke and fire on the hill. We passed by entire hillsides scorched black. It was a very disturbing and surreal experience, to see a wildfire so up close.
Later on, we passed cowtown. No, not Davis, but that one area where there are a bunch of cows. I felt really sorry for the cows. I was freezing inside the car, but those cows have been outside all day (and will continue to do so) in the hot sun. I wondered if anyone could imagine how those cows must feel. To be cooking under that sun without any form of relief. I briefly entertained about being vegan, but decided it wasn't something I could really do. But I do feel sorry for those cows, and countless other animals we raise and slaughter. I remember going into the Lion's supermarket when I was young and, whenever we passed by the lobster or fish section, I would just stand there and stare at them. I felt so sorry for them! I somehow wished that I could just take them all home and raise them, comfortably, or even just free them. But there is no use for those kind of feelings. I feel just the same when I see hobos out on the street. One day, I will come up to one and invite him/her to lunch with me. I'll get to know them, and will realize that there is a sad story behind that sign they hold. But I am very reluctant to do something like that. I realize that, sometimes, I'm very reluctant to do a lot of things.
For example, Jenny invited me to church with her this morning. I've always told her that, one: my parents aren't Christian, and two: I had no ride to go by myself. Today she told me that she would be willing to give me a ride. I would've liked to go, but at the same time I was feeling very reluctant. I also had to eat lunch with my parents, so I told her finally that I had to go eat lunch and that I couldn't go. She suggested next week, to which I felt a little less reluctant about (because I could tell my parents beforehand) and decided to go through with it and accept. However nervous or reluctant to go I'll feel this coming Sunday is of no matter. I've made the decision so I will stick to it. I'm not sure where this reluctancy comes from, but it is unfortunate that I suffer from it.
One interesting thing to note, on the way back home, my mom told me that my dad and her went with my relatives to a gay ball in San Francisco. I was so taken aback, I had nothing to say. I think my dad HATES homosexuals, or at the least, transexuals. So I was very much surprised that he even went at all. My mom said they found it very interesting, but that they wouldn't do it on a regular basis.
No kididng.
I don't think I would really enjoy something like that. If someone asked me, I would probably be reluctant (there it is again!) to go.
When we came home, we went to my grandma's as per our usual custom. Me, my brother, and my cousin went out to get something to drink. When they asked me to go, I was also a little, just a little, reluctant. But I decided to just do it, and before I could turn back I was out the door. I was feeling a little chatty and hyper, similar to a state of drunk high. I don't know why I did, but I didn't mind. Even if I cracked lame and stupid jokes, I still felt good. We were on our way back when my brother crossed lanes. Someone honked him, to which I did not have any idea why. I took notice of what the car was. He passed us and I got a look at him, until we passed him again later down the road. I don't know what he was doing, but the point was that I recognized him enough that when he finally rolled down his windows two lanes away, I recognized him. He yelled "You guys suck at driving!", to which I replied by nonchalantly sticking my favorite finger at him. I have been feeling like I should be a little more aggressive lately, and at the time it felt like a great way to kickstart that concept, but by today I feel a little guilt at having done that. Even though he seemed like he could've been an asshole of a college student, something about his demeanor and what he yelled at us two lanes over suggsted otherwise. Either way, it's all done and done now; I'm a little paranoid he'd find us some day and beat the crap out of me.
But don't we all?
I recently found out that my (other) cousin played badminton. I was so freaking overjoyed when she agreed to play with me today. I was worried I had to wait until Tuesday to start. I had a great workout playing badminton, and am starting to feel better about myself. I still suck as usual, but at least I have not gotten much worse, especially for not having played for six months. My legs are like a river of pain at this moment (excuse the poor simile), and I am not looking forward to my hour long walk tomorrow, but nonetheless I feel GOOD that I've done some EXERCISE. Jenny reminded me that I said I'd jog every morning. I conveniently forgot today, and since I will be walking for an hour tomorrow, I will conveniently forget tomorrow too and maybe start on Tuesday.
I noticed Nancy got a little better with receiving short serves, and she now attacks much more when I do poor shots. But overall, my first game with her since forever ended with 21-17 in my favor. I'm going to write it off as her not trying hard enough, in addition to me being lucky. The next game was much worse for me, something like 11-21. I was dead tired, but I'm guessing so was she. I wonder how a good singles match between us will turn out. I admit now that I am not so sure of the outcome anymore. I didn't worry too much before, but things have changed a lot since then. And not in a good way.
Jenny kind of spontaneously came that day, after I told her literally two hours before we left that I was going to UBC. We went to get dinner later in the evening, and just hung out in her car for a bit because I was freaking cold. After a while, she started to panic to me about her car not starting. I had no idea what she was on about until I realized she couldn't turn the ignition. I tried it myself several times, not sure about the problem. I think if worse came to worst, I could've asked my dad. But after some time, I got it to work. To be honest, I thought I had broke the key in the ignition, because I applied a little more force than necessary, but I saw the lights on her car come up so I knew it was fine. Jenny had, at this time, pulled the car manual out of the glove compartment trying frantically to figure out what was wrong. I gave her a hug, for her troubles.
When I got home, I rummaged through my drawers. Mostly because I like to do so from time to time. Some people look at pictures, or read through their yearbook or whatever. I never personally bought a yearbook and have never wanted one. The only thing that I keep and hold onto are the things my friends have given me. That includes just about every single Hello Kitty (and related) product that I've gotten, and a slew of letters and cards and notes. I noticed today that one of my favorite (from Jenn, the snow-themed one) was not in the picture of my girlfriend, to which I was disappointed because it was such a cute and awesome cat.
On a side note, the Hello Kitty Online beta comes out next week. Expect not to see me (unless it is badminton).
Just kidding. I doubt it will hold my interest for very long.
I keep all of the things my friends give me. Or I've tried to. No matter how insignificant or small or easily losable. For example, I still have Anna's box of M&Ms (minus the M&Ms, those didn't last very long) that she made out of paper. She also drew a very cool design, but alas I messed up the box trying to get the M&Ms out. It is now a flat square with pointy sides, but I still have it nonetheless. I read through the old letters I have, or cards. I'm sorry but I threw away your card, Jonathan. The one you gave to me for Christmas. I decided not to eat the candy cane you put in it nearly a year ago. It was a bad decision.
I'm so thankful that I saved most of them, these items that my friends have given me. It reminds me of all the times we had together. I'm sorry to say it feels like most of us are drifting apart (or rather, that I'm drifting away from THEM), but the memories bring me back to when I was one of the happiest persons on the Earth. Minus the love life, but with all my good friends I didn't care too much. A lot of people tell me that the friends you make in high school will most likely stay with you the longest. I hope that'll be true for me.
It's late. Night.
So I am now officially home, as some of you may have noticed (and by some, I mean all the people who went to UBC today). I'm starting to realize a lot more people go play badminton than before; they just don't invite me.
I spent an 8 hour car ride back to Fremont on Saturday. It's normal for me, though I'd have to say the shortest time I spent traveling between Fremont and La Jolla was 7 hours. That's when I was in a car with four other girls going back down. I agree that anything below the normal with 4 other girls seems ridiculous, especially for a guy, but I assure you it was more than made up for by spending 12 hours going North in the first place.
That reminds me of Winter Break. My friend Anna was at my house (for some reason I do not remember, probably because she was bored and wanted to go with me in delivering gifts). I ended up not telling Jennifer, again (I'm sorry!), that I had invited someone to go with us until the last minute. She's gone off on me about it before, but it completely slipped my mind this time. That whole day was all very random; I don't think Anna had plans to come home with me after I dropped off her gift until very late. So Jenn and her mom took me and Anna around, delivering gifts. I am contemplating making some gifts this year instead of buying them all and burning a giant hole in my wallet. But I've never been good with gifts or selecting one, especially for auspicious moments (holidays or otherwise), so we will see.
Iris was last on our list. When we got to her house, we thought about getting dinner. I don't know where that idea came from, but it did and we invited Iris along. Oh the spontaneity. She took some 10 mins to finally get out the door, but nonetheless it was all very jovial. It wasn't until we actually sat down at Elephant Bar did I realize (no, that's not true; I think Jenn or her mom pointed it out) that I was the only guy in our group.
Of 4 girls (technically 3 and a woman).
So we had our dinner, and our fun. We were all in a good mood. On the way home though, we had to pick up Jenn's little sister, Vivian, from wherever she was. But the thing was that Jenn's car was a 5-seater, and Jenn and her mom had to be in the front. So after some deliberation (and by deliberation, I mean Cold Stone because we're fatties), we had to stick me with three other girls in the back.
Just because.
Some guys would die for nights like this. I couldn't resist joking with Vivian about how I always wanted to get to know her better [and that this was the perfect time], but for the most part I didn't see it as much more than if I had to try to jam in with three other guys. Well, maybe that's not true. Gay levels would rise, and we can't have too much of that. Either way, it wasn't so much awkward that I was a guy and they were girls but more so that I was freaking fat (especially compared to Anna) and that in no way was it going to be comfortable. Anna suggested she ride in the trunk, but of course no one would want her to (because we all love her so much). I thought it was kind of funny how she almost immediately insisted that she would NOT ride on anyone's lap. I'm not sure if she was referring to me specifically, though she HAD sat on my lap before (Jenny refused to do so at that time, but I don't blame her). That was many months, if not a year, ago.
Sometimes I wonder if my life would be very much different if I was a girl. I'm very comfortable with physical contact, though unfortunately most of my friends are girls and there is that social taboo about guys and girls touching. But when there isn't that, it's much less awkward on my part. I'd be lieing if I told you I didn't KNOW about them. But if my friends like to think it's not a problem, then I don't make it out to be. That's why I could sit in the back with three other girls and only worry that we were going to be very cramped because I'm a fatty. Or fall asleep in a car with four other college girls and not think about how awkward it is to be there in the first place.
In any case, the A/C was blazing (lol, irony) the entire time I was in the car. I was cold for much of the trip (and if you remember Saturday, it was HOT). I passed by two wildfires on the way up, one in LA and one near Gilroy. I could actually see the one near Gilroy; it slowly built up smoke as we drove on. I wasn't sure whether or not the clouds were smoke because they seemed very similar to the one I saw in LA. After a few minutes, we drove right into the heart of it. I was both surprised and a little worried, because I didn't think we'd actually drive so close to it. At the same time, the sky above us darkened with a red hue, and you could look directly at the sun under the smoke. It was all very reminiscent of some games I've played before. Involving death. But on the way by, I could very clearly see smoke and fire on the hill. We passed by entire hillsides scorched black. It was a very disturbing and surreal experience, to see a wildfire so up close.
Later on, we passed cowtown. No, not Davis, but that one area where there are a bunch of cows. I felt really sorry for the cows. I was freezing inside the car, but those cows have been outside all day (and will continue to do so) in the hot sun. I wondered if anyone could imagine how those cows must feel. To be cooking under that sun without any form of relief. I briefly entertained about being vegan, but decided it wasn't something I could really do. But I do feel sorry for those cows, and countless other animals we raise and slaughter. I remember going into the Lion's supermarket when I was young and, whenever we passed by the lobster or fish section, I would just stand there and stare at them. I felt so sorry for them! I somehow wished that I could just take them all home and raise them, comfortably, or even just free them. But there is no use for those kind of feelings. I feel just the same when I see hobos out on the street. One day, I will come up to one and invite him/her to lunch with me. I'll get to know them, and will realize that there is a sad story behind that sign they hold. But I am very reluctant to do something like that. I realize that, sometimes, I'm very reluctant to do a lot of things.
For example, Jenny invited me to church with her this morning. I've always told her that, one: my parents aren't Christian, and two: I had no ride to go by myself. Today she told me that she would be willing to give me a ride. I would've liked to go, but at the same time I was feeling very reluctant. I also had to eat lunch with my parents, so I told her finally that I had to go eat lunch and that I couldn't go. She suggested next week, to which I felt a little less reluctant about (because I could tell my parents beforehand) and decided to go through with it and accept. However nervous or reluctant to go I'll feel this coming Sunday is of no matter. I've made the decision so I will stick to it. I'm not sure where this reluctancy comes from, but it is unfortunate that I suffer from it.
One interesting thing to note, on the way back home, my mom told me that my dad and her went with my relatives to a gay ball in San Francisco. I was so taken aback, I had nothing to say. I think my dad HATES homosexuals, or at the least, transexuals. So I was very much surprised that he even went at all. My mom said they found it very interesting, but that they wouldn't do it on a regular basis.
No kididng.
I don't think I would really enjoy something like that. If someone asked me, I would probably be reluctant (there it is again!) to go.
When we came home, we went to my grandma's as per our usual custom. Me, my brother, and my cousin went out to get something to drink. When they asked me to go, I was also a little, just a little, reluctant. But I decided to just do it, and before I could turn back I was out the door. I was feeling a little chatty and hyper, similar to a state of drunk high. I don't know why I did, but I didn't mind. Even if I cracked lame and stupid jokes, I still felt good. We were on our way back when my brother crossed lanes. Someone honked him, to which I did not have any idea why. I took notice of what the car was. He passed us and I got a look at him, until we passed him again later down the road. I don't know what he was doing, but the point was that I recognized him enough that when he finally rolled down his windows two lanes away, I recognized him. He yelled "You guys suck at driving!", to which I replied by nonchalantly sticking my favorite finger at him. I have been feeling like I should be a little more aggressive lately, and at the time it felt like a great way to kickstart that concept, but by today I feel a little guilt at having done that. Even though he seemed like he could've been an asshole of a college student, something about his demeanor and what he yelled at us two lanes over suggsted otherwise. Either way, it's all done and done now; I'm a little paranoid he'd find us some day and beat the crap out of me.
But don't we all?
I recently found out that my (other) cousin played badminton. I was so freaking overjoyed when she agreed to play with me today. I was worried I had to wait until Tuesday to start. I had a great workout playing badminton, and am starting to feel better about myself. I still suck as usual, but at least I have not gotten much worse, especially for not having played for six months. My legs are like a river of pain at this moment (excuse the poor simile), and I am not looking forward to my hour long walk tomorrow, but nonetheless I feel GOOD that I've done some EXERCISE. Jenny reminded me that I said I'd jog every morning. I conveniently forgot today, and since I will be walking for an hour tomorrow, I will conveniently forget tomorrow too and maybe start on Tuesday.
I noticed Nancy got a little better with receiving short serves, and she now attacks much more when I do poor shots. But overall, my first game with her since forever ended with 21-17 in my favor. I'm going to write it off as her not trying hard enough, in addition to me being lucky. The next game was much worse for me, something like 11-21. I was dead tired, but I'm guessing so was she. I wonder how a good singles match between us will turn out. I admit now that I am not so sure of the outcome anymore. I didn't worry too much before, but things have changed a lot since then. And not in a good way.
Jenny kind of spontaneously came that day, after I told her literally two hours before we left that I was going to UBC. We went to get dinner later in the evening, and just hung out in her car for a bit because I was freaking cold. After a while, she started to panic to me about her car not starting. I had no idea what she was on about until I realized she couldn't turn the ignition. I tried it myself several times, not sure about the problem. I think if worse came to worst, I could've asked my dad. But after some time, I got it to work. To be honest, I thought I had broke the key in the ignition, because I applied a little more force than necessary, but I saw the lights on her car come up so I knew it was fine. Jenny had, at this time, pulled the car manual out of the glove compartment trying frantically to figure out what was wrong. I gave her a hug, for her troubles.
When I got home, I rummaged through my drawers. Mostly because I like to do so from time to time. Some people look at pictures, or read through their yearbook or whatever. I never personally bought a yearbook and have never wanted one. The only thing that I keep and hold onto are the things my friends have given me. That includes just about every single Hello Kitty (and related) product that I've gotten, and a slew of letters and cards and notes. I noticed today that one of my favorite (from Jenn, the snow-themed one) was not in the picture of my girlfriend, to which I was disappointed because it was such a cute and awesome cat.
On a side note, the Hello Kitty Online beta comes out next week. Expect not to see me (unless it is badminton).
Just kidding. I doubt it will hold my interest for very long.
I keep all of the things my friends give me. Or I've tried to. No matter how insignificant or small or easily losable. For example, I still have Anna's box of M&Ms (minus the M&Ms, those didn't last very long) that she made out of paper. She also drew a very cool design, but alas I messed up the box trying to get the M&Ms out. It is now a flat square with pointy sides, but I still have it nonetheless. I read through the old letters I have, or cards. I'm sorry but I threw away your card, Jonathan. The one you gave to me for Christmas. I decided not to eat the candy cane you put in it nearly a year ago. It was a bad decision.
I'm so thankful that I saved most of them, these items that my friends have given me. It reminds me of all the times we had together. I'm sorry to say it feels like most of us are drifting apart (or rather, that I'm drifting away from THEM), but the memories bring me back to when I was one of the happiest persons on the Earth. Minus the love life, but with all my good friends I didn't care too much. A lot of people tell me that the friends you make in high school will most likely stay with you the longest. I hope that'll be true for me.
It's late. Night.
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