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.

Every now and then I am seized by an urge to compose. I am obviously no poet.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.