Saturday:
DimSum with John
Rock gym with John
Shower
Coffee with Emily
Sunday:
Snowboarding at Timberline
Wii at Robert's
Monday:
New year's Eve ... so many offers, haven't made a commitment other than the one with Emily.
SNOWBOARDING IS SO MUCH FUN!!! I'm going again on Sunday!!!
I had an enthralling experience over the weekend. I FINALLY went to the rock gym on Friday, as you know. It took an invitation from an "old flame," with whom I went to prom with (my sophomore year). We hadn't seen each other for 10 years. (We went for some Chinese brunch first, then the gym.) It was a lot of fun ... not really because of the climbing yet since I'm still out of shape, but because I feel like I'm revisiting the life I used to live a year and a half ago. I was like waking from a deep sleep. I also tried slacklining ... and helped an 8-year-old girl on the slackline. The whole experience was just something else.
After that, I had coffee with my old roommate, Emily for a couple of hours. Hmm. Where did I even get that energy? hehe! We hadn't seen each other for about half a year, but just like you and me, even though we don't see each other very often or even talk very often, the bond is still fresh every time we do. We had a very very good conversation.
Then, the weirdest thing happened. My friend, Nathan, decided to tell me that he really likes me. Well, see, we went out on a "date" on Friday. Oh, and tonight, he decided that if he is going to stay in Portland, I'd be a reason why he'd stay. Romantic as it is, I have my life to work on. Don't worry, I'm not getting into another relationship right now ... and for the next however long it takes to build the Elaine that I am going to be.
Sunday morning, I decided to go up to Timberline with my friend, Selma, who is much older, and is like an older sister to me (she's got a very similar background as mine). This was my first time snowboarding ever .... EVER! It was just and amazing experience. You know, I have never naturally picked anything up very quickly; I've always had to really work and really learn. Well, ok, except for throwing spirals with a football ... THAT I picked up rather quickly, and totally caught the boys at school off guard. But snowboarding ... I got the hang of it within the first hour. It was sooooo weird to just let my body and other parts of my brain do their on thing. It was like a trance, such that when Selma talked to me about how impressed she was, I could not recall what exactly it iwas that I did, what learning techniques, what I was thinking, etc.. I totally surprised myself -- my reward for doing new things for me. I cannot imagine what else I can do but have never known my entire life. I'm proud of myself.
I'm going up there again next Sunday. I'll let you know how it went. :)
Be proud of me.
I have been afflicted by a sort of ailment with the kind of undeterrable long-term pain that no painkillers can ease.
Find yourself doing the things you swore you would never do, face things you didn't think would ever happen to you, realize the colossal amounts of boldness and blindness involved to perservere and to brave through the roughest patches of life, be overwhelmed by how much you know and how much more you don't know, then you will finally start to realize how small the world in your mind is compared to the real thing.
You're welcome. I was just cleaning out unwanted pictures. But since Sean's your friend, I wanted to offer. They were a pain in the ass to send.
So let me cut to the chase, why don't I?
I think when I read what you wrote, I was unsure of your motives: What do you mean by "good terms?" Why do you want that? You didn't seem to want to be "on good terms," judging the way we parted; why would you now? Remember? You assumed the worst of me. You assumed that I'm not good enough for you, but really it's quite the opposite. You didn't even treat me like a friend. Breaking up is not even the issue here; it is the way you treated me. You treated me less than you would a real person; you treated me condescendingly, like a problem, like trash. And let me remind you that I wasn't just any other girlfriend; you supposedly intended on "marrying me." So what happened there?
I can't help but to point out the part that amuses me the most. It is when you said that if I can't be on good terms with you, YOU won't hold it against me, as if YOU'RE the one to make the call. Brian, you've got it completely backwards. Undeniably, you behaved irresponsibly and treated terribly me, the one who was completely loyal to you and loved you with her all. So stop putting yourself on a pedestal and start owning up to your behavior. You don't have to always appear strong or always be in the right. It's OK to say you're sorry and mean it. No one worthy will make fun of you.
I am sorry Speedy passed away, but I am glad to hear that everyone is doing well. For all it's worth, my living situation is good because I am living with my parents by choice, even though I can well afford to live on my own.
I am eating very well, and, many others and I know, I AM great. Instead, I hope that you're working towards being great yourself.
~ e
----------------------------------------
> From: h8mysk8@hotmail.com
> To: skycrystal@hotmail.com
> Subject: what's new
> Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2007 18:06:53 -0800
>
>
> thank you for the pictures. i hope santa brought what you wanted. i must admit that i missed having a tree this year, but with no one to decorate it, what's the point.
> how is school, how is life, how is living with your parents? barable i hope. when you decide you're ready, if you do that is, i would like to be able to talk and for you to be able to be on good terms with me. if this isn't possible i understand, and i won't hold it against you.
> speedy died two days ago. the whole 55 gal tank got a parasite commonly known as ich(ick). i was very sad, as i'm sure you will be. i'm treating the rest of the tank, but have lost two other fish. arthur, delano, and kyle are all well. phillip and sara broke up a while ago and i never see either of them anymore.
> i hope you're eating better than when you lived downtown and i hope you're working towards being great.
> -brian
The fact of the matter is I am tired. Hell, what are you wagging your finger, telling me that I should live every minute as my last for? If you will step inside my life, you'd see that my life is probably not going to end soon, and neither is all the crap that goes with it. If life will end in the next 10 minutes, I'll call it a liberation. But we all know that things are never that easy .... Yes, I am tired of rescuing everything like it's the last I will see of it. Who knows? Maybe I will indeed get lucky, and it will all be over before I know it.
Daniel Gilbert's Foreword for "Stumbling on Happiness"
On imagining our personal futures:
What would you do right now if you learned that you were going to die in ten minutes? Would you race upstairs and light that Marlboro you've been hiding in your sock drawer since the Ford administration? Would you waltz into your boss's office and present him with a detailed description of his personal defects? Would you drive out to that steakhouse near the new mall and order a T-bone, medium rare, with an extra side of the really bad cholesterol? Hard to say, of course, but of all the things you might do in your final ten minutes, it's a pretty safe bet that few of them are things you actually did today.
Now, some people will bemoan this fact, wag their fingers in your direction, and tell you sternly that you should live every minute of your life as though it were your last, which only goes to show that some people would spend their final ten minutes giving other people dumb advice. The things we do when we expect our lives to continue are naturally and properly different than the things we might do if we expected them to end abruptly. We go easy on the lard and tobacco, smile dutifully at yet another of our supervisor's witless jokes, read books like this one when we could be wearing paper hats and eating pistachio macaroons in the bathtub, and we do each of these things in the charitable service of the people we will soon become. We treat our future selves as though they were our children, spending most of the hours of most of our days constructing tomorrows that we hope will make them happy. Rather than indulging in whatever strikes our momentary fancy, we take responsibility for the welfare of our future selves, squirreling away portions of our paychecks each month so THEY can enjoy their retirements on a putting green, jogging and flossing, with some regularity, so THEY can avoid coronaries and gum grafts, enduring dirty diapers and mind-numbing repetitions of "The Cat in the Hat" so that someday THEY will have fat-cheeked grandchildren to bounce on their laps. Even plunking down a dollar at the convenience store is an act of charity intended to ensure that the person we are about to become will enjoy the Twinkie we are paying for now. In fact, just about any time we WANT something -- a promotion, a marriage, an automobile, a cheeseburger -- we are expecting that if we get it, then the person who has our fingerprints a second, minute, day, or decade from now will enjoy the world they inherit from us honoring our sacrifices as they reap the harvest of our shrewd investment decisions and dietary forbearance.
Well, it turns out that this Christmas is a really hard one for me. I don't really know why ... or maybe I do, but it's just too complicated. It's a time when you're "supposedly happy and thankful," but what I'm supposed to feel only puts more pressure on me, and in turn makes me feel quite a bit worse. It also stresses me out to think that maybe I'm just worn out from keeping a positive outlook, and the "real depression" is now just setting in.
What's worse is to feel like my life isn't going anywhere ... and this probably has nothing to do with where I'M physically going. This stalling in life is exacerbated by hearing how happy my ex is and how well he is doing -- actually makes me feel like the reason why I was dumped and all the things he said about me is real.
To top it all off, I haven't told many people about my intention of not going back to school, when many of my friends who are from the school program I was in are counting on me to get back ... many will be disappointed, even think I'm foolish. This makes me feel very isolated.
No, I didn't do anything for Christmas. My family gave up on celebrating it. My parents went on vacation and came back recently. They didn't feel like celebrating. My mom, however, cooked up a storm, which is good. But no tree, no decorations. BUT! I did give myself a huge present -- this MacBook that I'm using right at this moment.
I wish I had a stocking stuff that includes something to dispel my blues right now.
But hey, only 3 hours and Christmas 2007 will be gone forever.
Wow. When did I start to become this incredibly depressed, overwhelmed with hopelessness and self-deprecation? Maybe it's the holiday season? Maybe I've just been holding up so stubbornly that now I'm just starting to get worn out?
I don't even know what it is anymore. I am having a hard time focusing my energy to pinpoint what it is that is pulling me down down down. At a time like this, it almost feels like it's everything ... and me. I fear that I have entered the solitary night of deep wintery darkness, of what is worse than a violent, engulfing storm -- a bitter and deafeningly quiet chill.
How will I come out?
I think I have something of a crush on this certain someone, and I think he knows. For all it's worth, I think the feelings are mutual. Instead of being very excited, it's really been bugging me all weekend.
I don't get it: what is this? High school? Well, maybe I AM emotionally stuck in high school. Who knows? Even middle school! I mean, I expect complete commitment and devotion -- how ridiculously middle school romantic is that?
Yes, I once refused to believe it, but now I know that the older we get, the more judgmental we become and the tighter we cling onto what we think our lives should be like. We let go of all the "forevers" and "nevers," and let them stay behind in our youth, our memories, allowing them to become nothing but fables and myths. We leave all of it with the "summer skin" we shed. We are left naked, desperately seeking security at all cost, even when it is at the expense of others.
I don't know what all this really has to do with my having a crush on this wonderful person, but maybe, in some indirect way, that's my way of saying I'm totally not ready to open up, and I feel safer with my own coarse, unrefined and under-developed self. If I have to be imperfect and -- God forbid! -- a disappointment, at least I only have myself to face.
Next year. Maybe next year. Or the year after next.
On Parent-Child Relations:
Sometimes, when people are different, then they are just different - a hard fact of life that often cause great tragedies with decisions not well thought-out. Showing yourself, though dignified, brings a great deal of confusion upon parents that have not only expectations, but also a set of ingrained worldview. However, the greatest strength in relationships that involve people who don't understand each other is shown throgh their willingness to withstand these confusion and frustration, while maintaining their continued commitment to care for each other. This relationship with my parents, though dysfunctional, is not inoperable; in its own twisted way, it still somehow works. But what I also have learned is that, even though we all strive for understanding (... and the world needs it), that's not the only thing that is capable of sustaining relationships. There are other things that can feed and renew commitments that somehow precede understanding, such as the bond of unconditional love ... which is to love and care for others even if you don't understand them, and perhaps never will (as if understanding is a bonus in many respects).
He was looking for someone to nest with and to love. I was looking someone to love and to nest with. This small difference in the order of things made all the difference in the world to me.
He is content with the life he leads, while I have nothing but discontent with mine. This big difference made our world together disappear.
Nothing mattered. It didn't matter what we gave to and wanted for each other. The meaning of our sacrifices for one another morphed through the lenses of our lives. The experiences we took from the life we had together will forever be interpreted with the ways we choose to hear our hearts' calling.
We are simply two very different people who both believe so intensely in who we are and how our worlds should be like, so intensely that we refused to take off our lenses and include in our lives' song the calling of each others' hearts. We are so different in our worldviews but so similar in how tightly we grasp on to our believes.
And for these similarities and differences, we changed each other's life.
Drive (acquire that car!) (ET: January?),
Graduate from UO,
Get new job,
Cook and bake,
Move,
Get out of PSU debt.
Health Insurance,
subsequent healthcare!
Take GMAT,
Climb,
Swim,
Bike.
Write Happiness Model outline,
Photography (what do I want to do with it?),
Sing.
Change wardrobe up a little bit,
Change my look a little bit, too (a little more kept-up?).
He was her fool before I was his.
Somone else was my fool, too, once upon a time.
We are all fools for someone at one point or another, a long tangled chain of fools.
But I guess we are all just waiting for the right fool to come along so that we can be their happy fool.
Have you ever tried looking through your library of books and categorize what information you have on hand through that filter in your mind? I mean, not just "math, history, literature," but also how they will help you and make you feel when you read them and stuff .... If you put 1) how it makes you feel/how or when you can use it and 2) what subject matter they are, you'll find an interesting matrix in your head. It's really kinda cool. And once that matrix is in place, you can make it more complex by putting dates in it ... like when you have used it, and when you project you can use it later according to your future plans. It makes for something like a 3D matrix.
According to the Chinese, males have life cycles of 8 years, whereas females have life cycles of 7 years? My first life cycle is 1-7 years. I'm currently in the middle of my 4th cycle. I want to know about how that little piece of knowledge can help me understand ... stuff, with life, with everything that I know is real.
Wow. I feel like this should be the dawn of a new age. As my new "Operations Comrade" arrives on Tuesday or Wednesday, I there are several things for me to consider. First, I need new software. Well, I doubt that I will receive anything like that for Christmas. In fact, I don't really expect to get anything for Christmas. I'm past that age now.
But I do have a software wishlist to share:
- Microsoft Office Suite
- Photoshop (for my photo editing pleasure -- hehe!)
Also, ...
- New music (ahhh, I am starving for new sounds!)
- books!
I plan on using this machine for producing:
- Heartfelt writings
- Beautiful pictures
- A new website/blogsite through .Mac
- Good mixtures of music that can uplift me or help describe me
They say for females, their lives go in cycles of 7 years. I am half way through my 4th cycle. I feel that something is going to happen ... and it's right around the corner. What is it? I feel like I'm wrapped in a thick blanket of fog.
When did my life become so complicated?
I stumbled upon a quote by Sigmund Freud: "The great question -- which I have not been able to answer -- is, "what does a woman want?"
I think of all the craziness that he describes, he really was just trying to describe himself.
I just realized that for the past year, my main source of confidence was him. And so, obviously, my already low level of confidence was even lower.
I want to kill that demon inside me that puts me down. I am so sick of it and its uncooperativeness. It mirrors who my parents are and how they treat themselves. I don't want to be like them. I want to get out before I drown.
My mind is a salad of thoughts and ideas and feelings right now. It's like many molecules in a cold confined space; they are there, but they are not moving anywhere.
OK. So I did it. Two days ago, I ordered a MacBook. I am now officially a Mac owner.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
YAY!!!!
I just finished editing a 22-page accounting paper.
My job entails:
combining 5 different portions of a financial analysis from 5 distinctly different people -- 3 international students from Korea, Japan and Thailand, an American student, and me, a 'tweener.
I had to make the 5 parts ONE, which means I had to check for grammar corrections, sentence structure, format and presentation, and quite simply, SENSE.
Don't get me wrong. All of us did exceptionally on this collaboration -- especially our international students.
But I must say that it was hard trying to guess what exactly everyone is trying to say and how to present their points better ... for every sentence in the 22-page endeavor.
Ok, now, on to Human Resources.
Since you've been gone, my life has been okay. I've been living my life, trying to be who I've always wanted to be – just the way I always tried. I've been trying to move on and to understand nothingness. The last time my heart sang was when it was alive, burning for you. Now I've just been trying to survive dying two hundred times from not sharing the air I breathe with you: every morning, every night. I barely even remember the last time you breathed my air, smiling.
But maybe loving even the way you breathe was my mistake.
Essentially, all the "you are so much better than him," "he doesn't deserve you," and "you can do so much better" don't amount to what sense of loss I now have inside.
The fact is whether I am better or not than he is should play no part in my healing process. My healing process should only involve, not him, but me.
I like It's a Break UP not a Breakdown better. The other one kinda bothered me. hahaha!!! I'm only at the Intro, but it sounds right.
The thing is, I don't want a book that tells me exactly what to do -- I don't want a prescription. That's why my 2 therapists didn't work out for me. I want a "conversation" with a respectable voice. Nothing self-righteous, thank you very much.
With all the pain and turmoil, I do see the bright side to my Big Breakup. I had all the right intentions with the wrong guy, creating a less-than-optimal relationship. All my bases are covered: I am not calling/e-mailing/running back to my ex, in part assisted by his indifference and swiftness to move on, I am not doing anything stupid, like sleeping around, partying excessively, jumping into another relationship hastily, or being self-destructive in any way. That's great. Survival mode is active.
Furthermore, I am trying to figure out how to move on, to improve and to grow. I am taking a leading role in my own future, meanwhile, letting those who care about me take an active role as well.
But as survival mode is active, panic mode seems to be on standby. My problem seems to be how to "find peace," so to speak. My anger and frustrations with progress slower than I prefer, with the past, and the overturning of what I call "the great equalizing effect," where people who do you wrong will "get theirs." Essentially, Karma, with a more scientific name. I am confronted with: "If he is so 'happy,' then does it mean I deserved it? Does it mean I really suck, because he's rid of me, and he's finally 'free'?" And other absurd things that I can't seem to barge. I, then, start to internalize these things and make what is essentially his mistakes into mine. These things are such potholes to my eventual growth and happiness that sometimes they set me back.
And as I sit here describing these things to you, even though I consciously know what is happening, I don't subconsciously know it enough to stop doing it. It's like I'm narrating what I think about how I feel -- a completely logical but helpless act ... because what you KNOW has very little to do with HOW YOU FEEL.
So at this moment, I can only hope that the more I read and the more I digest, the more able I am to face up to the things that I feel with less hopelessness and more faith.
Anyway, enough with my rant. Thanks for letting me borrow your books!
All I ever wanted is just to become everything I have ever wanted to be. All I ever wanted to do is my best and better and better each day.
Being alone hasn't been as lonely as I thought I would be. At the beginning, it was like feeling the incompleteness of missing a limb, or the chill of the wind going through an invisible hole in my torso. At times, it felt like what I imagine how mitosis makes cells feel, if they could feel anything, the constant splitting and splitting again ... supposedly for the greater good.
But really, being alone has been good. This is the time I can offer me at long last some space to learn about myself again, after so entirely and willingly giving me away. Sometimes, space is what gives us the chance to hear the echoes of ourselves.
Apparently, my brother thinks I'm a bit ... eh, how do I say it? ... crazy?
So I am on a quest to becoming "smarter." That's sort of my experiment. I figured, ya know, it's a win-win situation. You just can't lose on this one. It's not like I'll become like Jekyll and Hyde, so I'm golden, right?
My hypothesis is that, if I can achieve a more well-rounded sort of "smartness," I will be more capable of finding more "happiness." In other words, to achieve "a well-rounded sort of smartness" need to be "book smart," "social smart" and "body smart" ... in order to achieve "emotional smart," so to speak. It just makes complete sense to me. So I'm doing what I can to do just that.
But after I gave my brother that speech (in a more technical, long-winded version, of course), my brother gave me a bewildered look, a baffled laugh and shook his head while walking back into his bedroom.
I think he thinks I'm a nut.
Watch. I'm gonna come out with a self-help book one day. Let's see who's gonna laugh then. :-D
I am on a late bloomer's revolution to stop being a stranger to myself. I am so estranged from my intuition, my potentials and my inner being that I have become like two people who bicker but trying to get along.
I am feeling all cleaned out today. And maybe a little bit poisoned, too. That wound in my heart is acting up again.
I just read this funny memoir by the writer of "Caroline in the City," this sitcom from the 90s I used to watch. In the last chapter of her book about her basically depressing single life and coming-of-age story, she got engaged, but it didn't work out. She was 39 at the time. Never married. Just had a whole string of failed relationships.
But in that last chapter, she's also come accept that she'll be OK ... and alone, of course. As stupid as it sounds, I cried at the end of the chapter. Mopy and sappy and stupid in general, I cried. I cried for her sense of resignation, which we all now call "peace." Or maybe it is peace, the kind of peace that I, an impossibly hopeful person, am not ready to accept yet.
Even though throughout my girlhood, I never imagined a family life, I also never imagined a lonely life either. I also thought that I would actually be OK being single -- and I am -- but as so many people around me are settling down, finding their own families and forming their own worlds, I wonder about my own. I also wonder about whether all my friends will be too busy being in their own "settled down worlds" that we lose touch, unable to relate to me. Even though I'm only 24, I cannot help but to wonder when and how I can build a world of my own on my own -- you just can't rely on others especially for this. It makes me feel like all the seeds that I have planted haven't sprouted yet -- and I worry that they won't.
That chapter also worries me to feel pain again. That gouging pain in the heart -- you know that one. This is the kind of fear that reminds me "never" and "forever" only belong to classical literature like Beowulf and not the reality of a life like mine. Just because you feel that you've paid your dues in advanced by having gone through pain you could barely make through does not mean karma will actually enact some sort of balancing effect and bring you joy and happiness. No, everyday is a brand new game. Don't you slack off. Always on your guard.
I suppose this is what sunny Saturdays are for.
The story of Beowulf haunts me with its curses and promises of nevers and forevers. Such certainty can only be found in fables and storybooks, not reality.
But sometimes, I crave certainty. I crave knowing. I crave to be able to expect.
Perhaps that is why these classics, with themes that are mostly unapplicable to much of our reality, are so interesting. It is because they are filled with ghosts of our desires.
Sometimes, I think in order to function, I have convinced myself to think that I have forgotten all the less-than-happy instances in my life. As if my mind has automatically set up a check point, where upon approach numbs me from recalling any further in the past, from putting myself through pain again.
I saw a really cute lawyer today. He's got a moon tattoo on his left middle finger and some other tattoos up his arms. You can tell his ears were gaged. What the hell happened? Now he's a defense lawyer ... a cute one, nonetheless, with an air of defiance, even sarcasm, smartass edgey-ness. An unconventional gorgeousness.
Brown hair with a touch of cherry.
(God! I must have a thing for red heads! Nor, you were right! Remember Adam at the rock gym??? Oh, and there's another lawyer at my office who is also gorgeous ... and also a redhead. What is it???)
But maybe lawyer boy is gay. He dresses too nicely for a straight man.
Oh, but he's cute ... so I stared for a while.
Where to go abroad to teach?
I am putting The Philippines on my list to choose from ...
if I want to do the teaching abroad thing one day.
Who knows? If I am bold enough, I might put The Peace Corps on the list again.
As I am warm and safe, full and comfortable, loved and strong,
I have those that aren't in my thoughts. I care about them. I want them to feel something like what I feel.
I am going to volunteer ... probably after Christmas (they have enough helpers for the holiday season; it's the non-holiday season that really needs helpers).
The career book says, "You've gotta sell yourself!"
But I don't want to sell myself! Why do I have to sell myself? I'm 24. They say time is my best ally (but they also say it is my worst enemy). I have skills and talent (though I am not sure what they are yet, as I have been trained as a Jack, not a Master. Right, I am working towards a masters degree, but a masters in management ... what an oxymoron). They say I have everything I need, so why be so desperate? ... Or should I be? Maybe time is silently running out. Maybe my youth and teenage years were just dress rehearsals for the real deal -- the now -- and I had no idea that the curtains have been up for a while and that I've been exposed for several hours now and the audience are now gathering their rotten tomatoes.
I don't really know. But I just know that I don't like the idea of "selling myself." This isn't an auction. This is my life we're talking about. I would like to think of myself as something better than to be put up for sale at an auction. Instead, they should be the ones putting up for sale, and I am the one who should be sitting in the cushy seats raising plaques with numbers for acquisition.
Regardless of where I am at right now -- even though I am not completely together, I have flaws, I got scratches here and there from my trips and falls, I came undone several times already, and whatever else -- I still am better than that. I am not a fixer-upper. I am ... something ... I don't know what yet, but I am whatever it is that I will be. You either like it or love it. How's that for an alternative model?
But still, just in case ... back to learning how to sell.
What the hell am I to do with the rest of my life??
Well, lately, that's been the theme I've been dwelling on. The way to better my future is to better myself now, right? But how?
How do I unlock that secret potential hidden inside me, so that I can surprise everyone -- including myself? And there's gotta be some sort of talent in there, right? right? How do I understand how to find the key to happiness, so that what seems like a game of Sudoku at the "Impossible!" level will suddenly make sense? But what if the happiness I find is something that disappoints everyone else (can my happiness then be sustainable?)? And I do care what other people think, even though everyone else says not to worry about them. (Sometimes, I have a sneaking suspicion that the people who give me this piece of advice do so because they have always wanted to see what would happen if they had not worried about the opinion of others ... maybe I am their experiment.) How do I empower myself ... do I visualize a light bulb lighting up and go "ding"? Do I expand my horizons the way I expand the diameter of my thighs or my waist?
So I spend most of my time reading nowadays. I read anything I can think will "empower" me: psychology, economics, politics, career guides, memoirs, ___ For Dummies books, quotes, life's instruction handbooks, self help books, health ... anything. Then, I come up with theories and ideas on how to look at my life in an orderly and analytical fashion -- things that all seem to make sense and even clever at the time, but definitely not so much a couple of days later.
It's been fun though ... but then, I ask, all this for what? I'm still trying to figure it out.
Of course I didn't tell him he didn't have what it takes, what I really want and really need. And the most important is that I didn't tell me that blatant, glaring fact. Who wants to know that she is with someone who just isn't good enough for her? Who wants to know she's about to get really let down?
I believe I have just started a new religion ...
... called Nerdism, behind which a single woman with not an idea what she wants to do with the remainder of her time on earth can hide.
She can support her religious faith by reading a ton of books, selections including Excel Formulas and Functions for Dummies, 101 Great Anwers to the Toughest Interview Questions, The Female Brain (some neuropsychology book I found to be quite entertaining), Emotional Intelligence and The Late Bloomer's Revolution (a memoir about a single 30-something down in the dump).
Yeah, that's how I've been spending my evenings.
Interestingly enough, for the first time in 4 months, I complained about how much time I didn't have to myself. I mean, yes, I still hang out with people (I can't stop the appointments from coming; I'm just that popular -- bahahaha!), but I make it a point that I spend Friday nights here at home, so that I can read or sleep early or write or whatever.
I am such a devout Nerd -- I'm even proud of it. haha!!!
You know, I hear this sometimes and more often than preferred:
"Yeah, I went on a date with so-and-so. You know, dinner, nice conversation. He obviously was trying to impress me. At the end of the night, we made out. He came over. One thing led to another .... Well, I don't know. I guess he was nice. I mean, we had a nice date and all that. I felt like I should do something ...."
What? "There's no free dinner?" Is that the impression we've reduced ourselves to believing -- these bullshit antics? How petty is that -- is this what they call "fair trade" -- I feed you, now you feed me? I mean, the least that these guys could do is to try harder to lure us in, those cheap little fuckers.
And now look! Women now have to feel the guilt of someone spending the time and money on us, and then feeling the after-guilt of feeling that guilt in the first place, and good men now have to act like defensive little clowns to defend their names for the rest of their lives because of these cheapass bad apples.
Manipulative guys just pollute the world.
What is the secret to becoming a top-tier civil servant? Well, I was brushing my teeth when I figured it out. The rules are really quite obvious, but let me tell you: it's not a breeze, and you might find it compromising of your precious ethics. But if you are serious about this, it's worth it ... all 14 dollars per hour of it. OK, so here it is. Take notes. If you are smart, always act dumb. No, act dumber than what you think is dumb -- that is their average idea of dumb. It's OK. By doing so, you are not compromising your integrity. You are simply fulfilling part of your job description that they failed to really really mention. (Which part? Did you forget already? The part that says 'report to supervisor,' silly! They even had you sign it and should have received a copy. Talk to your manager.) You are expected to be a sheep. When the supervisor says, 'Baaaah,' you say, 'Baaaah,' with the same number of 'A's,' thank you. You get the idea, righ?
Interestingly enough, I just realized tonight that I have started to do things for me and no longer just for easing pain. I am not longer thinking of escape routes; I am thinking of the front door. No longer lamenting, I am pledging.
I think I am doing quite well.
I will keep it up.
Order in 2 weeks
With Education Discount:
Printer (free)
+ Office Suite 2004 and 2008
+ 1-year .mac
+ MacBook
+ Adobe Element 4.0
= 1368
I just realized that my life consists of four quadrants:
Tangible: the solid practicalities of my life, like finding a better job, finding a place to live, paying off student loans, getting insured, etc..
Intangible: the emotional side of things, like staying close to my core (family and friends), forming new friendships, etc..
Actual: activities that can help me "actualize" my life and expand my potentials, like driving, snowboarding, swimming, biking, climbing and working out, writing a book/getting published, photography, learning how to use computer softwares like a pro, etc..
Virtual: this is the "weird" category, kind of like a spiritual sort of side, like finding my understanding of happiness, visualize my source of strength, knowing what motivates me and empowers me, finding out what I am good at, etc..
This may not be the best way to analyze my life, but it's one perspective.
So what's the point for me to have all this technology on hand but not really know how to use it well?
I have this powerful machine called a computer here. It's a powerful machine even though it's a PC. With my Office Suite on here, I can practically do anything! I can publish things, I can draw charts, I can do math, I can ... do so much!! The problem is that there is so much there that I don't know exist. For example, I want to learn how to format things the way I want without getting frustrated. There's an ok, good and better way of doing things. I'm not content with the ok.
And then there's Excel. 90% of all data formatting is Excel. Most statistic analysis is done on Excel. Most of our household budgeting is done on Excel. So why shouldn't I get to know it better? On top of what I already know about the program, I am going to learn its functions and formulas, as well as data and statistical analysis (need to find my summer school textbook).
And I think I am going to get me a Mac for Christmas. See, this is the thing: if I'm going to spend a couple thousands on a computer with software, there is absolutely no reason for me to be lazy and procrastinate learning. After all, I did pay for it all. (I can't wait to use .mac!)
I think I'm going to stay home (or at coffee shops, or bookstores or libraries) a lot more and going out a lot less now.
I have a long booklist on economics, spirituality, politics, education, a librarian's hilarious account on his job, some lady talking about her life, neuroscience, psychology, Zen Buddhism, poetry, Microsoft Excel, digital photography, the GMAT, health and some other stuff to read.
I just wanna read and write and dinker on my computer and learn and be geeky and nerdy!
MY GOD! It's nasty out. The wind is a pushy one; I can feel the house standing its ground. I'm freak'n lucky to have a nice place to stay. I need to go volunteer coz them people out there must be soaked and cold.
I know that one day I will hear from you again. You will not be able to suppress your curiosity. You will wonder what and how I am doing while wondering about yourself. As your excuses lose their meaning, you will try to recall what had really happened to you, to the relationship that once meant something valuable to you and what happened to the someone who once loved you and defended you so fiercely -- the person you failed to appreciate and a fact you failed to understand.
You will write to me, "How are you? Haven't heard from you for a long time. I hope you're doing well. Reply if you want to."
But I will be far, far away in the vibrant world I came from when I entered yours, in my world that I have worked hard to expand and make better while you were gone, in my world that no longer includes you and no longer welcomes your existence.
Knowing you, I know that day will come, and I will be ready to greet you with the audaciousness you never had the privilege to know and the nonchallance of a mere observer. You will only be a passerby, a leaf in the wind (or something less poetic).
I will be ready this time around.
I am trying to figure out how to feel the fear and do it anyway, and
I am patiently waiting for the past to gradually disappear into Neverland.
I love writing. I need to find something I love to write about.
Lee Gutkind, Professor at the Department of English at Carnagie Mellon University, for example, is "The Godfather" of the creative nonfiction movement (Vanity Fair). But, while being an English professor and an avid writer, Lee is also a scientist interested in robotics and medicine.
He has something to write about.
I need to find my topic to write about, something that I love intensely.
I'm 24, and I know I have a generation gap with people below the age of 8 ... even people half my age at 12.
I know that because I can tell them about things that they have never seen or may not have even heard of in their short little lifetime ... and they probably won't know what I'm talking about until well into high school. Things like the following will undoubtedly amuse them:
~ Typewriters. Decades ago, these not-so-handy machines that served as our word processors produced a sophisticated and classy alternative to hand-written scribbles. To operate these machines, you have to P-O-U-N-D on them keys to make sure the ink gets onto the paper. You also have to manually white-out any typos you made. As technology advanced, so did typewriters -- they finally came out with this "correction key" that whited out your mistakes. Ta-Da! My family actually had one that came with a black plastic case with a handle on top. I remember trying to pick it up, but I ended up dropping it on my foot because it was so heavy. It hurt.
~ 5-inch Floppy Disks. My mother, being the hip little Asian lady that she is, decided to learn how to type. Oh, that mother of mine ... she brought home an old ("new" then) IBM black-and-white DOS-OS platform, (what we now consider) barebone computer, one that used 5-inch floppy disks. These scarce memory cards are about 25 times bigger than the regular SD chip that you put in your digital camera and maybe 50 times bigger than the 1GB Micro SD chip you put in your cellphone. But back in the day, 5-inch floppies were THE SHIT. The fact that we could put information not on notebooks of paper, but on one "small" disk was just mind-blowing.
~ Cassette Tapes. There was a time when Walkmans were cool. That, in case you don't already know, is a small device that enabled us to bring our music everywhere, much like what we do with our MP3 players today. I remember having trouble knowing which way to put the tape in, and if it meant I needed to rewind the tape when the little black ribbon is all on the left side of the tape. To this day, I still don't really know. Aren't you glad you don't have to deal with all that now?
~ Waterbottle Cellphones. Cellphones haven't always been palm-sized. Back in the early 90s, cellphones were about the size of a large Nalgene bottle. Now practice putting a whole waterbottle to your ear, and then try storing it in your purse. You'll realize that not only your phone conversations must be brief due to your sore biceps, you will need to carry a backpack to accommodate to your "portable cellular phone."
What else do we take for granted? What else belongs in our "obsolete pile," our personal museums up in the attic in hopes that, one day, we'll make it to "Antiques Roadshow?"
Feel free to leave a reminder.
So my list of MySpace friends dwindled from 152 to 150. Two people left my list. The thing is, I don't even know which two. I guess I don't really talk to them that often, do I?
Speaking of which, I think I should clean out my friends list.
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I looked through my list and realized that all the people that should be there are there. Most of them are people that I care about, some of them are people that I'd like to keep in touch with, and others are people that I don't mind having on my list.
I went to bed exceptionally early last night -- 9:30pm. (*gasp!* Early night for Elaine! Impossible!) Well, it felt great. Made me feel somewhat normal.
One of the first thoughts I had this morning was, "What should I do? I feel enclosed here in Portland, as if this place and I just don't click, as if this place doesn't have what it takes to appreciate what I have to offer. But where? Maybe Seattle. Maybe my cousin is right. But how? Do I have the nerve? What should I do?"
But this feels ... right. Strangely enough, it felt like something not only plausible, possible, but also ... right.
But what now? What will happen if I do move? ... There's nothing I can't manage, right? ... But it's really hard and deflating that I don't really know what I "can" do (even though there's a lot that I can do), let alone what I want to do.
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