Farewells

Well, this is it, everyone. I'm leaving this blog. Personally, I think I should spend less time on the internet and my breakup was a good catalyst for this. It has been a good few years, and I have learned much insight in blogging. Now I think it's time I learn how to gain insight offline. Farewell, everyone!

Getting better at reaching happy mediums

Holy Crap, it has been over 24 hours since my breakup and I have not deactivated my facebook or deleted this blog. I haven't lashed out at anyone or withdrawn into my shell. I didn't stay in bed all day instead of going to work. I got up early, ate breakfast, and even practiced piano before I went to my summer job. While I was at work, I actually asked people for help instead of burying myself into my work in order to escape unpleasant emotions. I haven't deleted my ex's number from my phone, but I haven't sent him endless calls and messages, either. I only sent him one message saying good night and that I hope he had a good day. Was that too much? Maybe. In either case, I'm getting much better at having rational reactions to life events. I know how to reach a happy medium instead of swinging to extremes. Do you know what this means?! I'm getting better, people! I'm getting better! I'm learning to be in the middle of my emotions instead of trying to avoid them all the time. I'm learning to be normal instead of being weird! Maybe in ten years time *gasp* I can actually BE A NORMAL PERSON. Wish me luck, everyone. And keep reading. I'm moving on up in the world. :)

Breakup

Matthew and I just broke up last night. I don't know how to feel.

Mis-read

You ever have one of those experiences where you're looking at something and you read one letter off and the entire meaning changes? I had one of those experiences today. I was in the check-out line of the grocery store looking at the Reader's Digest magazine on the rack. There was a title in the corner that read "Heroes who make the world more fun." I read the "o" as a "p" and thought it said, "Herpes who make the world more fun." I started to laugh. When it was my turn, the cashier asked in a bland, automatic way, "How you doing?"  I responded with, "I'm feeling GREAT." She looked up for scanning my groceries and saw the stupid grin on my face. That made her grin, too. When I was done, she handed me my receipt, smiled, and said, "Have a great day."

"You too!" I said, positively beaming at her. I'm sure she thought I was high or on drugs or something.

Generation X

I was talking to my counselor when she told me about how she was doing research on the Millenials, also known as "Generation X". She told me that this generation consisted of people born between 1980 and 2005. They were even larger in number than the baby boom generation and they were shaking things up. This cohort was going to go out there and change the world. She told me that the research she had read talked about how the Generation X cohort sought to be authentic, were more socially conscious, and negotiated things. They wanted to wear jeans to work and negotiated their salaries. Some were part of the Boomerang Generation who would return home after college was over or they couldn't find a job. I agreed with her even though I was surprised by the facts she told me. Later on, I said, "Do you know the phrase 'Faint heart never won fair lady'? Well, in my generation, it's 'Faint heart never won fair wages.' " She laughed.

Negotiation

Today, my counselor and I talked about negotiation. It all started when I told her about an incident in which I had trouble telling Matthew what I wanted to eat for dinner. He suggested something and I just went with it. I actually wanted to eat something else, but I was too afraid to rock the boat or to contradict him. I had this mentality that "Beggars couldn't be choosers" and since he was already buying me dinner, then I should be thankful with whatever I received. But then Matthew just got frustrated because I didn't tell him what I wanted.

Why was I so afraid? I talked it over with my counselor and we delved deeper. Apparently, my relationship with Matthew strongly reminded me of my relationship with my parents. He was always paying for me and providing for me. I called on him when I needed help or when I needed to fix something. I felt like he had so much more power and knowledge, so much more wealth and experience. While that wasn't a bad thing, it prevented me from seeing myself as an equal to him and therefore, I felt anxious voicing my opinions. I did not feel equal to him and since I felt like he gave me everything, then I should just accept that with gratefulness.

"But there's more options here," my counselor had said. "You can negotiate." That was a novel concept to me. I did not grow up seeing anyone negotiate anything. My parents only demanded things. They demanded things from their children, from each other, and from themselves. They never negotiated anything and so I never even knew that was an option.

"Try it," my counselor urged. I told her that I would. The next time someone offers me something, I am going to negotiate so we can both get something out of it. It doesn't always have to be a "my way or the highway" type of thing. Even highways have exits. Maybe it's time I took one.

Hello Kitty and Stereotypes

I was riding in the car with a few of my friends when I noticed a Hello Kitty sticker on the car next to me. "Hello Kitty!" I exclaimed. I looked for the driver, meaning to tell her (I assumed it was a female) that I really liked her sticker. Boy was I in for a surprise. The person driving the car was not the young Asian femal that I had imagined, but a fifty-year-old white man. My jaw dropped. How was this possible? I thought. Maybe the car belonged to his daughter or a friend or something? Then I realized that I was being stereotypical and that not only young Asian women liked Hello Kitty. Who knows? Maybe it WAS his sticker. Maybe he likes Hello Kitty or maybe he thought it was cute. There's no need to justify by making up reasons why it was there. That's when I began to question what else I stereotyped. Did I expect giant pick-up trucks with flames painted on the side to be driven by hulking white men? Yes. Did I expect that only girls would like Hello Kitty? Yes. Did I imagine that fifty-year-old white males to only have sensible cars that had no cutesy stickers on them. Probably yes. Well, maybe it's time to let go of the stereotypes and just let people be. I mean, I don't fit the stereotype of most  girls. I don't like going to the mall. Or gossip. Or whatever it is girls are supposed to like. On the other hand, I do like spiders. And spider webs. I like rodents. And playing in the mud. I prefer food shopping or shoe shopping and I would rather watch action/adventure movies than romantic comedies. I like all kinds of things that girls aren't "supposed" to like. So if I don't fit the mold, then why should I fit other people into molds? By the way, I'm also fascinated (and repulsed) by mold.

Burnt Tongue

Whenever I cook pasta and I want to find out if it's done cooking, I take a strand of pasta and fling it against the fridge. If it sticks, it's done (learned that from watching The Golden Girls). Matthew, however, likes to scoop up a strand of pasta and chew on it to see if it's cooked to his satisfaction. "Why waste pasta?" he often tells me.

Well, I was making alfredo linguine for dinner and I decided to try out Matthew's way of seeing if the noodles were done. I scooped out a strand of linguine, blew on it, and tried chewing on the strand. Unfortunately, in my eagerness to try it, I did not notice that there was still boiling water dripping off of the noodle and accidentally burnt my tongue when tasting it. I thought to myself, It's just a little burn. It'll heal up quickly. And if it doesn't, then I'll just chew on one side of my mouth to avoid the burn. Well, let me tell you, it is nigh near impossible to chew on one side of your tongue. When I had finished making the linguine and put it all together with homemade alfredo sauce, I found that I had a hard time keeping food to just one side of my tongue. I then realized that I could eat on one side of my mouth if I had a toothache or a mouth ulcer, but it was way too hard to do that if my tongue was in pain. Needless to say, I spent the rest of dinner in silent misery, crying "Ouch" every time the noodles or sauce hit the burnt side of my tongue. Take a lesson from this, readers, there are better ways to find out if your pasta's done cooking than putting it in your mouth. At least cool it off with some cold water or something before tasting it. Or maybe my boyfriend is not as sensitive to heat and pain the same way I am. In either case, I learned my lesson.

Lack of Belief

I was talking to my mother when I had an epiphany. She was asking me about what kind of job I wanted when I got out of school and then she said that if I don't get a career job right away, would I just settle for a job that paid ten dollars or so. I said that I would demand at least $30,000 a year (and that's an extremely low starting salary for someone with a master's degree). She persisted, however, as she kept saying, "Well, if you don't get a job like that, couldn't you just settle for a job that paid $10 an hour? You know, just some job at McDonald's or something like that?" I didn't know what she was getting at, but I didn't like the lack of confidence she had in me. Maybe she was asking that because she was desperate for me to move back home and she just wanted to know if I would accept just any job? Or maybe she wanted to know if I would be too demanding with my first career job and starting salary. In either case, I had a sudden epiphany: I didn't believe in myself because my mother didn't believe in me. Neither did my dad. I don't know what my brother thinks, but hopefully, it's better than what my parents think. For all that it was worth, I suddenly realized that my parents didn't believe in me much when I was growing up. They expected me to do well and kept pushing me harder and harder, but it seemed like they lacked the actual confidence that I could do it, that I could actually succeed at something. I know that I should have realized this sooner since it's apparent from the way they treat me, but when that's all you grow up with, it's hard to see anything else. It wasn't until I went off to college and made friends there who DID believe in me that I realized how my parents were wrong. They were wrong to expect so much and push me so hard while criticizing me and calling me a failure because I didn't meet their definition of "make something of myself." It isn't until I got real love and acceptance that I realized what life could be, how relationships could be. I felt like my relationship with my parents is just this mindless obedience of doing whatever they say and then taking their emotional abuse when they became disappointed. Now that I had something to contrast it, I suddenly saw it for what it was and let me tell you, I didn't like it. Then again, that begs the question: Why am I still working so hard to gain the approval of people who don't treat me well?

The Beach!

Some friends and I went to the beach today! It's been three years since I was last at a beach and I can't believe I waited so long to return.

Finding parking was terrible ($25 for parking?! Really?!), but the rest of it was pretty fun. We took a stroll on the boardwalk and then went on to the beach. We had to pay $9 per person for a beach pass to get on to the beach itself though. I've never had to pay to get onto a beach before and let me tell you, I'm not doing it again. The beach itself was nice. The ground was hot, but the water was nice and cold, a relieving contrast to traipsing around in sunburnt sand. It was fun watching the seagulls and people. There was a cooling breeze coming from the ocean although when the wind picked up, it was so strong that it blew away people's beach umbrellas and cooler lids.

There was one group of people talking about the ocean and the guy said, "Did you know some people believe that the ocean was made out of God's tears? It used to be a pond." Then his umbrella blew away and he had to chase after it. A woman nearby heard his story and said a rude comment, but later on, all three of her beach umbrellas blew away. She was too busy playing near the water to notice so she didn't even know that her umbrellas were gone until she came back later. Hah! I thought. She got her just desserts. 

After a while, I decided to go to the water myself. It was so mesmerizing watching the waves roll in and out and as soon as I stepped up to the waves, I felt an immediate feeling of coming home. "It's been a long time," I felt the ocean saying to me. Yes it has, Ocean. Yes it has. I can't believe I've waited this long to return to the beach. I know that I'm terrified of it, but it's also something to respect and admire as well. There's a line in a song that goes, "I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean." That's how I felt. Then I looked up and down the shore line and thought, I don't see how you CAN'T feel small. The ocean is HUGE. I slowly stepped into the waves until the incoming tide came up to my thighs, then I stopped. I just stood there after that, letting the waves roll over me, laughing and squealing like I was five years old again. There were times the waves were small and didn't even reach my toes. Other times, the waves were huge and I had to run away from them. Even then, I would get soaked all the way up to my waist. As I watched other people "catching a wave", I envied them and wished that I had brought my swimsuit so I could ride waves, too. At least I wore my short shorts so I could stand in the water and let it wash over my legs.

I could have stood there for hours just letting the waves roll over me, but after a while, my friend came and asked if I was ready to go home. I took a few last glances at the ocean. Until we meet again, Ocean. The ocean seemed to wave goodbye to me. Until we meet again.

The Day I Almost Went Clubbing

I came home from work and was getting ready to go clubbing for the first time. Before I left, I called my brother and asked him what it was like. He told me that he didn't really like clubbing very much, he just sat at the bar and drank.

"I don't want to do that," I told him. "I thought that clubbing was more like dancing."
"It is if you want to dance. I just sit at the bar and drink."
"Well, maybe I won't like it because I don't like drinking and I don't like loud music. I'm also tired."
"I don't like it, tired or not tired."
"Then why do you go?"
"My friends make me."

I decided to go anyway, just for the experience. I showered and got dressed, then met up with the friends who were going to take me there. They were getting dressed, and waiting for another friend who knew more of the clubbing scene in the area. When she arrived, however, she said that most clubs don't have anything happening before 11 pm so she suggested we go to a nearby tavern to have a drink first. I didn't mind, but I told my friends that if we weren't going to the club until eleven, then I was just going to have a drink at the tavern and then go home. I ended up paying three dollars for a lemonade while everyone else had alcohol. I tried making conversation there, but the music was just so loud that I couldn't hear anyone and people had a hard time hearing me. After half an hour, I gave up and went home. I'm not really a night owl or a party person so I decided that if clubs were places that only started the fun around eleven at night, then I didn't want to go. I know it sounds boring, but I'd rather get my sleep instead of forcing myself to be a place with loud music and alcohol just so I can get the "experience." I'll leave the clubbing to the other young thangs in this town. This girl is going to get some beauty sleep.

A Second Chance At Life

I had a near-death experience and it cured me of my suicidal thoughts. I was driving to work and decided to stop by the deli to buy something for lunch. I almost got into a car accident however when I realized that I had to turn left and that there was no left turn lane and no left turn light. My car was already angled in a way that it was hard for me to back up or to just go straight so I doggedly kept trying to turn left. Cars were honking at me from all angles and two cars almost t-boned me. Somehow, some way, I inched forward and made it through. I did make it to the deli, but by the time I got there, I was too shaken to even order anything. I just picked a menu and looked at it without really seeing anything. Then, after a minute of just staring blankly, I folded up the menu, put it back, and drove to work without buying anything. I can't believe that I was so stupid to risk my life for a stupid bagel sandwich and then not even buy one.

I was still shaking when I got to work and I had to sit at my desk for a minute and just breathe. I kept saying, "Thank you, God. Thank you, God," the entire time while I tried to calm down. I eventually got a hold of myself and decided to do something to change. I looked up tips on defensive driving, wrote them all down, and recited them to myself. Then I swore to recite them every time I got behind the wheel. I continued to thank God for the rest of the day. I felt like He gave me a second chance at life and I told Him that I was not going to waste it. I didn't want to commit suicide anymore. I now know how precious life is and how quickly I could lose it. I wasn't going to waste my second chance. From here on out, I'm going to be a lot more careful and a lot more thankful.

Spamalot

They were having Plays in the Park this summer and so I decided to attend. I went to see Spamalot and boy was that show racy! It was much more outrageous than I thought and I even found some parts offensive, but I suppose the show is meant to be a bit inappropriate. As I watched King Arthur and his knights go on a quest for the Holy Grail, I was surprised by how often they were sidetracked or how the show kept going off on tangents. It was a good show though, and I vaguely remember a few of the same scenes from watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail when I was sixteen. I loved the songs, too! "Whatever happened to my Part?" for example, sung by one of the main characters who was prominent in the first act and who practically disappears after that. The song is also known by the apt title, "The Diva Song." I also like the song about Lancelot being gay. "His name is Lancelot, and in tight pants a lot, he likes to dance a lot. You know you do." Then there's the song about King Arthur singing how he's all alone even though his trusty servant Patsy is standing right next to him. My favorite song, however, is "The Song that Goes Like This" which begins, "Once in every show, there comes a song like this. It starts off soft and low, and ends up with a kiss. Oh where is the song that goes like this? Where is it? Where? Where?"

There was also a scene where one of the cast members was talking about how one could not make it on Broadway without Jews and the audience laughter died down. The cast member continued to sing a song about it and there were a few nervous laughs but mostly silence. I thought that was a bit much so I just sat nervously in my seat while the performance went on. It wasn't until later on during the show that the guy playing King Arthur looked out at the audience, raised his hand, and said, "Are there any Jews here?". Several people raised their hands and the audience seemed to relax so I relaxed too

I also thought there were too many people for the ensemble cast, but other than that, the show was great. I listened to all of my favorite songs again on YouTube a few days after I saw the show. I actually thought that the cast from Plays in the Park did it better than the original cast. They were much more dramatic and expressive, but maybe it's just because I like that kind of thing. Oh well. I'll see about going to more plays this summer. It's only seven dollars and I had a really good time so I want to go again.

Robo Shirt

I wore my robot shirt to work the other day. It's this dark grey t-shirt with a robot face on it and hearts. I got compliments from one camp student who liked my shirt and the robotics teacher, naturally, also liked my shirt. As a matter of fact, he liked my shirt so much that he asked me to stand in front of class to show my shirt to everyone.

"Oh," I said, a little surprised. I stood in front of class like something on display and let them take a gawk at my shirt.

"This is a cool shirt," the teacher said. "Everyone go out and get a shirt like this."

I don't know why but that made me feel really special. I guess it's the little things like that which matter in life. I spent the rest of the day with a smile on my face.

Swimming!

I went swimming for the first time in years! My summer job has an indoor swimming pool and, luckily for me, it's free for summer employees. Yesterday, I got off work ten minutes early so I went to try out the swimming pool for the first time. It was one of those pools that was divided into lanes so people can swim laps instead of a free, open swimming area. I didn't mind too much. All I had to do was to avoid others swimming in the same lane and that wasn't too hard.

Let me tell you, beginning to swim again when you haven't done it in a long time is no piece of cake. Within the first ten minutes, the muscles in my back were already sore and I was afraid that my neck was going to end up in a painful pinch from the fact that I kept trying to hold my head above water.

I tried swimming with my head underwater as well, but then I quickly realized that I didn't have the lung capacity to hold my breath anymore. It had been too long. So I went over to the shallow end of the pool and practiced holding my breath and doing dead man's float. After I got up to thirty seconds, I tried swimming again and gradually learned to trust the water.

After about half an hour of swimming, I looked around me and noticed that others were swimming so much better. There was a little boy swimming next to me that moved so easily through the water. Others  were very graceful as they dipped in and out of the waves. There was even a fully-dressed woman wearing a headscarf who kept doing headstands in the water! What are they doing that I'm not doing? I wondered. After watching them several times, I got it: they were swimming slowly. I, meanwhile, was frantically doing breaststrokes and frog swimming in hurried, rushed motions. Maybe I should try it like them, I thought. I took a few deep breaths and plunged back into the water.

Let me tell you, swimming slowly made all the difference. Instead of worrying about running out of breath or doing the motions correctly, I told myself to slow down and just take my time. Immediately, I was gliding through the water and expending less energy.

This made me start to wonder if I hurried too frantically in other parts of my life. There was the car accident a week ago and now this swimming revelation. Where else in my life should I slow down and take my time?

Terrible Pancakes

I've been arriving for work 50 minutes early recently, on account of taking the bus to work since I can't drive my car. Since I'm at work so early, I go to the dining hall and buy breakfast there. It's not too expensive and it's conveniently located near the office where I work. Yesterday, I bought an egg and cheese sandwich and it wasn't so bad. If it were me making the sandwich, I would have toasted the bread bun and made less eggs, but it was passing overall. Today, however, I ordered pancakes and was really excited to eat them...until I put them in my mouth. The first sensation I had was of something sour there. Pancakes aren't supposed to sour! Right? The next thing was that the pancake was a flat as a...well, a pancake. It wasn't fluffy and light like the way I usually eat my pancakes. That's when I realized that the food from the dining hall wasn't actually that good and that I myself could have done better in making breakfast. I'm not a particularly good cook and even I could do better, which is saying a lot. So from now on, I'm just going to continue eating breakfast at home. I don't know if it will save me money, but it will definitely taste much better.

An Accident

I got into a car accident today. I was driving when I accidentally side-swiped a bus and my side-view mirror came off. When I talked to my counselor about it, she said that most accidents in her life are usually symbolic. It's the universe's way of telling her that she needs to slow down and look at something in her life.

"Maybe it's symbolic for you too," she tells me. "Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something in a minor way. It could have been big. It could have been disastrous, but this is the universe trying to tell you something in a small way."
I think about it for a moment. "I think you're right because I've a few minor accidents but I never have an accident in the same way. Maybe today, the universe is trying to tell me to slow down and...look again. I did learn something from it after all."

Luckily, my counselor also gave me the name and number of a good mechanic who is going to look at my car tomorrow. Meanwhile, I will wake up an hour earlier every day so I can take the bus to work. Wish me luck. Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me to do things a different way. We'll see. I might return to this topic later when I've something to eat and more sleep.

A Walk in the Park

I visited a friend yesterday and we made ourselves a grand dinner! I helped her to make banana bread and in return, she made me a dinner of soup and dumplings. Afterwards, we took a walk in the park and talked about life. Apparently, my friend dreams of disappearing off somewhere and having an adventure. She imagines leaving her parents a note saying that she will be gone for two or three weeks and will only contact them when she gets back. Then she wants to go hiking in the mountains or traveling through Europe. I told her that I wanted to do that, too and she was surprised. Most of her friends didn't like doing spontaneous, adventurous things, and so she felt alone in wanting to disappear on an adventure.

"I'll totally do that with you!" I tell her. And so my friend and I decide that if either of us get engaged, we are going to disappear for two or three weeks before we have to get married and settle down.

"I'll probably meet Prince Charming on the trip," my friend comments.
"You probably will. We will probably be hiking and then you twist your ankle and Prince Charming shows up to save you. Then when you tell him you're getting married, he'll be like, 'But I love you!' And then what will we do?"
"I swear that's going to happen to me. My life's been like a love movie so far."

Well, if our adventure does turn out like the movies, then I'm looking forward to it. :)

Coffeecake!

I made coffeecake! It was for a potluck dinner I was going to with some friends and since baking is my strong suit, I decided to make everyone dessert. The making and baking of it was pretty easy, but the result disappointed me a little. I expected my coffecake to turn out like one of those lavish contraptions people see in bakeries, full of texture, rich scents, and topped with confectioner's sugar. Instead it just turned out to be like regular yellow cake except for the cinnamon I sprinkled on top of it. Where did I go wrong? I followed the recipe. Was it because I didn't have enough butter? Was it because I used a cake pan instead of a bundt pan? What was it? I must know. I have written a letter to my dear friend in the South and asked for advice. She is a well-seasoned baker, especially in coffeecake (her specialty) and so I am waiting for a reply.

When Parents are Right

Related briefly to my previous post, it took me a long time to realize that whatever my parents told me when I was a child, THEY WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG.

Don't you hate that?

But yes, they were. When my mother told me to drink lots of water because it would help me be healthier, I didn't listen to her and she turned out to be right. Now I drink water all the time. When I got old enough to start writing checks, my father told me to write in all capital letters because it made it easier to see and there was less confusion. I dismissed that and told him that he was just distrustful of other people. I also told him that I hoped I would never turn out to be like him. It turns out that he was right all along. Capital letters DO help and they DO lessen confusion. I know because at the office where I work, I have to go through several forms that are handwritten and when parents write in all CAPS, it does make it easier to read. Of course, now I write in all capital letters when I'm filling out forms and writing checks. When my mother told me to comb my hair before I went out in public or to straighten out my shirt whenever I stood up, I just became irritated with her and thought that she was beign too picky. Now I realize that she's right. Whenever I had trouble opening a jar, my father told me to just put a rubber band around the lid and it reinforces grip and makes it easier to open. It turns out that he was right.

How do you like that?

There are plenty of other examples of course, but these are just ones I'm listing from off the top of my head. I wonder how is it that parents turn out to be right so often. Is it their age or experience? Is it the cumulative wisdom collected over decades of living? Or is it the fact that they're parents and have to take care of a human life? Sometimes, several human lives. Is it their role and love as a parent that makes them pay attention and become teachers? Mentors? Guides? Where would we be if not for our parents?

An orphanage I suppose. Or out of the streets. Maybe living in a foster home or shuttled from person to person. Maybe dead or sold into slavery. Then again, that was a rhetorical question.