Word Ninja

So ... much ... stuff!!

2007-11-16T06:13:14Z

Wow so I haven't updated since September. A LOT of stuff has happened since then. I think it is best summarized in a ranked list.

1. Quit the lab in August.
2. Got into confrontation with my adviser after quitting the lab.
3. Master's thesis gets scrapped by embittered former adviser.
4. Indulge in freedom from my adviser, who at times shows up as the subject of my nightmares. Freedom lasts for exactly one month.
5. Michael gets a puppy. Era of freedom ends.
6. We have one month to find a new place because our apartment doesn't permit pets.
7. Hate my boyfriend for one month -- during which, we find a new place. Spend all our free time packing.
8. Move to our new place. Almost tip over the unloaded U-haul as we back it up onto an incline. I freak out. Nearby pizza place employees help push the U-haul onto its back wheel, which was off the ground.
9. Spend all our free time unpacking.
10. Run off to Hanover, NH to visit Dartmouth and meet other women alumnae. Get pulled over by a state trooper for driving my rental car too slow (70 in a 65 -- who knew??). Meet up with some dear friends -- my former boss, Susan; my former creative writing instructor, Ernie; and my dreamy '05 friend Eric. Freeze my ass off.
11. Get back to Seattle where I immediately begin working on my bestselling novel and attain infinite fame. Haha RIIIIGHT .... maybe once the puppy stops eating the cat poop.

In less than a month though I am off to Arizona where many adventures await me!!

And hey look -- one of the articles I wrote is front page this week!

Weekend Update

2007-09-17T01:21:25Z

Working backwards:

1) Softball game got canceled, although the fields were apparently fine. The refs jumped the gun on calling the games.

2) Watched the Seahawks lose to the Cardinals, 23-20. Say what you want about Shaun Alexander, but I was impressed he was playing with a cast over his left arm. I think he should talk to Stephen Colbert to help promote the infamous Wristrong Campaign

3) Went to church this morning for the first time in several weeks. Twas satisfying.

4) Yesterday evening I went on an adventure with my new friend and former student, John. He's a real sweetheart, and, in many ways, reminds me of myself at an earlier age. We went to Capital Hill where we ate dinner at Thai Go! and stopped at QFC, where I got him a $1 potted plant (pansies) as a housewarming gift, since he just moved into the U-district. We had a nice conversation for the entire 3.5 hours that we hung out. One of the highlights was our discussion on spam -- the unidentifiable meat product, not the mail:

Me: "Have you ever eaten spam?"
John: "No."
Me: "People in Hawaii really love spam."
John: "Yeah, someone told me that they like the salty flavor."
Me, laughing: "WHAT?? Because of saltiness? Who told you that?"
John: "Oh."
Me, still laughing: "It's a military thing! When troops are stationed somewhere, they distribute spam. Other tropical islands like spam too."
John: "I'll have to tell my friend that they're an idiot."

I also enjoyed his story about how he accidentally maced himself in the eyes.

5) Yesterday, I helped paint the new office space for NuWire (the company I work for as a staff writer). 'Twas only supposed to take a few hours out of the morning, but ended up taking an entire day. As I was painting a big glob of paint managed to land right in my eye, which was kind of scary. It didn't hurt so badly ... luckily the consistency of the paint wasn't too acidic. I laughed about it as I was washing it out of my eyeball furiously.

Me: "Geez, what were the chances of getting paint in my eye? Especially since I'm asian!"

I don't think anyone really got the joke.

6) I've been up to my eyeballs in too much fun. I really need to start taking it easy, and working on my dumb master's thesis. UGH.

EDIT: My dog in Hawaii was put to sleep yesterday. I've taken the time to cry and grieve, and now I feel okay enough to move forward. RIP, Pearl. I love you.

Boredom and Burned Bridges

2007-08-11T07:13:01Z

So bored on a Friday night.

Who thought that would be possible??

Well, it's true. Right now I'm stalking people on the internet, trying to expand my PR. And now I'm at the point of actually writing a blog out of boredom. It's that bad.

Not So Friendly Anymore

I've been thinking about my social life a lot, or rather, the lack thereof. I feel like I've gotten really shy over the past year, like something has fundamentally changed. Well I guess this might coincide with around the time I started dating Michael, which was a dramatic lifestyle change all around. I admit, since then I've become somewhat of a homebody. Also, Mike has a very quiet personality and I have the feeling that it might have rubbed off on me a little (along with some fun attributes, like a better sense of humor). Sometimes I wonder if I have a personality anymore. Sometimes I feel like I don't know who I am anymore.

I wonder if this has anything to do with Seattle culture, if maybe I've gotten sucked into the introverted personality of the collective masses. This somewhat disturbs me. I love Seattle, but I would like to be able to have conversations with people and not have to constantly worry about offending someone or making situations any more awkward than they already are. And why do I feel the constant pressure to be witty / charming / entertaining?? And to constantly ask questions all the time, so that the conversation doesn't lose steam?? Ugh, this is making me exhausted just thinking about it. Why do I bother trying to talk to people at all???

(Dammit, the awkward stage was supposed to be done with after middle/high school! Why the hell am I experiencing it again?)

I also have noticed that I have a much easier time making male friends/acquaintances than female ones. This is possibly due to my own partiality (ooh, Beth, I said it!). I am always pretty apprehensive upon entering into conversations with other women my age that I don't know. It's always about giving compliments, and it feels damn insincere. And I hate small talk -- wait let me try that again -- I HATE small talk! It probably also doesn't help that I'm competitive and have tended to view some women my age as rivals at first. That's a real great way to make friends. :-p

You know part of it is that I gave up on trying so hard to be damn NICE to people all the time. I've always wanted to be liked -- who doesn't? But I'm too old to go bouncing around acting excited about everything. (Although alcohol helps bring out that more happy-go-lucky personality every once in a while.) I find that guys are much easier to talk to, especially when it's completely platonic. There's just not the same set of expectations surrounding the conversation. I don't have to raise my voice several octaves higher. I don't have to give superficial compliments. I feel like I have more room to be myself.

Where did all the friendships go?

I'm a pretty independent person. There are times when I like to be alone, when I am perfectly happy and comfortable in solitude, not having to worry about anyone else. But I also find myself wishing there was someone (besides Michael) that I could really talk to.

I had lunch with the pastor of my church the other day, and we started to talk about friendships. I told him that I really don't have any close girlfriends. He asked me if I had to choose someone, who would be my maid of honor? I told him it would be my sister. He asked me who I would pick besides my sister. I didn't have an answer for him.

I feel sad that I haven't been able to maintain a lot of long-term friendships with women. Sometimes I feel regret for the friendships I've had and lost. Last year I broke up with a friend from college; we were very close, but I was having a difficult time setting up boundaries; and once I did, I ended up being kind of insensitive about it. It didn't go over well, and we haven't "gotten back together" since. Growing up, I had a close childhood friend who was also my greatest rival. Our families were friends, and we did everything together -- piano lessons, tennis, cross country, we even took the same classes -- but there was always this silent rift between us. And even when we tried to rekindle the friendship, it just never really grew into anything real ... we were never completely able to build the mutual respect that a friendship needs.

On several occasions I've found myself in a situation as the "ancillary friend," sort of an accessory piece to two girls who are "best friends." A great way to exacerbate an already-bad inferiority complex.

A lot of other friendships have come and gone, mostly because it's so hard to be around the same people in the same place for an extended period of time. And also, long-distance friendships require a lot of work to maintain, and most of the time I feel like I'm pulling most of the weight to keep a friendship going. More than anything else, I despise feeling like a doormat. My tolerance for that is really low. So I'm learning to let things go -- enjoy company while it's around, but don't try to make it into something it's not, or probably won't be.

In my heart I still have a lot of hope, hope that someday true friends will emerge in my life. It's something I've always wanted since I was in grade school. I hope that this can happen in spite of my horrible social skills and incessant neuroticism ... someday, maybe before I'm fifty, if I'm lucky, at this rate. :-p

Argh!

2007-07-23T07:31:55Z

Grading papers is an endless slog through horrible, horrible writing. I can't get through reading one without putting it down in disbelief and pacing around the room, disturbed by how many ways people can write so BADLY. It's so discouraging, to think that the education system is failing to produce students who can put together a grammatically correct sentence, much less communicate themselves effectively at all!

Don't get me wrong, I usually enjoy editing and critiquing, but this is just getting ridiculous. Sometimes I just want to quit taking the time to make comments and corrections (and it's a LOT of time), because what is the point? All anyone cares about these days is the grade. Sometimes I am so tempted to just mark a big fat F on the very front. The distribution of grades would look something like this: 5% A's, 5% B's, 20% C's, 50% D's, 20% F's . Harsh? If you saw the quality of these papers, you wouldn't think so. I think it would be a pretty refreshing wakeup call, TBQH.

Time for bed. I'm going to have nightmares about this, I know it.

Friendships

2007-06-26T23:36:22Z

I've been pondering the topic of friendship a lot lately. I feel like the word "friend" has taken on such a casual connotation ... hearing about news through a friend, meeting through a mutual friend, making friends on the internet. As abundant as all these "friends" may seem, lasting friendship seems so rare.

What is true friendship, anyways? What is it based on? There are people who make enjoyable company -- they share something in common, make us laugh, come to our parties -- but is that all it takes? Sometimes I wonder if I'm not entertaining enough, not "social" enough to have many lasting friendships. I buy gifts and send cards to show people I appreciate them, but many times the gestures are never returned. I used to get bitter, believing that I was always underappreciated. Now I've come to realize that I've been looking at it all wrong -- I was taking something positive and turning it into a negative.

I believe that true friendship begins with kindness. I always loved how "kin" is the root word of being "kind" -- in that sense, kindness means treating other people like family. I am trying to open myself up to the idea that everyone is extended family to me, and it is helping me to practice kindness and compassion without prejudice. I'm also learning to free myself from the expectation of reciprocity -- I want to give because I like to give, not because I want anything back. This has made me wiser about the people in my life -- there are many people who are great to have around, but few who I think I may be able to count on in the long run.

I'm currently having a friend issue. In just a week, a friend of mine will be returning from abroad. I found this out from a third party, and not from the primary source. I felt excited at first, but also hurt that she didn't tell me herself, especially when I had sent her an email just a couple weeks ago (and no reply). I started writing her another email, but when I recognized that I felt some bitterness in my heart, I stopped.

I think the problem is, I've put her on a pedestal and have been aggressively pursuing this friendship as a result. It's not a nice feeling when you suddenly get the sense that you're not being met halfway. And I've always been jealous of her best friend, whose prominence in her life consistently makes me feel less important. I guess this isn't the first time that I've felt like a "secondary" friend. I haven't talked with her about this yet, but I think I have more courage now to approach her honestly.

Once again, I think this is all about expectations. I'm trying to quit the habit of making people "fit" into certain friendship categories in my life. All I can do is be there with an open heart -- in other words, be the kind of friend I want to be.

I'm too old for this ...

2007-06-25T02:06:43Z

"Excess" is such a great word -- its sultry sibilance makes it even sound naughty. So is the word "moderation," which sounds so incredibly reasonable with its four-syllable trochaic structure -- it rolls off the tongue like the ticking of a clock. Our latin ancestors were certainly poetic linguists.

Okay, back to reality. My entire day has been devoted to recovery from a night of excessive drinking. Hangovers are the worst; I hate that icky feeling of dehydration combined with nausea, so that the thought of drinking water or eating anything makes me feel like vomiting. So I've been lying around the apartment like a half-dead person waiting for the sickness to subside. It's very difficult to accomplish anything productive in this state. There's a pile of dishes in the sink, my clothes are strewn all over the apartment and there's work I should be doing to prepare for tomorrow. Sigh.

I should know better than to go over my limit like that. Overall I've been a pretty mild drinker, no more than two or three in a given night over a span of a few hours -- as opposed to past college years, where six or seven was not an uncommon weekend for me. That being said, my tolerance has returned to its normal lightweight low. Let's just say four highballs and one jaeger bomb are more than enough to kick my ass.

I think I'm coming to an age where I view drinks as a nice accessory to social entertainment, rather than as the central object of social entertainment. Sometimes I wonder if this makes me less fun than I used to be in my younger days. I don't see myself as taking a moral high ground when it comes to alcohol -- I enjoy a good party, and many of my friends are downright lushes. But I do think that less emphasis on drinking would give me the opportunity to come up with more creative ways of having a good time. And spare me a painful day afterwards.

Things are lookin' up.

2007-06-22T00:31:44Z

I have an interview with NuWire on Monday for a writing internship! Special thanks to jadeefj for recommending that I apply.

All of a sudden I feel all this positive energy coursing through me ...

... and I feel very blessed.

An entry a day ...

2007-06-20T20:56:45Z

... is good for the writing, even if this turns out to be another vent session ...

I hate being in the lab, especially when my adviser is here. I don't trust him, and he can be a total jerk. I've finally had enough. I'm tired of complaining, moping, being depressed. I am going to finally pull myself out of this hellhole they call grad school. I don't care if I end up making shit for money. Put me on the corner with a cup and a cardboard sign, goddammit. Relegate me to the lowest rung of society. Anything has got to be better than putting up with this.

All my life my goals have been based on practicality and fear of failure, rather than passion and true ambition. Grad school has blown up in my face. It was not at all what I thought it would be. I pursued an academic profession because I thought I was good at it, and it seemed like the logical career choice. Neuroscience seemed interesting, that's where a lot of the money is. Well, so much for that.

At the end of this quarter I am pretty sure I am going to resign. Master's or no masters, I cannot do this anymore. Life is too short to be this unhappy, unless you know it is going to pay off in the long run. It's time for me to hedge my bets this time, which sucks, and sure, I'm freaked out that I won't be able to find a job after this because (1) the job market's so tight and (2) I'm overqualified for blue-collar work but (3) I don't have the experience to get into any special kind of career. It's hard not to get discouraged, and I'm beginning to feel like there is no place for someone like me in this capitalist society. But I'm digressing. The bottom line is -- goodbye, grad school. The most important thing you gave me was a backbone.

Maybe I'll adopt ...

2007-06-16T16:28:39Z

So I was watching Scrubs the other day and they mentioned that women poop while giving birth. Jesus, as if labor wasn't already humiliating enough!

Gross, man, gross.

Greetings from California

2007-06-11T19:28:05Z

I'm so lazy, I never know what to write on this thing. So I thought I'd just note some of the highlights of my trip to California over these past few days:

Last Thursday I left Seattle with the early stages of a cold -- not my ideal way to start a five-day vacation. I bought a $10 tube of airborne tablets and overpriced water (since you can't bring liquids past security, conveniently giving newsstands a monopoly on pre-flight beverages). Things only got better upon landing in SFO, when I realized that the entire left side of my backpack (knapsack?) was soaked with cold smelly spilled coffee drink from the seat in front of me. Extremely gross.

Everything's gone smoothly since then, although I have been fighting sickness rather aggressively over the past few days since I've been here in California, and it hasn't stopped me from crashing a graduation party, a wedding and a baseball game (the game's tonight). I guess being sick gives me an excuse not to go crazy all the time and take some time to chill and relax. The place where I'm staying is right on the shore of Moss Beach in California, where you can see harbor seals sunning themselves on the rocks if you look out the window, and hear the waves crashing day and night. This has always been my most favorite place for R&R.

The family I'm staying with is really into natural health so I have been eating nothing but organic food (aside from the occasional taqueria and in-and-out burger), drinking fancy herbal tea and also taking the weirdest remedies for my cold. Such remedies include bottles of Kombucha, a beverage with a special blend of fermented Kombucha mushrooms that starts out like a soda and ends like a vinegar. It's pretty gross, but not so bad once you get used to it. I've also been really congested so I used a "Neti Pot" for the first time to flush out my nasal passages. A Neti Pot originates from the Himalayas and works as follows: you fill a tiny ceramic teapot-shaped container with a homemade saline solution, stick the spout up one nostril and tilt your head to let the solution pass through to fall out of the other nostril. Amazingly, it enters your nose as a normal saline solution, but comes out as a mixture with snot and other allergenic pollutants that may be up your nose. Then after a few seconds of passing through the fluid you blow your nose and then do the other nostril. At first it kind of feels like those times when you're sniffing pool water but it really really works, much more effectively than any nasal spray I've tried. Maybe I can pick one up at an alternative medicine drugstore.

Thanks to being sick I was able to back out of a little plane trip with my 19-year-old buddy Alex, who has his pilot's license. I trust him, of course, and I think if I was healthy I would feel up to it, but combining illness with an small sense of inner terror is just a little too much for me right now.

I've had a great time living it up in the lap of luxury these past few days but I'm looking forward to going back to Seattle. First of all, I really miss Michael and we're usually never apart for more than 24 hours. My cell phone doesn't get very good reception here at the house so I can't call him most of the time, I feel like I am going through major withdrawal. I miss our cat Shinobi too. I also miss the Seattle locale, ironically enough because it's a place where being socially awkward is not considered awkward. I'd forgotten how warm and friendly people in California are -- they are way too happy in their coastal utopia of driving hybrids and living in perpetual sunshine. I do feel like I've gotten much more shy than I used to be, but maybe that's a matter of context. I mean, being outgoing is a little bit challenging when no one wants to talk to you, right?

Whatever it's little idiosyncracies, Seattle has become home to me and that's always maybe the most surprising and profound revelation I come across whenever I'm away.

The Brownie Campaign

2007-06-05T22:36:57Z

I gave out brownies to some of the people who work for the Psych department and are generally underappreciated.

I may not be rich but I understand the value of giving, no matter how small a gesture of kindness might be. Pass it on!

Being PC at the cost of creative freedom

2007-05-29T02:36:32Z

Stepping around toes at an academic institution is like trying to avoid stepping in cow pies on a cattle ranch. Let's just say that bureaucratic "feet" are pretty damn HUGE.

I work for a department at the University of Washington (I won't name names) and I have been repeatedly beat down by my superiors for mistakes that I had no idea I was making. For a while I'd do my work and there would be no problem -- and then out of the blue they chastised me for not following hierarchical protocols when they hadn't even informed me that such protocols existed. Is that really my fault? Am I the one who should be be ashamed of my lack of competence when the system I'm in is set up such that I will inevitably fail?

Ever since getting knocked around a few times by my bosses I have not been motivated to go beyond my basic job tasks. My intention has only ever been to help students, but if I cannot get the support and empathy of my coworkers then what is the point of trying to make a real difference?

A recent email I got from my boss was the last nail in the coffin. I am in charge of emailing out a weekly listserv of announcements to all the students and administrators involved with the program. For the entire year I have been taking the effort to introduce the announcements with witty remarks, movie reviews, popculture commentary and an overall a sense of humor. Students have emailed me on a few occasions with positive feedback. However, the most recent blurb I sent out did NOT receive positive feedback, according to my boss.

I'd like you to read this poem that I wrote and tell me what you think. I wrote this on the day of a research symposium that was taking place last week:

"Chaos is not just a theory"
By M.Y.

Research, research everywhere
Not your average science fair
Billions of posters make me dizzy
All those students are in a tizzy!

Atoms, algorithms, arts galore
Words I don't understand anymore;
"How interesting," you hear the people say
Before they turn and run away.

(For their lives.)

According to my boss's email, "people were offended by the "tone of the poem, especially the last line." Who these "people" are I don't know, but it's a JOKE, for christsake! Is the institution sooo hung up on being politically correct that they take a stupid poem by a noname grad student seriously? Don't they have **better** things to do than pick on people like me? I did not receive any emails from students or administrators explaining to me their discontent, so they notify my boss so I can get reprimanded for being creative and trying to make the boring announcements a little more entertaining?

The announcements has always been my own niche for creative expression within a system that has allowed me little room for doing other than I'm told. I have never had a problem with it before. I don't know how anyone could possibly think that my 100 word poem in the announcements are anything more than that. I have not targeted a specific group of people, I am not attacking anyone. I was just poking a little bit of fun at the esoteric nature of academia -- is that so sacrilegious? And isn't one of the whole points of poetry to leave room for interpretation and not be taken so literally?

It just shocks me that a place where the forging of intellectual property is said to be so highly valued that they would ruffle their feathers over something like this. That is it for me people -- I am never going to work for a University ever again.

Big Questions

2007-05-17T16:52:10Z

This is the start of a series of posts that records important questions I would like to have answered someday. I enjoy the Socratic method, even if I'm the only one engaged in my own conversation ....

Today's big questions are mostly concerned with values ...

* Are a society's values only defined by the majority?
* Are laws and policies the only way to effect a society's values?
* What is freedom?
* What is equality?

Wrap your head around THIS!

2007-05-15T19:48:45Z

Some might call people like me a "Twinkie" but I prefer the term "Banana." I'd like to think I'm natural and organic, like a banana. Twinkies, on the other hand, require yellow-5 and who knows what the cream is made of. All I know is that if you put a twinkie in its original packaging in a time capsule and unearth it 100 years from now, it will probably still be edible. No joke.

Explaining my ethnic background is kind of a chore. I was born in Korea. No, I don't speak Korean, I was adopted when I was a baby and grew up in Hawaii. No, my last name is not Korean. It's filipino. My dad is filipino, my mom is white. Yes, it was confusing growing up. I was raised like a white kid. Most of what I knew about asian culture came from ninja movies and subbed samurai tv shows. I even took Karate for a month because I thought it was what asian kids do. Well, I also wanted to learn how to hai-yah punch some of my stupid classmates in the face. In retrospect, I should have just whacked them with my brother's ninja turtle nunchucks.

So after 23 years of being in this yellow skin I have come to terms with my slanted eyes and A-cup bras. But I also know I hate bubble tea and cell phones and hello kitty, and most of all I hate FOB fashion. UGz put the UG in UGGGGLLLYYYY, people! And Gucci handbags are DUMB!!!!!!!! Do I consider myself to be Asian? If you define ethnicity by genes, yes, I am the product of asian sperm and egg. Am I "less Asian" than children who were born into Asian families? Honestly I think that's a stupid question. I am who I am -- I may not fit into the perceptions that people have about Asian people, but that's just an inconvenience that everyone is going to have to live with.

Yes, I am officially OUT of the CLOSET!

A Student for Life? A Student OF Life!!

2007-05-03T17:24:49Z

I'm sitting in class trying to pay attention, but the monotonic sound of the instructor's voice and my horrible sleep last night obliterates what little trace of comprehension I have (or had). So I'm writing a blog post -- distracting, yes, but better than the alternative, which would be staring at projected transparencies, not understanding nor caring about what is being taught and trying not to fall asleep.

Grad school has a tendency to shelter (isolate?) academic folk from the goings-on of the real world. That's because the real world is just too real. Academics like to saturate themselves with hypotheses, theories, utopian fantasies. After a while it starts to get a little old. Maybe a LOT old.

Ironically, I have my own idealist tendencies. I think that popular media is corrupt, and has become one huge infomercial for consumption. I think that mainstream hiphop culture objectifies and degrades women, and teaches young girls that they need to exploit their sexuality in order to get male attention. I am upset by classism, that wealth perpetuates wealth and that poverty perpetuates poverty. I think covert discrimination exists in the form of self-segregation and implicit stereotypes. I think American culture is superficial, obsessed with breast implants, Gucci handbags and fad diets. Lastly, I think that the victimization mentality is running rampant in the courtrooms, and that the current generation harbors a sense of angst and entitlement that is not adequately justified. Whatever happened to self-reliance, accountability?

In my own defense of sounding like a hypocrite, I didn't get these ideas from reading books or taking classes. Formal education does not have much to do with it. It comes from my own personal observations of the culture I live in. In fact, I have decided that modern American culture is my new textbook. I am taking it all in -- reading magazines, looking at artwork, listening to music (all the time), reading about politics, watching TV and movies. Soon I'll be going to shows and hanging out in cafes. I am trying to become more aware of all that is going on around me. And you know what the most interesting thing is? That I also find myself beginning to craft my own cultural identity, slowly figuring out where I want to fit in all this. It's actually pretty cool.

The Real Change Guy

2007-04-14T06:24:46Z

Two blocks away from where I live there is a Safeway store we affectionately refer to as "the Ghetto Safeway." Street people like to hang out there and beg, but there is one man ... one man who sits on a little foldout chair every day, selling Real Change newspapers for dollars and cents.

He's an African-American in his 60s, a heavyset fellow with a prominent lower lip covered with facial hair. Usually wearing flannel (and a coat when its cold), he holds a paper in front of his chest with his right hand as people walk by. He beseeches them in strong, fast vocalizations, "RealChange Mam. RealChange, Suh. Have a goodday mam have a goodday sir." He must repeat those same words at least a hundred times every day.

I give him a dollar at least every other time I go grocery shopping at that store (I never take the paper -- it's better if he keeps it and sells it to someone who might actually read it). I've paid him enough times that he definitely recognizes me -- if he sees me coming his way but I'm not pulling out my wallet, he won't even bother soliciting me with a "RealChange, Mam." He'll just go straight to the "Have a goodday mam."

After each encounter, I am filled with a shy curiosity. I am touched by his humbleness, with his persistently polite nature even as people walk by, pretending to be oblivious to his presence. He strikes me as uniquely satisfied with his situation, as if he's found his niche in society and is comfortable there, on the sidewalk outside the Ghetto safeway. People stop to chat with him. Mothers bring their babies over to him to say hi. He watches their dogs when they go inside to shop. I see him on the bus sometimes, and he chimes in to help a person find their way to the right stop. I sense no bitterness in him. He acts as if life has been good to him. How can that be?

Does he have a family? Daughters and sons? Does he have a home? Does he believe in God? What sort of life story lies hidden behind the newspapers he sells every day? Is he looking for a new start, or is he content with this job for the rest of his life?

Someday I may gather enough courage to ask him these questions. Someday I may gather enough courage to offer him more than just a dollar bill. Sure, maybe some money "really changes" the life of person who is poor. But those who treasure their souls -- those are the people who can really change all of us.

Confessions of an Overachiever

2007-04-12T19:45:23Z

I don't post very often because I am always too self-conscious about what it is I'm writing. But screw it ... I want to start writing again and blogging is a fine way to just spit out honesty regardless of who's reading this.

So here's the first in a series of confessions.

Confession #1: I am a Pathologically Competitive Perfectionist

I hate losing. I like winning.

These are the words of a person who is always chasing happiness, because her sense of self-worth is entirely based on how she measures up to society's arbitrary standards. Am I prettier than her? Am I smarter than her? Do people like me more than that person? Am I a better friend? Where do I rank in all of this?

These comparative suffixes "-er" and "-ier" are absolutely killing me. I was raised to get straight A's, but straight A's was not enough. I absolutely had to be #1 in my class. I absolutely had to get into a top-ranked college. I beat myself up over succeeding in tennis because I wasn't a gifted athlete. I beat myself up over never being anyone's "best friend." Jealousy has infected me ever since I was old enough to understand what it meant to compete. The worst is when I fixate on a single person, like a boyfriend's ex-girlfriend ... then jealousy becomes absolutely obsessive. I've always tried to "win" love ... so I make up competitions in my head and obsess over them, because according to my twisted logic if I did not "beat out" all the competition then how could this person really love me? How could anyone love me if they don't think I'm "perfect" for them?

This way of thinking when taken to its extreme is borderline suicidal. It is egotistical and self-destructive. The whole concept of feeling okay about myself because I'm "better" than other people is so wrong on so many levels. So when I not only feel like I am not in control of thought process, but my thought process additionally overwhelms me with guilt, that's when it gets dangerous. That's the point when people start to hurt themselves.

Sometimes I just feel like I need to be rescued from myself and my own pattern of self-destruction. I do believe this realization is the first step in healing my broken soul -- taking a good look at my inadequacies and knowing that I can be accepted in spite of them, that I am accepted in spite of them. That in just the act of being, I can be loved.

What a scary thought.

Just looking for some inspiration

2007-04-01T23:56:56Z

On the weekends I begin to realize how much I really dislike being in grad school. I go through bouts of depression about it, and about the fact that I don't know what direction I should be taking my life. Up through college the goal had always been clear: school, school and more school. And ever since I was 5 I have followed the well-beaten path of becoming educated, because academics is what I've always known, it's what I've been told I am good at. But it's not really doing it for me anymore. I'm not happy.

The problem is, even if I discontinue grad school, I have no idea what I should pursue next. I think the fact that grad school has been somewhat of a "failure" (in the sense that this is NOT what I want to do with my life) has made me afraid of entering other professions that could force me into destitution while ALSO making me miserable. Sometimes it all just seems like too much for me, too overwhelming. It just doesn't feel quite fair. How hard is it supposed to be for an educated, talented, hard-working, friendly person to find work that she enjoys, to find success at a job that she loves? It seems impossible.

I'm so discouraged. I do pray about it, asking God to give me some sort of sign about what I should be doing with my life. Maybe I'm just not listening well enough? Or maybe the answer is that I have to stick with grad school, at least for now. Which is definitely NOT the answer I want to hear, but I am sticking with it. There are times when I feel like not getting out of bed in the morning, but I am sticking with it. I'm hoping I can muster enough emotional and physical energy to write my master's thesis and be done with it, but even that sometimes seems like an impossible task. Baby steps, right? As if staying in one place wasn't already hard enough.

The Question of Home

2007-03-19T19:49:00Z

For the past few days I've been spending my spring break in my Hawaiian hometowns. Michael is with me -- it's his first time here and he's been taking a bazillion pictures. Overall we've been having a lot of fun. A small cloud of melancholy hangs over me as I feel the push and tug of my divorced parents infect my time here.

And to put more of a damper on things, I've caught a bug and am lying on my mother's couch coughing up mucous, covered with the chills and stomach pain. Maybe I poisoned myself eating poke (raw fish, a local delicacy) yesterday at the brunch served at my dad's resort.

I am such a pill. Here I am in HAWAII and I'm complaining! I must say I'm pretty damn spoiled. But here are a few pictures of the good parts to help spark your envy:

Still need to work on my tan

Wonder Woman eat your heart out

Peace Face

The Schopenhauer Days

2007-02-15T23:13:07Z

I have avoided posting to my livejournal because I don't feel like I have many interesting things to say. I try to keep in mind that the point of a blog is to share my insights with others, unlike an actual journal where I would spew my thoughts and feelings onto a page with such crude honesty that even I would be afraid to go back and read it.

This entry is a reflection on my state of mind.

I have been going through a dry spell of poetic thought. Let this month of February be known as my Schopenhauer days. The days go by, and I feel devoid of emotion, functionally depressed, staring at computer screens for hours at a time, performing work that I ultimately don't care about. This is the life of a grad student during winter quarter. It is a dark age, a time of anomie, disillusionment, apathy, reduced sex drive. I have suddenly started drinking coffee -- a substance I once abhorred -- for caffeine boosts to get me through the day.

My mom called yesterday to "clear the air" between us. I pissed her off the previous time we had talked -- I was too tired to soothe her ego about the divorce. Have I been deinvesting from my family issues? I can understand how I seem to express disinterest, a mannerism easily misinterpreted as a cold lack of sympathy. I'm not trying to be a bitch, honestly. I haven't even talked to my dad for over a month. I used to talk to my mom 3-4 times a week, now it's more consistently once a week. I keep playing phone tag with my sister, but I'm too lazy to keep trying.

What ever happened to my "tireless" search for meaning?

Here's a knock knock joke for you:

"Knock Knock."
"Who cares?"

Punishment

2007-02-06T07:44:40Z

The wall is dirty with tape
residue,
dry wall bumps sticking out like scabs and
I pick at them,
pick
pick
pick.

The chair creaks beneath me
legs twitching
the boredom is almost too much.
The ticking clock, a metronome
I recite angry verse in my head
Over an over.
I must not admit defeat,
I must
hold on.
I offer freedom
as a sacrifice
for pride.
The battle inside
rages on.

The wooden spoon is there
It is watching me, waiting.
Its violent whispers
Ringing in my ears.

"When is punishment
Ever enough?" I ask the wall.

The wall stares at me blankly.

"Try asking the mirror."

---- MY

Last Thoughts of the Night

2007-02-04T09:24:59Z

Michael and I dragged Erin with us to see the BODIES EXHIBITION downtown and got to see an eyeful of anatomy that was imported (like almost everything else we import) from China. Some interesting observations: navels were the only pieces of external dermis left attached on several bodies, probably through some adhesive means (double-sided tape?); a nipple was actually labeled, just in case people couldn't figure out what it was; some were offended that the female bodies were not positioned as playing sports, like the male bodies were; and the fetus exhibit was ... well there are no words to describe what a trip that was (FOLIC ACID, don't forget FOLIC ACID!).

A diagram of male body parts identified and described the penis. I began to explain to Michael what I had learned in class about Viagra, the gist of which is that erections actually occur as a result of muscle relaxation, not tension (Viagra is a relaxant). Michael hid behind the big diagram sign.

"I'm making it so that people think you're not talking to anyone." he said.

Ohh Michael ... no need to be so shy about these things! ;-)

We were bummed that we weren't allowed to take pictures. Had we known beforehand, we may not have coughed up the $26.50 apiece. But overall I guess it's definitely worth seeing.

Afterwards we headed to Gameworks for some evening entertainment. That place got pretty packed. Erin rocked out on the Street Fighter machine, hoping for challengers. Michael and I observed a couple guys timidly watch him kick ass, then chickened out and walked away. How can you blame them -- the dude is intimidating!

I was going to meet up with an old friend and go out to a club but realized I wasn't feeling it. It's too cold and I felt kind of tired. I really hate flaking out, but I'm trying not to force myself to do things if I don't really want to. Hopefully I'll be in the mood to party another time.

My moment of zen: I am trying to come to terms with my feelings of insecurity. I think being in a relationship makes me feel extremely vulnerable, so much so that I get neurotic about things that I wouldn't usually worry about around other people. I find myself asking questions like, am I smart enough, pretty enough, do I have a sense of humor, am I special at all? I know it sounds crazy but if I'm really honest with myself about myself, I am able to confront the fears that strike the very core of my being. I am an emotional rollercoaster, addicted to sudden drops and rises in my mood, but hoping for inner peace, an even keel, days filled with platitude rather than fluctuations in altitude, fluctuations in attitude. But am I really ready and willing to receive such transformation? Scary thought.

SUPERBOWL TOMORROW. I hope the Colts win. But then again, I must confess I am a fairweather fan now that the Seahawks are dead.

NFL = Haters!

2007-02-02T18:58:01Z

NFL won't let church show game

I just read this article and I can maybe understand the whole deal about charging admission and not using the syndicated "S" word on promotions and advertisements ... however, we're not allowed to watch the game on a TV larger than 55 inches?? You've got to be kidding me. If it wasn't for the people who watch the game and the zillions of commercials, all those overpaid sports players and opportunistic white men in black suits would be out of jobs. Show some respect for the fans!

The Teenage Misadventures of Candace Kim

2007-01-30T20:57:07Z

This is the 3rd chapter of my fictional blog. Click here to start from the beginning.

Chapter 3. September 6, 12:20 pm. The Lunch Crowd

The cafeteria lights flickered a dim glow, as it had been months since the bulbs had been replaced. With great effort, Candace took a small bite out of her turkey club sandwich and chewed slowly, once again lost in a daydream.

"Earth to Candace."

It was a familiar voice. Candace looked up.

"Houston, we have established contact." said another voice.

Candace smiled in greeting. Chris and Casey stood at the side of her table, laughing.

"What took you guys so long," she said.

"Chris got in an argument with Mr. Leitner over his test grade."

"Well there's a likely story."

"The guy is dense as hell," Chris shot back. "But I can understand that it must be embarrassing when a student knows more about the War of 1812 than the teacher does."

"You should give the man some credit," Candace replied. "It takes a lot of guts for a guy to argue with a cripple. A grade-grubbing cripple, at that."

"Ooh," Casey laughed. "Shut down!"

"Ha! I'm a grade-grubber? Talk about horseshit calling the bullshit smelly." Chris retorted, pointing his right crutch at his offender.

Candace raised her right hand in assent.

"Guilty as charged," she replied. "As much as I love our insult-fests, are you guys going to stand there all day?"

Chris and Casey relieved themselves of their bags. Casey joined the back of the lunch line.

"Here, would you take this," Chris said, slipping his forearm out of his crutch. One by one, Candace took the crutches and leaned them against the table as Chris eased himself onto the bench.

"Not hungry today?" Candace asked, managing another bite of her sandwich.

"Nah, I'm holding out for White Castle after school."

"Is that what you tell your doctor?"

"I tell my doctor to stuff it," Chris snorted. "Any more questions, mom?"

Candace shook her head and put her sandwich down.

"You seem pretty punchy today," Chris commented. "Care to share why? PMSing?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Ohhh, it's a boy, isn't it!"

Candace's cheeks flushed red.

"Shut up."

"Is it Michael?"

"No."

"It is!!!! Haha!!!"

Casey joined them and put his tray down on the table.

"What did I miss?"

"Oh nothing. We were just chatting about Candace's dreamlover."

Casey laughed.

"You mean Michael?"

"Shut up guys! I don't want to talk about it."

"Aww Candace, you know we're only teasing." Casey said. "Why don't you tell us what's going on?"

Candace glared at Chris. Chris closed his eyes and puckered his lips, smooching the air.

"Now Chris, behave yourself," Casey said, patting his shoulder. "Candace has something important to tell us."

Chris opened his eyes and stopped. Casey had always been an effective mediator.

Candace sighed.

"It's not even a big deal. Yesterday we were assigned lab partners for Bio, and I got partnered with Michael."

"How interesting," said Casey, smiling. "Any sparks?"

"Don't be silly. We all know he has a girlfriend."

"Yeah, Katie Rosencrantz," Chris sang in a dreamy voice. "The girl every guy in school wants to bang."

Candace was silent. She stared down at her soda bottle, peeling at the label.

Now Casey shot Chris a glare. "God Chris, don't you know when to shut up?"

Chris bit his hand and looked at Candace apologetically.

"Sorry, Candace. You know I didn't mean to be crude."

"Whatevers, don't even worry about it."

Candace put on her knapsack and picked up her tray.

"I'll see you guys tonight at Math League practice."

"Yeah, see ya."
"Laters."

The Teenage Misadventures of Candace Kim

2007-01-30T05:28:11Z

This is the 2nd chapter of my fictional blog. Click here to start from the beginning.

Chapter 2. September 5, 2:30 PM. Encounter with The Matt

The bell rang. Candace and Michael walked out of the lab into the school hallway, which had become a sea of students rushing to the bus and to their cars.

“We should probably meet up to work on our lab report,” she said.

“Sounds good,” Michael replied.

“Are you free on Wednesday after school?”

Michael winced. “Sorry, I can’t do Wednesday. I have to drop my girlfriend off at work.”

Candace felt a stabbing pain in her chest. She pretended not to notice.

“Howabout Thursday, then," she choked.

“I think I can do that.”

Before she could think of what to say next, Candace noticed a red baseball cap coming towards them, fast.

"Watch out --" she cried, dropping her books to grab Michael's sleeve. But she was too late -- the unknown attacker leaped onto Michael and soon had him in a head lock.

"Watsaaappp muthafucka!" the boy shouted.

"Hey, Matt."

"Ahem."

The boy named Matt looked up. Candace rolled her eyes.

"Whooa, man, since when did you start going for twinkie putang?"

" After I got done with your mom," Michael retorted. "C'mon Matt, let me go."

Matt gave him one last squeeze and then released him. Michael straightened himself out and rubbed his neck, grimacing.

"Candace, this is Matt. Matt, this is Candace. We're lab partners."

“I know who she is, man. And you know I was just joking with you, huh!” Matt began shadowboxing. Michael looked at Candace apologetically and shrugged.

“By the way, Katie’s looking for you.” Matt’s backwards baseball hat bobbed up and down as he punched the air near Michael’s body.

“Yeah I just got her text message,” Michael replied, his back pressed up against the lockers, his eyes blinking as Matt swung his fists inches away from his face.

“Alright Matt, that’s enough. Give me one sec, okay?”

“Whatevers man!” and the Matt disappeared through the school’s front doors, crazy laughter echoing behind him.

Candace and Michael stooped down to pick up the textbooks sprawled out on the linoleum floor.

“Sorry about that. He acts like a jerk but he really just wants attention. Also, he’s ADHD.”

“Wow, I would never had guessed,” Candace replied.

Michael chuckled. They stood up.

“So Thursday – where should we meet?”

“Howabout the school library?”

“Great. I’ll see you there, Ace!”

Michael waved as he ran out of school to catch up with his friend. Candace adjusted her glasses and stood there, watching him disappear from her point of fixation.

"Ace?"

Click HERE to jump to the next chapter