A Song to Live By
I really haven't had any rest - right after my comprehensive exam, I had this whole week of seminars (very informative though, David Nunan is a very engaging speaker) and next week, my grad school friends want me to go to their dissertation presentations and following that, dropping in on people's theses' defense. I'm tired, and just about wiped out. I feel deserted by my friends, but of course, I know they're all tired and busy too and I should be responsible for my own happiness. Nothing to blog but negativity, so I think I'll do an activity I saw on someone else's blog (sorry, don't remember who, but if it's from yours, please do tell me and I'll give you credit for it.) Basically, you have to answer the questions given (and some I made up) using the song titles from a randomized music playlist. I used my soundtracks playlist because it's the one that's on right now and I'm too tired to load another. Here goes. (Artist in parentheses).
1. What's my mood like right now?
It's All Been Done (Barenaked Ladies) crossed with Friday, I'm in Love (The Cure)
2. How's tomorrow going to be for me?
Don't Worry, Baby (Beach Boys)
3. What kind of person am I?
Not That Kind of Girl (Vitamin C)
4. Am I loved?
I Want You to Want Me (Letters to Cleo)
5. How can I achieve my highest potential?
The World is Not Enough (Garbage)
6. What should I do with my life?
For the Love of Money (The O'Jays)
7. Is everything really going to be all right in the end?
Someday We'll Know (Mandy Moore)
8. What is my best quality?
Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now (Jefferson Starship)
9. What does my sex life look?
Say a Little Prayer for Me (Cast of My Best Friend's Wedding)
10. What's the meaning of life?
I Wanna Grow Old With You (Adam Sandler)
11. What do people think of me?
Blue Monday (The Cure)
12. Would I make a good lover?
Keep On Loving You (The Donnas)
13. How crazy am I?
Can't Fight the Moonlight (Leann Rimes)
14. Will I have a good life in general?
High School Highway (Sydney Forest)
15. Can (insert name here) ever really love me?
Only Hope (Mandy Moore)
16. Can me and (insert name here) ever be more than friends?
Once in a Blue Moon (Sydney Forest)
18. Where will I be a year from now?
Wild World (Cat Stevens)
19. What is my biggest wish?
A Love that Will Last (Renee Olstead)
20. What is the love of my life doing at this very moment?
Cruisin' (Huey Lewis and Gwyneth Paltrow)
21. How will I die?
Cry (Mandy Moore)
22. What will happen after I die?
I don't know how to answer this so, - La Bamba (Richie Valens)
23. How do my friends feel about me?
Beauty School Drop-out (from Grease)
24. What line delivered from the opposite sex would make me melt?
I Love You (Martina McBride) or We Belong Together (Mariah Carey)
25. The ultimate truth about myself?
Underneath it All (Gwen Stefani)
Final thought: Music, music, music...I wish I could dance.
Me, Myself and I...Hate them all
Do you ever just hate yourself? I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror today and I was just repulsed by what I saw - not just the exterior, the physical side of me (which I'm never too thrilled with), but since I was the one casting a critical eye over myself, and I know myself better than anyone, I could see all the way down into my own darkness. I hate myself. It's a temporary state, but yes, I really can't stand myself right now. Everything about me is slightly or completely off-kilter. I feel so...unlikable. I ask myself that if I were another person, and I was having a fight with me, would I forgive myself? The answer is honestly: "Probably not." I am a dirty fighter. I don't mind getting in the gutter if I feel an argument calls for it. If I burn a bridge, I want it annihilated, no chance of rebuilding. I'm so good at it, that sometimes I do it unconsciously and by the time I've assessed the damage, it's too late. I've been doing it recently and I hate myself for it because really, I didn't mean to, but who's going to believe me? I hate myself for not swallowing my pride and just throwing myself at their mercy. I hate myself for not trying harder to fix things. I hate myself for giving a care. I basically just hate everything about me at this very moment and yes, that's a negative outlook and it hurts and it's awful, but I can't seem to help it. I know it's wrong to base your emotions on people outside of you, that an external locus of control never did anyone any favors, but Goddamnit, that's where I'm at.
Final thought: The bridges were burned and now it's your turn to cry. From Cry Me a River
Too Tired for Charades
Still haven't shaken the feelings of negativity. Could also be due to the mood of the country - an inordinate amount of stupid protesters have gathered around Siam Paragon, crippling traffic and the economy of that area in order to force the Prime Minister to resign. It's a whole big political thing and I could care less - the beauty of democracy is you don't have to give a care. The bad part is people think they can mess around and make the traffic all screwed up and stuff. It sucks because that happens to be my main route! I'm feeling pretty low. Physically, I'm not at 100% - my sore throat is slightly better, but not by much; it's like a throbbing pain at the back of my throat. Mentally, I'm exhausted by all the thoughts and ideas generated by the David Nunan series of lectures. Psychologically, I'm drained. Since I've alienated everyone except for one person (and she's in China), I guess I'll have to take myself out. Or not. I think I'll just relax at home. I have to be somewhere I know that even if people don't always get me, they'll always love me, they'll always accept me. I'm tired of trying to decipher cues. I'm tired of wondering if someone's mad at me or if he/she will ever talk to me again or if I'm making a good impression. It's such a strain. Hate me. Love me. Don't give a care about me. I'm too exhausted to care at this point. I don't like charades, never been good at it. My psychic abilities are at a low ebb. I wish I could just yell out - if anyone wants to tell me anything, they should just hit me over the head with a big sign.
Final thought: Honesty is the best policy.
Trust No One
Breaking a cardinal rule of mine, again - posting twice on the same day, but I just need to gripe. First off, darn the Chulalongkorn registration website! I've been trying to get into it since seven to check my freaking grades and it is just being a pain! And it's a tease - it let me get to the login page, only to deny my entry! <frustrated scream> Second off, a certain someone who shall remain anonymous flaked out on me for lunch for the umpteenth time. I have decided I am better off not giving a care, because the more I care, the more and the more deeply people can hurt me (not that I was hurt by this; I saw it coming, but...honesty really is the best policy, you know?). Did I mention I miss my best friend like hell? Third off, I feel stupid. Yeah, that's just it, present tense, right in the here and now I feel like a moron. Like my life's a sitcom and I'm the dumb character, the one that always gets a laugh, but because of her naivete, because she's always the butt of a joke. I can't explain it, it's just the culmination of a lot of little things. No, wait, it began with a big thing and it's like the little things that followed have made it worse. Like, my boat sprang a large leak and then people just began to poke holes in it and it keeps sinking faster and faster everyday and by the way, I can't swim. He hurt me. I've never really come out and said it, but he hurt me, not with his words or his actions or any combination of what he said or what he did - he hurt me with his lack thereof. I was perfectly fine on my own when he arrived and cut a large gash in the entity I call my life. He cut me open and left me to die, which I do a little bit everyday, because he didn't bother to do a thing. His indifference injured me more than anything else. I walked away and he didn't care enough to walk after me. No, he didn't even care enough to call my name or ask me to stop. In all honesty, I would have; I still would. It's pathetic and weak and sappy, but I love him. Yes, Goddamit, I love him and it's because of him that I can't ever really trust anyone ever again, why the slightest thing like a touch of apathy or a failure to inform me of important things affects me so deeply. It's because of him that I realized that the amount that you love and care for someone is not equivalent to the love and care they reward you with; it's either more or less, and in this case, it was less and it seems like every relationship I've been in since him (and I mean mainly friendships), I see more and more evidence to prove my theory. It's like the things that are salient to me, the things I deem important and that I thought were important or felt were important, simply aren't to the other person. I get that we're all different people, that no one can know exactly what it's like to inhabit our skin, but God, am I that much of an idiot? Am I so in the dark all the time? Are people trying to tell me things that I just can't understand? I think so. I think a lot of people are trying to tell me a lot of things, but I just can't listen, I lack the ability to process what their messages are and I just realized it and I feel dumb. This is turning into such a negative entry, but you know what, I've been on full-tilt for weeks now, with exams and seminars and worrying about my paper and now, on top of all that, I have a sore throat, I didn't edit the textbook my friend asked me to and it's past midnight and I've gotta go to bed, but I'm too wired to sleep. And just this moment I see that I shouldn't waste anymore time on trying to get it because it's time wasted. I'm emotionally damaged. I'll never get it. I obviously don't get it now, even though I've been clubbed over the head with my own imbecility. Maybe I can't wholly blame him for my state; perhaps he just aggravated a previously-existing condition. Knowing him was my consciousness-raising activity, though. He's the one who knocked the blinders off me, him and his cool unconcern. "Don't you get it? We're like ships in the night, and if you're lucky, you'll make friends with one or two other ships that won't understand you, but be able to accept you and that's all you can hope for." But I was stubborn, he always said I was stubborn. I didn't want to believe it until right this very moment. He was the one who taught me to look at everyone and everything with a jaundiced eye. He was right. It's the only defense for us naive ones. I've gotta stop trying to make sense out of nonsense. It'll drive me crazy. I hate being an introspective person. At this very moment, I think I hate myself just a little bit too, the gullible, easily-duped part of me anyhow. If falling in love taught me anything, it's trust no one. (Or was that the X-Files? At least I have my sense of humor intact.) And by no one, I don't mean a cynical "no one", I mean "no one who hasn't proved themself". If someone takes the time to make a grand gesture, then yes, I would trust them. But until then, I have these scars on my psyche to remind me what being soft can do to you. Such a long post, with no sense whatsoever. I didn't write this for sympathy or condolences or any of that. I wrote this because this is who I am this point - I bleed, and it's all true. I see clearly my faults, the chinks in my own armor. Never care too much, because it will be your downfall.
Final thought: I hate myself for loving you. You lied, you hurt me, but you taught me so many valuable lessons. All lies lead to the truth.
Never Enough
I miss my best friend like hell. I miss being able to tell her stuff and to live vicariously through her (my best friend is a model, but she's the sweetest, smartest girl you'll ever meet and consequently, she is always surrounded by gentleman admirers). She's in China, and she's gonna be there for like six hundred more months and emailing her is just not the same as telling her about stuff that happened to me. It's what we learned today in my seminar - the differences between the modes of language, written versus spoken. With spoken, you get all the little extralinguistic bits, the bits that convey the importance - intonation, stress, rhythm. I mean, it's not very funny for me to write about how I yelled at some guy on the bus in an email - when you read it, it seems kinda mean. But if you hear me tell the story (not that particular one, coz I didn't do that, but you get the idea), it's funny. I love my family, but there are certain things you want to only tell a best friend - especially if you're dealing with my family, who have a tendency to laugh and make fun of me. At this point in my life, I keep telling myself to not care what others think about or feel towards me, and I succeed - sometimes. Yet, I still can't help myself from worrying that I'm ticking people off, that behind their smiles, people are actually thinking I'm a lunatic and God, how can they escape me and never have to see me again. Paranoid much? I can't shake the feeling that no matter what I do, it'll never be enough, it'll never be enough for anyone to think, "Hey, okay, she's a nut, but she's so-and-so and it balances out." I think it's a complex I developed when I was a kid and boy, that is a can of worms I am not ready to open.
Final thought: Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not after you. Mulder, The X-Files
Just another day
Thanks to all for the enthusiastic response (or otherwise) to my last entry. Just wanted to say that I never meant that men had to be all the things I listed, like it's not like they can't watch Gilmore Girls, just that personally, I don't go for such guys because I have a preconception about those kinds of guys. I'd be happy if someone proved me wrong though. Very quick update because Sittha's over at my place watching Lost and I get the distinct feeling he's trying to convert me to it and I wouldn't be a good host if I didn't act semi-interested. I had a good day, seminar with Professor David Nunan, one of the forefathers of task-based language learning. Watched V for Vendetta with Alan and Sittha and had to close my eyes on the gory bits. The only bad thing was I had a minor falling out with Sittha, but we're okay now (although he apparently was inspired to write a mean haiku in response!). All right, gotta go.
Final thought: A...for Anna
Fred Flintstone is my ideal guy
I don't particularly like the show everyone's buzzing about, Lost, but I do like this quote from its star, Matthew Fox, "Women will tell you that they want a man who's sensitive and emotionally available and caring - all these wonderfully soft, sort of feminine qualities. But at the same time, the reason women are attracted to men is that men have a very violent, base, intense, animalistic side." I don't know about other women, but I subscribe to this view. There's something so intoxicating about a masculine man, about a man who's not afraid to be...well, this is gonna sound sexist, but a man. I don't mean the cliched "bad boy"; I mean a guy who's not afraid to be a guy, or at least, the stereotype of "guydom". I like guys who can handle power tools, who like cars, who can fix things, who love rough, contact sports. I like guys who don't know the difference between periwinkle and turquoise. I like guys who looked like they dressed in the dark in the middle of a hurricane. I like guys who wouldn't be caught dead watching Gilmore Girls. Ugh. I think I just described a caveman. Perhaps the reason why I've had so much trouble in the love arena is because I seem to find these traits in the most immature men possible. They can't seem to grow up; they're irresponsible, they lie. My brother doesn't give me much dating advice, but he did tell me this - "Never trust a guy who says he doesn't watch porn." I think that particular crude suggestion was specifically tailored to me. Do I want a guy who would lie about his own sexuality? I need a man who's not afraid of his own sexuality, because frankly, sometimes mine just downright stupefies me. A close-minded, repressed guy just wouldn't cut it. Furthermore, I like honesty (and you know what I mean, that doesn't extend to having him tell me I look like a pineapple when I get a new haircut) in a guy and come on, I know that about 99% of the male population watches/reads/interacts with pornography in some way, shape or form (and it's perfectly natural, according to evolutionary psychology), and I am fine with that. I know some women (and some men, too) think pornography is "wrong", that it's a travesty against women, etc. etc. etc. Well, you know what? There are a lot of things that are a travesty to women that are/were perfectly acceptable in mainstream society. Corsets, hello? Choking the life out of a girl so she can have a waist a man can measure with his two hands - tell me how that is not a downright insult to human dignity. For God's sake, women are not pieces of clay! Okay, I'm off-topic now. Maybe I'm attracted to guys who revel in their masculinity because of my own state of affairs. See, I'm a certain type of girl...people have called me assertive (when they're being nice), some have called me aggressive (when they decided to downgrade from polite one level) and some have come right out and called me a loony, merciless [insert appropriate swear word]. Who's right? Well, they're all right! I'm the kinda girl who, if I'm on your side, I'd be willing to do just about anything (as long as its not illegal and doesn't hurt innocent bystanders) for you. Get on my blacklist however, and I will go for the jugular. My revenge motto? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...you're screwed. Weak, lily-livered metrosexuals - I think I'd make them run for the hills. I really like when you meet a guy and he's all nice and kind and gentle, but you can sense (or sometimes, witness), that dark, pulsing core of machismo, that potent, powerful center that means he can leap into action to protect you or...I don't know, rip your bodice off or defend the castle with a broadsword. That just makes me go weak in the knees. But, sigh, have yet to meet him and even if I did, I have a sneaking suspicion he might not be so enamored of foul-mouthed little old me, soft yet decidely unfeminine. Oh, well, thanks to Matthew Fox for spawning an entire entry that prompted me to reveal much more than you care to know and I cared to actually share. Still hate Lost.
Final thought: It was such a good quote, I'll just reiterate it: "Women will tell you that they want a man who's sensitive and emotionally available and caring - all these wonderfully soft, sort of feminine qualities. But at the same time, the reason women are attracted to men is that men have a very violent, base, intense, animalistic side."
Thanks for Small Things
I go on and on about the bad things in my life, I decided today to note some of the little things I'm thankful for. It can't be healthy to have all this negativity, right? Sometimes, when I feel so low, like nothing is going right, I'll be struck by something that may seem trivial - like the way sunlight makes a pattern on a marble floor, and I'm thankful. I'm thankful for the small things, and here are some small things I'm currently very grateful for. So, yeah, I'm thankful that my comprehensive exam is over (no matter that I didn't do so well on the last day). I'm thankful for the availability of orchids, for sale on almost every street in Bangkok for a very reasonable price. I'm thankful for the fact that I can get away with wearing sneakers everywhere. I'm thankful for my special edition Barbie and Ken as Scully and Mulder dolls. I'm thankful for the X-Files. I'm thankful I bought The Taming of the Shrew so I can read it anytime I want. I'm thankful I'm in a major where I actually understand about 80% of what's happening. I'm thankful that Goldfinger has a very long fuse. I'm thankful for my trusty printer, which has saved me countless hours of fighting others at school. I'm thankful for sunflowers, the happiest flower. I'm thankful for libraries, any and every library. I'm thankful Sittha is a good conversationalist, so I don't have to wallow long in awkward silence. I'm thankful for snow cones. I'm thankful for ergonomic designs. I'm thankful for origami. I'm thankful to you for reading this blog which I so inconsiderately did not write in list form for ease of reading.
Final thought: Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away. Sometimes, they don't even have to be big moments.
Crazy, Mixed-Up World
It is official, my comprehensive exam is over! Pro? It's over! Con? Turns out I have a week of seminars after this, so it'll be like being back in school minus the assigments. I am psyched to watch V for Vendetta with Sittha, but between his busy schedule and my busy schedule...we'll see. I don't want to hold him back, that would be selfish of me. He can just as easily go with Alan or his secret girl/boyfriend or his other friends. On my "To Do" list right now is watching 2046 (grrr) and reaching my target of a thousand paper cranes (I'm on 850) as according to the book Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, once you reach this mythical number, apparently, something good will happen. I don't need something good to happen to me just about now. My life is fine; I'm content. It started off as just something to do and once I do something, I really like to finish it and perhaps, since my life is good, something great will happen to me (here's hoping I win the lottery). Last night I took forever to fall asleep, nerves about the exam mostly and because I stayed up late watching the Gilmore Girls and couldn't stop laughing over it. Rory's new love interest, Logan Huntzberger (what a great blueblood name) reminds me of...oh, darn, I'm trying not to obsess, but yeah, he reminds me of the guy who broke my heart. That same sort of cocky, cooler-than-thou attitude masking deep-seated insecurities, smart but not living up to his potential, funny but in a corny way. I know I should get over him, I know I should, no one understands why I can't, least of all me, but you know, life is crazy that way. When I had my wallet stolen, I went up to a cop, crying and a complete wreck and you know what he said? "Tough luck." Seriously. Whereas when I went up to the so-called "van mafia" don (the guys who manage the fleet of public transport vans), and sobbed out the same story, he opened his wallet and handed me a hundred baht. We are living in a crazy, mixed-up world. I'm just a little more crazy and mixed-up than most.
Final thought: Maybe the paper cranes will help with my sanity.
My Parents, the Liberals
It really sucks when you have parents who are more liberal than you. My parents are two of the most open-minded people in the universe and sometimes, that is a just a downright pain. Like, for instance, we were watching the news and they had this story about these twin women who had gotten married. The catch? They'd married the same guy! At the same ceremony! There they were, the guy's parents paying two dowries (is that the term? What I mean is, in a Thai wedding ceremony, the groom has to compensate the bride's family with gold and whatnot for taking their daughter away) and everyone's smiling and looking like it was perfectly normal and acceptable. Okay, listen, I'm all for personal rights and freedom of choice...but I guess when it comes to polygamy, I'm as narrow-minded as any backward fool. I suppose there are just some things that get your goat, and this was one of them for me. And I started going on and on about how it was weird and sick and a blow to women's rights and my parents were all, "What's wrong? They're mature, responsible adults and they're entering into it of their own free will. Who are you to judge?" Indeed, who was I to judge? So for like the eight millionth time of my life, I realized I was more of a prude than my folks. That stings. Isn't it supposed to be the kid who defends stuff that gets her parents to think, "My God, how on Earth could you even conceive of that?" My parents are cool with just about anything as long as it's not illegal and doesn't hurt anyone else. Example: my younger brother has two tattoos, both done before he was eighteen. This might not seem like a huge deal to some people, but believe me, it's a huge deal in my family. To this day, my grandmother has no idea about it because she'd probably have a heart attack. Pick any topic and it's likely my folks are cool or at least tolerant of it. Premarital sex? "You have a good education, you know the risks. Just use protection." Homosexuality? "As long as you're a law-abiding citizen, it doesn't matter who you choose to love." Pornography? "Sexuality is a normal thing." Drinking/smoking/drugs? "Hey, it's your body. Just don't drive drunk and if you're arrested, we'll bail you out, but just know we'll make you stay overnight in jail." Dating? "You're old enough to make your own choices. Just bring 'em by so we can meet 'em." Yup, my parents are totally open - course, they also drill stories of death by carelessness into me and my bro, just to make sure we know what could happen. Still, it seems that I'm constantly finding myself being lectured on why I'm too mean, too quick to condemn. Like if I say, "I hate so-and-so, I'm never talking to him again", my mom will say, "Oh, you don't know anything about his circumstances. Didn't you say his parents were divorced? That must be tough." And my dad will go, "What good does hate do? Do you think you're so perfect?" It doesn't seem to matter that said person may have tried to copy from me during an exam or even hit me so hard, I got a large green bruise (happened in the fifth grade) - it is never okay to write someone off as hopeless, at least not in my mom and dad's opinion. One of my dad's friends has a minor wife, and the minor wife is completely awful, the kind of person you should be ashamed to be even mentioned in the same sentence with, yet my parents are totally all right with her. That is not cool. Women who become minor wives should be condemned, as should the men who take them. I don't care what way you swing it, that is wrong, in my opinion. You want a new wife? Divorce your old one! I can't stand looking at her, I just want to strangle her and tell her she's giving womankind - no, scratch that, basic human decency - a horrible rep. Know what my folks said when I told them that? "It's none of your business." That's a legitimate point, but doesn't mean I can't have an opinion on it, right? People have opinions about me, some good, most probably bad, nothing I can do to stop them. It's not like I went up to this atrocious woman and her lecherous beau and threw my drink at them or something. I just expressed my opinion about her low behavior - to my family, and not even to her face! Yet, for my parents, the arch-liberals, that's not something to be done. I sometimes wonder where I got these prude genes.
Final thought: I bet my kids will have a bone of contention with me, too. Ah, the circle of life.
Married with...Exams?
I only have two exams left, thank goodness. I don't think I can take anymore of this stress. Gives you the weirdest dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was engaged to some guy and I didn't want to be. He came to my parents and asked to marry me, and because this was a dream reality and not reality reality, they said yes! Without asking me first! I was so upset. I tried to run away from the wedding, but my brother stopped me. Then he and my parents went on and on about how it was my duty and it was childish of me to try and escape. Freud wouldn't have to dig very deep to see that this was not about marrying some stranger, but the pep talk I give myself when I feel like not taking my exams. I hate taking tests; I have such intense text anxiety. Today, when I finished reading one of the exam questions, the flesh under my left eye began to twitch uncontrollably. That only happens to me when I am extremely nervous. Anyhow, I took a deep breath and told myself it would all be over soon (a little like what Alan does, I suspect). And there it is - it is gonna be over soon, and I console myself with the fact that if I don't pass, I have another shot in October. Phew. Hmmm, my dream got me thinking. I don't think I'm ever going to get married (too much hassle for me), but of course, being the list-lover that I am, I do have some possibles, if perhaps the sperm bank rejected me and I wanted to have kids. Just for kicks.
Top Five People I'd Consider Marrying
1. The Man Who Broke My Heart - as pathetic as this may sound, if he asked, I'd do it. We'd get married, have 2.5 kids, a cute dog (even though I'm allergic to fur) and a cute little house (no white picket fence though, haven't seen those in Thailand).
2. Sorayut Sutassanadajinda - Thailand's foremost journalist and pundit; the man is seriously on the tube like 16 hours a day and he's also in the papers, magazines and he's got books coming out the wazoo. He is definitely the man of the hour, the guy everyone wants to comment on politics, knocked-up celebrities and poisonous bamboo shoots. And he is damn adorable! Those glasses, those Chinese features, that firm, take-no-prisoners interview style! All serve to make my heart beat faster. I wouldn't care if he proposed with a plastic gumball machine ring - I'd marry him.
3. Ryan Phillipe/Jake Gyllenhaal - either of them would be fine, because I'd do it for the same reason: total hottie! Plus, having a total babe as a father may up my kids chances of looking halfway attractive.
4. Darren Hayes - coz he writes some of the most romantic lyrics I've ever heard and I am sure I'd score at least one song dedication. I'm also sure he'd manage a super-romantic proposal, which would have a fantastic retell quality. You know, the kind of story that gets people to say, "That is sooooo sweet! I am soooo jealous!"
5. Zach Braff - or rather, I'd marry his character J.D. on Scrubs. I just love the mix of clever and quirky, masculinity and vulnerability. It is such a turn-on. But I can't marry a fictional character, so I'll settle for the guy who portrays him. And I just know, in real life, he's a much more macho guy than he is on the show and I just love that.
Final thought: I think it just shows how pathetic I am that if Number 1 on my list proposed to me with a ring made out a chewing gum wrapper, twenty baht in his wallet and no plans for the future, I'd still say yes. Am I a hopeless romantic?
Too much of a princess
I have two more exams tomorrow, then a break then the last two - thinking it like this makes me feel slightly better. At least I have it better than Alan, who has six days of exams in a row. He has more stamina than I do. My father is always telling me that I have get tougher, but really, it's partly his fault that I'm this soft. My dad is the king of stoic, but I know he worries about me. I think he was relieved I didn't start driving; he's constantly telling me I'm too nervous to drive, I startle easily, etc., but I think the main reason is he doesn't want me out driving at night by myself. He and my mother are the royalty of scare tactics. They're always telling my bro and me about how some guy got killed walking under a ladder or how some girl got stabbed because she was out late at night alone on the streets of Bangkok. Hear enough of those stories, and they take effect. The other night, he was scolding me for using the cell phone too much, "It's not safe, all those microwaves" and I don't know if it was psychosomatic, or he was right or a combination of the two, but I got a bit of an ear infection. Okay, maybe not a full-on infection, but I know for a fact my ear hurt like heck, and that night, I got a headache on the right side of my head, where my cell phone was. Yup, that's how much I'm influenced by my parents. Also, he's always telling me I gotta stand on my own two feet, I should get out more, but he's worried I'll get myself killed in the process. So, you see, he's always complaining that I'm too much of a princess, but hello, who's the king? I know he loves me and all, but I'm hooked - I like being pampered and as a result, I'm a bit too soft for my own good. It's horrible actually, because I myself would like to be tougher, not so skittish, but it's pretty much ingrained in me now. I think that's why I find things so terribly frustrating.
Final thought: Does startling easily have anything to do with being ticklish?
Observer's paradox be damned!
Ha. I should be studying for my remaining two exams, but I'm taking this quiz, "Who's Your OC Crush?" and I don't even watch that pathetic show. Confession: I actually enjoy taking these silly online quizzes like "Which Power Ranger Are You?" or "Would Donald Trump Fire You?", you know, stuff like that. I was a member of Tickle.com back when it was still Emode, and one night, I took so many quizzes, they offered me a free, seven-day trial to take all those tests they try to sell you. Yeah. I'm that nuts. These tests are so contrived. There's always some discernible pattern and half the time, the answer you want isn't even there so you just pick one at random. Have you ever known (or been) one of those people in school who can guess what a test (or actually, the test writer) wants you to answer? Yup, I'm one of those people; in educational circles, we are the devil's spawn, the test-wise, bringing down the validity of standardized tests. So, I always take the results of these quizzes with a pinch of salt, coz I know I probably (consciously or otherwise) influenced them and consequently skewed them. Makes me think of the observer's paradox, this thing in social science that poses this conundrum "if you want to observe what happens when you're not observing, but to do so, you must observe it, then by observing it, you're changing it and not seeing what you would see if you weren't observing it". Whoa, my head's spinning. Basically, I have no idea of the accuracy of any of these results, but the quizzes are a fun way to kill time. Here's a random sample of some of my results and my take on them.
What's your flavor? Mocha
Yuck. I hate coffee in all its incarnations - hot coffee, iced coffee, coffee candy, coffee cake, coffee anything. Can't stand the smell of it and plus, when I was a kid, my parents tricked my brother and me into thinking that drinking coffee was what made you old. They drank coffee and they were old. Seemed logical at the time.
What's your superpower? Speed
Right, speed. I mean, I'd believe like freezing people (emotionally, that is) or some sort of mind-related power, but speed? If I were the tortoise in that fable, they'd be talking about how the hare won that race without even trying. Speed is not my thing.
What's your true color? Brown
No offense, but brown is one of my least favorite colors. It's nice and rich and earthy, but given a choice, I'd choose my all-time favorite, black. Black is the best color, for everything. It's so...strong. It has that mysterious yet beautiful quality other colors simply don't have (for me, at least).
What's your back-to-school destiny? Academic
Pretty accurate. I don't like school, but I know what I'm there for and I'm that girl you used to hate back in high school for reminding the teacher we had homework assignments due. School is serious stuff. Okay, okay, I ought to be studying instead of blogging, but hey, even the staunch academic needs her time off!
What's your deadly sin? Gluttony.
Well, duh! Love food, love excess. Gee, which of the seven deadly sins could that possibly be?
What's your eating style? Indulgent eater
Again, duh.
What's your sense of humor? Goofy humor
Yup, that's me. My favorite joke is - What did the apple say to the orange? Nothing, coz apples don't talk. I have also laughed so hard I fell off 1) a bed, 2) a chair, and 3) a cafeteria bench. I think some guy said "exacerbation". That really set me off.
What's your theme song? Abba's Dancing Queen
Too true! I'd dance the night away if I had a good pair of shoes and some great tunes. I love to dance. A good beat makes me itch all over. My moves are kinda lame, but do I care? That's right - no!
What's your sexual turn-on? Personality
Hmmm, it's a tie between personality and intellect. Smart guys turn me on; geniuses turn me into an incoherent mess. I like guys with a good personality, but you know, personality is such a tricky thing - I mean, a guy can have personality if he thinks he's a boiled egg or runs around with newspaper clippings on his clothes. A good combination of the two, that's what I'd like. Someone smart, but tempered, not so brainy he's completely off in another world, one I can't relate to, and not boring (but again, boring is relative), someone I can talk to but who will stop talking if necessary. Oh, heck, he should just ask my best friend. She'll tell him my dos' and don'ts' and most importantly, she'll tell him what presents I want!
What kind of movie are you? Romantic comedy
Take the comedy, strike the romance, add the word "dark" and ta-da! You have me and my life.
Final thought: Apparently, I'm a mass of contradictions. Glorious.
The 10% Theory
I've been thinking recently about my 10% theory. I have a lot of theories, none of them based or supported by much empirical evidence, but it's a thing I do. My 10% theory is that the most you can know someone outside of your immediate family is 90% of who they are. The other 10% remains hidden for the purposes of propriety or because you just can't remember some stuff. My opinion is once you've reached that mythical 90%, you're about as close as you'll ever be, unless you get married, then you get bumped to immediate family and that automatically adds 8% to your knowledge base. My mother, for instance, knows about 98% of who I am, 50% just because I share half of her DNA, another couple of percentages because she's also a woman and knows where I'm coming from and the rest because I'm her daughter and I'm more like her than I'm willing to admit sometimes and she can read me like a large-print children's book. I can almost never hide anything from my mom. Anyhow, I think 90% is a good percentage to aim for. The other 10%, as I've pointed out, contains things you probably don't want to know anyway, and as for keeping 10% of yourself under wraps, that's just common sense. If you give everything up, what's left? I think everyone has things they would rather die than reveal, and if we can accept this, and not push, then they'll have to respect us and do the same and everyone can keep their sanity. Believe me, I know what it's like to have that 10% violated; I won't ever forgive and I won't ever forget that trespass. That's why I stand by my 10% theory - the best relationships are ones where there is still a semblance of privacy.
Final thought: Look at me, with all the numbers flying. I hate math, but they're right - you really do need it.
Isn't it ironic?
My brother is constantly telling me I don't get irony, but hell, I do. This is pure irony at its best, a banner I saw while I was checking my (once-again inaccurate) horoscope - "How's your nutrition? Get tips from nutritionist so-and-so - brought to you by the Coca-Cola Company". Made me laugh. I like irony because it's the most intellectual form of humor that I can still understand (most of the time anyway). I've always aspired to be wittier, but there aren't many manuals out there, so I've just been winging it. Kwan did it really well, being British and all. She had this way of responding to my corny jokes - rapier-sharp comment delivered in flat, cool, RP tones; I loved it. That's irony in and of itself - I liked it, but I didn't like being the victim of it. I guess there's a lot of irony floating around in our lives, if we just look around. It's ironic that I put quite a bit of effort into making friends with Goldfinger while we were at college, only to be shot down and now, we're at a point that I can call him my friend, or something resembling one. It's ironic that the career I spent a large part of my life running from is now the career I'm pursuing. It's ironic that I have such a knack for knowing who goes with who, yet I can't seem to do the same for myself. Yup, life's full of little ironies.
Final thought: Ha, you thought I was gonna quote that Alanis Morrisette song, huh? Nope. My final thought for today is, isn't it ironic that although nothing is going on in my life, I still have the temerity to blog like every single freaking day?
Strong-Grip Girl
It's been pointed out to me that I have to let go of things, specifically the love of my life, who I love and hate simultaneously, and who is simply a memory now. Perhaps I am a little too caught up in the past. Always been a flaw of mine. I find it hard to let go of anything, be it love, a grudge or a cherished object. My mother has threatened to burn my beloved backpack, on account of a grad school student should no longer be lugging around a bulky green Jansport, but I resolutely refused. I still have the teddy bear that was my constant companion at age six. My first love was a guy in the fifth grade and though it's hard for me to admit this, if he came to me today and said, "Come with me to <insert name of far-off country> tonight", it'd take me more than a few minutes to think of all the reasons I have to say no. Yes, I am certifiably insane. Is it a blessing to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? I seriously don't know. All I know is, if this is what love feels like, I'd rather have chocolate. Or a bloodletting. Am I afraid I'll never feel like this again? No, I'm afraid I will feel like this again, and that just kills me. Falling in love with this particular person made me feel stupid, and imbecilic and...I don't know, like I was some kind of illogical shrew. Is that what love is supposed to do to you? Coz if it's like that, count me out. I'm much better off by myself. That being said, I do contend that perhaps I've been overly bitter and God, I hate being bitter. I can't help it; I have strong grip. I hold on tightly to the things I love and I love him, and love makes you even stronger. Yet another side effect of this silly "love" thing that's possessed me. I quote myself - "Love is a four-letter word." You're screwed when you fall in love. The next guy I love, if I ever love, better sweep me off my feet or it's no go. But for now, there are more important things than that particular four-letter word on my mind - the main one? E-X-A-M!
Final thought: I hate myself because of you, yet why do I still love you?
Good riddance
I've always loved the song Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) from Green Day. It's exactly how I felt at the end of high school, the end of my undergrad days. At the end of high school, I remember thinking, "Good riddance. I'm so ready to blow this joint." It's not like I hated it there; I had a lot of good times, but not enough to keep me there. I had a great time at MUIC too, but again, nothing that would tie me there forever. The other day I got an invite to an MUIC reunion and I thought, "Yeah, right." I miss MUIC, true, but for silly things - like how I felt as I stood on the fourth floor during a rainstorm and looked down and thought, "This is one of the most beautiful, melancholy moments of my life." Or the high I got scribbling on a horribly misspelled sign, "Spell check!" Or having lunch with the love of my life, listening to him go on and on about nothing. Does that happen to everyone who's in love? Can you tolerate stuff from your loved one that you would flay others for? Coz he used to say some pathetically silly things and I would just laugh and I'm someone who will nonverbally signal my boredom to others. Maybe because I liked the sound of his voice. Everything he said was like poetry to me. Anyhow, good riddance to bad rubbish. I had the time of my life and I'm going to continue having the time of my life.
Final thought: Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life), Green Day
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
Unconscious offense
I just read Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis, not because I had to, but because I was feeling bored from the (minimal) studying I did today and wanted to read something beautiful. Poetry always renews my soul, like raindrops on a rose in the midst of a drought. I feel like that rose, like my heart has been left in the middle of the driest desert on Earth. Everything feels like a chore and I feel like everything I do is wrong, that I make people angry or annoyed without even trying to - maybe's it's something about my voice. I have a tendency to raise my voice, even when I'm not angry. It's not like I enjoy offending people, I just find that I do. Maybe if I were a poet, I could assuage them with heartbreaking verses, but alas, I'm not. Anyhow, have to get back to the grind.
Final thought: Shakespeare knew the true meaning of love.
From Venus and Adonis
"I know not love," quoth he, "nor will not know it,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;
'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
My love to love is love but to disgrace it;
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath."
Keeping Sane
One of my biggest fears is that someday, someone, somewhere will see the whole of me, me without my defenses up, without any sort of armor, physical or psychological - and they'll run. The other week Sittha mentioned that people born on Wednesday have a hard time with trust, with trusting others and trusting. That's accurate, for me at least. Even with the people closest to me, I feel like I have to keep parts of myself closed off. I don't think I've ever revealed all of myself to anyone (has anyone in the history of the planet?) and I don't plan to, not ever. What if they're shocked? What if they don't get the significance of my gesture? What if they decide they didn't know me at all and leave me? I think everyone has things hidden that are hidden for a reason, parts of themselves they wouldn't reveal to save their lives, things you could be hanged for. I know I do. I think it's the only way to keep sane. If you gave everything up, what would there be left for you? You can't turn into someone else. You can never truly know what it's like to live in someone else's skin. I'm pretty empathetic, when I want to be, and even I have to admit, sometimes I just don't know. That's not such a bad thing, is it? It's what makes us individuals.
Final thought: You are you and I am me, and sometimes we do things differently.
Why I Avoid the Asian Cinema
Hmmm, I looked today and there appears to be a bonus DVD in the Closer box - Kar Wai Wong's 2046. It appears Sittha snuck this in because somehow, he believes it is up to him to convert me to the Asian movie. This is a nice, cultured sentiment, but he's going to fail. Here's the thing. I do not like Asian movies. It's not a racist thing or a snobby thing or anything like that - I simply do not watch Asian movies. Any Asian movies - Thai, Korean, Japanese, Indian, if it hails from the continent of Asia, I do not watch it, not voluntarily anyway (for a film studies class at MUIC, one of my assignments was to watch the Thai film Tears of the Black Tiger, which I did so half-asleep). I just never found an Asian movie that caught my fancy. I will gladly watch movies from any other continent (I immensely enjoyed the French film - complete with subtitles - M. Hulot) and I've been dying to see the Mexican movie El Crimen de Padre Amaro (did I say that right?), but nothing Asian. I just don't know why. I think it's the Asian discourse - not that I'm positing that there's some sort of catchall Asian discourse pattern, just that in general, Asians tell stories in a circular fashion, with a lot unsaid that should be said. It's different for American movies, or even British or French films - the story telling is, for the most part, linear - there's a beginning, a middle and an end; what should remain implicit does. That's totally reversed in Asian stuff, at least the Asian stuff I've seen. Thus, I have never warmed to Asian cinema. Strangely enough, I don't see this quite so widespread in Asian books - loved Yukio Mishima's Confessions of a Mask, for instance. Just something confined to film perhaps, because of the nature of the medium. At any rate, I don't watch Asian films; it's probably not a very worldly mindset, but it's a peccadillo of mine. Hmmm, I guess this means that Sittha knew full well which DVD had tagged along with the two he was lending me...the little sneak. He said to me, and I quote, "Yeah, I think there's an extra one in there, but I'm not sure which." Uh huh. Crafty. It's hard having such a cosmopolitan friend, when you yourself are a bit of an unsophisticate. Oh what the hey, I'm totally unsophisticated! 
Final thought: Do not condemn the judgment of another because it differs from your own. You may both be wrong. Lao Kiun
Closer to the Truth
I'm not going to complain again about how I didn't study, because I didn't. I was horribly tired this morning, stayed up till way past one in the morning talking to Goldfinger. Thank God my kid called in sick; I don't think I could've taught today. So, sat around eating popcorn and watching the DVDs Sittha lent me - Closer and Lost in Translation. The latter, I didn't particularly care for, not really my cup of tea; the movie was a collection of not-even-mildly interested tableaus of people who are completely puzzled as to why Japanese people don't speak English. Closer was okay, but again, not really my cup of tea - the box said it was a "love story for adults", so I guess I am either a) really a dunce when it comes to love, b) not really an adult or c) someone who knows that some guy was sitting around, three in the morning, desperately trying to think of something to write on the DVD box and thought, "Hey, a love story...but for adults. That's mildly clever. It'll work." Apparently, that latter thought it also the impetus behind this movie. Maybe because its origins are from a play, but even though the movie didn't work for me, there were some awesomely quotable lines. Those are what kept me watching, along with the fact that Sittha assured me that Natalie Portman totally ditches her wholesome good-girl image and boy, did she, in a big way. She looked fabulous, but I suppose 99% of her fabulousness was lost on me coz I'm a girl. Anyhow, there were some truly great lines from the film, and I'll just list some of them here and well, since everything arty that touches you does so because it touches some personal aspect of yourself, I'll detail briefly why I like it. It's nice that Sittha lent the movies to me, then, because this one at least, got to me in some moments, really got to me and I like that.
"Don't say it. Don't you fucking say 'You're too good for me.' I am, but don't say it. You're making the mistake of your life. You're leaving me because you believe that you don't deserve happiness, but you do, Anna." Okay, so I just like hearing my name, all right? Also because, he said exactly what I wanted to say, exactly how felt when I knew I had to leave, when I knew that the love of my life was too dumb to realize how much I loved him and how much I sacrificed for him. I wanted to say this exact thing to him, but I wasn't as clever as this playwright/screenwriter, so I just threw a hissy fit and let him think I was an insane child.
"I know who you are. I love you. I love everything about you that hurts." Beautiful, and again, why didn't I think to say this? I know I felt it, I know that's what I wanted to express, but again, not so much with the heartbreaking prose.
"No one will ever love you as much as I do. Why isn't love enough?" I've said this actually, or a variation of it, really. I didn't get a decent answer either. And I didn't say calmly either, I sort of screamed it, cried it. I pathetic saying it and I felt pathetic afterwards. In a perfect world, love would be enough, and more specifically, your love would be enough, but we don't live in a perfect world.
"How can one man be so endlessly disappointing?" How can men, in general, be so disappointing?
Final thought: "You'd be my whore. And in return I will pay you with your liberty." Once you're his whore (literally or otherwise), you'll never be free again.
Hot in Ayutthaya
Majorly tired today. Was out at Ayutthaya today, and I was on barbecue duty for most of the day. It was hot and smoky, but I had fun. Ayutthaya is really nice, especially later in the day, when sun sinks low and the weather is cool. The water is really beautiful, if you don't look closely at it. The Chao Phraya river, according to my father is not filthy, but you wouldn't know it by looking at it. It's brown and murky but I guess coz it's is the lifeblood of Thailand. Anyhow, today my dad had a party for all his high school friends, which was why I was busy barbecuing four kilograms of prawns, a half a pig and one-quarter of a cow. It was overall fun and that was the extent of my day - didn't study, didn't watch TV, didn't do much of anything. Was wondering how Sittha and Alan were holding up at Jatujak, but Alan called and told me about it. Seems they had a hot, fun time as well.
Final thought: I hate living in the tropics sometime.
Ten Random Confessions
Ten Random Confessions
1. I used to watch the saccharine, based-on-a-cheesy-manga Taiwanese soap opera Meteor Garden. And I loved it. And I miss it sometimes.
2. I was recently slightly addicted to the equally cheesy Thai soap opera In Love and Debt, which revolved around a guy whose only way of handling his love for the heroine was by humiliating her, dragging her around and treating her like his personal slave. Hmmm, romantic much? But I loved it!
3. Am I judgemental? Well, yes. I'm the queen of snap judgements, especially when it comes to movies, television shows and music. Sometimes ice cream, too. I can watch like four seconds of a movie's trailer and know instantly if I'll like it or not. It's not very democratic, I admit, but it works for me.
4. Occasionally, I can be caught dancing to Britney.
5. I never told my parents I was in love with a jerk who broke my heart, but not for the reasons you may think. My parents would make stand-up comedians cry - they love to tease. Nothing gives them greater joy than knowing one of their kids is on a romantic bent - "Oh, you have a crush? Ooooooooh, can we meet him? Does he mind that you have a truck driver's mouth?" They're worse than preteen wannabe girls! I love them, but I decided to keep my amorous intentions under wraps.
6. I get super-uncomfortable watching love scenes with my parents. They could care less, but I just can't get over my embarrassment.
7. The first place I head to in a department store? The toy section!
8. I have called the police to report on noisy neighbors. It's rarely done in Thailand, to the best of my knowledge, but Goddarnit, if they're gonna bring the noise, I'm gonna bring the fuzz!
9. My parents call my brother and I, respectively, "The Thin One" and "The Fat One" in Thai. It's not as rude as you think; in Thai, these are terms of affection. My mother also occasionally calls me "baby", short for "baby elephant."
10. Twice, I've been caught reading...uh, questionable material. By the same person. Boy, was my face red.
Final thought: Let he without sin cast the first stone.
Roti Boy
Went out with Sittha today, saw Transamerica. Felicity Huffman was fantastic, you could almost forget she was actually a woman. So many things you take for granted as a girl, like walking and sitting and eating a certain way. Man, I'm blogging this pretty late and I'm pretty wiped out. Was just talking to Alan - can you believe he got into two different majors at Chula? Good for him. Anyhow, we got carried away, so here I am, really tired, but I just wanted to update before I forget. Sittha was late - showed at twelve, although he told me eleven-thirty. No biggie because I was in Kinokuniya finishing up a book I started last time I was there (it was good, but not good enough for me to buy). We were going to watch the noon showing, but of course, that couldn't happen, but thankfully, there was a one-thirty one. Anyhow, here's the real meat of my story. So, we bought our tickets and had an one and a half to kill and Sittha was telling me he wanted to try out this hot bun place that always has a line like a mile long called Roti Boy, so we walked down and yes, there really was a mile-long (well, a block-long) line, which we joined. It was hot and it took a long time, but I didn't really mind much and not because of the buns (which were nicely buttery, but overrated and what the heck, there was a limit of ten to a person? This lady asked Sittha to buy her five and he made a profit of twenty-five baht. He didn't want it, but the lady insisted.) There was this really cute guy behind us, exactly my type, Chinese-looking, glasses and guess what? A graduate of medical technology from Chula! Could you just die? I love science guys! He just got behind me in line and started saying, "Darn, there's a long line again" and I kinda smiled and he went on, "But you know, they're worth it." He had a nice smile. Then we talked a bit more, about the buns mostly. So that was kinda nice - I will now think of him as Roti Boy. Too bad he had to rush off to a client meeting. Sigh. Well, I did have an okay time anyway. Sittha was nice enough to drive me home. Right before my soi there's a McDonald's and he stopped and got a sundae and forgot completely that he was driving and was unable to eat it. I ended up having to spoon it in his mouth and God, do I suck at that! He finally just grabbed it out of my hands and said, "I'll do it myself." Whoops. His whole car smelled like those Roti Boy buns. Made me think of...well, Roti Boy. Hahahaha. Sittha also lent me two DVDs, which I'll have to find time to watch, because apparently, he's going to give me a pop quiz. Found out today he can't swim, so that totally blows Alan's theory that if he and I (both non-swimmers) were out with Sittha on a sinking boat, Sittha could save us. I know now we would all die, so I will avoid doing anything water-related with those two. Darn, I'm sleepy. I'll just wrap this up. Ah, Roti Boy, you almost made me forget about my broken heart. Just almost; but he'll always be at the back of my mind - or the front of my mind or in the photo I keep near my...uh, too much info. Gotta go to sleep now.
Final thought: Roti Boy. Yum.
Too Lazy
I'm a loser. That's it, short and simple. I have nothing else to add. I just handed in my last project and you know what's on my mind now? Studying for my comprehensive exam - which is actually a good thing because it starts the 20th of March. Still, why can't I relax? I've lost my focus. I used to be super-focused girl. Now I'm just mildly motivated girl. Sigh. I know it's totally pathetic, but I just can't get over that, and it's killing me and you know what? It would make him so darn amused to know I was like this so I am so darn glad he doesn't.
Final thought: Ah, I won't even bother.
Super Sized Me
After days of trying desperately to reach the minimum 10 pages for my report, I can now proudly say I have 12 - albeit the last two are full of junk and white space, but hey, I still hit the minimum! So, although I still got a ways to go, I decided to give myself a short break. No point pushing on when nothing's coming, right? Yesterday, I came home exhausted. We had this Catholic thing because it's the beginning of Lent and all (don't ask me what Lent is - all I know is it precedes Easter. Never was very good in religion class), and I was out with my family in Ayutthaya all day. That's where my dad's brood hails from; they have this house right on the Chao Phraya river and we get together there every year to eat massive amounts of food (including a whole suckling pig), then conk out playing cards (nothing involving money), drinking (not for me) or napping. Anyhow, I stayed there until like five in the evening, coz darn, does my dad's family likes to talk and on the way back, my brother wanted to stop for noodles - so we ended up getting back at almost seven. Plus, I was severely wiped out from all that eating and all that napping. I barely cranked out a page before I called it quits and was just about to go to bed when I walked past the TV and saw that the documentary Super Size Me was on. Needless to say, with my love for McDonalds firmly in hand and the fact that I had just consumed 25% of a pig, I sat down and watched it. It was a nice piece of anti-fast food propaganda, but I grant it has some merits. I've always had a love/hate relationship with food - leaning mostly towards "love". Hey, I know there's some sorta psychobabble out there about how food is an anti-depressant or a substitute for love or the binky I had to give up when I was two, and you know what, as a fat person I say - IT'S A CROCK! Maybe it really is some kinda drug or friend to some people, but you know what I love about food? It tastes good! Duh. I like to chew. I like the taste of chips and fries and roast chicken. When I was a kid, I lived right across the street from McDonalds and it was like a second, yummy home to me. I learned how to cook because I wanted to make my favorites the way I like them. At one point, I bought so much ice cream, the Nestle man knew my name. Seriously. And in all that time, you know what I was thinking? YUM! Do I know that peanut butter and bacon is bad for me? Well, duh. You know what the impetus of the movie was? These two dumb girls sued McDonalds for making them fat. Uh, no, you made yourself fat because you like to eat! McDonalds is a freaking corporation, they don't give a hoot about your health. They just want to lure you back with cheap, delicious food and in that sense, they're successful. You're the dumbass for letting them, and you're an even bigger dumbass for somehow thinking it's their fault. Grow up. As a fellow fat girl, I say shame on you. Take some responsibility for your own habits. I like to eat, ergo, I am fat. It's a cause and effect situation. I can make myself and others crazy trying to find someone or something else to blame, but in the end, all fat people have choices. It's hard, I get that, of course it is, but you have to take a long, hard look at yourself and I think, do I want more of that? Or do I stop? If you choose the former, live with the consequences.
Final thought: Pass me the cheese.
My horoscope LIED!
Horoscope for Aries (March 1, 2006): "Take action toward your biggest goal today -- you will make significant progress." Right. My biggest goal today is to finish at least 25% of my final project for this semester. How much have I finished? 2.5%! My concentration is shot, as usual. The tiniest things distract me - I saw some scrap paper lying around today and proceeded to fold paper cranes. Yes, that was useful. Ugh. I'm busy tomorrow, so God knows how much I'll get done, Saturday I have a family thing - and this is due on Tuesday morning! If the "significant progress" predicted by my horoscope had come to pass I wouldn't a) be blogging right now or b) laughing about the comments Sittha left on my blog last night. Damn horoscopes, they're never accurate. Oh, and I wasted ten minutes with it!
Final thought: Must. Concentrate. On. Work. Oooh, Bookworm...