Thoughts on gift-giving
Feeling overall upbeat. It's a freakishly hot night in Bangkok, but then again, it would be freakish it weren't hot. Waiting for my advisor to call me in after she reads the second draft of my paper. Hopefully, all of this will be over as soon as humanly possible so I can get on with things. The month is drawing to a close and next month, I have to seriously start thinking about my Christmas shopping. None for my family of course - we're not gift people. As kids, my brother and I got presents; Christmas, birthdays, the works. But as we got older, my father told us gift-giving was over because we loved each other everyday, and we didn't have to prove it with stuff. Of course, we're still obligated to show our affection through materials with our friends, but family is now no longer on the list. Which helps me tons because I never know what to buy anyone. Ever. Personally, I like gift certificates, but apparently, Thai people think they're the ultimate in rudeness and thoughtlessness. Didn't know that until one of my professors had a baby and my class couldn't decide on what to get her and I suggested such a certificate. Everyone looked at me like I'd said to feed the baby glass. Culture shock, much? Nowadays, I just nod my head at whatever anyone else suggests and never again utter those hated words.
Final thought: Thanksgiving is just around the corner! Yippee!
Broken record
I miss my best friend terribly. That's the problem with being super-selective about friends - you tend to have a few quality ones and when they go away to further their education or whatnot, you're left by your lonesome. Overall, I'm okay. Just waiting for my advisor to get back from China and take a look at my paper. It's just I wish she were here. Sigh. Mellow, that's my keyword. It seems like all I do nowadays is gripe. Of course, I always gripe - I'm a griper extraordinaire - but lately, it's really been getting on my nerves. I hear the sound of my own voice going on and on and I just think: "Why am I droning on like this?" Talking in circles. Saying the same things over and over and over like some kinda broken record. Sickening. And to what avail? I just annoy the hell out of myself and whoever it is I'm aiming my complaints at. I never get a response. Or scratch that, I never a get a response that I'm satisfied with. It's not that nothing can appease me, I'm just not that easily appeased. It takes a mountain, not a molehill, and some people are simply incapable of delivering. That's fine. We're all just human. We have our flaws, our Achilles heels. Critical as I am, I do like to think I am fair. I don't put people on pedestals and when they topple down (because we all must, at some point or another), stare at them in disgust and discard them. It might be because I'm just not that easily bored. Things can keep my interest for months, years, a lifetime. It's not that I'm adverse to change, but my motto is: if it ain't broke, why fix it? Of course if it is broke, by all means, put effort into fixing it, but it it's beyond repair, chuck it. No regrets. No guilt. No tears. Toss it. All right, maybe some tears, but just a few and then none, no more, or you'll drown in an ocean of your own creation. I don't think I ask for much, but what little I do ask for, I don't get - or I get after much reluctance. What's wrong with this picture? I guess it's me, partly. Read an article recently about how people these days never seem to blame themselves. Well, I blame myself, but I know it's not all about me. I don't know if I'm being unreasonable or not, but frankly, I'm too tired to care.
Final thought: Maybe it's some sort of karmic challenge. Guess I've learned quite a bit. And here I am, still griping. Geez, I am a broken record.
As time goes by...
Finished the first draft of my paper. Whew. Takes a huge load off my chest. Gotta do the references, but that can wait a bit. Right now, I'm just going to do silly things without an ounce of guilt (all right, maybe a teeny-tiny ounce, since I'm not officially done as of yet). It's been an incredibly long week, mostly coz I was covering for my bro at work and had to get there at 4 a.m. Seriously. Who hires a proofreader for four in the freakin' morning? I checked the stuff and two minutes later, I'm looking at it and going, "Who the heck lets this blatant subject-verb disagreement get by?" That would be yours truly. It's darn embarrassing to listen to the news and realize I forgot to change "high-ranked officials" to "high-ranking officials". And there's not a thesaurus in sight! I can't be expected to think up a synonym for "target" at that unholy hour. I'm not scraping the bottom yet, but I'm not my usual chipper self. Hahaha. Not that my "chipper" self is all that chipper, but she's not overly grave. Anyhow, apparently, my next birthday marks my Jupiter return - a pretty big astrological event according to my research. Big things are supposed to happen, in my work life, my love life and my life life. We'll see. My father keeps reminding me to pray before I leave the house. He and my mom are getting a bit weirded out coz I'm almost twenty-five. Twenty-five is the cursed age for Thais. Apparently, lots of really awful stuff happens to twenty-five-year-olds. My dad thinks it's just one of those beliefs people made up so that overly-zealous upstarts turning a quarter of a century old didn't do anything stupid, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want all the bases covered. Ugh. I can't believe I'm going to be graduating soon. It's so unreal, having a master's degree and a job and all that stuff. Every day, it's hammered home to me that I'm not a kid anymore. That creeps me out no end. The other day, my aunt was asking me if I was dating anyone. "God, no, I'm just a kid!" I told her. She gave me this weird look and said I shouldn't hide it if I was dating anyone. Dating? Puh-lease, I can barely take care of myself and my own emotions, how on Earth could I handle anyone else's? And as for that love thing, I'm pretty through with it for now. Sometimes, I just wish I could jump in a time machine and go back to being my parents' little girl. Playing with dolls, fussing over vegetable consumption, being a pouty brat; going back to when it was halfway cute when I sulked. But of course, that's silly, isn't? Time moves forward, not backwards.
Final thought: Time and tide wait for no one.
Fluff
Sometimes I miss silly things like watching the cheesy Taiwanese soap Meteor Garden. Sanchai's life was sooooo pathetic, it almost made me feel good about mine. Every episode she was faced with exact same dilemma - lack of money - and it was always being solved the same way - buff, super-hot, super-rich boyfriend bailing her out. Not very pro-feminist, I know, or pro-logic even, but that's entertainment. There seems to be this unwritten rule about art - the more it imitates life, the more like art it is. Could be why all the "serious" movies are so downright depressing. (Ugh, just had a Don't Want to Sleep Alone flashback. Shudder.) I have nothing against serious movies; occasionally, I even like some of them (Good Night, and Good Luck comes to mind), but for the most part, give me things that are just a degree off of reality. Every day, I'm enslaved by my real life and it does not enthrall me. Why on Earth would I use my downtime to watch other people living lives they don't enjoy either? To each their own, but give me a healthy dose of fluff anytime.
Final thought: Of course, if Sanchai was a real person, she'd be wholly pathetic.
Shakespearean Diversion
Instead of working - though in my defense, I didn't have much to work on since I just got the first draft of my paper back this evening - I slummed around all day and watched the BBC adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew. It's my favorite Shakespearean play and I'm always up for seeing it, whether it's watered down horribly as a teen romantic comedy (Ten Things I Hate About You) or brilliantly set to catchy show tunes (Kiss Me, Kate). This adaptation was somewhere in between. I found Kate reminded me too much of a little firecracker and not enough like a shrew, though her performance was decent enough. Oh God, but Rufus Sewell as Petruchio? Fantastic! He really captured the spirit of the character, and it's a hard one to nail, I'd think. Petruchio's not a jerk, he's not a chauvinist - he's just used to getting his own way and he knows what he wants, but he's not a pig about it. That's hot. He gives as good as he gets and he realizes that all relationships are two-way streets. If you demand something, you should be able to deliver it yourself. I like men who know that. If only I had more of that kinda man in my own life. Oh well, back to work. It was a nice little diversion.
Final thought: Shakespeare is still the man.
Midnight Caller
In celebration of being too tired to actually post anything of substance, I give to you a story I wrote one night after suffering from a long bout of writer's block. Writer's block is hell like no other; it's like you have so much to say, but everything you produce is just plain awful. Feeling that a little tired right now - lots of stuff happened, but just don't have the will to blog about it. Reading this story makes me feel hopeful, knowing that I've gone down this sort of path before and I've managed to pull myself through. The story is written a bit strangely - mostly, it takes place in the mind of the protagonist, except for the parts in bold. That's stuff that happens outside.
Midnight Caller, by SupremeAnna
Ring, ring.
What the…?
Ring, RING.
Did that thing get louder?
RING, RING.
All right already! I'm up, I'm up. Okay, see, I'm stumbling out of bed…
RING, RING, RING!
Lumbering towards the phone…Tripping over the many empty cartons of rum raisin ice cream on the floor…Nursing my bruised chin…Screeching obscenities…
RINGRINGRING!
Hurling obscenities at the phone…Answering the phone…
"H'lo?" This better be good. It's midnight!
"You the so-called writer?"
That rum raisin must have had way more rum than raisin.
"I think you have the wrong number."
"No, I most certainly don't."
Creepy much? "Uh, do I know you?"
Snort. "Do you know me. I'm the protagonist of that short story you've been batting around your thick skull this past month."
Wow. I'm never having rum raisin ice cream before bed again.
"Or I would be. Except I'm stuck in here."
EVER.
"I can't stand it here anymore. Some broad named Ms. Joanne keeps coming around…"
"Hey! That's my tenth-grade English teacher you're talking about! She's one of my greatest inspirations!"
Snort. "Looks nice enough, but some inspiration she was. The only stuff you've written that ever got an ending was fanfiction."
"Fanfiction is a legitimate genre!"
"How about giving up on how many ways Mulder and Scully can get their freak on and hurrying up and writing me out of this joint?"
The nerve of this obnoxious chick…Oh my God, I'm off my rocker.
"Uh, I'm going to hang up now."
"And go write?" Hopeful.
"No. I'm going to hang up because A, I don't enjoy talking to a figment of my imagination, as B, that would mean I'm talking to myself and therefore the only conclusion would be C, I'm a few cents shy of a dollar. So I'm going to hang up, crawl back into bed, wake up some time later and hopefully, have repressed all of this. Oh, and I'm giving up rum raisin. And midnight snacks in general. I'd like to end with a cordial 'nice talking to you', except it hasn't been, and I'd say good-bye, only this conversation has gone on much longer than I've intended and I'm just getting nuttier by the minute, so…uh…" ;
"If you don't get me out of here, I'll just keep coming back."
BANG! How'd you like being hung up on, figment of my imagination? Okay, so that's settled, now what? Too wired to sleep now. Ah ha. Get online and check for symptoms of food poisoning.
Ring, ring.
Ha, like I'd fall for that. Food poisoning, then my fanfic…
You have mail.
Email. Clickclickclick.
"I warned you."
Ugh! Delete, delete. Oh, instant message.
"Didn't I say I'd be back?"
UGH!
You have mail. Ring, ring. Instant message.
I give up! "I give up! What do you want me to do?" Silence.
Hey, where'd you go? Come on…okay, I'll check this IM then.
"Write."
That simple, huh? Okay…
'The telephone was ringing…'
Final thought: Light at the end of the tunnel. Useful for life and writing.
White and Nerdy
If you haven't, I highly recommend listening to Weird Al's song White and Nerdy. Really, I'm crazy about it. It's hilarious, pure comedy genius, no joking (pun intended). The guy does all these parodies and they're funny, but this is fantastic. If you've never heard the song it pokes fun at, - Ridin' Dirty from Chamillionaire featuring Krayzie Bone - it'd be great to listen to it first, it makes the joke all the more hilarious, though it's not necessary. The words alone are a riot. How this guy came up with all these lyrics just boggles my mind. It's perfect. It's bone-crushingly funny. Well, to me, hahaha. Listen, go and listen, I encourage you. It's available on both Weird Al's and Chamillionaire's MySpace pages. Here are the lyrics to White and Nerdy, to whet your appetite.
White and Nerdy, Weird Al
You see me mowin' my front lawn
I know they're all thinkin' I'm so
White and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
Can't you see I'm white and nerdy
Look at me I'm white and nerdy
I wanna roll with the gangstas
But so far they all think I'm too
White and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
I'm just too white and nerdy
Really, really white and nerdy
First in my class here at MIT
Got skills, I'm a champion at D&D
M.C. Escher, that's my favorite M.C.
Keep you're 40, I'll just have an Earl Grey tea
My rims never spin, to the contrary
You'll find that they're quite stationary
All of my action figures are cherry
Stephen Hawking's in my library
My MySpace page is all totally pimped out
Got people beggin' for my top eight spaces
Yo, I know pi to a thousand places
Ain't got no grills but I still wear braces
I order all of my sandwiches with mayonnaise
I'm a wiz at Minesweeper, I could play for days
Once you've see my sweet moves, you're gonna stay amazed
My fingers movin' so fast I'll set the place ablaze
There's no killer app I haven't run (run)
At Pascal, well I'm number one (one)
Do vector calculus just for fun
I ain't got a gat, but I got a soldering gun (what?)
Happy Days is my favorite theme song
I could sure kick your butt in a game of ping pong
I'll ace any trivia quiz you bring on
I'm fluent in JavaScript as well as Klingon
Here's the part I sing on...
You see me roll on my Segway
I know in my heart they think I'm
White and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
Can't you see I'm white and nerdy
Look at me I'm white and nerdy
I'd like to roll with the gangstas
Although it's apparent I'm too
White and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
I'm just too white and nerdy
How'd I get so white and nerdy
I been browsin', inspectin' X-Men comics
You know I collect 'em
The pens in my pocket, I must protect them
My ergonomic keyboard never leaves me bored
Shoppin' online for deals on some writable media
I edit Wikipedia
I memorized Holy Grail really well
I can recite it right now and have you R-O-T-F-L-O-L
I got a business doing websites (websites)
When my friends need some code, who do they call?
I do HTML for 'em all
Even made a homepage for my dog, yo
I got myself a fanny pack
They were havin' a sale down at The Gap
Spend my nights with a role of bubble wrap
Pop, pop - hope no one sees me gettin' freaky
I'm nerdy in the extreme
Whiter than sour cream
I was in AV club and glee club
And even the chess team
Only question I ever thought was hard
Was "Do I like Kirk or do I like Picard?"
Spend every weekend at the Renaissance Faire
Got my name on my underwear They see me strollin', they're laughin'
And rollin' their eyes cause I'm so
White and nerdy
Just because I'm white and nerdy
Just because I'm white and nerdy
All because I'm white and nerdy
Holy cow, I'm white and nerdy
I wanna bowl with the gangstas
But oh well, it's obvious I'm
White and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
Think I'm just too white and nerdy
I'm just too white and nerdy
Look at me I'm white and nerdy
Final thought: Hehehe, maybe I like it coz I'm Asian and nerdy.
Tru Calling dream sequence
Had a dream last night that I was stuck in an episode of Tru Calling. Man, that show should never have been canceled, it was just getting good! I can't believe they pulled that show but are still grinding out stuff like Fear Factor. Ick. If I wanna see stupid people do stupid things, I'll just head back on over to high school, thank you very much. Anyhow, don't remember details of the dream, but I do know I was totally psyched and kept trying to get Tru to tell everyone about her power. You know, reveal to everyone that she relived days and pretty much knew what was gonna happen where and when. Not at all like me, yes, coz if I had a power like that, I'd keep it a secret from everyone but those closest to me. I'd be worried people would want me to do evil with it or something. I do have the oddest thoughts sometimes. Course, dream is probably telling me to take control of my life. Feels like it's spinning out of control; waking up at the crack of dawn can have that effect on me.
Final thought: No one can save you if you don't first try to save yourself.
New job, old memories
Gotta get up early tomorrow. My brother is quitting his morning job (yes, that's right, my brother has two jobs, who would've thunk it? A man too lazy to make his own sandwiches!) and he wants me to take it over, since well, I'm unemployed at the moment. I have no problem with that, it's a pretty simple job - that is, it's not terribly anxiety-provoking, pays okay and doesn't involve taking anyone's life into my hands, so it's all good. Basically, I just proofread the news they read on the English-language radio stations and that's it. The only difficult part of it is that my shift starts at five in the morning and I have never been a morning person. Ugh. Getting up at dawn gives me unpleasant flashbacks to high school. Speaking of high school, I met up with some of my classmates from RIS yesterday at Yuppie Hell (aka Siam Paragon, described recently in a Time article as "Bangkok's glitziest mall"). I haven't seen Bob and Nat in years. Bob just graduated, but Nat's working - and go figure, he's an English teacher too! My brethren! Bob's pounding the pavement looking for a job. He seemed kinda frustrated by it all, but taking it in stride, just like he always has. You know, as a kid I always thought Bob had something of a temper, but now that I reflect on it, I was definitely a bigger hothead than he was. It was nice to see the lot of them, Andrew too, who I actually ran into a while back. The strange and crazy thing was I remembered random stuff about them, like Andrew was a really great artist and Nat was a big environmentalist and Bob was this intense guy who did a great impression of a lighter (you have to see it to get it), and you know what they remembered about me? That I was like one of two people who didn't skip on Senior Skip Day! Oh, God. Senior Skip Day was this stupid tradition back in high school when all the seniors would choose one day to ditch class and go do something completely inane as a grade, even though normally we barely ever made contact with anyone outside our narrow little cliques. Vaguely, I remember that year the teachers asked us not to do it because it was close to exams or whatnot, don't remember the details, but they I know they said to please not do it, it'd screw up the schedule. Of course, everyone was all, "We're gonna do it anyway", coz, I don't know, bucking the system is cool. So, I get it into my head to stand up in the middle of our town hall meeting (what we called our grade meetings) and pretty much tell everyone off. And I got booed. Literally. If they'd had tomatoes, I'd have looked like a bottle of ketchup. Seriously, that was the vibe. And that's what these guys remembered about me. Nat was like, "Well, you're only a high school senior once" to justify why everyone (except me and some other people who were going to be expelled if they missed any more school) skipped, and I was like, "Yeah, but you only get so many chances to stand up for what you believe in". Seriously.
Final thought: High school. Shudder.
Didn't want to sleep in a theater
There's a first time for everything and today was the first time I fell asleep during a movie. If I'm camped out in front of my DVD player, sure, I admit, I've caught some shut-eye, but never in a theater. That is, until today. Bought tickets to see Don't Want to Sleep Alone (Asian film) and no offense to anyone who likes it, but God, it was totally not my cup of tea. The shots were drawn out to comic lengths and in my opinion, for no apparent reason. Every action was repeated to the point of ritual, but it lost it initial impact after the first forty minutes (I exaggerate, of course). The lack of dialogue, though, that's what really irked me. Maybe because I'm such a wordy person, but I need to hear stuff - or at least read it in the form of subtitles. After a full twenty minutes of nothing but sound effects, I actually said out loud, "Talk already!" Yes, I have been brainwashed by too many popcorn thrillers. It just wasn't for me. I tried my best to stick it out, but, well, couldn't - and my head promptly lolled to the side and I fell asleep. It's not that I don't want to expand my worldview and I like being exposed to new things, but oh God, I knew I didn't watch Asian movies for a reason. Oh well, here's hoping some other cinematic endeavor will change my mind.
Final thought: Is it because I was educated by people obsessed with time that I can't stand anything drawn out?
She's at that random question thing again...
My day was more or less okay - on a scale of one to ten (one being "ugh, hand me the Prozac", ten being "dance the happy dance!"). Saw Breakfast on Pluto; was like ten minutes late and the theater was pitch dark (okay, technically not pitch, since there was like a tiny fraction of light from the screen, but it was freakin' dark at any rate) and I fell off the last step getting to my seat, pitched into a fat, balding man and spilled half my popcorn on him. I was soooooooo majorly embarrassed. Didn't help matters that my friend was laughing up a storm behind me. Who else but your friends would be so kind as to laugh at your misfortune? Anyhow, I liked the movie. Cillian Murphy is adorable, and makes a surprisingly attractive woman. He'd be a lot prettier if his face wasn't so angular, but all in all, pretty. I do have things to rant about, but I'm tired and I'm going to school tomorrow, so I'll save it for another post. Tonight, all I want to do is answer random questions. Aaah, the joy of randomness and lists, nothing can beat it.
1. What are you wearing right now? Kinky much?!?
2. How old are your parents? Both in their fifties.
3. Where were you three hours ago? Getting out of my friend's car.
4. What is your boyfriend's/girlfriend's name? Haven't got either.
5. When was the last time you took a shower? Just took one. Fresh as a daisy.
6. Do you like hot sauce? On some things, yes.
7. Are you wearing socks right now? No.
8. Have you ever eaten a crayon? No, but I've tried paste.
9. Were you an honor roll student in school? Yes, through and through.
10. Do you have a tan? A bit; you can see where I normally wear my watch.
11. Song you feel guilty for knowing? Beep, Pussycat Dolls
12. Do you need to do your laundry? No, my mommy handles that.
13. How do you feel about carrots? Yummy.
14. Are you charming? I can be.
15. What song are you listening to now? Show Stopper on the Danity Kane MySpace.
16. What was the last thing you ate? A really sour piece of pineapple.
17. What was the last thing you drank? Water. I go through eight glasses a day.
18. Ever felt like strangling anyone? Oh, yeah...today especially. 
19. When did you first take sex ed? Sixth grade. And it's kept me abstinent ever since.
20. Do you speak American, British or some other form of English? American - I like my "color" without a "u", thank you. 
Final thought: There are no dumb questions, just unasked ones.
Embarrassment in front of eye candy
There must be a law of the universe that states that on the day that you feel cranky and fat, and wear the stripes to hammer home that fact, that you should run into two cute guys. Even when the rest of the freakin' year, you could throw six million rocks and not hit a-one. Today, I went over to Goldfinger's faculty to have lunch with him. Afterwards, we got ice cream cones and sat under a tree near the university co-op to finish them. He had to go before I finished my cone, so I said good-bye and headed back towards the library (my latest gig is working at the language institute's self-access center, which basically means I sit around typing out passages from textbooks or reading back copies of Seventeen). My cone was falling apart, so I decided to suck out the remaining ice cream from the base - and it's not as icky as it sounds, but no sooner had I ripped off the wax paper cover and started sucking merrily away, a bit of chocolate ice cream drizzling down my chin, than the hot teacher I used to TA for comes sauntering up. I almost choked. Not knowing what to do, I kinda smiled and said, "Hi." He gave me this funny look, but he said hi back and was on his merry way. How humiliating. But of course, the universe decided it wasn't enough to make me feel pathetic in front of one cute guy; no, no, why settle for one when you can be embarrassed by two? Was at Paragon today, in my fave book store, and noticed this amazingly good-looking guy browsing around. I mean, he was adorable and in a book store? Actually looking at books? Excuse me for the beat my heart skipped. I kinda shot him a few glances out of the corner of my eyes, but I'm not that forward kinda girl. So, I was sitting on the floor in front of the Memoirs shelves and turned to check the books behind me (was looking for the Sidney Sheldon memoir), and can you believe? He was actually looking in my direction! I was in such shock, I just turned quickly away and sank back to the ground. I quickly reassessed the situation and I swear, we made full-on eye contact. Of course, at that moment, my friend shows up, ready to have dinner before we head off to watch Paris, Je'taime (did I spell that right?). And of course, when I tell said friend the situation - "For God's sake, I think that guy was checking me out!" - said friend bursts my bubble entirely by saying, "He was probably just looking at something else." I was so humiliated. Because of course, why would any human being bother looking at me, in any capacity? And why, when in all my twenty-three years of never being checked out, could I possibly believe anyone would or could? The likeliest scenario? I just plain hallucinated it. And yes, at that moment I felt ten times more embarrassed than the incident with my ice cream and about eight billion pounds heavier. And ugly, really ugly, like face-even-a-mother-couldn 't-love ugly. And I'm not saying this for the sympathy vote, I'm just saying this because it's how I felt. After all, I'm living more realistically nowadays. This sort of thing is bound to happen, when non-reality collides with reality.
Final thought: Murphy's Law is alive and well and Anna is a law-abiding citizen.
Tears, Idle Tears
It's nice to know you have someone to lean on when you cry. Especially if you don't want your family to know how silly you are and your best friend is thousands of miles away. Despite trying to live realistically, I still fall into the trap of feeling too much every now and then, and suffer the consequences. Most often those consequences are accompanied by a good bout of crying. And thus, my invoking of one of Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poems - Tears, Idle Tears. Yes, indeed my tears are somewhat idle, but they are cleansing, though they make me feel weak and foolish, but they show me who really cares for me. So, in their own idle way, they help.
Tears, Idle Tears, Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
Final thought: Tears! What are tears? Elizabeth Barret Browning
Categories, lists, groups - oh my!
Good day today. On a scale of one to ten, with one being "ick-found-spiders-i n-my-soup" atrocious and ten being "break-out-the-confe tti-splendiferous", it was a good solid five. Finished my data collection - finally! Now comes the analysis, the conclusion and implications. Not any of them piece of cake affairs, but much easier than the tooth-pulling that was the collection of data. Yesterday, Bangkok was assailed by a brutal storm. It was flooded, ankle-length, all around my house. My brother said the city was paralyzed. Ugh. Bangkok rainy season is no time to travel. Have to go to school tomorrow. I'm a glorified librarian. They're rearranging the self-access center (i.e. a place full of DVDs, games and books that will encourage the students to improve their English) and basically, my job is to take stuff off shelves and determine what level they should go in. It's nice, easy work, but I like it - blame it on the categorizer in me. I spent half an hour devising my own system for organizing each level of books. Tall books before short books, thin after thick, light colors to dark - I had a blast. I wonder if the compulsion to make lists is in anyway connected to this need to organize and categorize. Or maybe it's my judgemental nature, sorting everything into groups. It's all in good fun.
Final thought: The Dewey decimal system has nothing on me.
The lesser of two evils
Got a forward from my friend a long while back. Mostly I don't do forwards, and this was one was mostly standard fare, but there were some items in there that piqued my interest and inspired this post. Again, another exercise in narcissism, but lately, I've had a lot of time to myself, so forgive me if I'm a bit more self-absorbed than usual.
Are you/Do you like...?
1. Shy or outgoing?: Pretty outgoing
2. Rule maker or rule breaker?: Oh yeah, definitely a rule maker.
3. Quiet or loud?: LOUD!
4. Strange or normal?: Definitely strange
5. Diva or wallflower?: Diva, dah-ling.
6. Fight or flight?: Fight! To the death!
7. Athlete or benchwarmer?: Keeping that bench nice and toasty.
8. Hollywood or Bollywood: A little bit of both.
9. Mac or PC?: PC
10. Orange juice or apple juice?: Apple
11. White roses or red roses?: White
12. Sadist or masochist?: Equal measures of both.
13. Coffee or tea?: Tea
14. Ketchup or mustard: Mustard
15. Ant or grasshopper?: Ant
16. Tortoise or the hare?: Tortoise (but a bit quicker).
17. Assault or battery?: Very little assault, lots of battery.
18. Mulder or Scully?: Scully
19. Pride or prejudice?: Prejudice
20. Dogs or cats?: Dogs
Final thought: "Slump, and the world slumps with you. Push, and you push alone." Laurence J. Peter
Minor reflection
Saw my best friend online today. It was her birthday on the fourth and her new friends surprised her with a party. I'm happy she's doing so well over there - miss her like heck, but at least she's doing great. I'm doing okay too. Not fantastic, but good. I think being content is a real blessing. Living my life more in tune with what's really going on has been revelation after revelation. Some are hard to accept, but I try not to sweat anything. I don't always suceed - there are always going to be situations and certain people who just push my buttons - but I am sincerely trying. Without my best friend here, it's up to me to keep me sane. Tough job, but who's gonna do it? Right now, my main focuses are my family and my work. They're enough to keep me more than occupied. And, on the plus side, they won't drive me anymore crazier than usual.
Final thought: Some minor reflection is good for your sanity.
Totally crushing on Dean Winchester
Okay, have I mentioned how incredibly hot I find Jensen Ackles? He's plays the smokin' hot older brother on Supernatural and I readily admit, though I love the show on its own merits (great writing, great location, good arc), I have to confess a major part of the pull is Dean Winchester (aka Jensen Ackles). Okay, it's not often that I get a celebrity crush. I mean, I like to think of myself as a sophisticated, level-headed, no-nonsense young woman. Way too cool for anything like that. But I swear, there is something about that man's eyes that melts the logic right outta me. Like today, I was channel-surfing and came across a commercial for his movie Devour, and even the commercial was atrocious. Yet I actually found myself thinking, "Oooh, I wanna watch that" - just coz he was in it! Even I think that's the pathetic. Okay, so really, it's not the actor I'm into, but the character. However, character and actor share the same physical presence, and since the physical presence is one of his draws, can I be blamed for actually considering watching a second-rate movie? There's just something so exhilirating about Dean Winchester. Hear me out, I know he's a fictional character, but he's fleshed out pretty well and I like that. Like Spike. Spike. The souled vampire formerly known as William the Bloody on Buffy, The Vampire Slayer. He is my kinda man. Yes, he is technically a mass murderer. Yes, he is a would-be rapist. Yes, he is all kinds of evil. Yes, he's a fictional character. Yet there is something so mesmerizing about him, about the way he looks, about the way he moves. I'm not particularly attracted to "bad boys"; it's such a cliche. But I don't see Spike as a bad boy. I see him as someone who, all his life, played by the rules, toed the line, and when he finally given the chance to toss off the shackles of society - he did, with a venegeance. Then, he realized what it all meant and he grieved. Redemption is so sexy on a man. And he loves - fiercely. I can relate to that, I feel things so deeply, it cuts me sometimes. Been trying on work on that, live my life based more on reality, making myself see that people don't always appreciate or care for my brand of intensity. But Spike has that intensity. And so does Dean. He's got this cocky, devil-may-care attitude, but underneath it, you know he cares intensely for his little messed-up family and that really gets to me. Sure all the glory goes to black sheep little brother Sam, but Dean is shown as the better fighter, the one who actually cares about their job and he gets most of the good lines, ("Dude, I full-on Swayzed that mother!"). I know if the show weren't on network TV, he'd be doing a lot more swearing, so it's not as realistic, character-wise, as you can get, but I'm not complaining. Something inherently lovable about him, something that makes you wanna take care of him and be taken care of by him. Love that feeling. Doesn't hurt that the actor portraying him could set off a fire alarm with his looks, either.
Final thought: "The three of us, that's all we have. And it's all I have." Dean Winchester, Supernatural
Crowded
Seriously addicted to this song now: Crowded, from Jeannie Ortega. Been listening to it over and over on her MySpace. Great song. Infectious. I especially love the chorus. It's so how I've been feeling lately. Like, okay, fine, whatever. Pardon me, but there've been way too many people (the b*tchy secretaries at school, the least of them) all up on me. Just wanna scream real loud - get the freak outta my face! The only people I want in my life right now are the people who care about me, and that's it. No other criterion. It's getting too crowded with all the others.
Final thought: From Crowded, Jeannie Ortega feat. Papoose
Let's be honest,
I'm not the type of chick you can use.
I don't what you been thinking bout me
Did you think this was gonna be that easy?
Hell no, you must be going crazy!
Why don't you get outta my life,
Get outta my sight,
Get off of my back?
I know what's going on
I won't be second to none
Back up, coz you're crowding my space,
You need to get outta my face!
His legacy
A few days ago I walked into a cabinet that had a key jutting out of it. The key swiped across my thigh, leaving a three-inch long scar that prompty swelled like a bee sting and turned a ghastly shade of purple the next day. It hurt like nobody's business the first few hours, and then the pain leveled off until I almost forgot about it - until I accidently brushed against the wound or happened to see it. I can't help but feel like this is a fitting metaphor for my feelings for Mr. Heartbreaker. The first few months after it ended, I couldn't...I just couldn't. Period. Oh, I went on with my life, like it was normal, but it was a blow. It was a major blow, and I'm feeling its affects, so long after. There are odd little personality quirks of mine that are a legacy from him. Chief is the need to know that I'm not being played for a fool. He played me like a finely tuned instrument, he played me like the whole freakin' string, wind and percussion sections! I didn't even know there was anyone else in his life until it just up and happened. All the signs must've been there, but I was too blind or too dumb (or most likely, both) to realize it. It didn't hurt me that there was someone else; it hurt me that he didn't tell me about it. I never had a clue, and I hate being clueless, I hate being left out of the loop. Overly-sensitive - that's another thing he afflicted me with. Crying at the drop of a hat over anything, because for so long with him, I fought back my own tears, less he feel obligated to deal with them. Now it's like I can't hold them back. It makes me feel weak and stupid and I vow over and over to never do it again, but all in vain. It's like living my life more realistically has made everything a tad harsher and I'm finding it hard to deal. But I will prevail. I think on the whole, things are better. I have the courage to say to myself, "You don't need this. You don't have to stand this" and being able to say that makes me feel calmer. Complaints have come in that I'm too attached to things and people. Yes, looking at it realistically, I suppose I am. I'd say that's the least of my flaws, I hope. Maybe that's part of his legacy to me too, trying so hard to get validation when it's really just a silly reflex.
Final thought: Some legacies should be tossed.
Allergy attack
My allergies are flaring up something awful. I felt like taking a sledgehammer to myself today, it was that bad. It's the damp weather - got these genes from my mother, but somehow, they're amplified in me, so that when she has slight sniffles, I'm having a full-on mucous-ridden, puffy-eyed, sneezing-wheezing attacks. There's a pile of tissues to rival the pyramids at Giza on my desk. I miss my best friend. I want to stand under a train and I have a ton of work left to do that is not my study, it's translation work I promised my bro I'd help with. People have been pushing my buttons all day, I think there are actually some people who enjoy watching you suffer and adding to it. Must make their life spicier, I don't know. Well, as long as I'm performing a public service, huh? It's either they're torturing me or out beating helpless puppies, I'd think.
Final thought: Achoo! Oh, man, what I wouldn't do for gene therapy!