2008: YNBS

Happy New Years, my friends! In nine hours, we'll all welcome 2008 with singing, probably drinking, and friends. And to prepare, I have fallen into my usual year-end introspect.* Remember 2007: Year Without Fear? Well, a couple weeks ago, I was determined to find another year-long experiment, since 2007:YWF was so fruitful, and also, I feel like I've been falling asleep at the wheel - you know what I mean? I want to be conscious of the choices I make, and not pull into my driveway wondering where the last hour of my life went.

So, this year, I declare 2008: Year of Not Being Shy. It's not very catchy, I realize, but everything else I thought of would sacrifice meaning or sounded so lame I wanted to throw up. 2008:YNBS is about not hiding from people. I'm really shy, friends! I'm so worried about what people, especially new people think of me, that I forget to love them or I forget to pursue who I want to be. It takes me a long time to become friends with people because I'm always terrified of becoming overbearing or annoying. And this is just a trivial example, but on Facebook, I won't add people as friends - I'll only accept Friend Requests.

Also, I want to be a performer, but I am so ashamed to admit it. It's one of those tensions I was talking about. How can I want everyone to look at me and want everyone to not look at me at the same time? How can I want to be heard, but mumble when people are listening? Why would I publish a blog, and cringe whenever someone found out? Why would I post songs on MySpace, but never mention it to anyone? Well, obviously I'm afraid. But enough of that.

This year, I'm going to overcompensate. This afternoon, I changed my Facebook profile to say more about myself, honestly, I did it with chattering teeth.† There are so many things on that profile that I didn't put in because I was uber conscious of the image I was portraying. Of course, I'd like to pretend that I was creating a mystique, but what good is mystique if no one can get through?

Here's to the New Year! I hope this works out. I'll just be happy if I come out of this year with better diction.


*Not to be confused with my beginning-of-the-year introspect or summer introspect or any-other-time introspect.

† Most of the people I really expect never say anything about themselves on the internet, which I think is cool and wise. However, I don't think they have my crippling fear of social vulnerability. As a general disclaimer, I'd like to say that the examples I'm giving don't necessarily indicate my brand of reclusion. In fact, my brand of reclusion has been specially crafted to imitate confidence!

tension

I used to take this class called CIV102. It was an introduction to bridges taught by this New Zealand professor who loved bridges. For some reason, something that was hard for me to wrap my head around was the idea of tension. I don't really know why. If something is being pulled in two different directions (or in one direction, but held by something stationary, so if you think about reaction force, I guess, it's the same). But in the questions, we never actually talked about how that force was being taken care of - we talked about stretching, and tension limits, but what is actually going on in that material to transfer force.

So, of course, this is a metaphor, right? My dad told me a couple weeks ago that, like guitar strings, people need to be under tension in order to make music, but recently, I find myself stretched in too many directions.* It's already hard to be a good friend, but it's even harder to be a friend to more than one person. And then, of course, there's the question of the limits of your resources, and then "doing the right thing" becomes a more complicated issue. Selflessness is good, but if you can't actually do it, maybe you shouldn't even try, because if you do try and do a selfless act, and aren't actually selfless, you'll end up bitter and angry or sad and unappreciated. Maybe there should be a rating on good deeds before you do them - like a ski hill, that way you'll know what you're getting into and can decide whether you're up for it. There can be the bunny hills where the task is easy to do and you gain from it too. Next level would be something hard, but it makes you feel really good to do it, and you're very appreciated. The black diamonds would be hard things that are not remotely fun and no one notices.

How do you practice?




*If I was stretched in every direction, I would be under pressure, right?

certainly not

So I'm really running out of money. I figure maybe I'll get a job. So I print off a bunch of resumes and go to the mall. Right now, I should mention that I HATE job hunting. I'm really not good at it. Today I likened handing out resumes at the mall to speed dating to a bunch of people who don't really like you.* It's like half-hearted rejection after half-hearted rejection. Not to mention the fact that you secretly think that you're above this whole thing because you have an engineering degree that you worked hard for. Shouldn't getting a job just follow through?

But, of course, that's a secret. I'm certainly not snobbish enough to think that I should have it easy, because, surely, better people than me have had worse jobs. When my dad came to Canada, he mopped floors, when he had a veterinary degree. I'm certainly not proud enough to think that when situations like that occur everyday, I shouldn't have to work under some kid in high school.

Certainly not.

Unfortunately, being as young as I am, these things still get to me. Even as I forsake my engineering degree, I expect it to still work for me.** And I really believe that I could do these jobs, but I don't like putting myself out there to be evaluated, especially when so often it's so unfruitful. And sometimes, when it is fruitful, I don't even like the job. It's like dating (from my limited understanding).

As proven by the preceding, I'm a very level-headed, positive individual. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me. I look forward to meeting you in person.†

*I have never gone speed dating, but if it's anything like handing out resumes at a mall...
**Metaphor alert!
† Imagine if this blog entry was my cover letter!

hell semester 2: this time it's personal

I'm closing off the first semester of my second year at Sheridan's music theatre program, that which is commonly referred to as "hell semester": a dance critique, an acting critique, plus a full class load equals lots of blood, sweat, and tears. This isn't the first time I've heard the phrase "hell semester" however. Similarly, in my second semester of my second year we had a hell semester: classes, labs, tutorials, plus a design project. This time, however, I feel more bare, more exposed. A bad mark in school now may mean less in academic terms, but when it's an evaluation of your performance, it seems way too hard to separate the work from the worker.

This weird deja vu has got me into that "where am I going?" thinking again. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that I could have a Master's degree by now. But then again, that's a lie: I never had any intention of going to grad school, and if I did, I probably wouldn't be done it by now. The idea of alternate lives is really interesting, but I doubt things would be much different than they are. I mean, 1. Now that I'm here, there doesn't really seem to be any other place I could be, right now, except for Sheridan; and 2. Coming here wasn't a split decision. Even if it ever seemed like it, that split decision is the result of all the experiences preceding it. Maybe I could be in teacher's college, but I'd probably be doing the same existential angst thing I'm so good at.

If I went to teacher's college, I'd be a teacher right now. Weird. Maybe things could be way different.