I just wrote this beautiful poetic good bye, and Blogger just deleted it. It's like a metaphor for my real good byes - always well planned, rarely well executed. Just as well. I didn't really say anything more than my usual "Why am I so messed up?" rant. Today, I concentrated on my own personal paradox of being shy and extroverted at the same time.
I think that when I get sad about things like this, it's because I miss the group and the feelings of belonging and comraderie. A group is very hard to reproduce. I like who I am in a group too - I'm not awkward, I'm funny, I'm lighthearted. In smaller groups, I feel like I can be the exact opposite.
I want people to like me but, unfortunately, it's one of those things that trying just makes worse. So when I leave a group, I guess I look back and see how successful I was. So there is a double standard - if I did badly, damn; if I did well, I'm now saying good bye (damn).
I forget what I said in the entry that was deleted. I bet you it was way better than this one.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
"nice to meet you"
There's something about meeting a group of new people that I either love or hate.
This week I'm doing training at my new job at science camp. The people they hire usually have these big personalities that children will like. However, there's always this newness that's a bit uncomfortable. In a way, it's fun because you reach out and end up talking to neat people who you get along with. But in another way, it sucks becuase everyone, including myself, is making snap judgements and trying to get a picture in their head that they can connect you with.
I like meeting new people. It's like a game. You don't know who they are, and they don't know you either, and you're just trying to find something that grabs. But sometimes, it's just seems like too much bullshit. It's just too hard and silences are too long and nothing is meaningful. I suppose it just depends on my mood... and how good-looking the other person is.
This week I'm doing training at my new job at science camp. The people they hire usually have these big personalities that children will like. However, there's always this newness that's a bit uncomfortable. In a way, it's fun because you reach out and end up talking to neat people who you get along with. But in another way, it sucks becuase everyone, including myself, is making snap judgements and trying to get a picture in their head that they can connect you with.
I like meeting new people. It's like a game. You don't know who they are, and they don't know you either, and you're just trying to find something that grabs. But sometimes, it's just seems like too much bullshit. It's just too hard and silences are too long and nothing is meaningful. I suppose it just depends on my mood... and how good-looking the other person is.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
"You didn't recognize me, did you? Have I changed?"
I had joked, when referring to my forthcoming European trip, that I was going to find myself there, because that's where you go to find yourself. I had no real plans to find myself. I'm sure that no matter where I went, I would not be able to do that in three weeks. Still, I had vague notions of a Sabrina-like transformation when I came back.
So I haven't found myself, and I also haven't found a rich older man to buy me clothes. I'm the same person, no more enlightened or better dressed than I would be from many other experiences. Nevertheless, I had a wonderful time, and have slightly different perspective. Here are the things I think I've learned:
1. I don't like museums. That's not to say that I don't like art (which I am still undecided on), but it's like they try to cram in as much as possible in the smallest area. If I was to make a museum it would have 2-5 pieces of art per room, like a living room or something. It would have couches conveniently placed so you can fully appreciate it. No flash photography would be allowed (because it's annoying), and there would be a guestbook, where cool people can write their cool thoughts on the stories and emotions that happen in response to that art. Plus, you don't really get a feel for a city by going to a museum. They're the same no matter where you go.
2. High school friends are different from other friends. I feel like so much has happened in my life in the last four years being away at university. To be honest, my memories of high school are kinda cloudy and imperfect. I had forgotten that while I had changed, my friends from high school had changed too. I went on this trip with two friends who, honestly, I hadn't spent a lot of time with since high school. And it's strange - in high school, even more so than now, I didn't really know who I was, but my friends had some sort of idea. That Sort of Idea may not be exactly what it would be if they met me now but it's still very true in many ways. Weird, eh? Transversely, my ideas of my friends are outdated. They've had all these experiences that I had nothing to do with. I think this is the biggest thing I learned on my trip. It was really neat (and, admittedly, sometimes annoying) to meet my friends again, to learn more about who they are and who they've become. My friends are cool. Apparently, in high school, I must have been cool enough to make them.
3. The only problem about the view from the Eiffel Tower is that you can't see the Eiffel Tower. I have a feeling that this fact has a deeper meaning but I haven't figured it out yet.
4. Tourists make things tourist attractions. Sometimes it seemed arbritrary which monuments were popular, and just because someone had written in a guide book that it was cool, more and more people would flood to see it.
5. I should experience where I live. In Toronto, I never really went to a cafe just to feel the atmosphere or saw a play to understand the culture. I will do this more this summer (right before I move back to Stoney Creek).
6. Mind the gap.
I wish I had much more to say. I wish I had a novel or play in my head as a result of my travels but, instead, I have a longer-than-usual blog entry. I suppose that's enough for now.
So I haven't found myself, and I also haven't found a rich older man to buy me clothes. I'm the same person, no more enlightened or better dressed than I would be from many other experiences. Nevertheless, I had a wonderful time, and have slightly different perspective. Here are the things I think I've learned:
1. I don't like museums. That's not to say that I don't like art (which I am still undecided on), but it's like they try to cram in as much as possible in the smallest area. If I was to make a museum it would have 2-5 pieces of art per room, like a living room or something. It would have couches conveniently placed so you can fully appreciate it. No flash photography would be allowed (because it's annoying), and there would be a guestbook, where cool people can write their cool thoughts on the stories and emotions that happen in response to that art. Plus, you don't really get a feel for a city by going to a museum. They're the same no matter where you go.
2. High school friends are different from other friends. I feel like so much has happened in my life in the last four years being away at university. To be honest, my memories of high school are kinda cloudy and imperfect. I had forgotten that while I had changed, my friends from high school had changed too. I went on this trip with two friends who, honestly, I hadn't spent a lot of time with since high school. And it's strange - in high school, even more so than now, I didn't really know who I was, but my friends had some sort of idea. That Sort of Idea may not be exactly what it would be if they met me now but it's still very true in many ways. Weird, eh? Transversely, my ideas of my friends are outdated. They've had all these experiences that I had nothing to do with. I think this is the biggest thing I learned on my trip. It was really neat (and, admittedly, sometimes annoying) to meet my friends again, to learn more about who they are and who they've become. My friends are cool. Apparently, in high school, I must have been cool enough to make them.
3. The only problem about the view from the Eiffel Tower is that you can't see the Eiffel Tower. I have a feeling that this fact has a deeper meaning but I haven't figured it out yet.
4. Tourists make things tourist attractions. Sometimes it seemed arbritrary which monuments were popular, and just because someone had written in a guide book that it was cool, more and more people would flood to see it.
5. I should experience where I live. In Toronto, I never really went to a cafe just to feel the atmosphere or saw a play to understand the culture. I will do this more this summer (right before I move back to Stoney Creek).
6. Mind the gap.
I wish I had much more to say. I wish I had a novel or play in my head as a result of my travels but, instead, I have a longer-than-usual blog entry. I suppose that's enough for now.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
hair
I was going to through my files and I found this funny essay I wrote in high school. Maybe it's not really that funny, but at the time, I thought it was hilarious. Anyway, the assignment was to write an argumentative essay then read it to the class. I, not wanting to talk about anything real, wrote the essay below encouraging people to shave their heads. The worst/funniest part of the whole thing is that everyone thought I was serious. People actually put up their hands after and asked me whether I actually wanted shave my head. Please tell me that this was quite obviously a joke. Gah. High school.
Hair
Why everyone should rid their heads of hair
If you are looking for something to encourage prejudice, destroy your health, and ravage the environment, you need not look further than the top of your own head. Whether your hair is curly, straight or wavy, whether your hair is short, long or both, whether your hair is blonde, brown, black, red, green, blue, or pink, that pile of locks on the top of your head hurts you, the people around you, and, yes, even the world. Our health, environment, and society would ultimately improve if all people in the world shaved their heads.
There are many health issues surrounding the issue of hair. Hair dye – deadly and dangerous – would no longer be needed if hair was to be removed. Recent studies have shown that hair dye can hurt the fetus in a pregnant woman and even cause cancer. Is having hair really worth this risk?
One half of all teenagers today are sleep deprived. My friend admits this problem. However, she spends one hour before going to bed washing her hair, and two hours in the morning brushing, straightening, and styling her hair. With the banishment of hair, teenagers and adults alike would have more time out of their busy schedules to catch up on those much needed hours of sleep. With this sleep, students will do better in school, road rage, which is linked to lack of sleep, will be reduced, less collisions will occur and all this with this simple action of shaving one’s head.
Having hair is also very harmful to the environment. Without hair, people would no longer have to use blow dryers, curling irons, and hair straighteners. People would no longer have to spend that extra ten minutes in the shower to wash their hair. Think of all the electricity we would save. Furthermore, once we shave our heads, we can burn the shaved hair for fuel, saving even more natural resources.
Most importantly, shaving our heads has social benefits. In many cases people are judged by their hair. We come up with unreasonable and potentially harmful stereotypes like, “Blondes are dumb,” “Redheads are saucy,” and “Brunettes are really smart.” Without hair, these stereotypes, that restrict people from judging others by their personality, would no longer be valid. Moreover, this will help already bald people. For example, male pattern baldness would no longer be a great issue and this would reduce midlife crisis depression. Chemotherapy patients, already stricken with the pain of failing health, lose their hair because of the treatment. If everyone was bald, middle-aged men and chemotherapy patients would not have to deal with the angst of social denial.
We now see how much risks we take for our useless tresses. Hair destroys our health. Hair hurts the environment and hair hurts other people. When will we finally see how much we are sacrificing for so little? It is already hard enough to get the world’s problems out of your hair, but it is impossible to get hair out of the world’s problems.
stoney creek is different than toronto
Someone told me that I was their most ethnic friend the other day. Funny, eh? Just to be clear, when I'm in Stoney Creek, I don't go around wearing traditional Korean dresses, speak with an accent, or even mention my "ethnicity". The difference? Well, it's really just Stoney Creek, where my parents were once proud convenience store owners serving hundreds of people who thought we were Chinese.
I'm not really bitter. It's just a different place, right? I remember in my first year in Toronto, I went out with a bunch of Asians and I thought to myself, "Wow. I'm the only white person here." Once, my friend and I were counting the number of white girls in my class and, lo and behold, he inadvertently counted me amongst them. So it seems like one of the great differences between Toronto and Stoney Creek is that in Toronto, I'm pretty much white and in Stoney Creek, I'm pretty much anything but.
And, again, it's not me that's changing -- It's the people around me. In both Stoney Creek and Toronto, my friends are primarily white, but in Toronto, it seems that there were so many Asians that I was free to distinguish myself, and in Stoney Creek, I'm already distinguished. I'm not saying my friends are racist or anything. I'm even sure that they have "ethnic" friends at university. It's just the environment that makes me stand out I suppose. I usually like to stand out, but instead of me sliding into the spotlight with my arms outstretched in a ta-da formation, it's more like I didn't know I was on stage and the curtain opens and people are seeing something that I didn't mean to show.
That's the grandest thing. I forget how people see me, so it always comes as a shock when someone points out that I'm Asian. I can forget that I'm not white, but some people can't.
I don't really understand the difference. Like, in Toronto, I make mildly racist jokes with my friends but usually there are other Asians there. Maybe that's the difference. Maybe it is me, being uncomfortable with my lack of back-up.
I guess I'd better get used to it. Looks like I'll be Stoney Creeking for a while.
I'm not really bitter. It's just a different place, right? I remember in my first year in Toronto, I went out with a bunch of Asians and I thought to myself, "Wow. I'm the only white person here." Once, my friend and I were counting the number of white girls in my class and, lo and behold, he inadvertently counted me amongst them. So it seems like one of the great differences between Toronto and Stoney Creek is that in Toronto, I'm pretty much white and in Stoney Creek, I'm pretty much anything but.
And, again, it's not me that's changing -- It's the people around me. In both Stoney Creek and Toronto, my friends are primarily white, but in Toronto, it seems that there were so many Asians that I was free to distinguish myself, and in Stoney Creek, I'm already distinguished. I'm not saying my friends are racist or anything. I'm even sure that they have "ethnic" friends at university. It's just the environment that makes me stand out I suppose. I usually like to stand out, but instead of me sliding into the spotlight with my arms outstretched in a ta-da formation, it's more like I didn't know I was on stage and the curtain opens and people are seeing something that I didn't mean to show.
That's the grandest thing. I forget how people see me, so it always comes as a shock when someone points out that I'm Asian. I can forget that I'm not white, but some people can't.
I don't really understand the difference. Like, in Toronto, I make mildly racist jokes with my friends but usually there are other Asians there. Maybe that's the difference. Maybe it is me, being uncomfortable with my lack of back-up.
I guess I'd better get used to it. Looks like I'll be Stoney Creeking for a while.
Monday, May 08, 2006
jazz singers
I don't like Billie Holiday. I never thought her voice was something nice to listen to. I preferred the smooth voice of Ella Fitzgerald. However, I must concede that there is a rawness in the song Lover Man that Billie Holiday really pinned. Ella's version, though good and sad, doesn't beat the real pain Billie seems to get across.
A trumpeter friend of mine told me, in response to my negative opinion of Billie, that the reason why all the amazing jazz players wanted to play with her is because she didn't hold back, and she just put her all into the songs that she sang. Now, to me, sometimes that just comes across as sloppy, but then again, what the hell do I know?
Anyway, Lover Man, if you don't know, is the sad aching song about someone whose never experienced romantic love and is longing for it. The other day I showed this song to a friend in need of some wallowing, as it is often my wallowing song. I have a sort of inkling that I won't be singing Lover Man forever, but as it is, sometimes it's nice to sit and sigh.
A trumpeter friend of mine told me, in response to my negative opinion of Billie, that the reason why all the amazing jazz players wanted to play with her is because she didn't hold back, and she just put her all into the songs that she sang. Now, to me, sometimes that just comes across as sloppy, but then again, what the hell do I know?
Anyway, Lover Man, if you don't know, is the sad aching song about someone whose never experienced romantic love and is longing for it. The other day I showed this song to a friend in need of some wallowing, as it is often my wallowing song. I have a sort of inkling that I won't be singing Lover Man forever, but as it is, sometimes it's nice to sit and sigh.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
in a world full of changes
So there's been this lull. At the time of my last post there were a hundred things to do and all of them were very important. Now, I've moved away from her, and all I have to do is clean, I finished the big paper, and now I just have 2 exams to do over the next 2 weeks.
When I took apart my bed on Tuesday, I suddenly got really sad. I had been in this bed for the last 3 years, and it become evident that this was the end of something, and maybe I didn't really leave my mark on people. I was really upset that there were people that I just won't see again - you know, those people who aren't really your friends, but you're friendly with - and I'm afraid that those people may be most of the people I know.
Everything's changing, and it's freaking me out huge. I don't really know where I'll be in September, but wherever it is, it'll be an unfamiliar place where I don't know anyone.
Like my bed frame, my life's coming apart. It'll come back together, but who knows what that'll look like.
When I took apart my bed on Tuesday, I suddenly got really sad. I had been in this bed for the last 3 years, and it become evident that this was the end of something, and maybe I didn't really leave my mark on people. I was really upset that there were people that I just won't see again - you know, those people who aren't really your friends, but you're friendly with - and I'm afraid that those people may be most of the people I know.
Everything's changing, and it's freaking me out huge. I don't really know where I'll be in September, but wherever it is, it'll be an unfamiliar place where I don't know anyone.
Like my bed frame, my life's coming apart. It'll come back together, but who knows what that'll look like.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
i hate running
I mean, I really hate it. People say it's relaxing, that you can turn your mind off and just go. Well, for me, somehow, I can't stop thinking about how little breath I have.
People say that it's all mental and, honestly, I think that's why I hate it. I mean, if I was more fit, it would be less of a psychotic game. My internal running dialogue is a lot like this:
"Okay, I've just started, no big deal, I'm not even tired... Oh no, is that a leg cramp? No! Too late. I've already started. Oh man, I should have stretched better.... one lap... Okay, Esther, you have to at least do 10. You did 10 before. No big deal, you should be able to do that again, maybe even more. Should I do 11? Maybe I should do 11... I'm so tired... No. Keep on going, you can DO this. Press on. ... two laps"
Tiring, eh? Yeah, tell me about it. This is like my life. I always feel like I'm pushing myself, and I always want to do more. Don't get me wrong - I am very lazy, but when it comes to things set before me, like school, working out, it's always this mental game where I see how hard I can push myself.
I have so much school in front of me and I really want to do well. I'm staying in most nights so I can study and work on my essays, and when I don't get enough done, I berate myself, and try to use that push harder.
My sister, Gloria, said I should try and simplify my life now that school is ending. Maybe she's right. Or maybe I just have to work harder.
So the question is: Should I push my limits? Or should I try and realize them? I really like the sound of the first one - it's like one of those things that should be on a poster that they have in a guidance counsellor's office - and the second one scares me - this sounds like the people who don't believe in me. Plus, it sounds a lot less straightforward.
I once said that I thought a life of fear was one of mediocrity. I think I was wrong. Some people are afraid of mediocrity. (I'm afraid of mediocrity.) 2006: Year Without Fear is turning out to be more complicated than I thought. When I think I've conquered a fear, it now seems that I'm just more afraid of something else.
People say that it's all mental and, honestly, I think that's why I hate it. I mean, if I was more fit, it would be less of a psychotic game. My internal running dialogue is a lot like this:
"Okay, I've just started, no big deal, I'm not even tired... Oh no, is that a leg cramp? No! Too late. I've already started. Oh man, I should have stretched better.... one lap... Okay, Esther, you have to at least do 10. You did 10 before. No big deal, you should be able to do that again, maybe even more. Should I do 11? Maybe I should do 11... I'm so tired... No. Keep on going, you can DO this. Press on. ... two laps"
Tiring, eh? Yeah, tell me about it. This is like my life. I always feel like I'm pushing myself, and I always want to do more. Don't get me wrong - I am very lazy, but when it comes to things set before me, like school, working out, it's always this mental game where I see how hard I can push myself.
I have so much school in front of me and I really want to do well. I'm staying in most nights so I can study and work on my essays, and when I don't get enough done, I berate myself, and try to use that push harder.
My sister, Gloria, said I should try and simplify my life now that school is ending. Maybe she's right. Or maybe I just have to work harder.
So the question is: Should I push my limits? Or should I try and realize them? I really like the sound of the first one - it's like one of those things that should be on a poster that they have in a guidance counsellor's office - and the second one scares me - this sounds like the people who don't believe in me. Plus, it sounds a lot less straightforward.
I once said that I thought a life of fear was one of mediocrity. I think I was wrong. Some people are afraid of mediocrity. (I'm afraid of mediocrity.) 2006: Year Without Fear is turning out to be more complicated than I thought. When I think I've conquered a fear, it now seems that I'm just more afraid of something else.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
considering ravens
Consider the ravens.
They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn.
Yet God feeds them.
They do not write theses or research papers.
Yet God feeds them.
They do not find assignees for their apartments, they do not fight with their landlords.
Yet God feeds them.
They do not pick schools, choose places to live, decide whether to commute. They do not write cover letters or resumes or attend job interviews. They do not make money. They do not pay off their credit card bills or students loans.
They do not spend hours and hours on a problem set to get crappy marks on them. They do not find recursive algorithms in coding languages they haven't used in years. They do not study for exams. They do not go to auditions.
They do not graduate with honours. They do not have degrees.
They do not console their friends. They do not call their friends in tears. They do not ignore their friends.
They do not have boyfriends.
They do not have self-esteem.
They do not read the Bible. They do not pray.
They do not blog.
Yet God feeds them.
They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn.
Yet God feeds them.
They do not write theses or research papers.
Yet God feeds them.
They do not find assignees for their apartments, they do not fight with their landlords.
Yet God feeds them.
They do not pick schools, choose places to live, decide whether to commute. They do not write cover letters or resumes or attend job interviews. They do not make money. They do not pay off their credit card bills or students loans.
They do not spend hours and hours on a problem set to get crappy marks on them. They do not find recursive algorithms in coding languages they haven't used in years. They do not study for exams. They do not go to auditions.
They do not graduate with honours. They do not have degrees.
They do not console their friends. They do not call their friends in tears. They do not ignore their friends.
They do not have boyfriends.
They do not have self-esteem.
They do not read the Bible. They do not pray.
They do not blog.
Yet God feeds them.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)