Happy moments

It’s that happy moment of eating something delicious in a sunny atmosphere while listening to your favorite music when you can reflect on the thing you wish you had, but instead of feeling blue, as you once felt, you feel content and accepting of its current absence from your life. And though you may still experience some slight melancholy, you’re looking forward to the things ahead.

A grand gesture

When I decide to make some monumental change, like vowing to discard all things negative in my life, I want to make some grand gesture of it to mark a new chapter of my life, to experience that instant feeling of liberation and the optimism of a fresh, new beginning. And then afterwards I’d get ice cream or something.

It’s hard, though, knowing what you should do because it’s not necessarily something you want to do. I hate when there’s that emotional and intellectual disconnect, so my reluctance is making me wait a bit before I do anything grand and big, though I’m not quite sure what I’m waiting for.

La cynique

Some people (my very idealistic friends) call me a pessismist. At most, I would admit that I am a cynic. The difference, I think, is the tendency to be skeptical about something, rather than outrightly assuming the worst. Sometimes, though, I wish I weren’t so cynical. Sometimes I wish I could just succomb to fate and feeling, believe that some things are meant to be and that everything happens for a reason. Belief that there is some divine force in the world guiding our paths and other such romantic thoughts are really appealing at times, but it feels as though my mind is too stubborn and my heart, perhaps, too cold to be able to grasp such ideas.

Basically, I’m currently having one of those moments where my mind and heart are in conflict.

Girlfriends

Back in January, when Quyen, Michelle and I were in Tahoe for our mini-snowboarding trip, we were talking about recent dating woes, to which Quyen blurted, “Don’t you wish guys were more like us? Like how we are to each other?” I replied with a doleful, “Yeah…” not really thinking about what she had said.

It wasn’t until yesterday, when I was texting Michelle to wish her good luck on her first week of solo-teaching that it suddenly clicked. I realized the efforts we make to let each other know that we’re thinking about each other and to encourage each other in all of our endeavors. I take comfort in knowing that I can always count on them.

Away

This past weekend I went to Lake Tahoe with my two best friends (plus Q’s family) and it was a lot of fun. I snowboarded for the very first time (I’ve only ever skiied) and although I enjoyed it (minus the sore neck and dozens of bruises I incurred), I don’t really think it’s my cup of tea.

It was great to get away for a little bit, and I welcomed the change of scenery, but it didn’t help much to take my mind off of things. I wish I could disengage myself as easily as others can.

It’s a bit of a relief to be back, though—back home to my own personal space where I can be by myself. It’s solitude right now that I crave.

And I’m kind of tired of thinking and talking about it.

The new year

So my new year didn’t quite start out the way I would have liked.

I still feel a little bummed out that things didn’t work out between me and C, but, you know, these things do get easier each time, and you take these little disappointments less and less personally.

At least these situations provide you with an opportunity to figure out what you want. And I know what I want. I want someone who is as into me as I’m into them, someone who thinks I’m pretty swell, someone who would miss me, someone who thinks that I’m worth taking a chance on. Not exactly a profound realization, but it was nice to be reminded.

But we’ll be friends. In the future. Some time. Maybe. I believe his request to be sincere and considering what I had written here so many months ago, I feel happy about this prospective new friendship.

So here I am entering the new year basically where I was at the beginning of last year, but with new friends, more experience and a different, though more positive perspective of things. And just as I was last year, I’m excited to see what the new year will bring.

Blank

It’s not that I haven’t had anything to write—I have, believe me—I just haven’t had much motivation to write my thoughts down due to rapid torrents of happiness, sadness and restlessness.

Changes

Over the Thanksgiving break, I was leafing through some old entries in my journal, written around this time last year. The tone of the entries were very sad—I was still mourning the loss of a many-yeared relationship and there was a theme of loneliness throughout many of those entries.

It’s pretty astounding how much has changed since then. It felt nice to be able to write an entry about how close I’ve grown to many people and being involved with a nice guy (who is not quite my boyfriend) with soft hair and who makes me laugh. In tone and content, it was a huge contrast to last year’s entry.

It’ll be interesting to see what the coming weeks and months will bring. I still can’t believe it’s already December.

Out of touch

So I feel that for the past, oh, several months, I haven’t really been actively thinking about graduate school and my research interests. Sure, I’ve thought about them, but I haven’t done much by way of research and talking to professors. And since graduating and not really being part of an academic community any longer, I feel really out of touch with Anthropology right now—I don’t really know what’s going on, what people are writing about or researching. My fault, entirely, for not keeping up.

Reading an article in the paper today about the tainted milk that had come out of China, and about the current favoritism Chinese officials show towards producers rather than consumers—valuing profit and efficiency over quality—it reminded me of my earlier concerns about Vietnam’s roaring economy and how these rapid economic and technological changes are effecting Vietnamese society—not just in the cities, but in rural parts of Vietnam, as well. Fearing that Vietnamese companies, too, wouldn’t think twice about producing shoddy, harmful products and devastate local, finite environmental resources for economic gain.

I have a lot to think about, but this is a start.

Alone

I’d say that with the things I do, about 80% of the time I do them alone.

I wandered around Willow Glen as the Italian Festival was taking place; I knew there would be pasta and gelato so I knew it was a place I had to be. Alone, I walked around looking at the various booths and spent a good deal listening to the live Italian operatic music, which was really lovely.

Maybe it was the crowds of people in their little subgroups or maybe it was the inherently romantic Italian music, but it just donned on me, my loner-esque tendencies. It’s just easier, I feel, to go it alone. And there are many things I enjoy doing that I cannot share with other people because they’re not interested.

It was the first time in a really long time that I felt any semblance of loneliness. And I hate that feeling, the feeling of not being 100% OK by yourself, as if there’s a tiny void that can only be filled by another.

It's in the genes

Is it the end of September already?

Every once in a while I notice some behavior in me that I identify with my father and it serves as this bitter reminder that I have not [yet] escaped the clutches and influence of heredity and environment.

Old friends have no use for decorum

I was thinking about an episode from Felicity where she and Noel, her boyfriend, are having a disagreement and suddenly he refers to her by name, alarming her a bit, like, whoa, why are you using my name when you’re talking to me, you never do that. I can relate. With people I’ve grown comfortable and close to, we usually reach this point where we hardly ever address each other by name—there just doesn’t seem to be a need to, save for when you’re attempting to get their attention in a large, noisy crowd. But when you’re hanging out or having a conversation just the two of you, no need.

So in a conversation (a “Hello, [insert name here]!” is not what I’m talking about) when I’m referred to by name by this person I’ve known for so long, it throws this little bit of formality into a relationship that has otherwise outgrown the awkward politeness of new friendships, relationships. It’s then that I feel, “Ok, something’s up, something not good.” Sure, the tone is important, but I think the mere use of your name is significant, as well.

The last time I referred to an old friend by name in this way was when I had my very last conversation with my ex and best friend of so many years just a few months ago. We both called each other by name in our goodbyes, something we never, ever did before, and in this strange, though mutually understood way, it added a certain finality to our relationship, and any future correspondence.

“Bye, S—-.”
“Bye, K—-.”

And without having to say much further, we knew what it meant.

Don't misunderestimate me

I’m always amazed when I find myself feeling as though I’ve known someone for quite a while when, upon realization, it really has only been a mere several days. I just really enjoy talking to new people because it leads to new stories, new experiences and new perspectives. I think, generally, I’m able to open up to people fairly quickly, and, in turn, be very trusting. I can be pretty candid and direct about a lot of things and, as a result, I think I leave myself open to great misinterpretation. Sometimes I need to step back and remember this.

Reunions

I met up with some old high school folk last night, many of whom I had not seen in almost five years. It’s always great to see how everyone’s doing—people are either working or going back to school, and all are going on being their brilliant selves. And while much has changed in their lives (clothes, location, boyfriends, girlfriends, etc.) fundamentally they’re still the same people I enjoyed being around.

As much as I love reconnecting with people, I’m always a little wary of these reunions. Conversations inevitably lead to reminiscing about past people and events. Those were some of the happiest times in my life, to be sure, but I don’t like to dwell too much in nostalgia because it conjures up regrets for me. Also, talking too much about the past makes me feel as though I’m still stuck there, as though I haven’t fully moved on, yet (and I am constantly striving to ‘move on’). But I’ve realized that moving on from something shouldn’t automatically render it loathsome or irrelevant.

It’s only a minor aversion (a neurosis I just need work out on my own), though, one that is greatly outweighed by the stories and laughs exchanged between people whose company I enjoy. That, and delicious tofu.