Of "It"

So the point today is to dissect the word "personality" - and I don't mean in the psychological sense, I mean the term so often used in the entertainment world.

Let me explain.

Whether I like it or not, I've come to conclude that I'm one of those people who seeks attention. There may have been some dry periods where you can't put me on a stage or in front of a crowd for any reason, but as a child, I did love the sound of applause. Nowadays, I can delicately be described as "being comfortable in public". The art of presenting myself had become a skill I purposefully keep track of.

Part of tracking that skill is to know the type of figure you are projecting. It's been brought to my attention many, many times, that I come off as a straightforward, dominant, and arrogant person. Words like "bull" or "charge" are often used as helpful descriptors.

A big part of this has to do with the fact that I hate people who talk too much. In my culture, talk is what you do to define yourself - and if you can't talk about it, it doesn't exist. I once shared an elevator with a man who suddenly noticed a stain on his shirt. He made a startled noise, and then looked up at me, trying to catch my sight, clearly expecting an audience. After it became clear that I wasn't going to take my eyes off the floor buttons, he stopped fussing about and stood quietly. Had I looked his way, he would've gone on describing his surprise upon finding the stain (a moment that I fully witnessed and therefore able to recount myself), listed the reasons why he didn't expect the stain ("But I'd just checked the mirror! I've been in my desk all day! I mean sure, I had soup, but it was this morning!"), analyzed the properties of the stain and ways to get rid of it, before briefly reiterating his genuine bafflement. If this goes as planned, he would have spent whole minutes sharing personal feelings to a stranger in the elevator, and we would have both missed our floors, but he would have came out feeling fulfilled.

This is a story that still makes me mad when I think of it, as I am repulsed by those who talk when they clearly aren't looking to start a conversation (i.e. an exchange of remarks). So many define "talk" as delivering a monologue in front of a subservient listener, whose job is to be nothing but an ear. I hate this with so much passion that I have, perfectly comfortably, cut people off mid-sentence. If you have no interest in engaging me in an interaction in which we can both actively contribute, then shut up.

So this becomes my personality. The society that I live in measures significance by number of words uttered, so as the girl who often asks to end conversations so she can go home, I seem to have projected a highly confrontational, if not rude, persona. This works out much more to my amusement than to my chagrin, as watching people's defensive reaction when I ask what is it they really wanted is worth the occasional social punishments. People don't generally enjoy being asked why they say things. They'll say I was dismissive of their feelings, but what actually happened was that I had asked them to explain their reasoning, two very different offense.

I'm being deliberately blind, of course. You can't be self-righteous in your strive for efficiency if your world prioritizes social niceties. It's like complaining about people who insist on cramming "thank you" at the end of their text message, causing all kinds of spelling / grammar compromises. You can, but the general public will not like you very much.

So I've come to the conclusion that my personality is not well accepted by other people. In the past, I took this to mean I should be ashamed of myself (and I was). Then the entertainment industry comes along and decides that a personality, any personality, is an asset. If you have it (and this is that infamous "It" that reality show judges refer to so often) then you will be a huge success. At first the word "success" usually means you are likely to win a skills contest, like, say, a singing or dancing competition, because "It" makes you stand out. Then it was realized that personality doesn't just separate the standout singers to regular singers. It also separates the standout regulars to regular regulars. Personality used to be the icing on the cake that is your skills and talents, but now, suddenly, personality can be sold separately.

What better way to exhibit this than reality shows? We love watching those because, unlike scripted shows, the characters are complex, multifaceted, and have no problems contradicting themselves. They're just like us, and we love watching us. Sure, sometimes they're a bit exaggerated, but you always get to see the parts you recognize. The heart-to-heart. The pain of losing. The disappointments - oh god, the self-disappointments - and the relationships. And who among us, even the most gentile and discreet ones, don't enjoy seeing a part of themselves shine on camera?

Watching reality shows have taught me a lot more lessons than I care to initially admit. These shows celebrate nothing more than us being human - and that's really enough. I often wish that society can be more efficient, straightforward, more like a machine that just does its job with precision. I still think that would make life a lot easier, but the point of being us is not to live an easy, efficient life. Reality, and reality shows, is an evidence that we are inevitably and unapologetically human. We are imperfect, messy, ambiguous, and sometimes up to no good - and we're proud of it.

I think that a personality is a flaw, and I mean that in a good way. Because I imagine the perfect human as a machine, I think of every aspect of personality as a hurdle of getting there. But everyday I'm seeing contrary evidences. People don't want to be perfect, and they certainly don't aspire to be machines. We have a need to tell stories of failures, of sorrow and heartbreaks, and we feel better after sharing our imperfections. I don't share the sentiment, but I admire that some embrace the trait with such unshakable pride.

"It" is not in any way perfect, but it's ours. So own it.

On Coming to Terms

So.

I did something today that I regretted. At least, I think I regretted it. I'm trying to climb out of the regret, which forces me to justify the actions, which requires me to think that what I did was not, in fact, regrettable. I suppose this is what people means by "coming to terms".

I remember reading somewhere, just this week, that disappointment is the gap between expectation and reality. I thought that was a very astute definition (one that made me map my life in the form of a Venn diagram), so I'd like to coin a similar definition. Regret is the intersection of desire and restriction.

The definition about disappointment is sort of an internal vs external thing - parts of it are outside of your control. Regrets, on the other hand, are purely your own: at one time in your life, you've determined that you will not do something, and yet now you find yourself having done it. You broke your own rules.

My way of coming to terms this time is to tell myself that the rule was self-imposed, and thus void. It means nothing outside of myself. It still made me feel bad, because even though I chose to adopt the rule, it was adopted from an external source, and thus possesses some authority. Here I attempted to argue with myself that externality does not necessarily entail legitimacy. This piece of logic worked for some time, but it's fleeting.

Then I tried telling myself that people change, and part of growing up is to change and break the restrictions, self-imposed or otherwise. This made me feel better a bit. I don't know how exactly am I changing for the better just because I broke a rule, but surely I'm - as they say - pushing the boundaries, which is a good thing?

I don't know yet.

Somebody told me not to worry about it. I was actually offended, because the person took it so nonchalantly, that I didn't believe he understood the gravity of the situation. Then he said part of being an adult is to recognize the consequences of your actions. I thought that was a very good point, which led me to analyze the second ingredient: my own act of breaking the rule. Yes, I did it, and I suppose as I chose to do it, I should have known that consequences may occur, even if only in the form of a very big regret. In fact, this should have been extremely clear to me in the beginning. Did I honestly think that my decisions don't have consequences?

Actually, I may have thought that. I guess I've always thought that if an action has regrettable consequences, then it must not be worth doing. I've always hated regret, and it's much easier to protect yourself against it by setting up a bunch of barriers. I thought that if I ever regret an action, then it must be because I did something wrong. Is it possible that regret is a normal feeling, and does not necessarily mean you've made a mistake?

There's plenty of people urging you not to have regrets, or claim that they had none. I like to think I've had none too, actually, but I wonder now if I can really put myself as part of that group. I've had basically no regrets because I've lived my life very carefully, and the whole point of living for me is to avoid regret. Whereas these people, they may have grown up with restrictions, and at some points break them, propelling them to all different directions. They have had to suffer the consequences of their actions, they sucked it up, lived through it, then chose not to worry about it anymore. I wonder sometimes if they chose to live without regret because otherwise they would have just spent the rest of their lives worrying about what they've done, and what bad thing possibly is coming their way because of it. That's certainly a reassuring fact - you choose to have no regrets because otherwise you will never stop regretting.

Not only is that reassuring, it also implies that a whole bunch of people are trying to talk their way out of worrying (I wonder if this means regret = worry?). This tells me that (a) I'm not alone in trying to talk myself out of it, and (b) worry and regret must be a mighty useless thing to do, if so many people are avoiding them.

So there.

I guess I should stop worrying.

Well, then.

I'm in a stage in my relationship where I miss my precious man so much that I pout alone in my room, feeling forlorn and, after years and years of not writing on account of lacking the emotional triggers, automatically open a new file and type away. That kind of foolish sentimentality.

I love it, though. I'm in a stage in my life where I'm aware of most of my emotions, and I know I'm being silly and utterly, unnecessarily, emotionally dependent. Being lovestruck is a beautiful thing.

I also know that it can make me unreasonably sensitive to anything - like being sad because I'd told him I miss him and he hadn't replied. It's just those stupid things. I'm sure the little girl in me just LOVED having a reason to feel lonely and abandoned, but the fact is, I'm not. I'm in a great relationship, perhaps the best one yet, with a guy whom I trust, respect and care for.

So as nice as it is to gaze mournfully out the window as I regret being so open and vulnerable to a man who just doesn't understand how important a text message is, I should stop looking for reasons to be so damn depressed, because really, I don't know how it can get better than this.

About Bubbles (or is it?)

I told this story to a friend of mine and apparently it's got a very interesting allegory in it. Or maybe it's just him:

Soap bubbles entice me in a way that nothing else can.

First of all, I think it's because we rarely get to enjoy a lot of free floating objects. A balloon floating in the air, for example, does not invite that much awe, but more on concerns over which poor 5 year-old lost their grip. On that note, a hot air balloon is another equally magical thing, maybe because it served its purpose as being entertaining just by floating around freely.

So among those few entertaining floaters, soap bubbles are perhaps the most (literally) down-to-earth, since everyone can make them. I think this fact made me appreciate them even more - the moment that soap film curved into a round shape, then as we snapped the wand to let go of the bubble and it became ovale-shaped for half a second before it bobs beautifully right on your face. As you look at the light colours and extremely light movement, a bubble as good as any other, you wonder in your insecure childhood mind : "How did I make THAT?"
I honestly think it's the closest thing to pure magic I will ever witness.

Now.

As I've repeatedly argued, being "grown up" does not mean you forget your childhood dreams. Being an adult should empower it. And so one day I realized I can do just that - now that I've grown, I should push to grow the size of my bubbles too. Maximizing what my college years had taught me, I looked for the most logical solution and googled "how to make giant bubble".

Fate brought me to Professor Bubbles, where I learned the serious art of bubble making. The fact that it was serious enticed me - I must be on for more magical moments! - so I obediently boiled my tap water (this is called "soft water", as I'm told), looked for the recommended soap dish brand (nothing made for machine use - too harsh) and persuaded my parents to prescribe a bottle of glycerin from the hospital. I have no idea how these three ingredients can make any difference to the store-bought mixture, but as I learned later, there are much more than just putting three strange elements together. In the next couple of weeks, I tried my luck at the mixture, failed, and repeatedly went back to Google only to find "how did I miss that?" tips.

This site told me that, when mixing, I have to stir very very slowly, as suds and foams (which ironically are little bubbles) are bubble busters. If I stirred too quickly and found suds, "carefully spoon them away from the surface". These additional-tips websites normally add some learning values to this, such as "explain to your children that in this game, patience is very important", which is sort of depressing to read for a 23-year-old.

Bubble Town, which I think is the most helpful site overall, stated that it's best to let the solution sit overnight. Upon further searches to back this tip up, I found consistent disagreements in whether the solution should be left uncovered or sealed. Deciding there was no way I would know better, I tried both.

And then there's the wand itself. I learned that straws, pipe cleaners and cookie cutters are all acceptable, but for giant bubbles, consider the classic wire hanger - turned into a ring shape. I experimented with all sorts of sticks, picking some off the streets, bending and polishing them, experimented with different ways. But no matter how I blow out of them, it's not giving the satisfying effect. The bubbles are mediocre.

I didn't want to resort to this because I know what will show up on Google, but I realized I had to master the trick of blowing. Remember: always specify the blowing skills you wish to look for. After being educated in ways I could never think of, I found that ultimate professionals, those who measure their bubbles in meter, often rely on wind. Wind-blown bubbles are usually supported by a special wand, made of sticks and three pieces of strings. Looking at the 8 steps needed to make the wand (and still not knowing how to use it), I realized this was getting way too serious for me. I had to settle for the paper cone version - which was complicated enough.

On top of everything, I also had to learn to control the bubble. Bubble Town suggested I started practicing in a closed space with no wind, as "big bubbles are harder to control" (I didn't even realize this was a bad thing), which I think kills the magic, so I ignored it. Then I found out that the correct way to blow a bubble is to do it horizontally first (so your cone is facing down) because you want the bubble to drip off any excess solution. Once it's the size intended, start tilting the cone upward and carefully flick the bubble to freedom. It's important to flick instead of just pulling the wand away. Not even Cosmo can give a more precise how-to-blow guide.

After 2 months of concoctions, experiments with wind and wands, and practicing my blowing technique, I finally nailed it. The bubbles weren't as big as I dreamed it to be, then again I've dreamed it to be at least half as big as me. It's liberating to know how many people are as into bubbles as I am, and it's scary to know just how many people are serious about their giant bubbles - World Record is 2.98 cubic metres. I guess when I've acquired the skills and professionalism necessary, I'll get to enjoy bigger sizes too.

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it again.

I'm sick of feeling lonely but I don't know how to make it go away. Obviously this isn't some form of isolated-lonely, since I go to work and interact with people every day, all day, nor is it a form of boredom-lonely, because I've done enough sudden road trips or self-pampering to know that excitement can easily come from watching a Scrubs marathon. Incidentally, that's what I'm doing right now.

I guess I just feel lonely at heart (whatever that means). And look, I've thought, talked and written about this for many times, and I still don't know how this came to be. I've had people telling me that I got stuck feeling lonely because I LIKE feeling lonely. And like any self-deprecating individual, I understand where this is coming from, but how would I know for sure if I really subconsciously want to feel like this or not? It's called subconsciousness for a reason.

And you know what, I don't care. Maybe I secretly enjoy feeling sorry for myself, or maybe years of being antisocial has finally left me with no one. Whatever the reason is, I don't want to feel lonely anymore. I hate it. It makes me sad and needy, and I look sad and needy, and neither can be good for my social life.

So I ended up feeling alone again, for no particular reason, and I got up and tried talking to someone for a change (instead of sulking in the corner, which I used to resort to) and sometimes, I'll just have the pleasant surprise of finding out that people just don't give a crap. I can see it from the way they start uhh-ing and ahm-ing when I started talking. A few words of kindness. A sincere explanation that they really have to go. And off they went. I swear, nothing will reduce you more than realizing that people close to you are in fact too busy for you. It screws with your mind because they're your good friends, you thought you can afford being selfish, then you realized you're being TOO selfish because let's face it, even your close friends have issues of their own, and you can't demand their full attention to you. No matter how much you want it. If you didn't get it, you didn't deserve it.

And no, I do NOT think all of my friends are like that. I've had times when someone really did cheer me up, to which I'm eternally grateful, but here's the news : they're rare, and most of them are too compassionate to be listening to someone like me. They're much much better off being with people who can give them as much attention as they're giving out, because they deserved it.

This sucks.

On Taking Deep Breaths

I'm sick of doing it.


It sort of symbolizes me wanting to be strong (which I'm not) through these very hard times (which I often conjure up myself) while still allowing me to feel sad and pathetic over the whole situation (which I often am).
I'm typing this on my last day at this gorgeous office, knowing full well that I may never again get a chance to see this much fireworks from atop.


Then again, maybe I will. We really are not able to signify our situations proportionally - there are thousands of people out there going apes over a change in time (for God's sake, I'm standing on level 40 and I can here people counting down on the streets), and there are thousands sleeping at home, having no business over how time changes. This is my last day at work and I'm barely thinking about it, but I know there may be a time later when I'll wail about it. This moment could be everything or it could be nothing. And there's no way you can tell.


I don't like the fact that I think everything is important. It tips off my balance. I can't stay sane if I think all moments are precious, and I should hold on desperately to each one of them until they're all snatched away from me. Refusing to let go is what keeps me fighting, and I know I have to fight for what I want, but this is crazy. Am I really going to be able to do this?


No. This is important for me. I'm staying.


I'll just hope I'm not the only one holding on.

The Clock is Ticking

I want flexibility. I want to know that I'd be able to do whatever I think is most important, at precisely the right moment.

I want to feel that I've not wasted my life.

I want my friends to realize just how intensely I've fallen for them.

I want to see if they would do a remake of Friends.

I want to live sufficiently, enough to bask in the materialistic goodness of this world.

I want to always stay fascinated by soap bubbles.

I want to learn to juggle balls. Relating to that, I'd like to continue passing off casual but figuratively-misleading statements.

I want to learn to live like I was raised another way.

I want to be able to define my relationship with chocolate.

I want to stay comfortable with the fact that I'm not perfect. Having said that, I'd like to try making a better first impression.

I want to always believe that honesty is the best policy.

I want to be able to just..move...on.

Now that I've learned it, I want to use the word "floccinaucinihilipilification" casually and regularly.

I want to do everything I feel like doing, because asking "Why didn't I?" is much more painful than "Why did I?"

I want to fall outrageously and madly in love with someone. Actually, I would want to fall outrageously and madly in love several times, before I found someone who's willing to fall just as outrageously and madly in love.

I want to find out how I got this American accent.

I want to experience the world instead of seeing it.

I want to be able to give a compliment to anyone, anytime, preferably in front of other people, without making the person feel uncomfortable in any way.

I want to be able to handle pressure.

I want to try moving out and see if it really is the answer.

I want to stay surrounded by people who continuously puts me in awe.

I want to understand my own mind.

I want contentment.

I want to find and enjoy fantastic ideas.





I don't want to be alone.