Thanksgiving

I haven't had a chance to do much introspection recently between classes, SBS, RAing, and Gaieties, so a more comprehensive post will probably come after finals are over.

With that said, I have thanks to give!

I am thankful for my friends. For this past quarter, I've felt like I'm in my own world. I don't have the people who I feel closest to and who know me the best around me on a day-to-day basis the way I've had in the past, so I've been more alone than I would like. But despite this aloneness, I don't feel too lonely. There are people to catch me if I fall. I hope they also know that I am here to catch them as well, even if I'm not physically around them.

I am thankful for my family. I'm not in the business of convincing myself that my family is perfect, but in spite of all of the strife and all of the rifts between my family, I have people in my life who value (in some way, anyway) my being part of their family. If nothing else, it means there are always people from whom I can learn and grow from, even if I don't feel like I'll ever become emotionally close with them. And of course, my mom has been among my biggest supporters since forever ago, even from hundreds of miles away.

I am thankful for my health. Many of the goals I have would be unattainable or much more difficult if I weren't as physically healthy. Sure, I'm not the pinnacle of good health. Between eye infections and fevers and just the common colds, there are days, maybe a few weeks at worse, that just downright suck. But I'm lucky that the word I had to use there was "days" and not something longer.

I am thankful for the countless of unsung individuals in my life who I take for granted. There are a lot of nameless faces who somehow improve my life, from custodial and kitchen staff in the dorms and dining halls, to the emergency medical personnel I've been able to rely on during on-call crises, to the classmates in section who reached to help me pick up a pen I dropped without hesitation. It turns out there are a lot of people who want the best for you, just in very little, less visible ways. I need to remember that when I'm going through personal struggles.

I am thankful for coming out of difficult times still with the capacity for love and trust and optimism. I don't think I'm wearing rose-colored glasses the same way I was in the past in that I don't try to coerce my perception of any given moment into something splendid. However, I am comfortable facing the reality that things might not be going well and still believe that they can and will get better, particularly if I do something about it. That's something I hope I don't ever lose, because I've seen what not having that looks like. There are people I know personally who, in the aftermath of particularly frustrating or upsetting experiences, adopt a mindset characterized by insatiable cynicism and general jadedness. It's downright paralyzing, and not how I want to live.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Communication!

Over this past three quarters, S-'s fondness for communication has rubbed off on me. I'm just starting to realize the communication is the answer in literally every social situation, pleasant or not. And then there's the stretch to actually embrace that answer and actually communicate. With that aside, I don't have much to say I guess. I'm very happy with where all of my relationships are right now, many of which are where they are due to both people putting in a good amount of effort to communicate. I definitely wouldn't have been able to  communicate to this extent even six months ago, and I'm shocked at how much I've grown.

I found out a week ago, by email, that my parents got officially divorced back in April. I still don't know the full details, and neither are willing to tell me. The fact that I was told by email and late stung more than the news of the divorce, and I wish my parents just communicated about it honestly rather than tried to hide it in the emails in the past month; the divorce actually happening actually comes more as a relief to me. It's difficult to deal with emotionally, but I know that in the long run it'll be the healthier, happier option for both my parents. It's scary though, knowing that everything my life was before Stanford was is now fundamentally different.

This morning, I had my first kiss. It was in a spectacularly quiet, peaceful, bed-hair glasses-off bodies-intertwined preceded-by-30-seconds-of-meaningful-eye-contact fashion with E-, and it's left me enchanted the entire day. I've definitely daydreamed about how my first kiss might go, and I don't think it could've felt more natural and right. It's bizarre how quickly people can get close to each other. Just two months prior, I might've been able to recognize her in a line at the dining hall, but probably knew not much more about her beyond that. I'm scared to think about how our relationship will (or will not, though hopefully not) develop from here, but at the moment I just can't help feeling so lucky.

Soulmateship and Vulnerability

It's been a good while since I posted anything here. It's not that I've had a drought of sentimentality or visceral thoughts (I'm kind of just always sentimental, goo-prone, and generally pathetic); quite the opposite actually, as I've had too many and don't really know what to make of them. I've needed a lot more time to think about it, and I'm still not convinced I have all the questions answered. This is a long post.

In a nutshell:
Not everyone is your soulmate, though you can sort of convince yourself of it, because there is a difference between the feasibility of maintaining a relationship and how happy doing so actually makes you. Everyone has vulnerabilities, but vary greatly in what they are and willingness to share them. It is better to share your vulnerability with others and sincerely try to be there for them even if it seems uncomfortable than to let it brew because unless you take a shot you'll never know how they express vulnerability. The worst that could happen is that you don't learn anything about them, but at least they'll know you care.

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Thoughts on soulmates:

A few weeks ago, S- sent me a link to this article urging people to marry young. Her main argument was that soul mates aren't found, they're made out of the person you marry. My first reaction to the article was that I could totally see where the author was coming from. I didn't necessarily agree with her for a variety reasons. Her premise simply didn't happen in the marriages in my life, namely my parents. But I could see how romantic relationships, including my own, could follow such a trajectory. I like to think that, unlike my parents, I put a substantial amount of effort into my relationships and am decent at making them work.

As someone who generally trusts people until they prove unworthy of it and finds solace from my own troubles by reaching emotional depths in relationships with other people, I certainly would not reject the idea of marrying someone with complete faith that post-marriage I will establish an emotional connection (i.e. become soul mates) with them, even if that connection hadn't been established pre-engagement. Unlikely, but possible. I can just as easily see how that idea would be completely repulsive to others; some people naturally have all their walls up, and only that special person can chip away at them until they come down, and only then are they comfortable committing to a life-long relationship. I respect both viewpoints.

With these thoughts came a somewhat nightmarish realization--if I can essentially fall in love with anyone, why the hell should I not marry the next girl that passes me by on the street? I can establish a meaningful connection with her, right?

A nice conversation with J- served as a good reality check. There were a good number of holes in the author's argument. Obviously, she didn't just marry any ol' bimbo; she had been with her eventual husband for at least a little while. That's a little more comforting--I do think that I am good enough at human interaction to make any long-term commitments that I am actually interested in (as opposed to a relationship with a random stranger) work, romantic or otherwise. Furthermore, after J- brought it up it seemed so obvious: the argument seemed almost traditionalist. Marry someone without knowing where it'll go expecting that the relationship will grow from there, almost borderline arranged marriage (though psychology studies show that divorce rates don't actually differ between arranged and self-chosen couples, so nothing against it), as if marriage were a business transaction. That simply isn't how I want my relationships to be. I want my relationships to be with people I am happy with right from the get-go.

Recently, a variety of different things, however, are convincing me of something I'm deeply saddened by. Feelings of attraction can be very easily manipulated as we learned in PSYCH 70. Indeed, it seems that my stupid, feeble mind is actually quite susceptible to what is only supposed to be banter about my love life from N-. Call it conformity or priming or  what have you--it seems to have an effect.

I borrowed Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman from E-, and as far as I can tell that an understanding of love languages can be applied beyond just a romantic relationship you're invested in. In that sense, it seems that, with sufficient practice, I can speak any love language, even if it isn't my preferred one, to better be able to be there for someone in their times of sorrow or share in their moments of joy. In that sense, it almost becomes possible to be "compatible" with anybody.

The idea that you can be compatible with anybody, though I don't exactly buy it, is scary as hell. Sure, it will  facilitate smooth relationships, but does it also threaten your relationships at the same time because you so easily mesh with others? While consoling and comforting K- through the recent relationship rockiness she's been experiencing, she told me that any girl would be lucky to have me as a boyfriend. That's generally considered one of those classic, somewhat demoralizing tip-off phrases for friendzoning, but in this context where she knows I'm interested in someone else, it made me think a little.

Scotty McClellan's Valentine's Day sermon from my love class had a section where he denounced passionate, romantic love as a mere projection of one's own concept of other people upon them, and when people defy your image of them, the mirage of love dissolves. When I first read that, the idealist in me kicked in and was revolted, because I absolutely believe that romantic love exists and is valuable. However, now that I think about it more, the whole idea of projecting your image of others on to others, though not strictly a synonym to romantic love, is sometimes found in relationships.

As someone who values peace and harmony in interpersonal interactions, I often find myself in sort of a social chameleon mode, and that makes me susceptible to have others' impressions or images of me projected upon me. I feel very guilty when I can't be what others expect of me; this is healthy when there is mutuality in that aspect of my relationships, but when there is not, I simply lose sight of myself and the relationship is not healthy. In other words, sure I'd be a fantastic relationship partner for many people, but it would not be a healthy relationship at least for me.

What it really comes down to, I suppose, is the difference between being capable of and being happy in maintaining a good relationship with someone. The conclusion I seem to be arriving at so far is that I'd be capable of maintaining a caring, compassionate relationship (platonic and romantic both) with most people, but it isn't always natural, comfortable, and reciprocal and thus not always conducive to my own happiness and well-being.

---
Thoughts on vulnerability:

Having arrived at the above conclusion about the possibility of forming relationships with people, the task at hand, then, is to determine the subset of people with whom I'd be happy and comfortable maintaining a close relationship with.

I consider myself pretty well-versed in the literature surrounding attraction, human prosocial behavior, personality psychology, etcetc. So far, I've found that this gives me surprisingly good control over the emotional atmosphere of social situations, even if I'm not doing so very conspicuously or outwardly. Subtle non-verbal cues and changes in diction and tone all help. A recurring theme in conversation between S- and I is how much potential someone who understands how people think and act has to be manipulative, for good or bad.

However, as someone who is very concerned with his own emotional well-being and happiness, I am very conscious not to let my psychology antics interfere with my social interactions. It would only be to my own detriment to disturb the natural course of social situations, because it hinders my ability to get to know people and how they respond to me in my own natural way.

I think what's helped me the most in figuring out who the people I want to surround myself with is to make myself vulnerable to people. I got into the habit of doing so with some of my close friends because it helps me deal with my inner turmoils to try to put things to words. Everyone has vulnerabilities; the worst that could happen is that yours fall on deaf ears, and you can just avoid sharing personal details to them in the future. However, you might find some comfort from them, or encourage them to share some of their own vulnerabilities, and that opens the gates for building an emotional connection.

The concept of vulnerabilities has baffled me for a while now. It means so many different things to different people, and there's so many types of it. I like the idea of a deep body of water with gates along the way because it analogizes nicely to emotional depth. For me, I don't open up to people immediately, and it takes a little getting to know and convincing (usually indirectly; at some point I decide I trust you whether you know it or not) for me to open up. A diver in my emotional depths would have some clean spring water to get through before reaching a gate, and they'll have to find some way to open it. Once past the gate, however, how far you desire to explore is entirely up to you; the waters are a bit more murky, more muddy, so more viscous, but I will continue to share my inner feelings with you so long as you keep expressing genuine concern or desire to get to know me. Only towards the end is there a final gate, which takes a lot of time and commitment to open. Very few people ever get there, but if you do the emotions come out like like a geyser at the very core: extremely heated or impassioned thoughts, usually in short bursts of sentimentality, and it is very easy to be pushed back out of that last gate if you don't put enough effort into growing our relationship.

But that's just me. For other people, there might not be any gate, just muddy water all the way through. For some people, it's gate after gate after gate each hiding away crystal clear water, with friends being sorted into multiple tiers of closeness, and each tier being revealed the same personal details with utmost transparency.

Moreover, what if the vulnerability comes across unintentionally? What if someone notices you crying in what you thought was the privacy of your room, or the shower, or your favorite secluded spot on campus? That's like being a maintenance repairmen for one of the gates, and getting a free pass directly through that gate whether the gate is open or not. Can a close relationship be formed under these circumstances?

I certainly think so. S- and I have talked a lot about a desire to help people achieve what we perceive as their potential. We want to make people we care about into the fantastic people we can imagine them being, even if we honestly have no right to. Now that I think about it, being on the receiving side of unintentional vulnerability simply allows you to better understand someone. Whether they like it or not, you are now better to appreciate them as a whole than most.

One of my favorite quotes of all time, by Neale Donald Walsch: “The purpose of relationship is not to have another who might complete you, but to have another with whom you might share your completeness.” The more I think about it that way, the more it feels an obligation for you to try to be there for someone when they become unintentionally vulnerable to you. You were able to witness their completeness, embrace it, share it with them.

At SBS retreat this past weekend, our talk questions sort of reached a critical point as far as seriousness or depth, which had been mounting over the past few quarters. I remember the first talk questions were silly things like "which starter Pokemon would you be and why?" Through the talk responses at retreat, I found that my observations of many people's behavior and hunches about some of their personalities or insecurities were pretty spot on. I feel like I might've inadverdently broken the ice at retreat for talking about especially heavy topics.

In retrospect, I am so glad I did because I feel much closer to many members of SBS for having done so, but I also can't help but recall how uncomfortable it was doing so. I was way out of my comfort zone, not sure if I was sharing too openly and that was making people uneasy or bored or coming across as insincere. I was also unsure how to best express empathy, striking a balance between showing concern and being too nosy or awkward, towards the people whose experiences I could draw parallels to in my life.

The takeaway, in my head at least, was that I clearly need to not cower from initiating attempts at forming deeper emotional connections with people. Perceptiveness and empathy are some of my greatest strengths, and as someone whose sense of fulfillment is fundamentally rooted in what I mean to or can be for others, I need to learn to step out of my comfort zone to make myself happier. Building deep emotional connections is precisely what I want and would be happy with in a relationship, so don't settle for shallow relationships even if I'm capable of maintaining those too simply because I'm too conscientious to move the relationship to that stage.

Revisiting Drinking

These thoughts have been brewing in my mind (pun intended) for a week or so, but only now did I find the time to sit down and think through it.

I was trying to pinpoint my aversion to drinking. Throughout my childhood, my parents have, with some regularity, consumed alcohol in the form of wine or champagne. During high school, they had taken up more "American" forms of alcohol too: beer, off-the-shelf, hard fruity beverages. In other words, aversion to alcohol has not been something that has been instilled in me throughout my childhood.

My aversion to alcohol was primarily by conscious choice (as opposed to habit, learned values, or conditioned). In the last two years, I saw my mom resorting to alcohol to deal with her problems, and I told myself I did not want to turn to alcohol to solve any problems I might encounter.

Of course, it's also illegal at my current age. By my judgement, Stanford law enforcement (whether in the form of adults in the dorm, i.e. RFs, or actual on-campus sheriffs) are fairly relaxed about drinking law. Obviously, if you get transported or get a DUI/BUI/public drunkenness citation, it'll still go your record. This got me to thinking: what is the real reason why alcohol is illegal?

As far as I can tell, the intent of minimum age drinking (as well as any other drugs, like nicotine for instance) laws is to prevent irresponsible substance use. The fact that Stanford is so lax about these laws in casual environments (within dorms during parties and whatnot), and actually has programming that do not strictly discourage people from drinking (i.e. encourages people, if they choose to drink, to stay within the "social zone") seems to imply that they are confident in Stanford students' ability to make responsible decisions for themselves.

Indeed, over the weeks here I am realizing I am far more responsible than I gave myself credit for. It helped that last week a lot of the people I consider my role models and relate heavily to demonstrated (not intentionally to me in particular) that they were able to let loose without going overboard. The one time last quarter that I first consumed alcohol by choice did not propel me into a downward spiral of alcohol consumption. In addition, I think as strong a reason as not wanting to actually be irresponsible was the desire not to even possibly have an image of being irresponsible. Because alcohol is so commonly portrayed as (and at times is) the cause of crazy, irresponsible behavior, I did not want anyone to be thought of one of "those" college students.

What does this mean? It means I'm at this conflicted crossroads. I am becoming more comfortable with the idea of drinking because 1) I am feeling increased certainty that I won't adopt behavior similar to what my mom did (and she's getting better herself, so that helps), 2) some of the people I look up to the most and whose quality of character I consider admirable, respectable, and strive to embody myself are able to fit alcohol consumption into their lifestyle (the phrasing of this meaning to suggest that responsible alcohol consumption would not inhibit my ability to be the kind of person I want to be, rather than that I strive to be someone whose quality of character includes alcohol consumption), and 3) it simply felt good being less tightly-strung and feeling my muscles and emotion unwind with small quantities of alcohol.

When I look at that list, all of them are personal reasons. I've always been good at staying true to my own values and being outspoken about things I believe in. None of those reasons are a contradiction to my beliefs (e.g. out of peer pressure); instead, my reconsideration of the topic is due to a fundamental shift in my beliefs.

At the same time, a lot of the friends I'm closest to don't drink, and we got close because on weekends we seek non-alcoholic forms of recreation, etc. Will drinking ruin these friendships, and if so will the friendships I forge with other measured, responsible drinkers (which I am confident I can distinguish from irresponsible drinkers, and proceed to surround myself with) be worth the demise of these older friendships?

Honestly do not know.

Dad's Postcard and Care Package

My dad insisted on driving me to the airport, just like he insisted on dropping me off at Stanford before the school year started. He's back from his business trip to China (perhaps "business trip" to "China") now. He gave me a postcard with a penguin on a polar bear that, in a nutshell, said:

It made me sad to see you and your sister fight.

The divorce will be legally processed by the end of the month, and afterwards I will be going overseas and who knows what your mom will be doing. Both of us are in poor physical health. For all you know, the two of you might be the closest family either of you have shortly. You guys should get along.

I have one New Years' wish. I wish you guys would add me on Facebook. You guys are 18 now, I'm not trying to control your life. Please add me so I can know how you guys are doing.

Know that your mom and I will always love you very very much. You can always talk to us about anything.

Love, Dad 1/5/12

And my thoughts about it? Fuck you dad. It makes you SAD to see us fight? Boo frickin hoo. How do you think it makes us feel when you and mom fight, hmm? Both of you are in poor physical health? Maybe if you and mom stayed together, lived together, and looked out for each other like you had for the 16 years before my junior year, like my mom did for you when she saved your life in Michigan. And don't you use Facebook friendship as a starting point for repairing the damaged father-child relationship. If you want to get on better terms with us, you better talk to us, face to face, and tell us honestly everything you've done for the past two years, like we've beckoned you to do on numerous occasions. Maybe then we'll start to open up to you and trust you again. It's hard to give you the benefit of the doubt on anything when you've cheated on mom. It sounds resentful, but it will take much more effort than social networking to set you on the right path again. I don't like holding grudges, but I feel justified, for myself and for mom, in holding this grudge.

~~~~~~~~~~

Today was my second day back to Stanford after winter break and first day of winter quarter. I spent the majority of my day upstairs in K-, K-, and L-'s room, and some time in those hours they had sneaked together, put all of their stuff in a box, packaged it, wrote a meaningful note on origami paper and folded it into a flower, and delivered it to the doorstep of my room. And at midnight, they misled me into thinking they wanted to watch How I Met Your Mother so I'd go downstairs to get my hard drive, and I found it at my doorstep.

At first I had no idea what it was, and I asked my roommate about it, and he didn't say a word about it. He just shrugged even though he knew who was behind it. Very thorough planning on the part of K-, the deliverer. It was addressed to "Larry Lewis Liu" so I was able to narrow it down to a few people who knew about the middle name that K-'s friends gave to me.

I took it upstairs to try to find L-, who I thought was behind it because he said he had a present for me, but to my surprise, there were like 8 people in my RA S-'s room. At that point, I knew whatever was up was a bit bigger scale than I expected. I opened it, and the cardboard flap that opened up from the top the box said "CARE PACKAGE :)"

Turns out, over break, eleven of my dormmates had collaborated and decided they'd each bring me something that represented where they were from. From snacks, to soap, to homemade desserts, to magnets, to a hat (that is arriving in the actual mail soon!), to a book by an author I enjoy. There was a card written in an origami flower that L- folded, in which they each wrote an adjective or descriptive phrase they liked about me. I was speechless. I managed to choke back tears long enough to give everyone a hug and then excuse myself and leave under the guise of bringing the box back downstairs.

I have never felt so warm and loved before. It's an incredible feeling. And they couldn't have given it to me at a time when I needed it more. I was at an emotional low after cleaning out my room in preparation for selling our house, going over divorce paperwork with my mom, and my dad's postcard in the last few days of break. My last class of the day was a lecture for a class titled Love as a Force for Social Change, and as interested as I am in the class material for the sake of acquiring knowledge and education, all the anecdotes that the professor and students shared about how love has manifested itself in their lives only made me miserable because I did not have anything to share that was remotely as cherished as my colleagues cherished theirs.

I could not have asked for a better cohort of dormmates. No matter what happens, I will treasure for forever the past five months I've spent with them and the six to come.

Thoughts on the friend zone

I was talking to K- when we were both having trouble falling asleep, and we got to talking about the mythical friend zone and its implications.

I don't really believe in the friend zone as the relationship purgatory from which there is no escape. The way I see it, most people consider the friend zone an arrival destination, that when there is a potential relationship, something goes wrong and you end up in the friend zone. However, I see it as a point of departure. Most of the time, it never does depart, and that's why it seems like an endpoint, but if it does take off, the relationship is so full of the purest type of romance--that which develops out of a friendship.

Rereading that, it sounds pretty cheesy, but I subscribe to it nevertheless. I think the literal meanings of these two webcomics (ignoring possible sarcastic, satirical subtexts of both), from Abstruse Goose and xkcd respectively, sum up the two different arguments about the friend zone pretty well.

At any rate, Happy New Years everyone! Hope 2013 will be great!

OR

5 Love Languages Again

So basically I'm making my dormmates take personality tests yay!

I took the 5 Love Languages test again, and got more or less the same results as before.

2 Words of Affirmation
11 Quality Time
2 Receiving Gifts
6 Acts of Service
9 Physical Touch

As far as the SLOAN test goes, my closest friend here is SCOAN and my favorite RA's type is RCOAN. Yup.

Premature Celebration

So I had thought cancer would no longer play a significant role in my life anymore after my mom's treatment. I was dead wrong.

Today, my elementary school friend M- and I conversed for the first time in a long time. 7 years ago, we and two other friends were inseparable. Older classmates called us the Three Stooges and Larry. We played at recess, sang in the same choir, among other things we did together. Even though I moved after fifth grade, and Michigan elementaries last through sixth grade, they still included me in the Webster Class of 2006 group and I was invited to their reunion.

Through M-, I found out that one of the Three Stooges, I-, was diagnosed with brain cancer. He had been hospitalized about a month and a half ago, and they found a tumor just 15 days ago. Two weeks and he was gone. He's still on life support but he's already entered a vegetative state, and his parents gave the okay to pull the plug, and are making adjustments to their lives as if he's passed. As much as Hollywood makes miracles look like everyday happenings, it's looking grim. Rest in peace, Ian. You were one of the nicest people I knew then, and that 7 years have passed that we've scarcely maintained contact yet I still feel this overwhelming shock and grief is a true testament to the strength of the friendship we had.

http://www.schrader-howell.com/sitemaker/sites/Schrad1/obit.cgi?user_id=784467

It puts a lot of things in perspective. There are so many people whose existence I honestly take for granted. I don't keep in touch with them nearly enough, but I would be devastated should something happen to them. It makes me think about whether I'd die happy if I, like Ian, were to go before 20. Death and mortality has not been such a personal reality since my grandmother's passing, and at the time I was too young to really introspect after the tsunami of sorrow was over. I certainly feel far more mature compared to my 4th or 5th grade self back then.

Not invincible

I think I sorted through my feelings a bit more.

Today, I went to downtown Seattle (Westlake Center) to meet up with a few other rising freshmen who will be my classmates next year at Stanford. Luckily for me, I live only 20 minutes away; S- drove an hour and 45 minutes or something to get there.

It was great. We walked around proudly wearing our red and white, sang to Under the Sea with some of the buskers, visited the first Starbucks in the world, got fondly licked by police horses, taste tested varieties of olive oil (blackberry, orange and dark chocolate, pear and cranberry, among others), got lost and asked for directions pretending we were Californians, got soaked touching "the butt" (the International Fountain), took a ton of silly pictures, sunbathed in a triangle formation on each other's stomachs (until more people joined, when it just turned into a pile of red and white and grey), and ate good mall fake Asian food.

In a nutshell, I was feeling pretty invincible. I've been told a number of times that I had my future in my hands now that I'm going to Stanford, and it felt true in those six or seven hours.

At around 8:15 my mom picked me up and we headed home. My mom missed the express lane and when I pointed it out she said she had a lot on her mind and wasn't paying attention. I asked what it was, and she told me that the mammogram she had done earlier that day revealed she had cancer. We don't know yet if it's benign or malignant; she has 6 hours' worth of examinations and tests to undergo in the next two business days.

I was pretty determined to be strong for her. I've been watching Avatar the past few weeks (both The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra), and those kids go through way tougher shit than I do. Yes it's a cartoon, but the notions are the same. Be strong in the face of adversity, blahblah.

In addition to that news, something's also happened to my mom's youngest brother (who is 3 years older than her). He had lent us money when we were buying our house like 6 years back, but now he's in financial trouble. For some reason, he had closed the shop he owned and sold his cars. Obviously, my mom wanted to return the favor. However, with a pending divorce, her cancer is a huge financial burden once the divorce goes through and she no longer has access to the insurance policy family plan through my dad's employer.

Last Thursday, I had turned in my application for the Stanford Summer Engineering Academy (SSEA), and I heard today that people were getting their results back by email. I went home and checked my email. Nothing.

It's all crashing down on me now. My dad's a dick and everything that happens with his side of my family inevitably get to him, and if  I could somehow pay my way through college myself, I'd be more than happy to cut off all communication with him. I didn't even want him at my high school graduation. My mom's side of the family actually has people with some level of decency, but look what good it's done them. My mom's sister had an abusive, alcoholic husband, and, now divorced, she's single at the age of 50 and some change. My older maternal uncle divorced when their son was in college (sounds familiar?), remarried, and now I have a cousin who's 2. My younger maternal uncle is still happy in marriage, but something's happening with his financial security apparently. And of course my parents are separating, and my mom has cancer. I got into Stanford? So what? The world is by no means at my doorstep. In fact, if anything, it's only been slipping further and further away in the last few months. And of course, there's nothing I can do about it, because plenty of Ivy League graduates don't have jobs, and I'm not even like top of my class kind of thing, SSEA kind of proves it.

I'm pretty much Harry Potter. And when everyone goes home on vacations, my mom will be in Taiwan and only in the best case scenario. The worst case scenario I don't even want to type out.

And when I thought of that analogy, it made me realize, I'm pretty much utterly alone. As far as loved ones go, I have it worse than Harry. Having your parents die before you were conscious is terrible, I'm not denying that. But I'd take pleasure knowing my parents died to save me. And also, Harry had the Weasleys to stay with. I might be great with people (all the new people I met today + the strangers on the street seem to suggest that that's true), but how many people do I feel close enough to just crash at their house for a while? None, really. College is hitting me full force right now, it's sunk in that I'm done with high school. It's only a month and 3 days before I'm legally an adult; it's about time I mentally readied myself for it. And I'm fucking scared as hell.

Overactive Imagination?

Very often, I have this introspective dilemma where something someone says or writes haunts me for hours or days. A lot of times, it's accompanied by the self-doubt where I think that I'm reading too much into things, but I always end up concluding that it's better too assume that all the subtexts are actually there because it's better safe than sorry, in a weird way.

I feel like it's a perpetuation of an arguably traumatic elementary school (I think?) lesson on subliminal messaging. It was about how the media portrays things or something, and how advertising tries to infiltrate your subconscious. I also remember that Sprite commercial from years ago that was titled or nicknamed or something "Subliminal Messaging" and had a lot of people partying and holding Sprite bottles while they danced and it ended without ever actually having the word "Sprite" in plain font and it freaked me out.

Basically, when I hear or read things, mostly from people I know, that might have something to do with me, I frequently assume it is for me. It's like those teachers that tell the entire class something and then follow it up with "you know who you are" and everyone in the class assumes its them even though it's actually nobody. Unless I'm just making that up from some article I might've read from a psychology blog, or about Nazis.

I think it boils down to me not being able to tell when something is relevant to me, or merely relatable for me. There are times when it's remarkably clear that something is relevant; usually that's the easy one. It's easy to tell when something definitely is meant for my eyes or ears. But when things aren't meant for me, it becomes hazy in my mind. I think this also makes me self-centered, which carries a pretty negative connotation. Maybe paranoia or self-conscious is better, but I feel like this isn't necessarily an inhibition or like some mental handicap; instead, it helps me become a better person because I assume criticisms are about me. I am totally not sure at all.

And guilt, that's a whole different thing. I'm almost sure I can guilt trip myself. If I don't live up to my own expectations, I then feel guilty about doing all the things which I attribute to my failure. It is so easy to guilt trip me, and I can recognize it's a guilt trip, and I'll still fall for it. I guess this makes it so that it's pretty easy to use me, and I think I'm getting better at barricading my brain from unfounded accusations or negativity, but it's still a struggle right now.

I guess it's not really a whole different thing. So often I feel the need to assume responsibility for things that aren't necessarily my fault, and of course the guilt is doubly or more worse when I know that it's about me. And it's a horrible feeling. I distinctly remember back in 8th grade a friend of mine wrote on her blog that guilt is a magnifying glass of pain, and I loved that analogy.

You'd think knowing this problem would make it easier to deal with it. I thought so too, and after coming to this realization a couple of months ago, and then talking to a few likeminded people about it--fortunately, I might add, it appears I'm not the only one who sucks at dealing with guilt--today, in a casual conversation I totally fell into this sort of mental trap and didn't realize it until she told me "it's okay, I [just] love making people feel unnecessarily guilty." Wow, great going, self.

All in all though, I'm not sure I would trade how I approach emotions and people for a different way. Even though I always assume the worst, I feel like in the long run it'll be better than always assuming the best. Because there certainly are times when I just hit a low point and am ashamed of myself whether others are or not, and I firmly believe that that shame will be a better catalyst for personal change or growth than people telling me outright that I need to change, because I can be really stubborn.

Wow my last two weeks with regards to someone totally makes sense now. You will never get me to do anything about my stubbornness telling it to my face, but after a little reflection you've caused me to kind of embrace it as a flaw I need to change I think? Whatever happened, thanks. I hope we never not talk again.

Some recent meaningful episodes of communication

In the past 24 hours, three people have really taken the time to just communicate to me.

One of the conversations wasn't pleasant at all--far from it, actually, and it left me in a terrible and irritable mood--but it was meaningful and deep nevertheless. It was about friendship and grudges, and the conversation was had face-to-face, and I liked that. It ended on a horrible note though, with the two of us stubbornly insisting that we'd never talk to each other again, and I'm not sure if I meant that. On the one hand, I felt that she was being extremely immature and not respecting my opinion, and also not understanding everything I've been through when it comes to family and robotics. On the other hand, I feel like she had good intentions, but simply conveyed it terribly and immaturely.

The other two came in the form of handwritten letters. Both of them were thought-provoking and a little on the flattering side, though both authors made sure to clarify that no flattery was intended, and they were simply speaking the truth. In any case, they were really heartfelt, and I kind of got goosebumps as I read them. I have a need to be needed or appreciated, and satisfying that need isn't an everyday occurrence.

Perhaps the saddest thing is that in all three of these cases, the people involved I've known for two years or fewer. I have way more to say writing in the yearbooks of people I haven't been in classes with for upwards of four or five years. I'd like to believe that it's not because we've grown apart with time, but that it's simply a personality kind of thing, that even if I had been with the same people for only a year, I'd have just as little to say to them. Ultimately, I think that it'll become apparent soon with the inevitable distance as we go off to college which of my friends I miss and which I don't.

It's Been a While

It's been a while since I posted here. A lot has happened, some fortuitous, some not quite so.

This past Friday, we went to the Hunt the Wumpus competition that Microsoft holds every year. After getting about 14 hours of sleep in five days, it all paid off, and our team won first place! :D Despite one member of the team, though a brilliant programmer, being less than fun to work with (goes to bed at 9pm and expects everyone to finish what he doesn't, and gets angry extremely easily), it was overall a pretty enjoyable experience and I'd be lying if I said it didn't prompt me to consider computer science more heavily as a choice of major.

One of the keynote speakers at the event talked about the "alpha jerk" in a team. It's pretty intuitive after you hear it, but I never really thought about it before, and I'm glad that I've managed to steer away from becoming that kind of person in team situations. Basically in business, the alpha jerk is the guy who knows what he's doing (often more than he needs to), but as a result becomes extremely domineering. Ironically, the 9pm bedtime guy fits that description entirely. Quite conveniently, I was sitting right behind him during the keynote, and he got extremely squirmy in his chair while that section of the presentation was going on.

It's been a while since I talked to K-, but luckily tonight I actually had a nice, hour-long conversation with her. Every time we talk it seems like it's the best thing that could happen to my evenings, whereas the saying of "good night" bodes the opposite. There just seem to be a few people with whom I can have endless hours of conversation with. I'm going to hate myself if I let me and these people have a falling out once I go off to college.

Sometimes I wonder, if you're extremely frustrated, and not necessarily justified in being so, is it better to have a friend to tell you straight up that you're not being sensible, or comfort you and solidify the frustration by assuring you you're not in the wrong? I think this little dilemma came up for both of us in our conversation, as we were kind of just venting to each other.

Talking to some people give me a lot of hope. I had a rather solemn conversation with B- about a week ago, and I want to be sure I don't forget it. He was telling me about how there were a lot of people that left a great first impression on him as a friend, but over the years he's begun to notice very distasteful qualities about them. One in particular he had lost all respect for because he wove quite an intricate web of lies because he was too prideful to admit he didn't get into the state school that almost everyone in our accelerated program gets into.

Shortly after that conversation, I burned a lot of bridges that I felt I should've burned way long ago. I basically grew a pair (it definitely helped that, for the most part, I wouldn't be seeing them for the rest of my life in two more weeks) and told them a lot of things I take issue with as far as their personal qualities go. I didn't do it in a rude way; I just did it in a matter-of-fact, I hope you take this to heart because I'm not simply trying to offend you kind of way. I don't have fond memories of them, but all the same I hope they actually take what I say into consideration. If not, their loss, I guess.

It's been a while since I felt that liberating feeling. Not having to keep up facades of friendships that aren't there is a very relaxing feeling. My senior year has had quite a few disappointments, particularly as far as robotics go, but I feel like it's also been one of the most valuable. I feel like my emotional intelligence has developed so so much, and I will be able to handle a lot of situations better.

Now that I only have 4 days of school left, I'm feeling ambivalent about leaving high school. It's bittersweet. I think the more the yearbooks I sign, the sadder I'm going to get. There are a lot of people that I have a lot of things to say to, and a few of them give me weird looks when I tell them I have a lot to say to them and would like to take their yearbooks home overnight, which makes me rethink whether it's really worth having a lot to say to them. Do they have a lot to say to me too? I hope so.

Definitely, though, I'm looking forward to meeting some new people. I've been with roughly the same peers for seven years, and I'm getting pretty tired of the same faces, save for a few that never cease to entertain or amuse me. I can only imagine how difficult it might be putting up with someone you're not entirely fond of since first grade or something. Though I guess my sister might feel that way about me, because apparently she thinks my goal in life is to make her miserable.

It's been a while since I touched a saw to use as a musical saw, but last week I picked one up again for fun. I ended up using it to help K- ask someone to prom and then entered our school talent show. It's quite relaxing for me, and it helps me destress and unwind. Some time when I get a nice amount of free time, I want to go somewhere in a crowded place and just play, wordlessly. I feel like it has an enchanting effect--it did on me when I first heard a musical saw--that kind of puts things in perspective, and makes you think a little. I don't know.

[Re]Open Your Eyes

For the past 5 days, I was in Salt Lake City for the 2012 International Career Development Conference for DECA, competing in Accounting Applications. As far as the competition goes, nothing too exciting happened. I made it to the finals (Top 16) but performed poorly on the final role play. We saw the Jabbawockeez perform live, though I believe it was their B team; still really cool nonetheless, especially the Kiss the Girl and Single Ladies segments.

The more memorable part was definitely the experience shared with the people there. I got to know a few students with whom I've been classmates with for 7 years now way better, and I'm glad I got to see this side of them before graduating with any misconceptions about them as people. Not really misconceptions--they still are who they are when they behave as they do at school--but just another side of them, a sensitive side that they try to hide.

In the meantime, I also bonded a lot more with people I hadn't known until this year. I kind of wish I learned more about them, and I feel like I kind of dominated the conversation perhaps, getting carried away with things and people in my life. Hopefully, I don't come across at self-centered. Even more hopefully, we'll still keep in touch after I graduate, because if in just 8 short months they've become among the close friends who I trust the most, who knows what could happen with years more? There's no doubt in my mind that I'll miss two of these albeit relatively new friends of mine way more than others I have known for about half my conscious life.

I was thinking about what made me click with them. What made me so comfortable sharing some of the thoughts I usually tuck away for personal introspection? I don't really know. For sure, it seems that I can really connect with people like me. Not to let my life be dominated by MBTI or anything, but of the 6 people I trust most, 4 are ENFJs (the other three are ENTP, ISTJ).

Furthermore, it seems that at some point, we always have a conversation about my past. It can be really embarrassing depending on the details we delve into, but it always leaves me rather melancholy. Yet, I enjoy talking about it a lot. Why? I'm not a masochist in any way.

This is where this post was going. The phrase "open your eyes" is used almost to the point of cliched-ness. But talking to new people about my past--people with some level of maturity, open-mindedness, and capacity for empathy anyway--reopens my eyes. There are a lot of little things in my life that I'd hate to forget, and I have a tendency to regurgitate those when I talk about what has made me me (not at the superficial level, but at a deep level that I care to talk about only when my conversational partner exhibits genuine interest or concern). I'd like to emphasize that parenthetical statement, because I have pretty high standards, I feel, about when to trust people and tell people stuff, but it's also always based on a gut feeling; I don't open up to everyone, but when I do I always do it with utmost confidence that what I tell them will not fall upon deaf ears, and will be respected. Anyway, whenever I revisit these memories with new people, I feel like I see things ever so slightly differently, but end up learning more about myself when I reflect on the conversations.

In the meantime, I read an article on a fantastic new product concept: http://www.fashioningtech.com/profiles/blogs/touchy-the-human-camera

It is literally a physical manifestation of someone else "opening your eyes." I absolutely love the whole concept, and I feel like it would really enhance social interaction or relationships (not necessarily just romantic ones). Especially for me, recalling that my dominant love language is physical touch followed closely by quality time, this is an invention I really need to have. The pictures it stores seems a perfect way to capture the little things, not the grand big things. I like that.

DNA/RNA

Awwwww electrophoresis and RNA base pairs (thymine/T is replaced by uracil/U in RNA pairings)

In other news, I had a really good last two weeks. Spokane, FPS, and then Stanford all in 10 days. :D Got to know a lot of people I've kind of been in proximity with a lot but never really bonded with (not to keep up the science terms or anything), and also got a lot closer to people who I've already talked to a lot in the past. Stanford is so gorgeous as;dfaweo.

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value. Rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.

-C.S. Lewis

Threshold

Your laugh, reminds me of the timeless hours we spent in each other's company.

Your song, reminds me of the interests we share and activities we enjoy.

Your humor, reminds me of the endless comfort that oft had lifted me out of anguish.

Your distance, reminds me that past passions are past.

I am on the threshold between falling for you again, and walking away unscathed.

I know this will fall on deaf ears, but you should know that, cliche'd as this might sound, you are one in a million and though we've parted ways I am so, so lucky to know you. Please don't ever change.

Depending on who you are, this may or may not be dedicated to who you think it's for.

What I love about Christmas

I have strict parents. As an only child, it was as if my parents expected me to live up to the glory of both of them combined.

The holiday season was coming around, and with every step there was a reminder that loved ones were spending time together. I, on the other hand, was not. I was stuck at home, studying. But I wasn't worried; I knew my parents cared little about my education aside from my grades. Beyond that, they were wholly ignorant.

It was the first day of holiday break, yet I had feigned doing homework the night before. My parents knew not when school was out for the year, and I planned on taking advantage of it. I left at the usual hour, around six in the morning, and arrived at the bus stop. I hopped on the bus that usually takes me to school. However, I got off the bus five stops early.

Walking up the short driveway, I called Christina, my best friend. We had known each other since third grade. Drowsily, my she answered.

"Hrgmf why are you calling me at this hour? There's no school today."

"Look outside your window, and then go open the front door."

"What?"

I had arrived at my best friend's house unannounced and was waving at the upstairs window. Christina's face appeared in the window, contorted as if saying what in the world, girl?, vanished, and a few seconds later the front door swung open.

She was still dressed in her pink pajamas tessellated with fluffy sheep, rubbing her eyes. I entered the house, rubbing off the remnants of snow on the doormat, and then shed my layers of winter clothing on the floor. Together we went upstairs, and I explained that I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend, but there would've been no way I could've done so if my parents knew I wasn't at school.

She grinned and turned on her computer, and we watched music videos of hot Korean singers until the sun rose. Then, I thanked Christina, caught another bus, and arrived at the park, glittering white with freshly fallen snow. I saw my boyfriend on a bench, and he stood up as he saw me. I flew into his arms, and thought: my favorite thing about Christmas is spending time with the people I love.

She was in love.

The fresh snow sank underneath her feet, as if the two of them were walking on clouds. She certainly felt on top of the world, hand in hand with her childhood friend. She had known him for forever, and the memories they shared had grown. A picture of them was on her desk: it was the two of them in an embrace for the play their seventh grade English class performed. She treasured moments like that.

She could feel her emotions bubbling warmly within her. Unable to contain herself, she threw her arms around him, grinning widely. She felt the passion electrifying her, and it was the flames of their love that kept her warm on this cold cold evening.

~~~

He was cold.

The fresh snow sank underneath his feet, as if the two of them were about to drown in quicksand, together. He certainly lost his balance a few times, but hand in hand he knew that if he was dragged in she'd be with him. They were childhood friends. He had known her for forever, and the memories they shared had grown. A picture of them was on his parents' wardrobe: it was the two of them stumbling across the lawn together in diapers. His parents treasured moments like those.

He could almost feel the biting wind within him, piercing his skin. Suddenly, she turned and threw her arms around him, almost knocking him over in her jubilation. He felt thermodynamics in action as she clung to him, and it was her body heat that kept him warm on this cold cold evening.

~~~

It was Valentine's Day. She showed up at his doorstep with a bouquet of flowers. Her imagination wandered, thinking of how his face would light up to see her. She rang the doorbell, and it chimed what in her blissful mood sounded like the singing of angels.

She heard the door being unlocked and saw it open slowly. She jumped into his arms, and he stumbled a few steps backwards, a shocked expression his face. How successful my surprise was: he's speechless!

He set the flowers on the table, and she pulled out the card that she was holding. She had memorized the words, and recited them in her head as he read them out loud.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Without you with me

Don't know what--Achoo!

He sneezed a cute sneeze, neglecting to finish the poem. I would do, she completed in her head, and there were four more verses yet to come. He excused himself to grab a tissue, and the card had slipped between the cushions of the sofa. She rescued the card and set it on the table, hoping he would notice it later.

But when he returned, he simply informed her that he was busy and could not be distracted. He escorted her to the door and showed her the way out. She felt disheartened; the poem was left untouched. To have gotten through only three of twenty lines that conveyed her love for him was like opening the gate to the Garden of Eden and then turning around.

Dejected, she returned to the bike she had left on the sidewalk. He probably didn't even notice the heart she painstakingly etched into the snow on his lawn with her bike tires.

She felt so underappreciated. For the first time in a long time, she cried.

~~~

It was Valentine's Day. He had been watching comedy acts and arguing with his friend about the hottest actresses all morning--after all, it was a weekend, and he felt no urgent need to exercise his brain. The doorbell rang, an obnoxious buzzing that drowned out the comedian on the screen. Grudgingly, he stalked to the door.

Undoing the two locks and opening the door, a flurry of pink tackled him, and he staggered a few steps backwards. The bouquet of roses she was holding reminded him, and he was in shock. Oh, today is Valentine's Day!

He set the flowers on the table, and she handed him a card. He had meant to buy a box of chocolates for her yesterday, but had forgotten, and now had nothing to give in return.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Without you with me

Don't know what--Achoo!

He faked a sneeze because he could already feel things getting out of hand--he didn't want to read five stanzas of this mushy rhetoric with her. He excused himself briefly and went into the restroom, closing the door behind him. She's a great friend. Why can't I love her as she loves me? he thought to himself, sinking his face into his hands. He reminded himself he was only in here for a tissue, composed himself, and walked back outside.

He saw her beady eyes follow him as he returned to her side, making it all the harder to ask her to leave. He told her he was busy and could not be distracted. He escorted her to the door and showed her the way out. He felt guilty; the poem was left untouched. To have gotten through only three of twenty lines that conveyed her love for him was a close escape, like peering down into the first circle of hell and quickly turning around.

He looked on apologetically as she walked down his driveway, and a large heart caught his eye. She had biked the graceful pattern on his lawn. Unable to bear the pain, he shut the door and sat back down on the sofa.

For a few seconds, he stared blankly at the card that lay on the table, but then he picked it up:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Without you with me

Don't know what I would do

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Bees need flowers

And I need you

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I didn't start living

Until I met you

Roses are red

Violets are blue

The sun shows its beauty

But true beauty's in you

Words can't express

How much I love you

I tried my best

And forevermore will do.

He felt so cruel. For the first time in a long time, he cried. But then he noticed how the syllables didn't fit, and in his remorse he found infinite comfort in that flaw, as if it justified his harshness, and his tears of pain and despair turned to those of laughter. Of course such poorly written words can't express your love, silly girl.

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As requested, here is what was meant to be a short satirical post, but now will need to be continued. Hopefully, my message is coming across....