So it seems as if I haven't updated this in quite a while. June 2009? I can't even think that far lol So now that I have the time, and the energy, to actually update this blog, I am determined to put as much emo crap into my blog entry as I humanly can.
The latter half of 2009 was interesting. Professionally, I focused away from working on side projects and more onto my core responsibilities. I learned a whole lot of new techniques and tools to do my job. I found an area that was rife with issues to fix, and I stuck to it. I felt like I was finally getting a hang on things. This was in contrast to my first year at Microsoft, when I was really flustered by wanting to have a high work throughput and not actually getting there, despite my manager's reassurance. This second year at Microsoft has been better, and I'm definitely feeling more confident about what I'm doing there.
Personally, it was a mish-mash. In the summer I met someone that I was really into, and we seemed to hit it off well (in fact we almost hit it the first night). But then things got awkward. We'd make plans to meet that would fail. I'd repeatedly put myself out there just to see the absence of initiative on the other side. After a couple of months of that, I got tired and decided to drop it. Also somewhere around that time (I can't remember chronologically, but I think before I met this person) I had a brief affair with an old crush on mine. He was quite attractive and we had a good chemistry going. I was shocked to see how many things we shared - down to favorite movie, favorite color, and favorite songs. The first day we hung out, we spent almost the entire day together. It started in the park, and we just talked about our lives, likes and dislikes. We clicked on so many levels it was almost unreal. At dinner, we got almost identical fortunes from our fortune cookies - something special is happening tonight.
This was the first guy that made me believe in signs. Or rather, made me look for signs everywhere I went. I would think of him and we'd pass each other on the street. Or I would swing by a store only to realize it has his name. Or I'd watch a favorite TV series and have one of the protagonists be his namesake. It all seemed to be there for us. But then two strange things happened. I started feeling like the ugly duckling. Why would someone as hot, confident and popular be interested in me? One day, I invited him over at my place to watch a movie. I even felt embarrassed by my own apartment. I scrubbed it clean for hours and hours, rearranged things, did whatever I could to impress him. It didn't make it better that, when he finally did come over, he said things like "I can get anyone I want". I felt insignificant, just one of a nameless multitude that can be "easily gotten" by my object of awe.
And then it came to me like a bucket of cold water on a hot summer day. What was I thinking? There is nothing stupider than putting yourself down. The world is going to do plenty of that for you. You are responsible for your happiness and well-being. It helped talking to my mother back then - her unwavering support and belief in me even when I didn't support or believe in myself. And I realized she got a point - when I stepped back to think about it, I really had no good reason to feel like anything but awesome. I realized arrogant types are not who I want to be with. And the guy stopped talking to me anyway, for no apparent reason, just like the one after him that I wrote about earlier. Thus I learned that signs can, after all, be misleading and just in your head.
Then came August, and it brought back someone I hadn't talked to in months. Our last encounter earlier in 2009 had ended badly, I had been furious and hurt, and I cut off all communication. But there is the thing about me - I can't be mad indefinitely. I've gotten over a whole lot of things, many of them more serious than romantic relationships. So when he made the first move and spoke to me after a long period of silence, I didn't brush him off. We started talking again, and it was so strange - now that we were just friends, we were actually talking so much more and sharing so much more than when we were dating. I learned about him things I hadn't suspected, and things that resonated with my own life experience. Before long, I could see that my passion for him was rekindling, even though I still kept a friendly front and talked about my feelings for him as things of the past. One night, I took him out to the restaurant where we'd first met, dressed as I had been dressed on that day almost a year before. Then we went and got some drinks, and talked for hours about our families and cultures. Then it was too late for the bus and I didn't want him to pay for a cab, so I invited him to sleep over at my place.
Some might say I had orchestrated it, some might say it was just meant to happen, but we didn't sleep much that night. I had almost fallen asleep when he reached for my arm and wrapped himself in it. And then everything fell in place, like the last piece of a puzzle. I had my baby in my arms and I didn't care if it was official or not - it was right. Thereafter we more or less slipped into our old dating routine, and I quickly realized that the longer I stayed, the less likely I would ever want to leave. He was a lot of the things I wanted, but there were some complicating factors. I struggled a lot to rise above them, but I couldn't. I realized, to my shame, that I wasn't as mature as I wanted to believe I was. I realized I was wasting his time, time in which he could be looking for someone who can handle things better than I could. So after long weeks of deliberation, I decided it was best to let him go and find someone better. It was one of the hardest decisions I'd had to make. It didn't go very well, some words were exchanged that hurt on both sides. For the two months following that, I felt physically sick, I gained an awful lot of weight, and I cried myself to sleep almost every night.
At that time, it was December, and I went to visit two of my best friends for Christmas and New Years. It was so good to finally have someone to talk to who would not only listen but be actively engaged in the conversation. I was able to verbalize my feelings, and by the end of the trip I was already feeling better. It helps sharing what's on your heart with those who care about you. My story was no longer the mystery canned in a hidden compartment somewhere deep in my heart - it was part of the larger discourse with my close people. That's when I really started getting over it. Thanks Niki and Nela.
The new year started with an awful lot of work from the very beginning, and has been the same ever since. I also started learning American Sign Language in which I'd been interested for a long time. It gave me the opportunity to meet new people, which I really needed. I also met someone new, and he was the first person in my life with whom I took thinks slow. He allowed me to learn how to be patient, which was never one of my strong points. While it didn't end up working out, I learned more things about myself and what I really want.
Now, more than ever, I feel inspired to explore and experience life to the fullest. I've made a list of the places I want to go, the things I want to do, the stuff I want to learn. I have great friends to support me in my journey, and I no longer feel like my happiness rests on being with someone. It has been a roller-coaster, but it was totally worth it!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Some Older Stuff
I just found a couple of poems I wrote while I was seeing the last guy I was seeing. I guess they are dedicated to him.
Untitled #1
I don’t want roses,
or shiny boxes of candy,
or cute fuzzy animals,
nights out at elegant restaurants.
I don’t want you to dress up
hold the door for me
pay the bill for me
order music for me
even sing to me
(though you know that you can’t).
All I want
is the look in your beautiful eyes
which says, without any pretense
or aplomb, or dramatic clichés:
“Baby, I love you, and I’m here to stay”,
as you’re clad in a hoodie and slacks
in the cheap dingy diner
two blocks down from our door,
with the splendid inelegance
of unkempt morning grumpiness.
If I had that, I’d laugh till I drop
at The Knight, neatly hugged
by his shining, superfluous armor.
Untitled #2
It’s not that hard
to love me –
I promise you, I do;
I will annoy you, drive you mad
and you will waste
many a gorgeous plate
in my direction.
But at the end,
when we collect our shards
after the stormy outburst,
it’s really not that hard
to love me.
It is true –
I may sometimes lose track
of where your light is;
it is true –
I may sometimes go ‘stray.
But at the end,
when I sweep out my ego
and come back to my home
(which is your heart),
you’ll see, again, and not to much surprise
it’s really not that hard
to love me.
For I love
without a complex contract;
for I love
without you fearing
I may change my mind –
tomorrow, or next week, or through the rain…
All I need, all I want,
is just the same naïve, imprudent,
pure, uncalculating, honest,
sometimes boyishly uncouth,
sometimes frighteningly deep,
often sharper than a knife
(and yet smoother than black velvet)
Love. You have. For me.
‘Cause anyway, it’s all we get
and all of worth to have.
Untitled #1
I don’t want roses,
or shiny boxes of candy,
or cute fuzzy animals,
nights out at elegant restaurants.
I don’t want you to dress up
hold the door for me
pay the bill for me
order music for me
even sing to me
(though you know that you can’t).
All I want
is the look in your beautiful eyes
which says, without any pretense
or aplomb, or dramatic clichés:
“Baby, I love you, and I’m here to stay”,
as you’re clad in a hoodie and slacks
in the cheap dingy diner
two blocks down from our door,
with the splendid inelegance
of unkempt morning grumpiness.
If I had that, I’d laugh till I drop
at The Knight, neatly hugged
by his shining, superfluous armor.
Untitled #2
It’s not that hard
to love me –
I promise you, I do;
I will annoy you, drive you mad
and you will waste
many a gorgeous plate
in my direction.
But at the end,
when we collect our shards
after the stormy outburst,
it’s really not that hard
to love me.
It is true –
I may sometimes lose track
of where your light is;
it is true –
I may sometimes go ‘stray.
But at the end,
when I sweep out my ego
and come back to my home
(which is your heart),
you’ll see, again, and not to much surprise
it’s really not that hard
to love me.
For I love
without a complex contract;
for I love
without you fearing
I may change my mind –
tomorrow, or next week, or through the rain…
All I need, all I want,
is just the same naïve, imprudent,
pure, uncalculating, honest,
sometimes boyishly uncouth,
sometimes frighteningly deep,
often sharper than a knife
(and yet smoother than black velvet)
Love. You have. For me.
‘Cause anyway, it’s all we get
and all of worth to have.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Alienation
Warning: I tend to philosophize from time to time and this is one of those times. Proceed at your own risk.
I have been noticing something for quite a while now, something I felt when I first came to the US, something that, although in a different guise, I have felt since I moved to Seattle. There really isn't in my head a coherent, easy to grasp explanation I can give of what that thing is. I will give it my best shot, as much as my verbal proficiency allows.
I have always felt that people here (in the US) are so lonely. I would be walking in the streets and I'd catch someone's eyes - what I would almost always see, or at least interpret from what I see, is this strange mixture of an acute desire to communicate, to feel close; and on the other hand a fear to approach the other person, a fear of the other that runs very deep. In most of those cases the brief eye encounter leaves me with a sense of sadness, a sense that the person whose eyes I've caught is lost, disoriented, that they need a hand.
The reason I'm writing about this is because I've experienced the feeling many times, almost daily. It is to the point I try to avoid looking at people, because I want to avoid the painfully demanding stare which seems to scream "smile at me, give a sign that you're willing to communicate with me". I see so many people who seem so starved of affection, of real communication as opposed to an exchange of platitudes. At the same time, it seems harder and harder to break people's walls and get to the person inside - even when we're together, we're often really by ourselves, we are in a comfort zone described by the distance we keep from others.
This is why I'm also sometimes worried about the future, about a time when natural resources will run thin (oil, water) and that will create strife between people - as movies often depict, when humanity is faced with adversity, instead of growing closer it grows further apart, and people lose their humanity altogether. I've thought long and hard what could be done to change this, what I could do to change this. I consciously try to be the kind of person people would not feel afraid to approach, the kind of person who actually cares about others and wants to be their friend. Work is one of the places where I see a lot of people who make small, uncertain, fearful steps when it comes to interacting with others, and I consider it a good training ground for developing the qualities I need to be that kind of person.
What's your take on this - have you noticed it? Is it as tangible for you as it is for me? I sometimes wonder if I'm simply imagining things.
I have been noticing something for quite a while now, something I felt when I first came to the US, something that, although in a different guise, I have felt since I moved to Seattle. There really isn't in my head a coherent, easy to grasp explanation I can give of what that thing is. I will give it my best shot, as much as my verbal proficiency allows.
I have always felt that people here (in the US) are so lonely. I would be walking in the streets and I'd catch someone's eyes - what I would almost always see, or at least interpret from what I see, is this strange mixture of an acute desire to communicate, to feel close; and on the other hand a fear to approach the other person, a fear of the other that runs very deep. In most of those cases the brief eye encounter leaves me with a sense of sadness, a sense that the person whose eyes I've caught is lost, disoriented, that they need a hand.
The reason I'm writing about this is because I've experienced the feeling many times, almost daily. It is to the point I try to avoid looking at people, because I want to avoid the painfully demanding stare which seems to scream "smile at me, give a sign that you're willing to communicate with me". I see so many people who seem so starved of affection, of real communication as opposed to an exchange of platitudes. At the same time, it seems harder and harder to break people's walls and get to the person inside - even when we're together, we're often really by ourselves, we are in a comfort zone described by the distance we keep from others.
This is why I'm also sometimes worried about the future, about a time when natural resources will run thin (oil, water) and that will create strife between people - as movies often depict, when humanity is faced with adversity, instead of growing closer it grows further apart, and people lose their humanity altogether. I've thought long and hard what could be done to change this, what I could do to change this. I consciously try to be the kind of person people would not feel afraid to approach, the kind of person who actually cares about others and wants to be their friend. Work is one of the places where I see a lot of people who make small, uncertain, fearful steps when it comes to interacting with others, and I consider it a good training ground for developing the qualities I need to be that kind of person.
What's your take on this - have you noticed it? Is it as tangible for you as it is for me? I sometimes wonder if I'm simply imagining things.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
I'm bored in my apartment
so I decided it was time for a blog post. I was recently to Dartmouth for the graduation ceremony of Class of 2009. I'm covering this in excruciating, and often unnecessary, detail on Facebook so I won't reiterate the details here. However, I'm going to say a few words about how it made me feel.
I guess this trip to Dartmouth finally allowed me to let go of my imaginary lost paradise and get going with my life. For a long time, I didn't want to interact with Seattle, its people and what else it had to offer, because it was not the same as what I had at Dartmouth. For a long time, I felt separated from my closest people, and I had started thinking there was no point in trying to create lasting relationships, because another "forceful separation" would duly come.
Then I went to Dartmouth, and had a much longed for, much dreamed about, much magnified and mythologized reunion with the people that made Dartmouth home for me. And what I saw was very unequivocal, and very clear - they had all moved on, nobody was trying to hold on to a past snapshot of time. I guess that allowed me to move on also. The invisible wall inside of me that shielded me from my new home crumbled, and I realized that I can always go back to the period between 2004-2008 in my mind without being its prisoner at the same time.
My friends, unknowingly, helped me go on once again. My mother's prophecy turned right - "things are going to sort themselves out when you go there." So they did.
I guess this trip to Dartmouth finally allowed me to let go of my imaginary lost paradise and get going with my life. For a long time, I didn't want to interact with Seattle, its people and what else it had to offer, because it was not the same as what I had at Dartmouth. For a long time, I felt separated from my closest people, and I had started thinking there was no point in trying to create lasting relationships, because another "forceful separation" would duly come.
Then I went to Dartmouth, and had a much longed for, much dreamed about, much magnified and mythologized reunion with the people that made Dartmouth home for me. And what I saw was very unequivocal, and very clear - they had all moved on, nobody was trying to hold on to a past snapshot of time. I guess that allowed me to move on also. The invisible wall inside of me that shielded me from my new home crumbled, and I realized that I can always go back to the period between 2004-2008 in my mind without being its prisoner at the same time.
My friends, unknowingly, helped me go on once again. My mother's prophecy turned right - "things are going to sort themselves out when you go there." So they did.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Long-postponed update
It has been nearly three months since I last updated this blog, and it's hard for me to figure out which of the things that have happened since are important enough to be put here. I will nevertheless attempt to bring up the main points.
Work-wise, things have been going well - my mid-year review which was completed sometime in February was very positive, my manager calling me a "real asset" and "boon" for Microsoft, also going as far as to say "I'm proud and pleased to be your colleague". All of this was, frankly, unexpected, because I never thought the job I was doing was all that. My job is to fix bugs in several areas of Windows, and an easy measure of performance is the number of bugs fixed over a certain period. This is, of course, relative, because some bugs are harder to fix than others. However, I always felt a little self-conscious because my bug count was lower compared to the average for my team. Nevertheless, my manager was more willing to look at the fact that they were also hard, tricky bugs which didn't always lend themselves nicely to the techniques we employ for solving problems. All in all, I was a winner, and I could breathe again.
I was also given a software project to work on, which brought me back a little to college days when we'd have a software assignment, only this time I was flying solo and there was no class to prepare me for the task. It is an interesting project (the details of which I don't wanna go into), but I had to learn a lot of new technologies and source code to even start doing something useful. In a way, it reminded me of my thesis, where I didn't start writing until the latter half of my second (and last) term of thesis research, simply because the area had been completely unknown to me prior to embarking on the project. I almost feel that it's always going to be like that for me in computer-related fields: there is simply too much to grasp by a simple human being, and frankly I don't spend much of my time outside of work dealing with computers. (Which will be expanded on in a different post)
As far as love life goes, I had taken a hiatus from dating after Korian, because I was emotionally tired and needed some time to recollect my thoughts; and also because now, unlike any other time in my life, I was willing to wait to find the right person. I have made in my life choices based on loneliness, and they have rarely had good outcomes, so I vowed to not do it again. Indeed, for about 3 months after I officially "broke up" with Korian, I didn't date anyone. There was this one guy I met in the club in (I think) late January, who seemed to me like a good dancer, and he was also cute, so I demonstrated my interest. After some ambiguous back-and-forth I got bored and decided to leave the club, and surprisingly he followed me. He drove me to my place, and we parted after a few sweet kisses and promises to hang out. These promises never materialized, and I lost interest soon thereafter.
Then in March I started going again to the club which had thrown me out for 6 months. Yes, indeed, I respected the 6-month ban, and I hadn't set foot there since October. I remember the very first time I went there in March - I was very very nervous and tried to keep a low profile, usually stuck in the thickest crowd of people so as to be less noticeable. I was so preoccupied with that that I forgot to have fun. But over time my concerns dissipated, mostly due to the fact that the guards either didn't recognize me anymore, or didn't care anymore - both ways it was good for me :) I was very glad, because this is the only club near where I live which plays my kind of music. It had been somewhat of an ordeal going to the other clubs and grooving to hours of trashy dance and Euro disco music.
Some things had changed in the club, but some hadn't - in particular, there was a guy I'd had a crush on since I arrived in Seattle. He is, or used to be, one of the go-go boys in the club, and we had on many occasions exchanged suggestive glances and smiles. It was a Saturday night and we did all these gestures again. Then the party was over and everyone started filing out of the club. When I finally got my jacket from coat check and got out, this guy was standing there outside by himself. I don't recall if he smiled at me or not, but I went up to him and said "I like you very much", and to prove my point I gave him a kiss on the lips. He didn't resist, in fact he got into it, and then it turned out he'd had a crush on me too, and had wondered if I'd ever do anything. I was beside myself that night. I remember in my drunken euphoria, as I was stumbling into the walls of my apartment while trying to change into dry clothes for the next club, I was uttering prayers - something like "God, please don't let me screw up this one". I was all smiles when I went to work the following Monday.
In fact we had a chance to hang out on the Sunday of that week, and got to know each other better. I was surprised at how many similarities there were between our tastes, favorite things and even life stories. This were looking up. I was trying to guard my enthusiasm. I'm usually the one guilty of getting overexcited about a future prospect. I tend to rush things to happen. I think it's the invisible clock whose presence I've been feeling the past couple of years, this pressing feeling that "life is short" and everything has to happen right now or it may never have a chance to happen. Either way, I resolved to abandon my ways and approach this one like an adult, or at least like what an adult was supposed to act like according to many movies, friends, and word of mouth. I was just taking it easy.
Then the next week we agreed to watch some movies at my place and cuddle. I think it was a Sunday again. And the days leading up to that Sunday were perhaps some of the most embarrassing, nerve-wracking days I'd had in the recent past. All the uncertainties, negative self-perceptions and fears that had been dormant somewhere in the depths of my mind sprang up into full wakefulness, causing me to feel like the ugly swan's best friend - fat, boring, unworthy of attention, unlovable. I guess I felt threatened by this guy's self-confidence, the ease with which he seemed to display his body in public, the air he had of someone who can get whatever he wants, as he later said in words. He told me stories of the people who were, or had been after him. He told me how people were jealous of him and talked behind his back. He told me other things that made me feel like just another one of those seemingly endless members of his fanclub, I felt little and unimportant and a temporary distraction. Prior to his coming to my place, I had literally scrubbed the apartment squeaky clean - I hadn't myself seen it like that since 2008. But I just felt so ashamed of how my apartment looked and what he'd think of it, that I lost some sleep over making it pretty and spotless.
But I guess all of that had to happen, because at the end of it I was so emotionally exhausted that things just went into their right places in my head, and I realized how stupid, childish and self-destructive these thoughts were. I woke up, as if from a deep sleep, to realize that I was the kind of guy most people would be happy to have, and one that can offer a lot and be a lot for the other. It was refreshing and overnight my outlook changed to the point that I felt great calmness and clarity fall upon me. I realized that there was a disconnect between me and this guy, something that I can't really place but I can mostly easily explain as this: you know when there is shared interest between you and another person, you know the feeling that even when you're not talking the other person is thinking of you, you know how the two of you make little gestures to show the other "I'm still interested". I wasn't getting that signal, that feeling. So things ended in my mind, maybe about a week or two ago. Since then, said boy has sent me a few text messages, something to the effect "I wanna hang out with you" but then I respond and he doesn't say anything, it's this weird communication thing that I seem to have had with everyone before him.
Right now, I'm in bed with a nice book , thinking whether to venture out in the sunny day again, or go to the gym, or just chat and listen to music, or finally do the dishes. I would, however, appreciate a bit of that old-school romance, where I have to do less guesswork, when fewer things happen over text messages, and when it's clear if the person in front of you really likes you or not. Maybe I'm asking for too much but oh well, I always have :) Otherwise I wouldn't be here writing this blog entry.
Work-wise, things have been going well - my mid-year review which was completed sometime in February was very positive, my manager calling me a "real asset" and "boon" for Microsoft, also going as far as to say "I'm proud and pleased to be your colleague". All of this was, frankly, unexpected, because I never thought the job I was doing was all that. My job is to fix bugs in several areas of Windows, and an easy measure of performance is the number of bugs fixed over a certain period. This is, of course, relative, because some bugs are harder to fix than others. However, I always felt a little self-conscious because my bug count was lower compared to the average for my team. Nevertheless, my manager was more willing to look at the fact that they were also hard, tricky bugs which didn't always lend themselves nicely to the techniques we employ for solving problems. All in all, I was a winner, and I could breathe again.
I was also given a software project to work on, which brought me back a little to college days when we'd have a software assignment, only this time I was flying solo and there was no class to prepare me for the task. It is an interesting project (the details of which I don't wanna go into), but I had to learn a lot of new technologies and source code to even start doing something useful. In a way, it reminded me of my thesis, where I didn't start writing until the latter half of my second (and last) term of thesis research, simply because the area had been completely unknown to me prior to embarking on the project. I almost feel that it's always going to be like that for me in computer-related fields: there is simply too much to grasp by a simple human being, and frankly I don't spend much of my time outside of work dealing with computers. (Which will be expanded on in a different post)
As far as love life goes, I had taken a hiatus from dating after Korian, because I was emotionally tired and needed some time to recollect my thoughts; and also because now, unlike any other time in my life, I was willing to wait to find the right person. I have made in my life choices based on loneliness, and they have rarely had good outcomes, so I vowed to not do it again. Indeed, for about 3 months after I officially "broke up" with Korian, I didn't date anyone. There was this one guy I met in the club in (I think) late January, who seemed to me like a good dancer, and he was also cute, so I demonstrated my interest. After some ambiguous back-and-forth I got bored and decided to leave the club, and surprisingly he followed me. He drove me to my place, and we parted after a few sweet kisses and promises to hang out. These promises never materialized, and I lost interest soon thereafter.
Then in March I started going again to the club which had thrown me out for 6 months. Yes, indeed, I respected the 6-month ban, and I hadn't set foot there since October. I remember the very first time I went there in March - I was very very nervous and tried to keep a low profile, usually stuck in the thickest crowd of people so as to be less noticeable. I was so preoccupied with that that I forgot to have fun. But over time my concerns dissipated, mostly due to the fact that the guards either didn't recognize me anymore, or didn't care anymore - both ways it was good for me :) I was very glad, because this is the only club near where I live which plays my kind of music. It had been somewhat of an ordeal going to the other clubs and grooving to hours of trashy dance and Euro disco music.
Some things had changed in the club, but some hadn't - in particular, there was a guy I'd had a crush on since I arrived in Seattle. He is, or used to be, one of the go-go boys in the club, and we had on many occasions exchanged suggestive glances and smiles. It was a Saturday night and we did all these gestures again. Then the party was over and everyone started filing out of the club. When I finally got my jacket from coat check and got out, this guy was standing there outside by himself. I don't recall if he smiled at me or not, but I went up to him and said "I like you very much", and to prove my point I gave him a kiss on the lips. He didn't resist, in fact he got into it, and then it turned out he'd had a crush on me too, and had wondered if I'd ever do anything. I was beside myself that night. I remember in my drunken euphoria, as I was stumbling into the walls of my apartment while trying to change into dry clothes for the next club, I was uttering prayers - something like "God, please don't let me screw up this one". I was all smiles when I went to work the following Monday.
In fact we had a chance to hang out on the Sunday of that week, and got to know each other better. I was surprised at how many similarities there were between our tastes, favorite things and even life stories. This were looking up. I was trying to guard my enthusiasm. I'm usually the one guilty of getting overexcited about a future prospect. I tend to rush things to happen. I think it's the invisible clock whose presence I've been feeling the past couple of years, this pressing feeling that "life is short" and everything has to happen right now or it may never have a chance to happen. Either way, I resolved to abandon my ways and approach this one like an adult, or at least like what an adult was supposed to act like according to many movies, friends, and word of mouth. I was just taking it easy.
Then the next week we agreed to watch some movies at my place and cuddle. I think it was a Sunday again. And the days leading up to that Sunday were perhaps some of the most embarrassing, nerve-wracking days I'd had in the recent past. All the uncertainties, negative self-perceptions and fears that had been dormant somewhere in the depths of my mind sprang up into full wakefulness, causing me to feel like the ugly swan's best friend - fat, boring, unworthy of attention, unlovable. I guess I felt threatened by this guy's self-confidence, the ease with which he seemed to display his body in public, the air he had of someone who can get whatever he wants, as he later said in words. He told me stories of the people who were, or had been after him. He told me how people were jealous of him and talked behind his back. He told me other things that made me feel like just another one of those seemingly endless members of his fanclub, I felt little and unimportant and a temporary distraction. Prior to his coming to my place, I had literally scrubbed the apartment squeaky clean - I hadn't myself seen it like that since 2008. But I just felt so ashamed of how my apartment looked and what he'd think of it, that I lost some sleep over making it pretty and spotless.
But I guess all of that had to happen, because at the end of it I was so emotionally exhausted that things just went into their right places in my head, and I realized how stupid, childish and self-destructive these thoughts were. I woke up, as if from a deep sleep, to realize that I was the kind of guy most people would be happy to have, and one that can offer a lot and be a lot for the other. It was refreshing and overnight my outlook changed to the point that I felt great calmness and clarity fall upon me. I realized that there was a disconnect between me and this guy, something that I can't really place but I can mostly easily explain as this: you know when there is shared interest between you and another person, you know the feeling that even when you're not talking the other person is thinking of you, you know how the two of you make little gestures to show the other "I'm still interested". I wasn't getting that signal, that feeling. So things ended in my mind, maybe about a week or two ago. Since then, said boy has sent me a few text messages, something to the effect "I wanna hang out with you" but then I respond and he doesn't say anything, it's this weird communication thing that I seem to have had with everyone before him.
Right now, I'm in bed with a nice book , thinking whether to venture out in the sunny day again, or go to the gym, or just chat and listen to music, or finally do the dishes. I would, however, appreciate a bit of that old-school romance, where I have to do less guesswork, when fewer things happen over text messages, and when it's clear if the person in front of you really likes you or not. Maybe I'm asking for too much but oh well, I always have :) Otherwise I wouldn't be here writing this blog entry.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Winter Break, et cetera
Dear diary,
It's 2:04am on a Saturday night, and I, being a lame old man, find that there is nothing more exhilarating to do than to update my stupid blahg. But truth be told, I felt too lazy to shave, pick slutty clothes, put them on and walk aaaaall the way to the club (which is 3 blocks away), dance to the same songs I danced to last night and see the same people I saw last night.
But I digress, I was going to tell the fabulous story about my winter break in Bulgaria. As I indicated in my last Facebook note (which really should have been an entry in here), there were some interesting aspects of my getting there. But eventually I did, and I arrived with the same flight to Varna as a guy from Paris who, just like me, had been stranded there for a day. My mom met me at the airport, and politely used my interpreter skills to explain to the young Parisian gentleman that no, in fact it's not a good idea to take one of the cabs waiting right outside the terminal exit. There are some aspects of Bulgarian cab services that would require their own blog entry.
So she called us two cabs, one for me and her and one for the guy, since he had to get to some hotel on Golden Sands. He gave me his name and asked me to find him on Facebook, so we could maybe hang out in the city while we were both there. I tried but his profile was not available to everyone on Facebook, so we never really met. I still hope that didn't make too bad of an impression.
Since I got to Bulgaria on December 23, I had to do all my Christmas shopping on the 24th. I'm pretty convinced that confession would bring a heart attack to most American families, but I had no choice. Seattle was ice-bound right before I left so I didn't want to break my backbone while searching for an extravagant coffee cup gift. I was hoping I would arrive in Sofia on the 22nd, but that didn't happen either. So I was stuck with the Day Before Christmas. We decided to buy a microwave for the house as a family gift, plus a little something for everyone to feel a bit spoiled. I had withdrawn 400 Bulgarian leva from an ATM as I thought that was the transaction limit.
Later that night my mom and I decided to hit the stores. Having worked at Microsoft for several months now, I had something in my credit card and I wanted to show off a bit, so we went to a somewhat pricy jeans store, and I told my mom to choose whatever she wants. I myself picked three post-modernist pairs of jeans, and a couple of half-dressy, half-yes-I-will-fuck-you shirts, and combined we had a bill of about 800 leva. I went to the nearest ATM, and guess what! The 400 leva limit was not per transaction, but per day. Needless to say that was embarrassing, but we had enough money to buy half the shit, and the other half I paid for the next day. The moral - thou shalt not be boastful, or something.
All the while, I was thinking how I was going to surprise the guy I was dating at the time with my new outfits. I knew he liked how I look in black, so one of the shirts was an insanely hot black shirt. However, as it happened, he never wrote or call me the whole break, and I broke up with him shortly after my return to the New Continent. But that's besides the point.
What's really fun and bonkers is that 2 days later, I got sick. Really sick. I proceeded to get sicker the entire frickin' break, and I missed all there was to miss - my HS class reunion, my friends' reunion, nights out with folks I had been planning on for a while. What made it worse is that we don't really happen to be in Varna at the same time anymore - a lot of the people I know, just like me, went somewhere around the world, or are at least always in transit, so it's hard to arrange for all of us to be there at the same time. This vacation was one of those times, so I was, well, fucked (and not even the good way).
But my ailment deserves a special mention - I was sick with tonsilitis. Nothing weird so far, but my tonsils were actually removed when I was 4.5 years old, or so the doctors said. But as it happens, 18 years later, I discovered that yes, I do have tonsils (or fractions thereof) which are sufficient to get me sick. I remember arguing with the doctor who was shining a flashlight at my throat, and then with the second doctor who also gave it a try, and then their astonished looks as both of them concluded that either I was absolutely insane, or they were absolutely blind.
I got better right when I had to leave, so there isn't much more to say really. The one week that I was sick was really awful - I hadn't been so sick in many years. But I couldn't even be sick in private - my mom and grandma, who hadn't see me sick since before I left Bulgaria in 2004, really panicked and made sure they gave me their constant, undivided, forceful yet loving, and helpful yet utterly annoying, attention. But perhaps that only made me get better faster :)
Then I came to the US and ended my love life, and started focusing rather on my work and hobbies. It's been a nice break, and I learned a lot about what I need, want, and can accept. Now that we have mid-year performance reviews at MSFT, things are looking good and I'm looking optimistic about what the new year is going to bring me.
Hasta la vista!
It's 2:04am on a Saturday night, and I, being a lame old man, find that there is nothing more exhilarating to do than to update my stupid blahg. But truth be told, I felt too lazy to shave, pick slutty clothes, put them on and walk aaaaall the way to the club (which is 3 blocks away), dance to the same songs I danced to last night and see the same people I saw last night.
But I digress, I was going to tell the fabulous story about my winter break in Bulgaria. As I indicated in my last Facebook note (which really should have been an entry in here), there were some interesting aspects of my getting there. But eventually I did, and I arrived with the same flight to Varna as a guy from Paris who, just like me, had been stranded there for a day. My mom met me at the airport, and politely used my interpreter skills to explain to the young Parisian gentleman that no, in fact it's not a good idea to take one of the cabs waiting right outside the terminal exit. There are some aspects of Bulgarian cab services that would require their own blog entry.
So she called us two cabs, one for me and her and one for the guy, since he had to get to some hotel on Golden Sands. He gave me his name and asked me to find him on Facebook, so we could maybe hang out in the city while we were both there. I tried but his profile was not available to everyone on Facebook, so we never really met. I still hope that didn't make too bad of an impression.
Since I got to Bulgaria on December 23, I had to do all my Christmas shopping on the 24th. I'm pretty convinced that confession would bring a heart attack to most American families, but I had no choice. Seattle was ice-bound right before I left so I didn't want to break my backbone while searching for an extravagant coffee cup gift. I was hoping I would arrive in Sofia on the 22nd, but that didn't happen either. So I was stuck with the Day Before Christmas. We decided to buy a microwave for the house as a family gift, plus a little something for everyone to feel a bit spoiled. I had withdrawn 400 Bulgarian leva from an ATM as I thought that was the transaction limit.
Later that night my mom and I decided to hit the stores. Having worked at Microsoft for several months now, I had something in my credit card and I wanted to show off a bit, so we went to a somewhat pricy jeans store, and I told my mom to choose whatever she wants. I myself picked three post-modernist pairs of jeans, and a couple of half-dressy, half-yes-I-will-fuck-you shirts, and combined we had a bill of about 800 leva. I went to the nearest ATM, and guess what! The 400 leva limit was not per transaction, but per day. Needless to say that was embarrassing, but we had enough money to buy half the shit, and the other half I paid for the next day. The moral - thou shalt not be boastful, or something.
All the while, I was thinking how I was going to surprise the guy I was dating at the time with my new outfits. I knew he liked how I look in black, so one of the shirts was an insanely hot black shirt. However, as it happened, he never wrote or call me the whole break, and I broke up with him shortly after my return to the New Continent. But that's besides the point.
What's really fun and bonkers is that 2 days later, I got sick. Really sick. I proceeded to get sicker the entire frickin' break, and I missed all there was to miss - my HS class reunion, my friends' reunion, nights out with folks I had been planning on for a while. What made it worse is that we don't really happen to be in Varna at the same time anymore - a lot of the people I know, just like me, went somewhere around the world, or are at least always in transit, so it's hard to arrange for all of us to be there at the same time. This vacation was one of those times, so I was, well, fucked (and not even the good way).
But my ailment deserves a special mention - I was sick with tonsilitis. Nothing weird so far, but my tonsils were actually removed when I was 4.5 years old, or so the doctors said. But as it happens, 18 years later, I discovered that yes, I do have tonsils (or fractions thereof) which are sufficient to get me sick. I remember arguing with the doctor who was shining a flashlight at my throat, and then with the second doctor who also gave it a try, and then their astonished looks as both of them concluded that either I was absolutely insane, or they were absolutely blind.
I got better right when I had to leave, so there isn't much more to say really. The one week that I was sick was really awful - I hadn't been so sick in many years. But I couldn't even be sick in private - my mom and grandma, who hadn't see me sick since before I left Bulgaria in 2004, really panicked and made sure they gave me their constant, undivided, forceful yet loving, and helpful yet utterly annoying, attention. But perhaps that only made me get better faster :)
Then I came to the US and ended my love life, and started focusing rather on my work and hobbies. It's been a nice break, and I learned a lot about what I need, want, and can accept. Now that we have mid-year performance reviews at MSFT, things are looking good and I'm looking optimistic about what the new year is going to bring me.
Hasta la vista!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Thoughts on Race
As your typical foreigner, I didn't use to care much about the presidential elections in the US. However, the upcoming elections have been at the forefront of my attention for some time now, because I think we're close to a historic moment for this country, and its people.
I really want Obama to win. I really, really want that to happen. Not only because McCain is Republican and subscribes to their backward ideas such as banning gay marriage and virtually illegitimizing abortion; not only because Obama is younger, more energetic, more well-spoken and less repetitive in his messages to the US people; in summary, not only because Obama is far more convincing as a president of a 21-cetury United States. But also because this is a pivotal moment for the American racial model. I believe, and others I've talked to share the view, that electing Obama president of the US would be a huge win for the United States, both domestically as well as in terms of their image in front of the world. This country, which has such a horrible history of repressing its Black population, would show in a way that's harder to contest that things have changed, and would continue changing for the better.
Conversely, a victory for McCain to me would signify that most of what people consider core American values - democracy, equality, pluralism - are no more than a sham. It seems absurd to me that we could elect, in the 21 century, a president from a party that has missed the past few centuries, throughout which there has been a separation of church and state. I myself am a devout Christian, so I'm not speaking out of my ass. I would seriously reconsider staying in the US if McCain wins this election. His running mate, our beloved Mrs. Palin, is against most of who I am - gay and a foreigner. I guess my redeeming qualities are that I'm white and a male, which is just about as bad.
On a different, but tangentially related note, I've been feeling a little weird lately. I've been reading James Baldwin, who is a renowned American writer whose major themes are racism and homophobia, in particular in mid-20th century US. His writing has been a kind of shock for me, because it is one thing to know racism exists "out there", as a vague shapeless notion, and it's totally different to see it in excruciating, painful detail through the eyes of someone who experienced it in his life. The more I'm reading his book the more I want to put it down and cry for hours and hours, because not a single cell in my body can comprehend, or fail to be enraged by, the utter senselessness and violence of racism. I keep thinking whether I would be able to recover from the blows the characters took, whether my family would endure what the families in the book endured.
But what's really scary is that I see myself in this book through different, piercingly judging eyes. And what's more, I realize that this horrible image of me is very well justified, very much deserved. Suddenly being white has become a liability for me, just like being gay, because I know that there are many people out there that, even if they don't know me, would dislike me for who I am. But, whereas the former is an irrational hatred, the latter is very rationalized, it has a real reason. I know that I'm not American, I know that my country never took slaves regardless of color, I know that I am everything BUT racist, but I have been feeling ashamed, so deeply ashamed of my color. My aching question after reading all this, my burning question that might probably redeem me, and give me the cheap peace of mind I really need right now, is - is it different now? Do I really look like that to people of color? Is this really who they think I am and how I view them?
I like black men. It is a topic for a different blog post, suffice it to say it's not just a fetish I have. I have dated black men, and will continue to, hopefully, but now that I'm aware of my color, I've been thinking - how would that influence my hypothetical future relationship? Where/when would I be welcome/unwelcome in his life? What would be the burden on him that he has a white boyfriend? I walk in the streets of Seattle and I see white and black folks mingle and walk hand in hand, and I want to think that the nightmare is over, but I'm still not convinced. I've been unable, for a couple of weeks now, to look at black people in the eyes - I was so awkward when this cutie chatted me up in the campus shuttle the other day. Fortunately I was able to conjure up my gift of speech and we clicked nicely. But I don't know yet what it would take for me to go back to normal. And maybe I shouldn't?
I wish someone could answer my questions...
I really want Obama to win. I really, really want that to happen. Not only because McCain is Republican and subscribes to their backward ideas such as banning gay marriage and virtually illegitimizing abortion; not only because Obama is younger, more energetic, more well-spoken and less repetitive in his messages to the US people; in summary, not only because Obama is far more convincing as a president of a 21-cetury United States. But also because this is a pivotal moment for the American racial model. I believe, and others I've talked to share the view, that electing Obama president of the US would be a huge win for the United States, both domestically as well as in terms of their image in front of the world. This country, which has such a horrible history of repressing its Black population, would show in a way that's harder to contest that things have changed, and would continue changing for the better.
Conversely, a victory for McCain to me would signify that most of what people consider core American values - democracy, equality, pluralism - are no more than a sham. It seems absurd to me that we could elect, in the 21 century, a president from a party that has missed the past few centuries, throughout which there has been a separation of church and state. I myself am a devout Christian, so I'm not speaking out of my ass. I would seriously reconsider staying in the US if McCain wins this election. His running mate, our beloved Mrs. Palin, is against most of who I am - gay and a foreigner. I guess my redeeming qualities are that I'm white and a male, which is just about as bad.
On a different, but tangentially related note, I've been feeling a little weird lately. I've been reading James Baldwin, who is a renowned American writer whose major themes are racism and homophobia, in particular in mid-20th century US. His writing has been a kind of shock for me, because it is one thing to know racism exists "out there", as a vague shapeless notion, and it's totally different to see it in excruciating, painful detail through the eyes of someone who experienced it in his life. The more I'm reading his book the more I want to put it down and cry for hours and hours, because not a single cell in my body can comprehend, or fail to be enraged by, the utter senselessness and violence of racism. I keep thinking whether I would be able to recover from the blows the characters took, whether my family would endure what the families in the book endured.
But what's really scary is that I see myself in this book through different, piercingly judging eyes. And what's more, I realize that this horrible image of me is very well justified, very much deserved. Suddenly being white has become a liability for me, just like being gay, because I know that there are many people out there that, even if they don't know me, would dislike me for who I am. But, whereas the former is an irrational hatred, the latter is very rationalized, it has a real reason. I know that I'm not American, I know that my country never took slaves regardless of color, I know that I am everything BUT racist, but I have been feeling ashamed, so deeply ashamed of my color. My aching question after reading all this, my burning question that might probably redeem me, and give me the cheap peace of mind I really need right now, is - is it different now? Do I really look like that to people of color? Is this really who they think I am and how I view them?
I like black men. It is a topic for a different blog post, suffice it to say it's not just a fetish I have. I have dated black men, and will continue to, hopefully, but now that I'm aware of my color, I've been thinking - how would that influence my hypothetical future relationship? Where/when would I be welcome/unwelcome in his life? What would be the burden on him that he has a white boyfriend? I walk in the streets of Seattle and I see white and black folks mingle and walk hand in hand, and I want to think that the nightmare is over, but I'm still not convinced. I've been unable, for a couple of weeks now, to look at black people in the eyes - I was so awkward when this cutie chatted me up in the campus shuttle the other day. Fortunately I was able to conjure up my gift of speech and we clicked nicely. But I don't know yet what it would take for me to go back to normal. And maybe I shouldn't?
I wish someone could answer my questions...
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