There are days in life when you just throw your hands in the air and say "fuck this shit." Today was one of those days. It's only the second day of the semester, and I'm already losing it. I must get my shit together. For real.
One thing I've decided to do in a feeble attempt to make my life interesting is try to cook something interesting at least once a week. I use the word "interesting" here, because that's what my dinner today was. Interesting. I baked mushrooms, onions and tilapia drizzled (bathed) with olive oil and spices. It was more or less a typical White man's dinner, except of course I had it with basmati rice. It wasn't particularly delicious, but it was warm and fresh, and that alone was enough to satisfy me. Downed it with some Chinese green tea. (I've been drinking nothing but tea these last 48 hours because I can't open the juice bottle I bought the other day. Now I know why my mother says I need to find a nice man and settle down.)
This is where I stop typing and ask myself the purpose of what I am doing right now. Is this endless whining really the only contribution I am capable of making to the World Wide Web? Sigh...
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
New Things in 2013
Keeping up with the positive vibes of my previous post, let me say a few gay words about the new year, 2013.
We're officially one week into it. Like how the fuck did that happen?
I'm aging, and wherever it is that I am going, I am going there fast.
With the beginning of a new year, there's always that excitement about new year's resolutions. I honestly thought I wouldn't even bother thinking up any this year. (Only when I started typing this did I remember those from a year ago. No! Two years ago? Yeah, that's right. Even I don't read my own blog. If you're interested in going back and having a sadistic laugh at the naive 20-year-old me, here's a link. I feel sorry for myself already.)
But well, this year, I'm going to scrape all the nonsense and keep things simple, for real.
Here are the things that are on my list:
We're officially one week into it. Like how the fuck did that happen?
I'm aging, and wherever it is that I am going, I am going there fast.
With the beginning of a new year, there's always that excitement about new year's resolutions. I honestly thought I wouldn't even bother thinking up any this year. (Only when I started typing this did I remember those from a year ago. No! Two years ago? Yeah, that's right. Even I don't read my own blog. If you're interested in going back and having a sadistic laugh at the naive 20-year-old me, here's a link. I feel sorry for myself already.)
But well, this year, I'm going to scrape all the nonsense and keep things simple, for real.
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION 2013:
Push my body to its optimum human potential.May be this is like the last wish of a woman who has come to the realization that she is slowly heading to the grave, with every passing day. Whichever it is, I feel it's a good enough fight to take on.
Here are the things that are on my list:
Things to try out:
- Consuming better.
- Sleeping better.
- Swimming.
- Yoga.
- Hapkido.
- Cycling.
- Hitting the gym, regularly.
- Dancing.
- Rock climbing and mountaineering.
- Meditation.
Yes, it's an extensive list. And I don't know how much of it I will achieve, but I will give it my bestest shot.
In other news, procrastination is such a bitch. I'm thinking of asking for professional advice to help overcome it. I'm just too old for this shit. Another thing that needs taking care of in 2013.
Of all the things I anticipate this year will bring, what scares me the most that I have no idea, absolutely no idea, of where I will be in a year's time. Come 2014, I don't know to which corner of the world fate will take me. I have become so terribly attached to Iowa, and even after these few weeks in California I already feel like I'm becoming fond of the Pacific, the mountains and the queer people who live in the valley in between. And I still miss chaotic Colombo ofttimes. My only hope is that wherever I find myself next will be as exciting and memorable as all my other crazy transitions. I guess that is just the way it is with us humans- wherever we may roam, where we lay our heads is home.
Of Falling Stars
Written a bunch of days ago...and edited today.
One whiny post after another, I sound worse than Justin Bieber. So today I thought I'd write about happier things.
I thought I'd tell you about December 14. I awoke around three in the morning grumpy and dazed in the post-finals stress. Then I remembered what a friend of mine told me about the meteor shower that was supposed to happen that night. I dropped out of bed, quickly brewed myself a big mug of tea, put on my warmest coat and pair of boots, and walked out into the night.
Looking for a spot that was out of the glare of street lights, I walked across to the nearby golf course. There was a little hill where I lay on the grass for about an hour staring into the skies.
Lying there I felt dumb and illiterate. Above me was the expanse of stars and I could not find my way around. The only constellation I can recognize is Orion, and that was the only one I spotted that night. I kept staring, hopeful in spite of the numbing cold. There was a dizzying array of sparkly things of different intensities, plotting patterns across the blackness, but I was oblivious, staring at them as dumb as a tortoise that saw the sky for the first time in its life.
Then I saw it. At first I thought I had imagined it. It was a mere silver glitter in the sky. I kept staring at that area, and I saw one again. It drew a little shimmering vertical line in the dark night sky, sharp and crisp like the slash of a silver blade.. Then another and another. I think I saw may be seven shooting stars that night.
As beautiful as they were, they probably were not happy things. Only particles of dust caught in the gravity of Earth, falling at such speeds through the atmosphere that air sets them on fire. Burning, they fall and vanish into air. What was probably one of the most beautiful nights of my life was only a glimpse of the remnants of the universe burning away.See what you missed, here.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
[incomplete]
Written on December 19, 2012.
It's six in the a.m. and only hours before I board a flight westbound, but I am in a contemplative mood and running on coffee. For some reason my body (and mind) is under the misconception that humans sleep every 30 hours or so. My days blur into each other, and time feels longer in spite of the winter that casts everything into darkness all day anyway. I am tired, very, very tired and my words creep slowly onto the page, but my mind is a bit of a whirlpool.
First things first, I didn't do as well this semester as I would have liked to. "It's okay," a little voice in my head attempts to console me, but then there is this maddening scream that tells me that I am an idiot and that this is far, far from the best I can spew out. And I'm afraid that the demon under my bed, that keeps telling me that I didn't do all I could, is right. I didn't. What I feel worst about is letting people down. This one professor, who didn't know if Youtube was spelled with a "you", is one of the most awesome people I have ever met, and in return for an awesome semester I made a B-. Here Dr. W, this is how much fuck I give. I don't even know how I'm going to face her now.
Then there is the whole big deal about moving on, growing up, aiming high. Life, at times, feels like a series of random leaps of faith. Though I am convinced, most of the time at least, that this road less traveled I have chosen for my life is the right one, and that I will most likely get a share of good things for the hard work I put in, I can't help but feel jealousy. Jealous of freshmen, of housewives, whose lives seem so predictable, so easy to navigate, to live.
A friend told me today that I should not be afraid to love. It will hurt she said, but worth it. As much as I would like to believe her, I am not convinced.
It's six in the a.m. and only hours before I board a flight westbound, but I am in a contemplative mood and running on coffee. For some reason my body (and mind) is under the misconception that humans sleep every 30 hours or so. My days blur into each other, and time feels longer in spite of the winter that casts everything into darkness all day anyway. I am tired, very, very tired and my words creep slowly onto the page, but my mind is a bit of a whirlpool.
First things first, I didn't do as well this semester as I would have liked to. "It's okay," a little voice in my head attempts to console me, but then there is this maddening scream that tells me that I am an idiot and that this is far, far from the best I can spew out. And I'm afraid that the demon under my bed, that keeps telling me that I didn't do all I could, is right. I didn't. What I feel worst about is letting people down. This one professor, who didn't know if Youtube was spelled with a "you", is one of the most awesome people I have ever met, and in return for an awesome semester I made a B-. Here Dr. W, this is how much fuck I give. I don't even know how I'm going to face her now.
Then there is the whole big deal about moving on, growing up, aiming high. Life, at times, feels like a series of random leaps of faith. Though I am convinced, most of the time at least, that this road less traveled I have chosen for my life is the right one, and that I will most likely get a share of good things for the hard work I put in, I can't help but feel jealousy. Jealous of freshmen, of housewives, whose lives seem so predictable, so easy to navigate, to live.
A friend told me today that I should not be afraid to love. It will hurt she said, but worth it. As much as I would like to believe her, I am not convinced.
The End That Never Came
It only seemed right that I traveled to the end of the world in anticipation of Doomsday. There I was, at the feet of the mighty Pacific Ocean waiting patiently for the world to burn. But alas, December the twenty-first came and went, uneventfully.
I am terribly sleepy right now. I haven't written in so very long, so I will try to keep my eyes open and spill out words as they come. My posts have been terrible, terrible, terrible lately. Mostly just nonsensical rants that I think killed my fan club of three readers. So here is my attempt at reconciliation.
Among the dozens of hilarious Armageddon memes on my Facebook news-feed on Friday were one or two philosophical, contemplative posts by people who were asking themselves the wrong questions at the wrong time. Hours before the end of the world is definitely the worst time to be thinking about life's should-have's and could-have's. That's when you want to be running around getting your last rations into the cellar and polishing up that shotgun. I even got myself a haircut the week before, just in case. These people, they had it all wrong, sitting in front of their computers wondering about the purpose of life and such.
But in all honesty, their words made me think. If the world had really ended on Friday, what would have been my last thoughts? Would I have died happily? I am thousands of miles away from my family and that sure would have been upsetting. But other than that?
One thing I've really regretted over the last few weeks is growing up. I have learned to play it safe, to be nice and law-abiding. I honestly hate being "nice", but the learning has sunk in so deep the pretense comes automatically. To smile at the right time, to say the right things- it's all so natural. The person I became to please those around me grew so real that even I couldn't tell her apart anymore, and she merged with the real me into something unrecognizable and sad and disgusting.
I want to tap back into the person I used to be. I scare myself sometimes, but that I think is where you find true beauty, when you really push your physical and mental limits.
My most memorable moments in life never came from sitting around being good. Last week I pushed myself to do something unspeakable, even unthinkable, and minutes before I was sitting on my bed shaking and shuddering from head to toe. I was afraid, very very afraid. I won't say it ended being one of the most memorable moments of my life (think plain tea and cigarettes), but feeling that fear, that soul shattering fear was absolutely revitalizing. Knowing that you were alive enough to lose something reminds you that it is all worth it. And that is what I miss about growing up, that euphoria, the blood-rush of facing your own madness.
I thought about it recently. If the sixteen-year-old me met the the twenty-some-old me they would hate each other. Each one would think the other a loser. The elder one would feel pity and the younger one anger and revulsion. If that is not a devastating personal conundrum, I don't know what is. I want the best of both worlds. I want, I want...
I think I wrote about how I think I may have been in love? It was real, it happened, it came and went like a crashing wave. Other than being a dizzying experience of oscillating between bliss, confusion, and anger, "falling in love" also reminded me that I am still alive, still capable of feeling.
That's it. I'm sleepy.
I am terribly sleepy right now. I haven't written in so very long, so I will try to keep my eyes open and spill out words as they come. My posts have been terrible, terrible, terrible lately. Mostly just nonsensical rants that I think killed my fan club of three readers. So here is my attempt at reconciliation.
Among the dozens of hilarious Armageddon memes on my Facebook news-feed on Friday were one or two philosophical, contemplative posts by people who were asking themselves the wrong questions at the wrong time. Hours before the end of the world is definitely the worst time to be thinking about life's should-have's and could-have's. That's when you want to be running around getting your last rations into the cellar and polishing up that shotgun. I even got myself a haircut the week before, just in case. These people, they had it all wrong, sitting in front of their computers wondering about the purpose of life and such.
But in all honesty, their words made me think. If the world had really ended on Friday, what would have been my last thoughts? Would I have died happily? I am thousands of miles away from my family and that sure would have been upsetting. But other than that?
One thing I've really regretted over the last few weeks is growing up. I have learned to play it safe, to be nice and law-abiding. I honestly hate being "nice", but the learning has sunk in so deep the pretense comes automatically. To smile at the right time, to say the right things- it's all so natural. The person I became to please those around me grew so real that even I couldn't tell her apart anymore, and she merged with the real me into something unrecognizable and sad and disgusting.
I want to tap back into the person I used to be. I scare myself sometimes, but that I think is where you find true beauty, when you really push your physical and mental limits.
My most memorable moments in life never came from sitting around being good. Last week I pushed myself to do something unspeakable, even unthinkable, and minutes before I was sitting on my bed shaking and shuddering from head to toe. I was afraid, very very afraid. I won't say it ended being one of the most memorable moments of my life (think plain tea and cigarettes), but feeling that fear, that soul shattering fear was absolutely revitalizing. Knowing that you were alive enough to lose something reminds you that it is all worth it. And that is what I miss about growing up, that euphoria, the blood-rush of facing your own madness.
I thought about it recently. If the sixteen-year-old me met the the twenty-some-old me they would hate each other. Each one would think the other a loser. The elder one would feel pity and the younger one anger and revulsion. If that is not a devastating personal conundrum, I don't know what is. I want the best of both worlds. I want, I want...
I think I wrote about how I think I may have been in love? It was real, it happened, it came and went like a crashing wave. Other than being a dizzying experience of oscillating between bliss, confusion, and anger, "falling in love" also reminded me that I am still alive, still capable of feeling.
That's it. I'm sleepy.
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