|
|
Thursday, July 25th, 2002
| |
1:25 pm - Communication
|
Humans should be telepathic. Then the there would be no error in the transmission of ideas. When the perfect transmission ideas breaks down, as it is with language, unnessary conflict results. Lawyers are lucky. If the human race should one day develop telepathic powers (which is not beyond possibility since there is so much untapped potential in the human brain) lawyers would be out of jobs. We would interpret the law perfectly, just the way the writers of our legal code intended it.
I once believed that I listened well. I believed that I'm easy to talk to since I understand the people around me. A lot of things about people's personalities made sense to me. Their motivations, their ambitions, their fears, their anxieties, they also seemed to be drawn from the same pool of emotions. It's like putting a jigsaw puzzle together: she will likely do this because she's having these problems and thinks this way. Psychologists often say that after the first year, they have pretty much seen all the problems people have and each new case is only a variation of one of the basic cases that they have had in the past.
Now, however, I'm not so confident in my listening abilities. It seems I have lost touch with someone who I have intently listened to for the past few months. I remember every word she has said to me. Sometimes I wonder if I should be a lawyer because when I decide to pay close attention to a person, I remember every word they say to me. Afterwards, I'm able to recite it back to her to show the inconsistencies of her argument. Unfortunately, that in itself has dug me into a hole that I'm not sure I can climb out of. She won't tell me her problems. She's afraid of talking about them. She will not engage in the verbal dance of discussion. Yet she has problems she wants to tell me. She has issues she wants to resolve with me. She values my opinion, but I have badgered her into a corner.
Then communication breaks down. Words are left for interpretation. Ideas are left twisted and unrecognizable. She told me that "we should have some time apart." I thought she was breaking up with me....out of the blue since we were happy and loving just the day before. She later explained that that was her only way to get my attention, that she didn't know what to do, that she was confused. We talked, we discussed, and we interpreted each other. She says she has problems opening up. Ironic isn't it? She opened up to me just fine when we weren't dating. She opened up to me fine when we started dating. Now, six months into the deepest relationship I've ever had, she tells me she has trouble opening up. She can't talk to me because I inject my opinion everytime she opens my mouth. I find it direct, efficient, and concise to address the problems as they come up. She finds it intimidating, annoying, and intolerable for me to interrupt her. I can hold my tongue....I did it yesterday. It's argument style and I can change that.
Maybe I smother her too much. Maybe I need to let her have some space for awhile. All things in moderation....somewhere along the line, we forgot about that. Do we need love in moderation? Things were going so well....where did we go astray?
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Monday, June 17th, 2002
| |
11:57 am - Day1 NYC
|
As my plane landed in LaGuardia, the clouds parted and the sun came out for the first time in a week. Perhaps this is a sign that New York is finally ready to welcome this hesitant tourist. The weekend had already taken a turn for the worse when I arrived at the airport earlier only to find my original flight delayed. Unwilling to wait an extra three hours, I immediately entered my name on standby only to realize that I would fly a small propeller plane to NYC instead of the Embreur Jet my original flight had promised.
Apparently, propeller planes have weight limits and a few unfortunate passengers were kicked off the plane after taking their seats because we were too heavy. Don’t they build planes with passenger specifications? The lightening of the cabin did not help the stability as we tumbled through the cloud cover while making our descent. The resonant rings of Our Lady Peace on constant repeat kept my stomach from turning inside out but the beating of the propeller right next to my window made the trip quite unpleasant.
I landed at 3:20, twenty minutes late. Aileen met me as she said she would at the baggage claim. She seemed distant, foreign, but homely, like the homemade cooking I miss when I’m at school. Her hair was shorter but clipped together with gem studded hair clips. She wore a navy blue jacket she had purchased earlier that day from the gap. She looked exquisite; simple yet refined. I felt complete having her in my arms again and she seemed equally excited.
We arrived at her place by subway forty minutes later. The subway reminded me of all the muggings, purse snatchings and rapes I’ve seen in movies. Some guy in a black jump suit is going to beat me up and rob me and there won’t be a big green turtle to beat him up. Pessimistic fantasies aside, the subway wasn’t as retched as I envisioned. One subway ride seemed to display a cross section of America. Sitting across from us was a latino boy about my age with his hoochie looking girlfriend. At the doorway stood a young black high school student. To the left of me sat two rice-rocket boys, with their two-inch hair spikes and fake dangling jewelry. Further in the corner sat a new mother and a pair of punk rockers sporting the entire pink hair, leather pants and chains ensemble. Every university I’ve been to has stressed diversity and multiculturalism yet non of them have come remotely close to just one short subway ride to lower Manhatten. As I entered Grand Central, I heard music, soul to be exact. It wasn’t Sister Act III but rather a group of young girls singing for donations. They were merely foreshadowing for a recurring theme.
That night, we ate with Joe, Jess and Jess’s friend Joy in Chinatown. In the subway station we saw an elderly man playing Er Hu, a two-stringed Chinese instrument played with a bow. He was incredibly talented yet forced to make a living playing in a subway station. As beautiful as his music sounded, it could still not compete with the deafening roar of a passing subway train. Donations were sparse but everyone needs food and shelter so he makes due. He makes due…
Chinatown looked exactly like a Chinese city. Unlike the Chinatowns of other cities (LA, Toronto, DC), this one had very little American influence. Produce lined in the streets, street vendors paraded the sidewalks, and roast duck perfumed the air. They even picked up the Chinese habit of piracy. Women were selling tapes of Star Wars EPII, Spiderman DVD and even the Bourne Identity (the movie isn’t even in theaters yet). Others were selling fake Oakleys, fake Rolexes, fake jewelry. Everyone with a boom box decided to play the new Eminem CD, which was undoubtedly pirated as well. The food was exquisite, as I expected but the surroundings were suspicious. Hollywood has given Chinatown a bad reputation. Thus we hurried home as soon as we finished dinner and decided to call it a night.
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Monday, June 10th, 2002
| |
9:58 am - under construction
|
|
| Friday, March 8th, 2002
| |
10:56 pm - 1 month down and many more to go
|
Scary how time passes so quickly. Exactly one month ago, I embarked on what has proven to be a truely magical journey. Now that we're happily attached at the hip and inseparable, I can finally ponder my newfound source of excitment. Ironic how only a week before that faithful Feburary night, I had gotten in an argument with my sweetie. I was ready to give up, perhaps accepting my fate as a friend in only a platonic capacity. Yet a little bit of luck, a little bit of fate, and maybe even a little bit of cupid's arrow intervened a little less than a week later. I think I finally know what it means to fall in love. We read about it in the fairy tales, the story books, the sappy romance novels, but this is the real thing. This is what it feels like to love someone completely and totally with a complete disregard for consequences. She does not think I'm weird or overdramatic because she feels the exact same way about me.
Life is reaching a new equilibrium. Every morning I wake up thinking: "I had a great time with my sweetie last night...where is she now?...how is she doing...I can't wait to see her again." Somehow I have the feeling that she's thinking something along the same lines. Everytime I'm with her, time seems to evaporate before us. Yet that alone makes our next meeting that much sweeter.
I don't get to see her for a 10 days. This could quite possibly be the my most deprived spring break ever. At least we still go our phones and each other. Happy One Month sweetie!!! I love you
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, February 16th, 2002
| |
3:37 am - I know my calculus, it says you + me = us
|
|
I've never posted for LJ during a time of joy. Perhaps this post will be more inspired, more inventive, more intense. naaawwwww. I love Aileen, and now she loves me too. mmmmmmmmmmm!!!!
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, January 26th, 2002
| |
2:43 am - Fortune
|
|
I just debated the existence of god. I don't feel enlightened. I feel like I'm doing some deep soul searching, yet my mind is empty. What did I do today? I woke up, I went to class, I ate lunch, I slept, I watched a movie, I slept. Is my life truly so boring? Am I just passing time? I talked to my cousin for two and a half hours yesterday. I kept a flowing conversation for two and a half hours, but by the end, I had said nothing. There was nothing in my life to tell her. Am I falling into a hole or stuck in a hole already? Is falling into this hole a bad thing? Too many questions and too few answers.
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Thursday, December 20th, 2001
| |
2:13 am - in the spirit of the season?
|
In the wake of the unexpected (Stew got a livejournal), I have decided to update. What compelled me to write this, I do not know. Maybe its my way of releasing the.....I don't even have a word for it. I only know it is bad. It's the internal scarring caused by the god awful movie I endured tonight at Stan's house. Whoever that Hedwig character is should be shot, repeatedly. I think I'll be having nightmares for awhile about some crazy german guy cutting people's penises off so they can all be like him. Twisted, that's what he is, twisted. Mark's twisted...I think he's on drugs...but I'm not sure which ones. Why are you reading this? Shouldn't you be doing something constructive? Don't you have something better to do than to tap into my boring ass life? Here, I'll bitch and moan a little more and maybe I'll get 20 responses from complete strangers sympathizing with me by giving me *(*(Hug(*(* and ##Kiss$$'s.
If you're a guy, stop jizzing on the keyboard. If you're a girl, stop dating the guy you're with, and starting screwing a new guy. If you're Aileen, I love ya babe, and I know you love me so just admit it!!
current mood:  anxious
current music: STP - Interstate Love Song
|
|
(7 comments | comment on this)
|
| Monday, July 30th, 2001
| |
11:36 am - A Tale of Two Cities
|
My current dilemma at work inspired me to write this entry. Pardon me for its hastiness but I could only spare my lunch period to complete it.
Is it bad to avoid ones problems? Problems are good; they inspire us to change. Without deficiencies, we are stuck in our own complacency. Yet when a glaring, disastrous problem arises, is it better to avoid that problem to keep the masses happy? Take a city for example: a chemist discovers a high content of toxins in the city's drinking water. The toxin is slow acting, so no one will notice for many years. Does he keep the secret to himself and let the citizens of the city die off many years from now or does he reveal the secret and cause widespread distress and anxiety.
Our society is so caught up with the euphemizing of problems that we often overlook the severity of the situation. Only the harshness of reality will bring to light the direness of the problem. By euphemizing the situation, we only avoid what may later on come back to bite us in the ass. Yet, if we avoid the problem, those peaceful citizens of our hypothetical city would lead peaceful, happy lives.
So which IS better I ask you? Do we keep the public in blissful ignorance or awaken them with the biting truth....well back to keeping that biting truth from the higher ups.
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Monday, July 16th, 2001
| |
1:15 pm - Life
|
It hurts so much, I can't even laugh it off.
current mood:  gloomy
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, July 10th, 2001
| |
1:11 am
|
We are all mindless maggots swimming in the primordial soup. Racing, pacing, falling, crashing, losing our minds!! Our minds leave our bodies and wander. Hey look, I'm watering the Huckleberry. Why is my piss white? I'm a personality disorder waiting to happen. Do we need to understand everything we see? Must we be open minded? Today, I feel a slight breeze coming into my mind, maybe I'll leave the window half shut. Tomorrow, the forecast calls for rain, maybe I'll close the window then and wait for the next sunny day. I'm histrionic; I like history.
There's something wrong with this picture. I see white. I see blue. I don't see myself. I don't see the love. I want a clampo!!! Chimps are funny animals. People called my old girlfriend "chimp." That's B/ac her name is WaiPing Chim. shhhh, be werry werry quiet, I'm WaiPing wabbits. I want some wabbit. Wabbit taste good. Sleep escapes me. what is this sleep we keep dreaming of during the mindless pounding of unfinished work. I get a vacation, I use a vacation, I end a vacation, I have no vacation. The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. Men are slobs, of course they lead lives of quiet desperation. We're desperate for some pussy! And when we get some, we're desperate for some more. Freud got his shit together yo. Damn Bitch! you stupifly, let me slide up in that bumper and smack that monkey. maybe monkeys can help me sleep. maybe tired souls need quiet desperation for inner peace. maybe I'm just tired.
current mood:  drained
|
|
(3 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, June 29th, 2001
| |
12:08 pm - The blue sky, the green grass, the inviting weather, the *thud*
|
pane of glass that separates me from enjoying this beautiful day. Not a stir around me. A erie quietness surrounds me. "you wrap your legs around me. All I can do is try to breaaaath, let me breath." Fridays are always the most interesting within the catacombs of this multinational conglomerate. Not a soul to disturb my peace; not a soul to share my solitude. I could talk to Jyoti, oh wait, she left already. Perhaps this is my punishment for arriving so late. After exhausting nearly every channel of literature available at this time, I felt the urge to write, the urge to comment, the urge to criticize.
This phenomenon we call Live Journal, what do we actually use it for? The majority of the members I have read simply use it as an online diary to record the day's events. The lackadaisical stream of consciousness becomes more and more repetitive with every entry. If this truly is life as it is happening, why is it so boring? Is human existence truly so empty? Are we but mindless sheep of a fascist flock? No, I refuse!! There is life out there. There are people who understand what it means to live. Losing hope for this community, I stumble across Mark's latest entry. Perhaps just a recount of an ordinary day that happened years ago, the recount itself contained the spark of life that broke the monotonous cycle: "I got up, I hung out with friends, we drove places, I got home, I went to bed." Then I realize the flaw in my fear. Life itself is not boring, only the way we describe it. While my own ennui is wasting my precious few waking hours, there are solutions around that problem. When we can't beat them, we leave to fight another day.
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, June 26th, 2001
| |
10:33 am - Stress is fleeting
|
Congratulations, you are reading only the second entry in this meager journal. Yet my temporary distress has freed a few spare moments at work to complete this much needed entry. I've just completed a standard curve for a new protein detection system I'm trying desperately to develop but the results are nothing close to what I'm hoping for. Not only am I at a lost of words for why the tests turned out so badly, but this isn't even the first time this test has not worked. Perhaps its was a bad idea to begin with but I will continue to salvage what little benefit I can scrap up from this method.
I'm sure my humble readers (all three of you) will enjoy a less work oriented entry. I feel bad ditching my friends on weekdays. When I returned home, three messages awaited me from various people with the general message: "ditching us to get laid huh?" Isn't that what we're all here for anyway? To get our genes on to the next generation. The biologist in mean justifies my mini-date with Jenny by simple evolutionary survival, but the sociologist in mean provides the much more logical excuse: "get pussy, get pussy, get pussy, get candy, get pussy get pussy." The one track mind that us men have. Don't even pretend that you have not had those exact thoughts within the last week at some point.
I wish I didn't have to work; rather I wish I didn't have to wake up so early to work. Work has severely limited the time I can spend out with friends and this past weekend went completely to waste due to the little ordeal of painting my house. Remind me to hire someone to paint from now on because it drained three days out of my life that I could have spent enjoying the pleasures of youth. I felt especially annoyed when I regretfully declined Mark's offer for the little get together at his house. I also missed the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful weather/play a little ultimate frisbee. To Stan: How the hell did you manage to lose 10-2 with twice as many people. We shall have to remedy that in the future.
uh-oh, lunch time is approaching and Jyoti will be calling any minute now, so here's a parting story that I'm sure all of you will find interesting. Jenny and I were walking toward my car last night at around midnight as I was getting ready to take her home when from inside my car we hear a loud *thud* scratch* thud*. Jenny jumps and runs to the other side of my lawn while I see an oddly shaped shadow jump up and down my back seat. The size of the figure suggested it to be a small woodland animal, most likely a raccoon. Only then did I realize how careless I was to leave my window half open. The creature must have crawled in searching for food, and more likely than not, it was rabid. Not know what to do to get it out, I kicked my front bumper a couple of times to shake the car and luckily it got scared, jumped out of my open window and ran off. I still have to check the back seat to see if it took a nice dump in my car or not, but it does not smell so I'm guessing it didn't. Lesson 1) don't leave your window open at my house. lesson 2) don't leave food in the car. Lesson 3) don't live in woodland areas :) Ok, back to work
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
rapture492's journal