oh, no. no, no, no.

"how do i love thee? let me count the ways..."
or so the saying goes. according to browning, anyway.

i apologize in advance if this blog is too graphic.

2008 marks my 3rd year of no valentine on valentine's day. well, i did go on that date with drew last year, the day before valentine's day. but that was a first date, and i'm pretty sure we only picked that day because it wasn't as awkward as actually going out on the 14th.

the nice thing is that i didn't really notice this year. i'd like to think that this is mainly because i've grown a lot. a year of singleness in taiwan really kicks you in the romantic gonads, so when the options are complaining or growing, i pick growing.

but actually, this has more to do with the fact that i was sick on valentine's day. sick, sick. very sick. more sick than i've been in at least a year. and i don't know why. for some reason, my body woke me up at 3a.m., as if to say, "hey! you feel like crap! you don't want to miss a moment of it."

so for the next 4 hours, i couldn't sleep, i couldn't sit, and i couldn't walk. it all made me dizzy. so, i thought to myself, in my misery, maybe vomiting will help. and this is true, perhaps it would have helped. for those who don't know, vomiting, as i perceive it, is fate worse than death. every bit of it repulses me. and over the years, i've learned to control all manner of vomiting by strained mind over matter. and surprisingly, this works on most vomit-inducing situations: hangovers, motion sickness, watching others vomit, death marches on mount rinjani, gnarly taiwanese food, vicodin, being run over by trucks, dormitory life. in fact, i can remember the last time i got the stomach flu, and it was at least 12 years ago. this was also the last time i ever threw up.

but to give you all the magnitude of my illness, i prayed for the ability to throw up whatever it was that my stomach could not handle that night. prayed. and tried. for over 3 hours, i heaved. but nothing. forgive me, but i was under the impression that things of this nature came naturally. like putting your arms out in self-preservation. or procreation. nobody has to teach you to do this stuff. your body figures it out on its own. but apparently, it's been so long since i've thrown up, that my body has actually forgotten how to do it. either i've successfully trained myself in all manner of conscious and sub-conscious defense against regurgitation, or i'm somehow challenged. i like to think the former.

long story short, i managed to stumble into work for the afternoon class sessions, but was barely able to stand through most of the periods. i suppose this is why God invented things like story time, and especially valentine's day, as i just set my kids to making valentines and writing letters for the latter half of class. i've never missed a day of work, but i've spent most of the past 2 days sleeping, or wishing i were sleeping. and when not doing the previous things, just wishing i were dead.

God bless valentine's day.


p.s. i found this picture, and words really cannot convey how amazing it is. chris told me that some of my pictures make me look like i'm "special," but i can guarantee that none of them come close to his face in this one.

i remember a song that says "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." and by that i mean, let's not forget love comes in more forms than romance, people. when i taught my kids about valentine's day, i reminded them that there are a lot of people to love, in a lot of different ways, not just boyfriends or girlfriends. and i'm thinking, sometimes, that's the best kind of love.

for the love of karen

"to love another person is to see the face of God."
or so the saying goes.

ah, television. a medium with so much drivel to wade through, though i suppose it's no different than film. or art. or music. or literature.

can i admit right now that i miss alias? yes, i loved victor garber as jack bristow and ron rifkin as arvin sloane. i said it, okay?! character evolution... imagine that!

while i could do without the box in my living room, there are two shows i watch regularly.
lost.
and the office.

lost. oh, there's so much to say about you, lost. your writers are just so good, and i love them for it, but they are, undoubtedly, the biggest bastards in the world. without qualms, they kill off all our favorite characters. your writers even dangle it in front of us, your faithful viewers, for weeks on end, yet we feel violated when they actually follow through. what kind of twisted individuals could kill charlie? your writers, that's who. we know it had to happen, because you've been leading up to it for months, but it still seemed so unfair. you never cease to surprise me, lost, with your intricate plots and your complicated characters. and if that weren't enough, you make me wonderfully uncomfortable with how unflinchingly you examine the darkest aspects of being finite and mortal. you openly and regularly extend the assumed boundaries of time and space and the spiritual realm and reality and the divine and psychology and what we want and what can/can't be and miracles and a higher being and social constructs. your writers know that these are the boundaries we assume because, without them, we fear that we might not even be functional. so they expand and contract them, and we all know that, deep down, this disturbs us. thank you, lost, for being willing to explore these things, because the world hides from them too often.

but this blog isn't even about lost. it's about the office. thanks to mary beth, i am obsessed. i've seen all the episodes, and am constantly amazed by its exceptional cleverness.

like any faithful office viewer, i am rooting for pam and jim. we all know that they belong together, and we detest karen and roy for getting in the way of destiny.

but as i've watched, i think something needs to be said in defense of karen. though i know it's my proper place to advocate jim and pam, i can't help but feel a bit sorry for karen. i mean, she's not a bad person or anything. she doesn't treat jim poorly as roy did to pam. unlike roy and pam, she and jim have a lot in common, and though she has reason to get a little crazy at times, she keeps her cool. anything that she's ever been uncomfortable with is within reason. anyone would feel a little disconcerted if they found out that their boyfriend had a thing with a co-worker and had never mentioned it before. or how about... he ran away because he got his heart broken by the receptionist. what??

but i've gotta say that, above all, i think that maybe i simply feel for karen because i see some of myself in her.
for example

or

or


she's got spunk, that karen. she's competitive. she tries to say it like she means it. she's awkward. she's intelligent. she's understanding. really, i like karen. the only reason she's screwed is because she doesn't know enough about what's really going on. i've been told over and over again that you can't do anything about how a guy feels about you. either he likes you or he doesn't, and it doesn't matter how hard you try. or maybe he really does like you, but not as much as somebody else. i really believe jim likes karen. but she's not pam.
it's nothing you did, karen. there's nothing wrong with you. really, really. honestly, the reason jim went back to pam isn't about you. it's just... well... you're just not pam. you can't say or do or try or fix or want or give anything to make him change his mind. it really is that simple.

i don't know how it happens, how some women are karens and others are pams. there's nothing wrong with either type of person. though office fans everywhere are rooting for pam, i must step up and say that we karens are perfectly fine... we're smart, pretty, compassionate... but we just can't seem to get the guy to see us instead of the pams. we wander around the dating pool, confused because, by all accounts, we haven't done anything wrong. in the vastness of it all, most would agree that we're a decent catch. we're cool. we're good friends. we get along with guys. getting their attention isn't the problem. and when asked, the jims of the world can't explain why the karens aren't quite right. and as a member of the karen variety, i will say that it's frustrating not to understand what's wrong, when really, really, really... we try so hard.

as season 4 comes around, i propose that we cut karen some slack. being dropped for no apparent reason, for no tangible, definable characteristic, isn't easy. watching the pams defeat us time and again, and not knowing what they have that we don't is difficult.

karens, here's to perseverance.

not gonna lie...

"treat others as you want to be treated."
or so the saying goes.

i say that it didn't hurt, because it shouldn't have. i was purposely avoiding it. i pretend it didn't bother me. i feign to be more disdainful than i really am. i only smirk because i believe that everyone can see plainly that i'm merely pretending. it's an act, all of it. i act as if it's an inside joke only between you and me because we are the only people who know. you and me. you play along, because it's awkward. not just the kind of awkward that comes and goes because you and i come and go. the kind of awkward that you immediately want to obliterate because acknowledging it jeopardizes everything that comprises you and me. there can be no you and me, not even the simplest version of you and me, if that awkwardness seeps through. if it is remotely visible to those around us.

and i laugh, all the while hoping that i can control the spasms in my face long enough to make the obligatory eye contact with you, to force the smile out, when really, all i want to say is that you hurt my feelings. and i can hold that smile, if only for a fleeting instant - fortunately the only instant i need. but if i look at you longer than that, i know that you can see it. you can see my laughter metamorphose into vulnerability - the corners of my mouth twitching uncontrollably, the softening of my eyes from playful mockery to subtle dejection. if it's any longer than that moment. i may be blonde, or perhaps i was drunk, or maybe a few years of this has made me resilient or positive or hopeful, but i'm not indestructible. yet your eyes plead with me to be so, coax me to be so, manipulate me to be so, because, let's be reasonable, it wasn't long enough to hurt that much.

it is not, and has never been, as fine as we pretend it is. i know it, though i pretend i don't. and when you see my face after that short moment, that moment i can never seem to control, i think you know it, too.

i tell the truth here, to my non-existent blog-reader, because i otherwise lack the courage to say anything.

but i know, and now my blog knows, that it hurt. it really, deeply did.

i struggle with forward motion

"don't count your chickens before they've hatched."
or so the saying goes.

it's finally happening. i think i'm finally crashing. the truth is, i thought i was too far beyond this for it to catch up with me. anybody who knows me will tell you that i'm a fighter, that i believe i am in control of my circumstances. life, love, happiness, and being okay are a choice, and i actively choose them all. i'm of the "it's not something you feel, it's something you do" school of thought. truthfully, i have not shed a single tear since september 30, 2006. i had somehow convinced myself that it was a competition; i needed to care even less than he seemed to care that day. and i resolved myself to feeling nothing, because it didn't deserve my attention. as badly as i knew it hurt, i was not going to let it affect me, and i was going to make it make me into a better person.

the funny thing is that i have realized that there are an infinite number of ways to not have to confront a situation. i kept telling myself that i'd face it eventually.
after my birthday.
after that paper.
after that presentation.
after school.
after christmas.
when the new year came.
when i was back in orange county.
after i was done saying goodbye to kyle.
when heather got back from london.
after las vegas.
when i heard from the jet program.
when school began for everyone.
after i'd paid the bills.
after thursday night... next week.
after the jet interview.
maybe after i hung out with some people.
after my date.

it destroyed me inside to hear the things he said, in the manner in which he said them, a week after i told myself that i could do this.

so i supposed that if i could just feel beautiful, act beautiful, want to be beautiful, have others confirm that i'm beautiful, then ultimately, truthfully, deep down, i would be fine. and i thought that this time, this time, i had done something right, because i was more okay than i had ever been. the reality of my situation is, however, that nobody escapes such a confrontation without being hurt. and my choice would be to get hurt in the beginning, or later on, painfully all at once, or let it stretch out.

even though i know that a part of me has crashed inside, i haven't let myself cry, because i feel that, in some small way, that means he wins, that he mattered more to me than i did to him. and it infuriates me to my very core. it's a relief to know that i'm okay and that i am, honestly, over it. i know it every time i have a conversation with another guy, i can feel it, because i never, ever let myself think about him with even the slightest affection when i'm talking to someone else. and i never want to go back.

my friend told me today that it's okay: we're allowed to be sad because that's just part of the whole painful process. it doesn't make me any weaker. and i suppose i've finally come to terms with this. i think that a part of me is simply annoyed, put off if you will, that this occupies any of my thoughts at any time of the day, that i'm wasting any energy on it.

mentally, i know that it hurt. mentally, i know i'm okay with being sad and letting it go in the process. but something wells up inside me every time that blocks it, that tells me no no no no you will not succumb to this, because your life is so much better now. look, it's made you into a better person, so why cry? maybe one day i will cry; cry because it's simply part of acceptance. then again, maybe i won't have to. maybe every day, it seems a little more absurd to do so. i haven't decided how i feel, other than that i'm simply surprised, and perhaps simply disappointed. that's okay, right? it's okay to feel that way, isn't it?

maybe i'm simply having a bad week. i suppose we all have those once in a while. a bad day or a bad shift or a bad drunken experience or a bad date or a bad phone call or a bad meal. on so many levels, i feel a little like there's something off about my life, but i can't identify what it is. i'm in transition, on so many levels, and maybe every so often, we grasp for normalcy, for a time when we thought something was dependable. i've believed since as long as life got a little more complicated than it used to be, however, that movement is important; that so long as i move, i am open to wherever He might want to move me. i want to stave off complacency, to be excited, and to know that i'm ready for whatever happens next. we all doubt; it's a part of the human experience. and it's been one of those weeks when i simply wanted to grasp for something or someone who knows exactly what it feels like to go from knowing and having specific purpose and motivation to complete self-reliance. so long as everyone else has school and tests, i'm not sure that they can know. i've wanted so badly to talk to someone to can confirm that it's supposed to be this confusing, to feel this awkward. he understands, but opening that door jeopardizes all my progress.

people say that there is no God or that He left us all to our own devices, but i can't believe that is true. stop trying so hard to answer these questions, because He always provides. stop answering them your own way, for He will give them in a better way. i am trying to have more faith in the answers he provides, especially in all ways i don't expect. today, i was drinking coffee, and evan, who i never see, sat down with me at starbucks and we talked about how it feels to be done with school. it was good to know, if even on the surface, that my feelings weren't unusual, that it was okay to be confused and to struggle with motivation. movement. seek, and you will not go unanswered. desire and ask, and you will be satisfied.

i dare you to move
i dare you to move
i dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
i dare you to move
i dare you to move
like today never happened before

it's so difficult, when you just want to lie down and say "this will pass, it always does." and i believe it does, but it's not how i operate. but movement, saying "i'm ready to be better and i'm ready to do what i know is right, just please please answer me..." God has always answered me. and the desire to know in my own way dissipates.

on God, control, and the laborious process of moving on

"when one door closes, another one opens."
or so the saying goes.

"There was utter silence all around me. And now for the first time I knew what I had been doing. While I was reading, it had, once and again, seemed strange to me that the reading took so long; for the book was a small one. Now I knew that I had been reading it over and over – perhaps a dozen times. I would have read it forever, quick as I could, starting the first word again almost before the last was out of my mouth, if the judge had not stopped me. And the voice I read it in was strange to my ears. There was given to me a certainty that this, at last, was my real voice."
-c.s. lewis, till we have faces

i love this part of the story. for those who don't know, i wrote my senior thesis on it. it seemed appropriate, since i first read it in 8th grade and my understanding of the world has changed considerably since then.

i suppose i identify with orual. she's reading her complaints about the various injustices of her life to the gods, and she realizes that it never mattered that the world was unjust to her. somehow, she came in with a sense of entitlement. it's at this moment in the book that she sees her true self. that all her complaints never mattered to begin with. she keeps insisting that it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, but she doesn't move on until she realizes that what's fair and unfair to her is insignificant. how she reacts is. nobody will ever find it fair. acceptance of one's inability to change this or to change other people is significant.

a few weeks ago, i received an email. i didn't expect it and i still don't know how to respond to it, or even if i can respond to it. i think that when i'm honest with myself, it makes me a bit angry. it wasn't an apology or anything. perhaps it was just an attempt to move on, or to prove a point to me. but it came out of the bluest of blue depths. 4 months and no words after the fact.

when that obnoxious day that has burnt itself in the depths of my brain came last fall, i resorted to all the usual feelings. it's not fair, i didn't deserve it, i can't believe it, i thought it would be different this time, why is this happening to me. all the same questions, all over again. and i suppose it is fair that he told me that he wasn't happy before we went any further, but i do know that i didn't deserve it; i think most would agree that i deserved better.

they say that you can't control other people, just how your respond to them.

i've learned a great deal about this statement. it occurred to me that it didn't really matter what was and wasn't fair. it is what it is. i believe in a just God. and i believe in a faithful God. just because i wanted it to be different or better doesn't mean that He has to make it that way. He gives and takes away, according to His will, whether or not i find it fair. who am i to decide fair?

of my break-ups, this one has been the most liberating. orual stopped complaining when she realized that she couldn't control everything. i finally realized that beating the ground was also accepting defeat, and that constantly repeating to myself that it was so so so unfair was only driving me mad. fair or unfair, i had to change my approach. so i did, and it was difficult and painful and all the rest. but moving on has come far more naturally this time around. and the constant need to be with someone has begun to dissipate. for the first time since i was 16, i can honestly say that i'm okay with this, that i might actually prefer this.

as much as i love my faith, the church bothers me because all my years of growing up have instilled in me that i'm somehow incomplete until i find someone to fill the void. like marriage will be my miracle drug, and that when i meet him, i'll know. like i'm searching the world for the missing pieces of myself. since last september, this concept has perplexed me. why am i looking so hard, and why do i feel compelled to think of that as the beginning of my life. am i ignorant or just somebody that was meant to be alone? i like to think that my heart burns too much for relationship for this to be the case, but my attitude towards relationships is cynical at best. i'm so jaded by the supreme laziness i've experienced.

fair or unfair, right or wrong, things have changed. i'm of the opinion and joy is a choice we all make. i can run around asking why or i can accept that what is, simply is, and choose to let go. everything happens for a reason, and i've given up trying to understand why or why not. i'm only as stuck as i choose to be. life requires proactivity. in the spirit of joy and choosing it, i am grateful that all this has happened. it surprises me sometimes that this process has revealed so many anti-me characteristics. i'm more guarded, and i find that i care less. not so much that i would use another person, but enough that i can say done is done is done is done, and forget it. i don't like not caring, but i do like not getting hurt anymore. You have a purpose. damned if i know what it is, but i'm choosing to not look too hard for it. i'm sure it will be, in the most cosmic sense, more fair than any way i could envision it.