This post is brought to you by a comic book overdose.
Everyone, comic book/graphic novel fan or not, has pretty much been asked what kind of superpower they'd want if they could have any one they can possibly imagine.
After having read a ton of graphic novels/comic books over the last couple of weeks (from the very excellent, non-superpower-related-unless-you-count-a-penis Y, The Last Man to Ultimate Fantastic Four to Runaways to Cable & Deadpool), catching up on existing series, seeing the Iron Man movie, and mounting excitement over the upcoming The Dark Knight and Watchmen movies, I naturally find myself idly pondering this question every time I get up from my seat and go get a glass of water.
Being that I am poor and cannot afford much to else to drink and since water neutralizes hunger pangs, this actually takes place pretty often.
I fondly recall that, in such discussions in the past, my sister would almost always choose the powers of Lifeguard (c/o Marvel), who can borrow/assimilate the powers of pretty much anyone else. THIS IS CHEATING, DAMMIT.
Before I go into ultra-geek mode, however, let me just add that anyone who thinks graphic novels/comic books are for "kids" or are for "nerds/geeks/dorks" or are "immature forms of literature" or really anything along those lines should really pick up Y, The Last Man or the Watchmen. Either one of these will change your mind in an instant and they currently rank among my top two favorite stories in the medium. (SE++, feel free to add your recommendations, as I know you will.)
Okay. Justification over with, I think I should also mention that I like powers that are simple but have a wide range of practical and creative applications. None of that reality-shifting nonsense.
Without further ado, I present to you now my top nine favorite superpowers. (Why not ten? Because "10" has two digits and throws off the alignment of the list and man that kicks my OCD-like insanity into overdrive.)
9) X-ray vision, a la Superman (Justice League). Though not technically X-rays, but more like being able to see through layers of solid objects. Like clothes. I constantly fantastize about being able to see through someone and see them punch in their PIN at the ATM.
8) Durability, a la Luke Cage (Avengers). Not really invulnerability, but I can take a ton of hits before going down. I've always thought this was badass, though I'd be hard-pressed to explain why.
7) Healing Factor, a la Wolverine (X-Men) or Deadpool (Marvel). Finally, my fear of fire defeated if I know I could just heal back from it. Plus, staying young forever? Yes, please, absolutely. It'd take care of this stupid skin nonsense of mind, too.
6) Teleportation, a la Nightcrawler (X-Men) or Blink (Exiles). This way I can cross the damn street without standing around waiting for a car to slow down or a light to change. Yes I am constantly in a hurry. No I do not like waiting. Yes I would love to be able to teleport across oceans.
5) Underwater breathing, a la Namor (Marvel) or Aquaman (Justice League). My love of the ocean should leave this as no surprise.
4) Forcefields, a la Invisible Woman (Fantastic Four) or Violet (The Incredibles movie). Not invisibility so much, but definitely the forcefields. At least the spherical ones that can slice through anything if you toss them into a solid object. That be bitchin'.
3) Animal morphing, a la Beast Boy (Teen Titans) or technically Wolfsbane (X-Men). People who are familiar with the UNIFIED game we were prepping for on SE++ will know what I'm talking about, as I created a character who could transform into any animal (with the limitation of only one species per genus). If you want to see what kind of uncanny supernerdery I'm talking about here, check this out. And no, smartasses, furriness has nothing to do with this.
2) Intangibility, a la Shadowcat (X-Men). I dream constantly of walking into Shanghai traffic with this superpower. That, and sweeping an arm into an ATM and yanking out a stack of the red stuff. Ooh, ooh, or walking off the subway without having to shove people out of the way. Imagine what that would do for my anger problems!
1) Photographic reflexes, a la Monica Dawson (Heroes TV show). Aka muscle memory, where you just look at someone do something and you know how to do it, too, though not including superpowers. Stuff like playing a piano, busting out a wrestling move, craaaaaaazy Guitar Hero skills, firing a gun, piloting a helicopter, etc. All awesome. Basically went straight to my number one spot after I saw it on Heroes, haha. Bumped shadow manipulation (a la this character I also did for UNIFIED) right off the Top 9 list.
A lot of my thinking is done at an ATM, honestly.
So sure, while it may seem childish to fantasize about being super-human or whatever, I think it's sometimes therapeutic. And you can't tell me you never wondered about this stuff, either.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 21 of 7,412): SHANGHAI
I have been here since November 2005 and I have to say, in that time, there is one thing I have come to appreciate about Shanghai that is far more precious to me than its vast selection of food.
[ This post is brought to you by my posse and fellow volleyballers. ]
Putting aside things like low-cost housecleaners (we call them "ayis" or "ayi" in singular), cheap food (street food oh my GOD), incredible nightlife, mass amounts of bicycles, stupendously unpredictable weather, fake EVERYTHING, polluted air, horrendous traffic, ridiculous phone manners, and, of course, the insanity that permeates the entire population, perhaps the one thing I like about Shanghai is also present in other such cities.
I am talking about how easy it is to make friends and build a social circle from scratch in this city and others wherein foreign diasporas are prevalent. Most common in developing cities, these are situations where expatriates and other foreign residents flock together and form their own communities within a host city.
What this means is that in cities like this, it's simply easier to get yourself settled in socially. You show up, go to any number of "expat" activities, and you are almost always welcome to hang out with them as friends. It is easy to meet people who speak your language and build lasting friendships based on the fact that you are all going through the same sorts of headaches that come with living in a foreign host city.
I compare this to, say, a city which is relatively well-established, where the host city's language is prevalent enough that all foreigners are able to speak it, and where expatriates are much more easily camouflaged into the local flock.
Going into such a city knowing few or no people beforehand becomes a daunting social task. Friendships have long since been established, and groups of friends tend to be settled in their ways so breaking into an existing circle is difficult. Often, if a friend or relative brings you into their circle, you are classified as "so-and-so's friend/sister/brother" rather than as their own friend.
I'm not saying this is a bad thing. Having done the expat thing my whole life, I (and I'm sure Romain will back me up here) would kill to have stable groups of friends who don't leave after a few years or get kicked out of the country because of stupid visa rules.
I am simply making an observation. My first year in Shanghai was incredibly antisocial for a wealth of reasons, but a lack of social contact was not one of them. I simply didn't ever go out. But once I accepted a few invitations to go hang out, I found myself with a group of friends that are now some my very closest.
Were I to move back to a more stable city, where international schools do not exist, I would have a hard time adjusting not to the fact that people do not spit at my feet or smoke in elevators, but to the fact that starting over and making new friends is a tedious role regardless of how socially adept you are.
It's not impossible, it's just harder. I know some of you will disagree with me, but I'm also willing to bet that you have likely never lived in a city like Shanghai. When you see how easy it is to get settled in a city wherein you don't speak the local language, it really does blow your mind.
This, more than anything, is one of the reasons that I think I will always be at home in a city like Shanghai. I grew up in these cities, where we are thrown into an expat bubble, where expats are always willing to help one another out, even if they have never met before or know each other names, because we can all sympathize with being away from home, with the culture gap, or even just the language barrier. It's not an easy thing, it is always a comfort to know that the people sharing your boat are at least willing to help you out.
You could, in a way, compare it to college, where there is something fundamentally similar about everyone there that makes it easier to make new friends when you first get there. You're all freshmen, you're probably all living away from home for the first time, and it's the little things that come with those two facts that make it easy to build a foundation for a friendship or at least a social connection.
I probably have this sort of lifestyle to thank for the fact that I do not believe anyone should ever walk alone. I've said it before I know and I'm probably not all that unique in thinking this, but I guess that's why I love it when I am basically doing my Dr. Phviv thing for five hours out of an otherwise uneventful day.
Quite frankly, I am staying in Shanghai because of the friends I have made here. Prior to this city, I always had my family as a home base to return to when friends came and went or when we moved on to a new place. Here, this is the first time I have had to build a social network relying solely on my family's own business contacts, and I have to say that all you guys made it so easy for me to come to love this city.
This does include the volleyballers, by the way. I only see you guys twice a week now but SO MUCH LOVE to you guys.
That first year? Hated the city. Hated it. Now I don't want to leave.
[ This post is brought to you by my posse and fellow volleyballers. ]
Putting aside things like low-cost housecleaners (we call them "ayis" or "ayi" in singular), cheap food (street food oh my GOD), incredible nightlife, mass amounts of bicycles, stupendously unpredictable weather, fake EVERYTHING, polluted air, horrendous traffic, ridiculous phone manners, and, of course, the insanity that permeates the entire population, perhaps the one thing I like about Shanghai is also present in other such cities.
I am talking about how easy it is to make friends and build a social circle from scratch in this city and others wherein foreign diasporas are prevalent. Most common in developing cities, these are situations where expatriates and other foreign residents flock together and form their own communities within a host city.
What this means is that in cities like this, it's simply easier to get yourself settled in socially. You show up, go to any number of "expat" activities, and you are almost always welcome to hang out with them as friends. It is easy to meet people who speak your language and build lasting friendships based on the fact that you are all going through the same sorts of headaches that come with living in a foreign host city.
I compare this to, say, a city which is relatively well-established, where the host city's language is prevalent enough that all foreigners are able to speak it, and where expatriates are much more easily camouflaged into the local flock.
Going into such a city knowing few or no people beforehand becomes a daunting social task. Friendships have long since been established, and groups of friends tend to be settled in their ways so breaking into an existing circle is difficult. Often, if a friend or relative brings you into their circle, you are classified as "so-and-so's friend/sister/brother" rather than as their own friend.
I'm not saying this is a bad thing. Having done the expat thing my whole life, I (and I'm sure Romain will back me up here) would kill to have stable groups of friends who don't leave after a few years or get kicked out of the country because of stupid visa rules.
I am simply making an observation. My first year in Shanghai was incredibly antisocial for a wealth of reasons, but a lack of social contact was not one of them. I simply didn't ever go out. But once I accepted a few invitations to go hang out, I found myself with a group of friends that are now some my very closest.
Were I to move back to a more stable city, where international schools do not exist, I would have a hard time adjusting not to the fact that people do not spit at my feet or smoke in elevators, but to the fact that starting over and making new friends is a tedious role regardless of how socially adept you are.
It's not impossible, it's just harder. I know some of you will disagree with me, but I'm also willing to bet that you have likely never lived in a city like Shanghai. When you see how easy it is to get settled in a city wherein you don't speak the local language, it really does blow your mind.
This, more than anything, is one of the reasons that I think I will always be at home in a city like Shanghai. I grew up in these cities, where we are thrown into an expat bubble, where expats are always willing to help one another out, even if they have never met before or know each other names, because we can all sympathize with being away from home, with the culture gap, or even just the language barrier. It's not an easy thing, it is always a comfort to know that the people sharing your boat are at least willing to help you out.
You could, in a way, compare it to college, where there is something fundamentally similar about everyone there that makes it easier to make new friends when you first get there. You're all freshmen, you're probably all living away from home for the first time, and it's the little things that come with those two facts that make it easy to build a foundation for a friendship or at least a social connection.
I probably have this sort of lifestyle to thank for the fact that I do not believe anyone should ever walk alone. I've said it before I know and I'm probably not all that unique in thinking this, but I guess that's why I love it when I am basically doing my Dr. Phviv thing for five hours out of an otherwise uneventful day.
Quite frankly, I am staying in Shanghai because of the friends I have made here. Prior to this city, I always had my family as a home base to return to when friends came and went or when we moved on to a new place. Here, this is the first time I have had to build a social network relying solely on my family's own business contacts, and I have to say that all you guys made it so easy for me to come to love this city.
This does include the volleyballers, by the way. I only see you guys twice a week now but SO MUCH LOVE to you guys.
That first year? Hated the city. Hated it. Now I don't want to leave.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 20 of 7,412): GIRLIFICATION
So absorbed I have been in my story as well as a HOST of games (such as GTA4, a renewed addiction to Guitar Hero AND Viva Pinata, and various others on the DS Lite) that I've neglected to write about, you know, ME!
Fear not. If there is one thing I am good at, it's talking about that topic in particular.
[ This post is brought to you by Michelle, Jaya, and the pearl market lady. ]
Just over a month ago, right around the point at which I wound up in this abundance of free time that resulted from an untimely departure from my old company, I decided that much shopping was needed to alleviate the stress.
Yes, spending money when I am no longer making it. IT'S CALLED SAVINGS.
I am not and have never really been an avid shopper, certainly not when I am in Asia. And before you deplore me for what I'm about say next, SENIORS NAVIN AND KINDER, I will have you know that I am speaking purely from fact and not some deep-seated level of self-deprecation. It sucks to shop in Asia when you just aren't built like an Asian.
I really don't have to go into detail here, but basically, I am of a noticeably different shape from my dwarven, elvish countrymen. It really is the same story whether it's Hong Kong, Singapore, Shanghai, etc. It is simply frustrating to walk into a store, try something on, only to get depressed because the XXXXXXXXXXXL size doesn't fit.
On top of this, I am also, well, tomboyish. I was never "into" the more effeminate pursuits of make-up selection or constant haircare (my hair is flawless on its own without my trying, believe me). I never get my nails done, either. I did not own much jewelry, nor do I wear any beyond a pair of earrings and a watch. These just weren't things that I was interested in.
Then along comes my darling Michelle. Michelle, as many of you know, is one of my favorites and, loathe though she may be to admit it, a SHANGHAI STAPLE. She is now located in Washington, DC, which, some of you may be savvy enough to note, IS NOWHERE NEAR SHANGHAI. Disappointing as this fact may be, rest assured, Michelle, that you are missed, I love you bunches, I hope you are enjoying yourself.
(Which honestly, can't be very much because I am not there.)
BUT TO THE POINT. In Michelle's final weeks in Shanghai, we journeyed to the Hongqiao Pearl Market, a typical Chinese market were fake purses and genuine pearls abound. You really have to see it to believe. She introduces me to her trusty pearl lady, who sells jewelry of all sorts, not just pearls, and, in the span of four or five heartbeats, VIVIENNE BECOMES A GIRL.
Almost like my body just up and went "oh hey that there is a vagina, huh."
I went nuts. I bought so much stuff (for very cheap, I will have you know) and effectively increased my accessory selection eightfold.
I also bought three pairs of sunglasses.
Mere days later, to H&M, where I picked up more necklaces and bangles and bracelets.
Michelle departs. Depression sets in. What do I do?
I go to the fabric market to get a suit made. In getting those suits made, I bring my friend Kelly along, and what do we find while wandering around there? A silk tailor who makes clothes from some really gorgeous silk. And what do I get made? MY FIRST DRESS PURCHASE IN OVER FOUR YEARS.
Truth! The last dress I bought was in my junior year of college! (This also reminds me that in exactly one week from today, I would have been graduated for three years. Wow.)
Moving on. Two more silken creations follow.
In between these trips to the fabric market? Salon hair washes! Head massages! Manicures!
Then, on April 27, 2008, the unthinkable happened. I put aside my razor for the last time and walked into a little beauty shop and got my very, very first waxing session.
Yeah um if giving birth is more painful than THAT, then no thanks. Adoption ok.
I also got my eyebrows shaped. Not as painful, but man she was plucking hairs out that I couldn't even see with my naked eye.
I walk out there honestly feeling incredibly good. Tingly, but good. It is an odd sensation.
The second driver for all this is, of course, my dear Princess Jaya. It is no surprise to those of us who know here that she is, in our little group of hoodies and jeans, the slinky black halter dress. Always chic, she is.
And I felt I could learn a thing or two about dressing myself up from her. I even pester her for make-up tips! "What's that you're putting on your face? What's that stuff? And that stuff? What colors would look good on me? How much eyeliner should I wear? What kind of mascara do you use? Do you have a brand you'd recommend?"
To be fair, I still do not often wear make-up. That stuff costs. But I guess now when I do use it, I feel like I know what I'm doing. It's odd. I need more practice. I think I've used more make-up remover to get rid of smudges or mistakes than I have actually used in make-up itself.
All in all, it feels good. And I would imagine it is pretty odd when I walk into a barbecue wearing a silk top and jeans and stuff and geek the fuck out when I see that they are playing Rock Band RIGHT THERE IN THE LIVING ROOM AND OH MY GOD CAN I PLAY CAN I PLAY CAN I PLAAAAAAAY and of course whip everyone's ASSES at it.
Shit I ain't gonna lie. I love that feeling. I also love the fact that I haven't had to shave my legs in TWO WEEKS.
Fear not. If there is one thing I am good at, it's talking about that topic in particular.
[ This post is brought to you by Michelle, Jaya, and the pearl market lady. ]
Just over a month ago, right around the point at which I wound up in this abundance of free time that resulted from an untimely departure from my old company, I decided that much shopping was needed to alleviate the stress.
Yes, spending money when I am no longer making it. IT'S CALLED SAVINGS.
I am not and have never really been an avid shopper, certainly not when I am in Asia. And before you deplore me for what I'm about say next, SENIORS NAVIN AND KINDER, I will have you know that I am speaking purely from fact and not some deep-seated level of self-deprecation. It sucks to shop in Asia when you just aren't built like an Asian.
I really don't have to go into detail here, but basically, I am of a noticeably different shape from my dwarven, elvish countrymen. It really is the same story whether it's Hong Kong, Singapore, Shanghai, etc. It is simply frustrating to walk into a store, try something on, only to get depressed because the XXXXXXXXXXXL size doesn't fit.
On top of this, I am also, well, tomboyish. I was never "into" the more effeminate pursuits of make-up selection or constant haircare (my hair is flawless on its own without my trying, believe me). I never get my nails done, either. I did not own much jewelry, nor do I wear any beyond a pair of earrings and a watch. These just weren't things that I was interested in.
Then along comes my darling Michelle. Michelle, as many of you know, is one of my favorites and, loathe though she may be to admit it, a SHANGHAI STAPLE. She is now located in Washington, DC, which, some of you may be savvy enough to note, IS NOWHERE NEAR SHANGHAI. Disappointing as this fact may be, rest assured, Michelle, that you are missed, I love you bunches, I hope you are enjoying yourself.
(Which honestly, can't be very much because I am not there.)
BUT TO THE POINT. In Michelle's final weeks in Shanghai, we journeyed to the Hongqiao Pearl Market, a typical Chinese market were fake purses and genuine pearls abound. You really have to see it to believe. She introduces me to her trusty pearl lady, who sells jewelry of all sorts, not just pearls, and, in the span of four or five heartbeats, VIVIENNE BECOMES A GIRL.
Almost like my body just up and went "oh hey that there is a vagina, huh."
I went nuts. I bought so much stuff (for very cheap, I will have you know) and effectively increased my accessory selection eightfold.
I also bought three pairs of sunglasses.
Mere days later, to H&M, where I picked up more necklaces and bangles and bracelets.
Michelle departs. Depression sets in. What do I do?
I go to the fabric market to get a suit made. In getting those suits made, I bring my friend Kelly along, and what do we find while wandering around there? A silk tailor who makes clothes from some really gorgeous silk. And what do I get made? MY FIRST DRESS PURCHASE IN OVER FOUR YEARS.
Truth! The last dress I bought was in my junior year of college! (This also reminds me that in exactly one week from today, I would have been graduated for three years. Wow.)
Moving on. Two more silken creations follow.
In between these trips to the fabric market? Salon hair washes! Head massages! Manicures!
Then, on April 27, 2008, the unthinkable happened. I put aside my razor for the last time and walked into a little beauty shop and got my very, very first waxing session.
Yeah um if giving birth is more painful than THAT, then no thanks. Adoption ok.
I also got my eyebrows shaped. Not as painful, but man she was plucking hairs out that I couldn't even see with my naked eye.
I walk out there honestly feeling incredibly good. Tingly, but good. It is an odd sensation.
The second driver for all this is, of course, my dear Princess Jaya. It is no surprise to those of us who know here that she is, in our little group of hoodies and jeans, the slinky black halter dress. Always chic, she is.
And I felt I could learn a thing or two about dressing myself up from her. I even pester her for make-up tips! "What's that you're putting on your face? What's that stuff? And that stuff? What colors would look good on me? How much eyeliner should I wear? What kind of mascara do you use? Do you have a brand you'd recommend?"
To be fair, I still do not often wear make-up. That stuff costs. But I guess now when I do use it, I feel like I know what I'm doing. It's odd. I need more practice. I think I've used more make-up remover to get rid of smudges or mistakes than I have actually used in make-up itself.
All in all, it feels good. And I would imagine it is pretty odd when I walk into a barbecue wearing a silk top and jeans and stuff and geek the fuck out when I see that they are playing Rock Band RIGHT THERE IN THE LIVING ROOM AND OH MY GOD CAN I PLAY CAN I PLAY CAN I PLAAAAAAAY and of course whip everyone's ASSES at it.
Shit I ain't gonna lie. I love that feeling. I also love the fact that I haven't had to shave my legs in TWO WEEKS.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 19 of 7,412): SPORT
I'm not an athlete, at least not in the super-impressive, super-awesome, super-sexy sort of way. Ask anyone who plays volleyball with me, and they will validate that I am one of the slowest-moving people on the court and if I didn't have a pretty decent spike and serve, I'm not much use, really.
Ask anyone who has ever swum with me or against me, they'll confirm that my butterfly stroke is abysmal in that my shoulders barely make it out of the water, my backstroke is hindered by a chronic fear of smashing my forehead into the wall in the event of a turn, and that I cannot seem to plunge/dive with goggles on as they constantly get pulled off by the force of impact with the water.
[ This post is brought to you by dinner at Zoco (Spanish food) with my Daddy and Vicky. ]
I will say, however, that while I am far from ace in any sport that I have ever attempted to play, the fact that I participated on some intermediate to advanced level in certain kinds of sports certainly had a positive impacts on me, and I don't mean physically.
I got into a discussion recently with my father and his secretary, with whom we had dinner at Zoco (attn Shangers, it's the Spanish place on Julu Road near the Velvet Lounge, pretty good food but I think Azul on Hengshan is better), about the importance of team sports and individual sports.
Less recently than that discussion, I was talking with a variety of friends regarding what kinds of sports are most beneficial to you in terms of mental agility, and, more importantly, personality development. I basically asked: which kind of sport is better: a team sport or an individual sport?
Stepping away from athleticism or skill level and focusing solely on your brainfood, let's clarify exactly what I mean here. A individual sport is what I'd classify as a sport wherein the focus is on you as an individual. This includes swimming, even though there are relay events in swimming... ideally speaking, the faster you yourself as an individual are, the better off your team will be. Any sport (or event within a sport, for argument's sake) that involves just you and your blood, sweat, and brains, is classified as an individual sport.
A team sport is any sport wherein you cannot win on your own. It doesn't matter how good you as an individual are, it matters how well your team plays as a whole. In this particular case you hear things like "the team is only as good as its worst player." Sure you can be better than your teammates in certain or all aspects of a sport, but you cannot win without them, you cannot win without trusting them, you cannot win it by playing over them or pretending they aren't there. They are necessary not just owing to the rules of the game, but to playing a good game.
To further clarify, the value of a sport is not just in winning. Winning is nice and all, but what it always boils down to is playing a good game. You played hard, the other team played hard, and you are satisfied with your performance (whether as a team or an individual). I say this just in case any of you thought I was being all "LOLZ WINNING IS AWSUM."
Now, the majority of the time, people told me that team sports are, by and large, more valuable than individual sports. Why? Because of what they teach you. Teamwork, trust, the value of the whole over the individual, sacrifice, putting pieces together to make something better, etc. Very cliche, I get it, but stick with me here.
You learn not to blame one individual for a mistake because, well, anyone could've made that mistake. You learn that it's not about having the best players, but the best players that play together. A team that is more likely to bank on its strengths as a whole will almost always win over a team that has one or two stars that never communicate with one another. (1982 Miracle Team! or, better yet, the 2000 Lady Dragons Volleyball Team!)
While these are valuable skills, I do feel that individual sports are just as important, but on a completely different level.
In an individual sport, you rely on little more than your own drive. Sure you have your coach, teammates (i.e., they are the people you train with), family, friends, fans, etc cheering you on, but the effort is mostly your own. You push yourself not to beat the people around you, but to beat yourself. To constantly and always better yourself against the clock or your old scorecards. Golf, swimming, track and field, singles badminton, etc, are all good examples of what I'm talking about.
The skills you learn, then, are how to push yourself harder in anything that you set out to do. Good enough is never good enough. If you don't beat your old time, then you have not trained hard enough, did not perform well enough. You are driven by a sense of self-improvement, and you do what you do to see yourself do better. You don't perform as a component on your team, but you do it for yourself. All your training, all your time, all your blood and sweat... it was all spent for you.
If you are doing it JUST because a coach or a parent is pushing you, you might need an attitude adjustment... or possibly a long talk.
Skills from both kinds of sports are necessary and absolutely positive to your development as a person. They are not mutually exclusive, though they certainly may seem so at some point.
An individual sport teaches you how to play hard for yourself. A team sport teaches you how to play hard with your team... and how to trust the team to play hard for themselves. Put the two together and you basically develop a can-do, self-starting, self-motivated, and team-oriented way or thinking.
Focusing too much on one set of skills can naturally have some drawbacks. Get too self-involved and you may find it hard to work with other people. Relying too much on your team may lead you to be complacent and let your team do all the work. Worse, it may even lead you to be pressured by your team to do better, which builds resentment and likely causes you to be less willing to work well with them.
Now, to be absolutely fair, I am not saying that you should play one individual sport and one team sport to get the best of both worlds, nor am I saying that if you just played one kind of sport YOU ARE SCREWED AND ARE A TERRIBLE PERSON. These are skills that come naturally to anyone who pays a lick of attention to what's going on around them and within them.
What this is, then, is an admittedly convoluted way to explain that working with other people and working with yourself are two things that are equally important. You cannot rank one over the other. Put them together in a way that suits you best means that you will never cheat yourself, but you are willing and able to play on a team.
Whether it's sports, work, friendship or even a relationship, this sort of thing goes more overlooked than I like to think.
You are there for your teammates, coworkers, friends, or significant other just as much as they are there for you. Don't sell yourself short, don't sell them short. Please please please never forget that.
I part you now with an amusing story my father relayed to me about how an individual sport can become a team sport if you're willing to thinking tactically.
My dad used to run the 400m sprint for the track team back in college. His tactic would be to sprint out super fast at the beginning and go all out, scaring the opponents to speed up as well to keep up. Other runners in the event that were also with his school, however, only kept pace. What happens at the 200m mark? My dad is burned out and he drops back... and so are the people he had encouraged to stay with him... but the other runners from his track team would then break into their respective sprints and win the points for the school!
Naturally, he admits that this defeats the whole purpose of training to get the best time for oneself (as that is ultimately what would win the overall meet), but hey he owned the 200m sprint, apparently.
Ah, Chans. Always thinking outside the box. I wuv my Daddy. :)
Ask anyone who has ever swum with me or against me, they'll confirm that my butterfly stroke is abysmal in that my shoulders barely make it out of the water, my backstroke is hindered by a chronic fear of smashing my forehead into the wall in the event of a turn, and that I cannot seem to plunge/dive with goggles on as they constantly get pulled off by the force of impact with the water.
[ This post is brought to you by dinner at Zoco (Spanish food) with my Daddy and Vicky. ]
I will say, however, that while I am far from ace in any sport that I have ever attempted to play, the fact that I participated on some intermediate to advanced level in certain kinds of sports certainly had a positive impacts on me, and I don't mean physically.
I got into a discussion recently with my father and his secretary, with whom we had dinner at Zoco (attn Shangers, it's the Spanish place on Julu Road near the Velvet Lounge, pretty good food but I think Azul on Hengshan is better), about the importance of team sports and individual sports.
Less recently than that discussion, I was talking with a variety of friends regarding what kinds of sports are most beneficial to you in terms of mental agility, and, more importantly, personality development. I basically asked: which kind of sport is better: a team sport or an individual sport?
Stepping away from athleticism or skill level and focusing solely on your brainfood, let's clarify exactly what I mean here. A individual sport is what I'd classify as a sport wherein the focus is on you as an individual. This includes swimming, even though there are relay events in swimming... ideally speaking, the faster you yourself as an individual are, the better off your team will be. Any sport (or event within a sport, for argument's sake) that involves just you and your blood, sweat, and brains, is classified as an individual sport.
A team sport is any sport wherein you cannot win on your own. It doesn't matter how good you as an individual are, it matters how well your team plays as a whole. In this particular case you hear things like "the team is only as good as its worst player." Sure you can be better than your teammates in certain or all aspects of a sport, but you cannot win without them, you cannot win without trusting them, you cannot win it by playing over them or pretending they aren't there. They are necessary not just owing to the rules of the game, but to playing a good game.
To further clarify, the value of a sport is not just in winning. Winning is nice and all, but what it always boils down to is playing a good game. You played hard, the other team played hard, and you are satisfied with your performance (whether as a team or an individual). I say this just in case any of you thought I was being all "LOLZ WINNING IS AWSUM."
Now, the majority of the time, people told me that team sports are, by and large, more valuable than individual sports. Why? Because of what they teach you. Teamwork, trust, the value of the whole over the individual, sacrifice, putting pieces together to make something better, etc. Very cliche, I get it, but stick with me here.
You learn not to blame one individual for a mistake because, well, anyone could've made that mistake. You learn that it's not about having the best players, but the best players that play together. A team that is more likely to bank on its strengths as a whole will almost always win over a team that has one or two stars that never communicate with one another. (1982 Miracle Team! or, better yet, the 2000 Lady Dragons Volleyball Team!)
While these are valuable skills, I do feel that individual sports are just as important, but on a completely different level.
In an individual sport, you rely on little more than your own drive. Sure you have your coach, teammates (i.e., they are the people you train with), family, friends, fans, etc cheering you on, but the effort is mostly your own. You push yourself not to beat the people around you, but to beat yourself. To constantly and always better yourself against the clock or your old scorecards. Golf, swimming, track and field, singles badminton, etc, are all good examples of what I'm talking about.
The skills you learn, then, are how to push yourself harder in anything that you set out to do. Good enough is never good enough. If you don't beat your old time, then you have not trained hard enough, did not perform well enough. You are driven by a sense of self-improvement, and you do what you do to see yourself do better. You don't perform as a component on your team, but you do it for yourself. All your training, all your time, all your blood and sweat... it was all spent for you.
If you are doing it JUST because a coach or a parent is pushing you, you might need an attitude adjustment... or possibly a long talk.
Skills from both kinds of sports are necessary and absolutely positive to your development as a person. They are not mutually exclusive, though they certainly may seem so at some point.
An individual sport teaches you how to play hard for yourself. A team sport teaches you how to play hard with your team... and how to trust the team to play hard for themselves. Put the two together and you basically develop a can-do, self-starting, self-motivated, and team-oriented way or thinking.
Focusing too much on one set of skills can naturally have some drawbacks. Get too self-involved and you may find it hard to work with other people. Relying too much on your team may lead you to be complacent and let your team do all the work. Worse, it may even lead you to be pressured by your team to do better, which builds resentment and likely causes you to be less willing to work well with them.
Now, to be absolutely fair, I am not saying that you should play one individual sport and one team sport to get the best of both worlds, nor am I saying that if you just played one kind of sport YOU ARE SCREWED AND ARE A TERRIBLE PERSON. These are skills that come naturally to anyone who pays a lick of attention to what's going on around them and within them.
What this is, then, is an admittedly convoluted way to explain that working with other people and working with yourself are two things that are equally important. You cannot rank one over the other. Put them together in a way that suits you best means that you will never cheat yourself, but you are willing and able to play on a team.
Whether it's sports, work, friendship or even a relationship, this sort of thing goes more overlooked than I like to think.
You are there for your teammates, coworkers, friends, or significant other just as much as they are there for you. Don't sell yourself short, don't sell them short. Please please please never forget that.
I part you now with an amusing story my father relayed to me about how an individual sport can become a team sport if you're willing to thinking tactically.
My dad used to run the 400m sprint for the track team back in college. His tactic would be to sprint out super fast at the beginning and go all out, scaring the opponents to speed up as well to keep up. Other runners in the event that were also with his school, however, only kept pace. What happens at the 200m mark? My dad is burned out and he drops back... and so are the people he had encouraged to stay with him... but the other runners from his track team would then break into their respective sprints and win the points for the school!
Naturally, he admits that this defeats the whole purpose of training to get the best time for oneself (as that is ultimately what would win the overall meet), but hey he owned the 200m sprint, apparently.
Ah, Chans. Always thinking outside the box. I wuv my Daddy. :)
Monday, March 24, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 18 of 7,412): REAL
People, people, we need to talk.
[ This post brought to you by dumb people. ]
Anyone who actually thinks I'm a bitch deserves to keep thinking I'm a bitch. What I am, is a very loud, outspoken person with a strong personality and a stronger attitude who actually doesn't give much of a fuck about what people she doesn't care for or respect think.
You know how you lie or embellish a story when there is no need for embellishment or lies? Whether it's to make you look better or not as dumb or whatever, you edit the story somewhat?
Stop that. It's stupid.
Real life is interesting enough without you idiots sassing it all up with dumb stories that are designed only to make you look more badass or make you look more like the victim or what-have-you. False modesty is also pretty fucking stupid... if you did something great, IT'S OKAY TO FEEL GREAT ABOUT IT AND IT IS CERTAINLY OKAY TO TELL THE STORY EXACTLY HOW IT HAPPENED.
If you were dumb, own up to that shit. If you were awesome, own up to that shit.
Seriously. Sooner or later you'll do something that is ACTUALLY badass or you'll do something that is ACTUALLY stupid. Bank on those moments to share your stories in all their realistic glory, because guess what.
What actually happens in life, the real shit... there's nothing in your imagination that can rival it when it decides to get in your face.
Enough bullshit. Whether it's to get validation or to make people like you more, enough bullshit. If they like you, they'll like you! If they don't, they don't, and why the fuck should you care?
So knock it off.
[ This post brought to you by dumb people. ]
Anyone who actually thinks I'm a bitch deserves to keep thinking I'm a bitch. What I am, is a very loud, outspoken person with a strong personality and a stronger attitude who actually doesn't give much of a fuck about what people she doesn't care for or respect think.
You know how you lie or embellish a story when there is no need for embellishment or lies? Whether it's to make you look better or not as dumb or whatever, you edit the story somewhat?
Stop that. It's stupid.
Real life is interesting enough without you idiots sassing it all up with dumb stories that are designed only to make you look more badass or make you look more like the victim or what-have-you. False modesty is also pretty fucking stupid... if you did something great, IT'S OKAY TO FEEL GREAT ABOUT IT AND IT IS CERTAINLY OKAY TO TELL THE STORY EXACTLY HOW IT HAPPENED.
If you were dumb, own up to that shit. If you were awesome, own up to that shit.
Seriously. Sooner or later you'll do something that is ACTUALLY badass or you'll do something that is ACTUALLY stupid. Bank on those moments to share your stories in all their realistic glory, because guess what.
What actually happens in life, the real shit... there's nothing in your imagination that can rival it when it decides to get in your face.
Enough bullshit. Whether it's to get validation or to make people like you more, enough bullshit. If they like you, they'll like you! If they don't, they don't, and why the fuck should you care?
So knock it off.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 17 of 7,412): RECHARGED
Our office moved way out to Pudong from Hongqiao. For those who don't know, we basically moved from the most western area of the city to the most eastern area of the city. For those who DO know, we are now located in Chuansha, which is fifteen minutes northwest from the Pudong Airport.
[ This post is brought to you by Element Fresh's wireless connection. ]
It takes an hour by car to get out there every morning and an hour and a half every evening to get back (traffic, yay). We get picked up and dropped off and lunch is on the company, but it is an undeniable bore. Today was our first taste of this...and we had no furniture or internet access set up at the new office. Splendid!
I have, however, been trying to make a concerted effort to focus on as many of the positive aspects of this change as I can.
By far, the best part is the simple fact that we really only need to have one meeting a day, and that cuts our work day in half.
For instance, a meeting in the morning means we don't go into work until after the meeting is over, but since we would miss our morning ride out there, it's best to schedule a meeting in the afternoon. A meeting in the afternoon generally means it takes an hour for us to get there and an hour to get back and then another hour to go home afterwards, which makes little logistical sense, so that means we just get to go home after the meeting is over and work from home.
Well, not exactly.
I am currently sitting in Element Fresh finishing up a day's work and let me tell you, a refreshing atmosphere (free of my boss and graced with an awesome glass of fresh carrot-apple juice and with lots of eye candy) makes all the difference in the world.
No, this is not an ad for Element Fresh (which, for those non-Shangers, is a new age sort of western restaurant with locations all over the city), but I'm just saying how easy it is to get work done when you don't have a boss like mine literally haunting your every single move.
It's easy to recharge when I am getting work done (and, better yet, WANTING to get work done) at a faster pace than I would if I were in the office, even with distractions like carrot-apple juice and ridiculously hot men sitting at the next table.
Tomorrow the plan is to sit on the balcony of the office (where the only table in the whole damn place is located) and enjoy the sun while working. The farther away I am from my boss, the more productive I am, and the ultimately, the happier I am.
I just wanted to say that I wouldn't have been able to make this attitude change if I didn't have all of your support and many e-hugs and donations of e-love. Thanks for everything, even if it was just letting me know you were there for me. I really appreciate it, and I am so lucky to know you.
I am a firm believer in the fact that you're never meant to handle anything alone. I always thought that in my case it meant that I would never let anyone else walk alone, but I guess it took something like this and people like you to help me realize that it's a two-way street. Thank you, sincerely.
TL;DR - how is that long? My god you are lazy. Go the fuck back up there and read the whole damn thing you BUM.
[ This post is brought to you by Element Fresh's wireless connection. ]
It takes an hour by car to get out there every morning and an hour and a half every evening to get back (traffic, yay). We get picked up and dropped off and lunch is on the company, but it is an undeniable bore. Today was our first taste of this...and we had no furniture or internet access set up at the new office. Splendid!
I have, however, been trying to make a concerted effort to focus on as many of the positive aspects of this change as I can.
By far, the best part is the simple fact that we really only need to have one meeting a day, and that cuts our work day in half.
For instance, a meeting in the morning means we don't go into work until after the meeting is over, but since we would miss our morning ride out there, it's best to schedule a meeting in the afternoon. A meeting in the afternoon generally means it takes an hour for us to get there and an hour to get back and then another hour to go home afterwards, which makes little logistical sense, so that means we just get to go home after the meeting is over and work from home.
Well, not exactly.
I am currently sitting in Element Fresh finishing up a day's work and let me tell you, a refreshing atmosphere (free of my boss and graced with an awesome glass of fresh carrot-apple juice and with lots of eye candy) makes all the difference in the world.
No, this is not an ad for Element Fresh (which, for those non-Shangers, is a new age sort of western restaurant with locations all over the city), but I'm just saying how easy it is to get work done when you don't have a boss like mine literally haunting your every single move.
It's easy to recharge when I am getting work done (and, better yet, WANTING to get work done) at a faster pace than I would if I were in the office, even with distractions like carrot-apple juice and ridiculously hot men sitting at the next table.
Tomorrow the plan is to sit on the balcony of the office (where the only table in the whole damn place is located) and enjoy the sun while working. The farther away I am from my boss, the more productive I am, and the ultimately, the happier I am.
I just wanted to say that I wouldn't have been able to make this attitude change if I didn't have all of your support and many e-hugs and donations of e-love. Thanks for everything, even if it was just letting me know you were there for me. I really appreciate it, and I am so lucky to know you.
I am a firm believer in the fact that you're never meant to handle anything alone. I always thought that in my case it meant that I would never let anyone else walk alone, but I guess it took something like this and people like you to help me realize that it's a two-way street. Thank you, sincerely.
TL;DR - how is that long? My god you are lazy. Go the fuck back up there and read the whole damn thing you BUM.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 16 of 7,412): LIMITS
Everyone's got them. I hit mine.
[ This post is brought to you by my boss. ]
I am a strong individual, particularly in the emotional department. Sure it looks like things get to me easily and whatnot but the truth of the matter is that these things seldom bother me once they're done flitting in and out of my vicinity. I find this to be healthy, because if I don't express my feelings about something immediately, I tend to hold onto it and not let go until I've had the satisfaction of letting the world know how I feel about it... and this is ultimately more destructive.
Anyone who's hung out with or been around me over the last couple of weeks knows full well that I have had a song stuck in my head pretty much every day. I hum it, I dance to it, I try to sing it in my undoubtedly brutal, songbird-butchering voice. That song is The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani.
If you don't know the lyrics, here they are:
If I could escape/and recreate a place as my world/and I could be your favorite girl forever/perfectly together/now tell me boy wouldn't that be sweet?/If I could be sweet/I know I've been a real bad girl/I never meant for you to get hurt forever/we can make it better/now tell me boy wouldn't that be sweet?
While I know how unawesome it can be to use a song's chorus as a springboard for the breaking of a dam of verbalized emotion, you are all pretty aware by now that I never do it, so there's a damn good reason I'm doing it now.
Honestly, most of the song's appeal exists only in the very first few lines of the chorus.
I would dearly love to escape and recreate a place as my own world. I don't really to be anyone's favorite girl (forever, perfectly together), but it would be pretty sweet all the same. The rest of chorus I guess is less self-explanatory, so you're going to have to plow through what promises to be a lengthy divulging of my burdens on the written word.
Over the last three weeks, I have been thrown under the bus of life's fagatronics. I know I used that word in last time's post, but here it is again, if only to establish an allusion to that post.
Those same things listed in that previous post (the breakup, the tragedy involving a friend, the effects of that tragedy on a larger circle of friends, work, multiple emotional upheavals involving friends both close and distant) have been trying to beat me down over and over again, trying to crush and bury me under an enormous, steaming pile of life's best work.
Now, I'm not trying to imply that my pain is anymore extreme than anyone else's; everyone has their own little defeats that they take harder than other people would. Your pain is individual, and the degree you feel it given an incident is solely up to you, and no one can judge you for how bad or how well you are taking it. No one knows just how hard that fist hit you, no one knows just how much you loved that dog, no one knows how much of your own pain and sadness you internalize for the sake of the people around you.
I recognize, however, that I am a strong person. After everything happened, one after another, I was still standing. More than standing, I was doing pretty damn great. Hardly anyone remembered what happened unless I told them flat out that it was on my mind. Many people would've been down and out after the breakup. Most certainly would've hit the ground out cold after the passing of a friend on top of it.
And yet there I was, going strong, recovering quickly, with a positive attitude. I took all the positive things about my relationship and learned something from them while recognizing why he broke up with me. I didn't blame myself for it, I didn't blame him for it, I simply understood the reason bounced right back.
As for what transpired after the breakup, well, there isn't much you can do with news that arrives in your Inbox telling you something you just can't believe you're reading. You certainly could not have prevented it, and even if you were not as close to that person as you wanted to be, you still recognize the true impact of what has happened. So what do you do instead? You offer to help the ones who were close to him recover. You are there for them when they need you, and that is all you can do given the circumstances. It is perhaps a small gesture and maybe it doesn't make a difference, but it makes things easier to deal with when you know that you are doing what you can to help others lighten the load.
Honestly, that was the only good thing. I love helping people, I love being there for them, knowing that I am helping them through something they can't get through by themselves.
Please understand when I say what I'm about to say next that I love that people come to me and I would never blame them. It's just that I've been dealing with so much emotion coming from all sides that it's been overwhelming. The irony is, I called it! I knew February was going to be a crazy month and I was fully geared, waiting for it, bracing myself so that I can be everyone's shoulder. But I guess that with all my own shit going on, it takes a lot more to stay sane and stable. Do not apologize for this; if I didn't want to help, I would never have offered. In fact, helping people is what literally kept my head above the water for so long. It's draining in the process, sure, but it is also refreshing and recharging when it's over. I love doing it, please don't deny me that pleasure.
Then there's work. I don't need to tell you guys anything more about just how much bullshit work generates on a daily basis. If it weren't for my coworkers, I don't know how I'd make it through the day.
And, ironically, even though these are the people who help me through each individual day just by being there, even though these are the people I see the most, they are somehow the ones on whom I shit on the most. I resolved to correct this, and tried to approach work with an increasingly positive attitude.
For the past weeks, through the Frogger-like dodging of boss-generated obstacles, my coworkers made it bearable simply by being around. There wasn't anything special they needed to say, they were just there, probably thinking the same things I was, and that made it so much easier to survive yet another day in the office.
Still, one can only take so much bullshit. There's only so much a (unwitting) shield can handle before it buckles, splits, and breaks. I think my shield lost its effects yesterday, and I was pushed into and past my limit into the realm of what I like to call "Armageddon." I tore up a draft of a Powerpoint printout right there at my desk, tearing it to shreds, while I was sure my boss had a clear view of my desk. I snapped at a coworker when, really, all he probably wanted was to get that breath of fresh air I myself was craving. I yelled and screamed when I got home, breaking down in front of my sister and her boyfriend.
It feels easy, even to me, for me to get over things like those mentioned in my previous post. To an outsider and that third eye inside my brain that tries to process everything I do, it is generally surprising how little effort it seems to take for me to recover and come back with a vengeance.
It's not actually easy.
So when you've been doing it a while with no sign of respite to let everything bleed out of you, you just get too tired. Too tired to fight another round, too tired to defend against yet another onslaught of bullshit, too tired maintain the thickness of your shell. It's easier to give in and explode.
To be fair, my limit is very high. Very. I am able to plow through and contain an incredible amount of bullshit. It's just that it's been so much crap happening in such a short span of time and I have had absolutely no time to recharge my batteries. I have kept angry outbursts to a minimum at work for the sake of maintaining good morale, trying to stay positive, and at home I distract myself because I don't have the energy to think about anything more serious beyond "will my little red tanks do enough damage to the big blue tanks to kill it when I have 7 little red tanks and they have 2 big blue tanks?" (The answer is yes, but only if my little red tanks were attacking from the woods.)
On another level, I guess in my efforts to stay positive, it further drained my energy, nor did I afford myself the time to deal with what was requiring me to stay positive in the first place. It's ironic that I know how to take good emotional care of myself, but because I didn't want to step on anymore toes, I internalized everything, which is basically the polar opposite of what I need to be doing, as it does nothing to help me recover from the draining process of getting over everything. I was trying so hard to stay strong that I ended up so unbelievably weak that I am disgusted with my failure.
The breakup does not bother me. Nothing really bothers me, per se, as everything that has happened has been dealt with, recovered from. I just haven't had to time to restore my arsenal back to maximum, and my boss's idiocy has basically quintupled over the last week, leaving me so uncertain about my career, about what I do in my day-to-day life. You can only take so many hits in a row before you finally crumple; even if your injuries are healed, if you haven't eaten or rested, you're going down in the 7,412th round whether you like it or not. I took as many as I could, and I guess my only comfort is that it's a hell of a lot more hits than most could've taken.
I am just so, so, so tired.
TL;DR - oh here you are again hey go fuck yourself
[ This post is brought to you by my boss. ]
I am a strong individual, particularly in the emotional department. Sure it looks like things get to me easily and whatnot but the truth of the matter is that these things seldom bother me once they're done flitting in and out of my vicinity. I find this to be healthy, because if I don't express my feelings about something immediately, I tend to hold onto it and not let go until I've had the satisfaction of letting the world know how I feel about it... and this is ultimately more destructive.
Anyone who's hung out with or been around me over the last couple of weeks knows full well that I have had a song stuck in my head pretty much every day. I hum it, I dance to it, I try to sing it in my undoubtedly brutal, songbird-butchering voice. That song is The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani.
If you don't know the lyrics, here they are:
If I could escape/and recreate a place as my world/and I could be your favorite girl forever/perfectly together/now tell me boy wouldn't that be sweet?/If I could be sweet/I know I've been a real bad girl/I never meant for you to get hurt forever/we can make it better/now tell me boy wouldn't that be sweet?
While I know how unawesome it can be to use a song's chorus as a springboard for the breaking of a dam of verbalized emotion, you are all pretty aware by now that I never do it, so there's a damn good reason I'm doing it now.
Honestly, most of the song's appeal exists only in the very first few lines of the chorus.
I would dearly love to escape and recreate a place as my own world. I don't really to be anyone's favorite girl (forever, perfectly together), but it would be pretty sweet all the same. The rest of chorus I guess is less self-explanatory, so you're going to have to plow through what promises to be a lengthy divulging of my burdens on the written word.
Over the last three weeks, I have been thrown under the bus of life's fagatronics. I know I used that word in last time's post, but here it is again, if only to establish an allusion to that post.
Those same things listed in that previous post (the breakup, the tragedy involving a friend, the effects of that tragedy on a larger circle of friends, work, multiple emotional upheavals involving friends both close and distant) have been trying to beat me down over and over again, trying to crush and bury me under an enormous, steaming pile of life's best work.
Now, I'm not trying to imply that my pain is anymore extreme than anyone else's; everyone has their own little defeats that they take harder than other people would. Your pain is individual, and the degree you feel it given an incident is solely up to you, and no one can judge you for how bad or how well you are taking it. No one knows just how hard that fist hit you, no one knows just how much you loved that dog, no one knows how much of your own pain and sadness you internalize for the sake of the people around you.
I recognize, however, that I am a strong person. After everything happened, one after another, I was still standing. More than standing, I was doing pretty damn great. Hardly anyone remembered what happened unless I told them flat out that it was on my mind. Many people would've been down and out after the breakup. Most certainly would've hit the ground out cold after the passing of a friend on top of it.
And yet there I was, going strong, recovering quickly, with a positive attitude. I took all the positive things about my relationship and learned something from them while recognizing why he broke up with me. I didn't blame myself for it, I didn't blame him for it, I simply understood the reason bounced right back.
As for what transpired after the breakup, well, there isn't much you can do with news that arrives in your Inbox telling you something you just can't believe you're reading. You certainly could not have prevented it, and even if you were not as close to that person as you wanted to be, you still recognize the true impact of what has happened. So what do you do instead? You offer to help the ones who were close to him recover. You are there for them when they need you, and that is all you can do given the circumstances. It is perhaps a small gesture and maybe it doesn't make a difference, but it makes things easier to deal with when you know that you are doing what you can to help others lighten the load.
Honestly, that was the only good thing. I love helping people, I love being there for them, knowing that I am helping them through something they can't get through by themselves.
Please understand when I say what I'm about to say next that I love that people come to me and I would never blame them. It's just that I've been dealing with so much emotion coming from all sides that it's been overwhelming. The irony is, I called it! I knew February was going to be a crazy month and I was fully geared, waiting for it, bracing myself so that I can be everyone's shoulder. But I guess that with all my own shit going on, it takes a lot more to stay sane and stable. Do not apologize for this; if I didn't want to help, I would never have offered. In fact, helping people is what literally kept my head above the water for so long. It's draining in the process, sure, but it is also refreshing and recharging when it's over. I love doing it, please don't deny me that pleasure.
Then there's work. I don't need to tell you guys anything more about just how much bullshit work generates on a daily basis. If it weren't for my coworkers, I don't know how I'd make it through the day.
And, ironically, even though these are the people who help me through each individual day just by being there, even though these are the people I see the most, they are somehow the ones on whom I shit on the most. I resolved to correct this, and tried to approach work with an increasingly positive attitude.
For the past weeks, through the Frogger-like dodging of boss-generated obstacles, my coworkers made it bearable simply by being around. There wasn't anything special they needed to say, they were just there, probably thinking the same things I was, and that made it so much easier to survive yet another day in the office.
Still, one can only take so much bullshit. There's only so much a (unwitting) shield can handle before it buckles, splits, and breaks. I think my shield lost its effects yesterday, and I was pushed into and past my limit into the realm of what I like to call "Armageddon." I tore up a draft of a Powerpoint printout right there at my desk, tearing it to shreds, while I was sure my boss had a clear view of my desk. I snapped at a coworker when, really, all he probably wanted was to get that breath of fresh air I myself was craving. I yelled and screamed when I got home, breaking down in front of my sister and her boyfriend.
It feels easy, even to me, for me to get over things like those mentioned in my previous post. To an outsider and that third eye inside my brain that tries to process everything I do, it is generally surprising how little effort it seems to take for me to recover and come back with a vengeance.
It's not actually easy.
So when you've been doing it a while with no sign of respite to let everything bleed out of you, you just get too tired. Too tired to fight another round, too tired to defend against yet another onslaught of bullshit, too tired maintain the thickness of your shell. It's easier to give in and explode.
To be fair, my limit is very high. Very. I am able to plow through and contain an incredible amount of bullshit. It's just that it's been so much crap happening in such a short span of time and I have had absolutely no time to recharge my batteries. I have kept angry outbursts to a minimum at work for the sake of maintaining good morale, trying to stay positive, and at home I distract myself because I don't have the energy to think about anything more serious beyond "will my little red tanks do enough damage to the big blue tanks to kill it when I have 7 little red tanks and they have 2 big blue tanks?" (The answer is yes, but only if my little red tanks were attacking from the woods.)
On another level, I guess in my efforts to stay positive, it further drained my energy, nor did I afford myself the time to deal with what was requiring me to stay positive in the first place. It's ironic that I know how to take good emotional care of myself, but because I didn't want to step on anymore toes, I internalized everything, which is basically the polar opposite of what I need to be doing, as it does nothing to help me recover from the draining process of getting over everything. I was trying so hard to stay strong that I ended up so unbelievably weak that I am disgusted with my failure.
The breakup does not bother me. Nothing really bothers me, per se, as everything that has happened has been dealt with, recovered from. I just haven't had to time to restore my arsenal back to maximum, and my boss's idiocy has basically quintupled over the last week, leaving me so uncertain about my career, about what I do in my day-to-day life. You can only take so many hits in a row before you finally crumple; even if your injuries are healed, if you haven't eaten or rested, you're going down in the 7,412th round whether you like it or not. I took as many as I could, and I guess my only comfort is that it's a hell of a lot more hits than most could've taken.
I am just so, so, so tired.
TL;DR - oh here you are again hey go fuck yourself
Monday, February 18, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 15 of 7,412): PHVIV'N
So hey let's recount the last week, shall we? I got dumped, my boss returns with full force stupidity, a bunch of friends (and myself) went (or are going) through severe emotional trauma over a recent incident, and heartbreaks abound!
I did get a real sweet haircut that I can't stop talking about though. I AM STAYING POSITIVE. GO ME.
(That is semi-sarcasm.)
[ This post is brought to you by the fagatronics of life. ]
Before I go on, I just wanted to clarify that there are no hard feelings between Iping and I and we are still friends. Some people aren't suited for a long distance relationship and that's nothing against them, it's just how they are.
I have said time and time again that people need to be positive, secure, stable, and trustworthy to make an LDR work. If you are not those things, then it's just not for you. This doesn't make you a BAD person, as physical closeness is of course a significant factor in any relationship, it just means you're built a little differently from the way I am. (If it helps, people who can't make LDRs work tend to be more sensitive and show their feelings through gestures rather than words. As far as I know, I am neither of these things.)
But moving on; as it is, my personal problems tend to be the ones I focus on the least. This is solely because I am so good at managing my own emotions and taking care of myself. Ask anyone who's seen me since the breakup: bounced back and better than ever within 48 hours, positive attitude bubbling over. I mean, honestly, outside of bitching about work (which is a fixable problem that I am working on), there's little to complain about.
What prompts me to write this particular entry is the fact that one of the less appealing features of my personality is my severe "anger problem." I put those in quotes because quite frankly, I don't see it as a problem. Yes, I have little outbursts of rage that snap out of my mouth and lash right at the back of some poor little guy's head, but hey that is what he gets FOR GETTING IN MY WAY AS I GET OFF THE ELEVATOR JESUS CHRIST.
The thing is, I express my anger just as often as I express my happiness, my surprise, my fear, or my tears. It is perhaps the idea that anger is such a negative thing that makes people focus on that the most. (The fact that I have to contain it for 8 hours out of the day while at work might be a driving factor as well.) I doubt I feel anger more than any other emotion, it's just that its presentation is usually the most explosive and the most visible.
I do not like to hide what I am feeling, though of course I recognize when it is necessary. I believe that, for me, a frequent expression of emotion is not only healthy, but pretty much necessary. Why is that?
The reason is simple: I am incredibly empathic. It is just one of those things about myself that I recognize to be both a strength and a weakness, and I endeavor endlessly to ensure that it is a good thing while minimizing its ill effects.
This means that I am very capable of identifying with how someone else is feeling, internalize their emotions, and process them in my brain while looking through their eyes. I am not the BEST at this, but I am a damn sight better than most people I know.
At the same time, as I feel what I myself have a right to feel in day-to-day life, the sheer amount of emotion I contain inside myself is full to bursting. To avoid breakdowns, explosions, gratuitous acts of mindless violence, or moments of severe hyperactivity, my solution is to wear my emotions on my sleeve, letting them out in small to moderate bursts in order to prevent a meltdown of epic proportions.
Some people have pointed out that maybe I don't have to be so empathic when it comes to other people. Others have mentioned that by firing my anger off at someone, am I not caring what they think or feel of it, thereby making me a hypocrite?
The first question is easy to answer. I do it because I want to. I do it because it is what helps me understand the people around me and in so many ways it is also why I am so damned good at my job. I do it because I care, because in knowing how and why someone feels the way they do, I am able to help them should they need it—whether it is to help them see a solution to their problem, or to help them understand (or be understood by) someone else.
This particular need of mine (the need to be the person that people go to for help and advice, when asked, of course) has earned me an online nickname that explains the title of this post: "Dr. Phviv," a tongue-in-cheek mashup of the infamous, moustached, balding Dr. Phil and, of course, my beautifully hair-styled self.
It goes somewhat beyond the simple shoulder leaning; I offer not comfort, but understanding and solutions. You all know as well as I do that I am heavily opinionated (see Part 13), and that generally means I will always have something to say about one's situation. Still, I listen and try to speak only when asked to do so. I do not judge, I empathize, and put my advice in a form that they will understand. When it does come time for me to talk, my honest and upfront nature (as evidenced in pretty much every single one of these posts) is what has people believing that I am not saying what I'm saying to make them feel better. I'm saying what I'm saying to help them understand and solve a problem.
This is a part of myself that I refuse to give up; a part of myself that I recognize is fueled by my empathy, and I have accepted it and all its implications in the form of a necessary evil.
What about the second question, then? "...By firing my anger off at someone, am I not caring what they think or feel of it, thereby making me a hypocrite?"
This is one of those things that makes me wish I were a significantly better person, but then again I do realize that I am only human. I can't help everyone, and were I to sensitize myself to making sure I don't tread on any toes at all, I think I would lose a lot of my passion and character. There is no "magic personality" that makes someone the very best of the best. This, I recognize with a heavy heart, is a flaw that I do make an effort to minimize, but never to eliminate, as it is the cost of being someone I love being.
A lot of that thinking comes from the fact that while I am always willing to help (and give my all when doing so), I do pick and choose to whom I afford that privilege. Past experiences have taught me rather harshly that you cannot please everyone and, perhaps most importantly, that going all out for just anyone will only have you end up a heavily trodden doormat.
Rather than seal myself off to people who might hurt me, I simply scare the weak ones away, keeping the stronger ones, the ones who know who I really am, by my side. It is for these people that I will do absolutely anything for; they need only ask.
Natural selection, if you will. To be fair, though, I am almost always nice at the outset and I am so good at making a good first impression if I wanted to do so. I just quickly turn into a bit of a bitch and then switch back to sugarcoated goodness when I think the receiving party has had enough.
I will help as many people as I can, but I can't help everyone. It helps that people know they can come to me without even asking, because with the people I like or am close to, I am so very open with them about my thoughts and feelings that they know they can be just as open with me. I am honest and upfront with them, so they know they can be the same way with me without fearing any negative repercussions. If you see me in this light, then it means I like you, because I have shown you that side of me.
Call me a hypocrite or something synonymous if you like, but I will have you know that I have helped so many little girls and boys find their parents while lost in a supermarket or mall or store simply because I wanted to. And because if I didn't, no one else was going to do it.
Knowing that I am a nice person at heart, that I am a nice person a hell of a lot more often than I am a mean one, is what makes me glad that I have come to terms with both the very best and the very worst of myself. The people who think I am mean more than I am nice are, quite frankly, perhaps the kind of people whose opinion I don't particularly value, so hey, why the hell should they have any kind of impact on my self-image?
If you are reading this, rest assured that you are one of those people I would be there for, no questions asked, if you needed me. It doesn't even matter how well you think you know me; more often than not, if you find me approachable and want to talk to me, then that means that I am more than willing to talk to you, no matter the topic. There's very little we can talk about nowadays that will freak me out, and I will never, ever judge you. Trust me. I am here for you.
You know where to find me if you need me.
TL;DR: Dammit you SE++ fags (Javen and Sil I am looking at you dudes so hard right now) it's not THAT long you lazy bastards! (Oh ok I actually I just scrolled up and it IS pretty long but it is me being soft and squishy and everyone loves THAT right, RIGHT?)
I did get a real sweet haircut that I can't stop talking about though. I AM STAYING POSITIVE. GO ME.
(That is semi-sarcasm.)
[ This post is brought to you by the fagatronics of life. ]
Before I go on, I just wanted to clarify that there are no hard feelings between Iping and I and we are still friends. Some people aren't suited for a long distance relationship and that's nothing against them, it's just how they are.
I have said time and time again that people need to be positive, secure, stable, and trustworthy to make an LDR work. If you are not those things, then it's just not for you. This doesn't make you a BAD person, as physical closeness is of course a significant factor in any relationship, it just means you're built a little differently from the way I am. (If it helps, people who can't make LDRs work tend to be more sensitive and show their feelings through gestures rather than words. As far as I know, I am neither of these things.)
But moving on; as it is, my personal problems tend to be the ones I focus on the least. This is solely because I am so good at managing my own emotions and taking care of myself. Ask anyone who's seen me since the breakup: bounced back and better than ever within 48 hours, positive attitude bubbling over. I mean, honestly, outside of bitching about work (which is a fixable problem that I am working on), there's little to complain about.
What prompts me to write this particular entry is the fact that one of the less appealing features of my personality is my severe "anger problem." I put those in quotes because quite frankly, I don't see it as a problem. Yes, I have little outbursts of rage that snap out of my mouth and lash right at the back of some poor little guy's head, but hey that is what he gets FOR GETTING IN MY WAY AS I GET OFF THE ELEVATOR JESUS CHRIST.
The thing is, I express my anger just as often as I express my happiness, my surprise, my fear, or my tears. It is perhaps the idea that anger is such a negative thing that makes people focus on that the most. (The fact that I have to contain it for 8 hours out of the day while at work might be a driving factor as well.) I doubt I feel anger more than any other emotion, it's just that its presentation is usually the most explosive and the most visible.
I do not like to hide what I am feeling, though of course I recognize when it is necessary. I believe that, for me, a frequent expression of emotion is not only healthy, but pretty much necessary. Why is that?
The reason is simple: I am incredibly empathic. It is just one of those things about myself that I recognize to be both a strength and a weakness, and I endeavor endlessly to ensure that it is a good thing while minimizing its ill effects.
This means that I am very capable of identifying with how someone else is feeling, internalize their emotions, and process them in my brain while looking through their eyes. I am not the BEST at this, but I am a damn sight better than most people I know.
At the same time, as I feel what I myself have a right to feel in day-to-day life, the sheer amount of emotion I contain inside myself is full to bursting. To avoid breakdowns, explosions, gratuitous acts of mindless violence, or moments of severe hyperactivity, my solution is to wear my emotions on my sleeve, letting them out in small to moderate bursts in order to prevent a meltdown of epic proportions.
Some people have pointed out that maybe I don't have to be so empathic when it comes to other people. Others have mentioned that by firing my anger off at someone, am I not caring what they think or feel of it, thereby making me a hypocrite?
The first question is easy to answer. I do it because I want to. I do it because it is what helps me understand the people around me and in so many ways it is also why I am so damned good at my job. I do it because I care, because in knowing how and why someone feels the way they do, I am able to help them should they need it—whether it is to help them see a solution to their problem, or to help them understand (or be understood by) someone else.
This particular need of mine (the need to be the person that people go to for help and advice, when asked, of course) has earned me an online nickname that explains the title of this post: "Dr. Phviv," a tongue-in-cheek mashup of the infamous, moustached, balding Dr. Phil and, of course, my beautifully hair-styled self.
It goes somewhat beyond the simple shoulder leaning; I offer not comfort, but understanding and solutions. You all know as well as I do that I am heavily opinionated (see Part 13), and that generally means I will always have something to say about one's situation. Still, I listen and try to speak only when asked to do so. I do not judge, I empathize, and put my advice in a form that they will understand. When it does come time for me to talk, my honest and upfront nature (as evidenced in pretty much every single one of these posts) is what has people believing that I am not saying what I'm saying to make them feel better. I'm saying what I'm saying to help them understand and solve a problem.
This is a part of myself that I refuse to give up; a part of myself that I recognize is fueled by my empathy, and I have accepted it and all its implications in the form of a necessary evil.
What about the second question, then? "...By firing my anger off at someone, am I not caring what they think or feel of it, thereby making me a hypocrite?"
This is one of those things that makes me wish I were a significantly better person, but then again I do realize that I am only human. I can't help everyone, and were I to sensitize myself to making sure I don't tread on any toes at all, I think I would lose a lot of my passion and character. There is no "magic personality" that makes someone the very best of the best. This, I recognize with a heavy heart, is a flaw that I do make an effort to minimize, but never to eliminate, as it is the cost of being someone I love being.
A lot of that thinking comes from the fact that while I am always willing to help (and give my all when doing so), I do pick and choose to whom I afford that privilege. Past experiences have taught me rather harshly that you cannot please everyone and, perhaps most importantly, that going all out for just anyone will only have you end up a heavily trodden doormat.
Rather than seal myself off to people who might hurt me, I simply scare the weak ones away, keeping the stronger ones, the ones who know who I really am, by my side. It is for these people that I will do absolutely anything for; they need only ask.
Natural selection, if you will. To be fair, though, I am almost always nice at the outset and I am so good at making a good first impression if I wanted to do so. I just quickly turn into a bit of a bitch and then switch back to sugarcoated goodness when I think the receiving party has had enough.
I will help as many people as I can, but I can't help everyone. It helps that people know they can come to me without even asking, because with the people I like or am close to, I am so very open with them about my thoughts and feelings that they know they can be just as open with me. I am honest and upfront with them, so they know they can be the same way with me without fearing any negative repercussions. If you see me in this light, then it means I like you, because I have shown you that side of me.
Call me a hypocrite or something synonymous if you like, but I will have you know that I have helped so many little girls and boys find their parents while lost in a supermarket or mall or store simply because I wanted to. And because if I didn't, no one else was going to do it.
Knowing that I am a nice person at heart, that I am a nice person a hell of a lot more often than I am a mean one, is what makes me glad that I have come to terms with both the very best and the very worst of myself. The people who think I am mean more than I am nice are, quite frankly, perhaps the kind of people whose opinion I don't particularly value, so hey, why the hell should they have any kind of impact on my self-image?
If you are reading this, rest assured that you are one of those people I would be there for, no questions asked, if you needed me. It doesn't even matter how well you think you know me; more often than not, if you find me approachable and want to talk to me, then that means that I am more than willing to talk to you, no matter the topic. There's very little we can talk about nowadays that will freak me out, and I will never, ever judge you. Trust me. I am here for you.
You know where to find me if you need me.
TL;DR: Dammit you SE++ fags (Javen and Sil I am looking at you dudes so hard right now) it's not THAT long you lazy bastards! (Oh ok I actually I just scrolled up and it IS pretty long but it is me being soft and squishy and everyone loves THAT right, RIGHT?)
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Why I'm Awesome (Part 14 of 7,412): BACKS
Yes, friends and acquaintances and people I met once fleetingly and have never seen again, the age-old mystery is about to be solved. No, there will be no "summing up" of 2007, I've been doing that all year, if you wanna hear about it, go back and read about it.
[ This post is brought to you by everyone who ever asked me why I like backs and shoulders, as well as Mr. Meissner, whose conversation with me today brought certain things to light. ]
First, I should clarify that it is both backs and shoulders that I find appealing. Just a back or just a shoulder simply will not do.
Second, Iping possesses a stunning specimen of the perfect combination. I just wanted to say that before people started whining about how terrible a girlfriend I am. HE HAS A GORGEOUS BODY AND HE KNOWS IT BECAUSE I ALWAYS TELL HIM ALL RIGHT. Have you felt him flex? HAVE YOU? It is awesome right? Damn straight. (Hands off, Chuck.)
Third, it certainly does not mean that other parts of the body are not appealing, it just means that these parts are the BEST.
This all said, it has been revealed over the past year or so that my favorite part of the male body is their upper body, specifically, their backs and shoulders. I do not find pecs particularly attractive, as they start to resemble boobs after a while and I will be damned if a dude I like has boobs better or bigger than mine.
Most people find this odd. Well, okay, let's be fair: most guys find this odd. Girls generally know what I'm talking about.
Let me explain, as briefly as I can force myself to (the blinking IM thingy in the taskbar helps, Meiss), why this is the sexiest part of the male anatomy. I couldn't really put my own finger on why I have this particular preference until today, so I now impart that knowledge to you.
Those of you who have read previous entries in this series know that I am basically the warmest, softest person you can possibly imagine once you penetrate a veritable fortress of Prince-of-Persia-style traps and walls and such.
On the exterior and in day-to-day life, I generally like to take care of myself. My armor is thick enough to withstand most forms of punishment in this sense, barring a particularly well-aimed attack.
However, in my most private of moments, when I am alone with someone special, I like to be taken care of. I, like anyone with the double-X-chromosome combo, like to be coddled, cuddled, snuggled, held, hugged, spoiled, and protected. You could say that after spending so much time looking out for myself, so much time spend wearing that body armor, I just want to take it all off when I get home and be held nice and tight and be treated like a little princess.
This admission does not come easily but I am hardly ashamed of it. Jaya knows what I'm about. In fact, I would imagine most girls out there do.
Think of it this way: a girl like me, who is accustomed to giving orders and making decisions and bludgeoning her way through barriers and asserting her presence and generating this visage of invulnerability for most of her waking day probably just wants some time to let all that go and go in the polar opposite direction. To let go and just be a GIRL.
How does this tie into backs and shoulders?
I view upper body strength as a mark of male dominance, as a symbolic representation of protection, or the ability to protect.
To be picked up, carried, hugged, held, etc.... these are all things that I absolutely enjoy when I'm with someone I am close to, and these are all things that solid upper body strength only help deliver.
To be hugged tightly, surrounded by well-sculpted arms with my hands feeling up a firm, solid back? A strong back that does not give way, that would protect me from anything?
I am basically ramming this metaphor down your throats, I know, but that is exactly why I find backs and shoulders so sexy. To me, I see a man who is capable of protecting me and taking care of me.
Now, don't get me wrong; I am not insinuating that I EXPECT these things from a man built this way. I simply mean that these are things I find appealing because my brain jumps a couple light years ahead of time sometimes.
This is perhaps the girliest I can possibly get without Iping physically being near me, but hey, that dude gives the best hugs EVER. THE BESTEST!
(No offense to past or future huggers but seriously the dude has you beat no contest.)
Hopefully, that clears up some confusion with regards to this "strange fetish" of mine. I HAVE A SOUL. I AM ACTUALLY HUMAN. I AM NOT AN ANDROID BUILT OF RAGE AND FUELED ON BABY TEARS.
I leave you now with a caricature drawn by Berk because Berk is pretty cool.
[ This post is brought to you by everyone who ever asked me why I like backs and shoulders, as well as Mr. Meissner, whose conversation with me today brought certain things to light. ]
First, I should clarify that it is both backs and shoulders that I find appealing. Just a back or just a shoulder simply will not do.
Second, Iping possesses a stunning specimen of the perfect combination. I just wanted to say that before people started whining about how terrible a girlfriend I am. HE HAS A GORGEOUS BODY AND HE KNOWS IT BECAUSE I ALWAYS TELL HIM ALL RIGHT. Have you felt him flex? HAVE YOU? It is awesome right? Damn straight. (Hands off, Chuck.)
Third, it certainly does not mean that other parts of the body are not appealing, it just means that these parts are the BEST.
This all said, it has been revealed over the past year or so that my favorite part of the male body is their upper body, specifically, their backs and shoulders. I do not find pecs particularly attractive, as they start to resemble boobs after a while and I will be damned if a dude I like has boobs better or bigger than mine.
Most people find this odd. Well, okay, let's be fair: most guys find this odd. Girls generally know what I'm talking about.
Let me explain, as briefly as I can force myself to (the blinking IM thingy in the taskbar helps, Meiss), why this is the sexiest part of the male anatomy. I couldn't really put my own finger on why I have this particular preference until today, so I now impart that knowledge to you.
Those of you who have read previous entries in this series know that I am basically the warmest, softest person you can possibly imagine once you penetrate a veritable fortress of Prince-of-Persia-style traps and walls and such.
On the exterior and in day-to-day life, I generally like to take care of myself. My armor is thick enough to withstand most forms of punishment in this sense, barring a particularly well-aimed attack.
However, in my most private of moments, when I am alone with someone special, I like to be taken care of. I, like anyone with the double-X-chromosome combo, like to be coddled, cuddled, snuggled, held, hugged, spoiled, and protected. You could say that after spending so much time looking out for myself, so much time spend wearing that body armor, I just want to take it all off when I get home and be held nice and tight and be treated like a little princess.
This admission does not come easily but I am hardly ashamed of it. Jaya knows what I'm about. In fact, I would imagine most girls out there do.
Think of it this way: a girl like me, who is accustomed to giving orders and making decisions and bludgeoning her way through barriers and asserting her presence and generating this visage of invulnerability for most of her waking day probably just wants some time to let all that go and go in the polar opposite direction. To let go and just be a GIRL.
How does this tie into backs and shoulders?
I view upper body strength as a mark of male dominance, as a symbolic representation of protection, or the ability to protect.
To be picked up, carried, hugged, held, etc.... these are all things that I absolutely enjoy when I'm with someone I am close to, and these are all things that solid upper body strength only help deliver.
To be hugged tightly, surrounded by well-sculpted arms with my hands feeling up a firm, solid back? A strong back that does not give way, that would protect me from anything?
I am basically ramming this metaphor down your throats, I know, but that is exactly why I find backs and shoulders so sexy. To me, I see a man who is capable of protecting me and taking care of me.
Now, don't get me wrong; I am not insinuating that I EXPECT these things from a man built this way. I simply mean that these are things I find appealing because my brain jumps a couple light years ahead of time sometimes.
This is perhaps the girliest I can possibly get without Iping physically being near me, but hey, that dude gives the best hugs EVER. THE BESTEST!
(No offense to past or future huggers but seriously the dude has you beat no contest.)
Hopefully, that clears up some confusion with regards to this "strange fetish" of mine. I HAVE A SOUL. I AM ACTUALLY HUMAN. I AM NOT AN ANDROID BUILT OF RAGE AND FUELED ON BABY TEARS.
I leave you now with a caricature drawn by Berk because Berk is pretty cool.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Why I'm Awesome (Part 13 of 7,412): OPINE
The past weeks have been an interesting mix of frustration and joy, with one stemming mostly from my job and the other stemming from my overwhelming ability to find things to do that make me happy. I have, however, found very little to write about, because as long since mentioned, the boyfriend and roommate now receive the brunt of my bitching, which quite frankly leaves me with very little to write about. Those who find my anger to be entertaining will just have to wait for a two-day period wherein neither Iping or Romain are accessible to me and, rest assured, you will have something else jumping up my butt and vomiting rage out my mouth.
My choice of imagery is stellar, I know.
[ This post is brought to you by Victoria's Secret and my Xbox 360 and Social Entropy Plus Plus. ]
I am also well aware that my previous entry was so awesome that I have left myself a tough act to follow. That said, I do not care, I'm just going to write whatever I want goddammit and you are going to like it.
As those of you on SE++ may know (as I posted this twice in the same thread), I am currently riding the crest of the wave known as my self-image. At present, I could not be happier with my physical appearance, my personality, my relationship, and my career. Confidence is at an all-time high and while I am perfectly aware of the fact that I stand on the precipice of one hell of a nosedive, I am just focusing on enjoying this for as long as I can.
With a significant boost in confidence comes an increase in the opine aspect of my personality. While already upfront with my take on basically everything that enters my line of sight and beyond, the tendency to verbalize exactly what I think about anything has basically reached critical levels. It's actually gotten to the point where I do it without thinking.
Constantly expressing my opinion is a habit of mine, though I haven't yet decided on whether or not this is a good thing. Sure, it can be termed a "bad" habit in the sense that I clearly do it much too often, but as something that is "bad" or "good" for me, I remain ambivalent. In an effort to sort this out once and for all, I opted to put myself in the shoes of someone on the receiving end.
I remain as clueless as ever on this matter, as it does seem to come down to individual personality. There is no universal way to look at someone who is opine to the degree of helplessness, and by now you yourself have realized that I really like the word "opine." (It rhymes with porcupine and as such is awesome.) Depending on your own personality and experience, you will either find it refreshing, annoying, or you may not notice it at all.
I have been told by multiple people (both online and off) that I am an intimidating, aggressive individual, and that this characteristic is fueled by how opinionated I am on everything. I do not hesitate, they say, to fill others in on what I think of anything, from celebrities to the color green to the Republicans to relationships to South Park. In some ways, my very "animated" way of expressing these views is termed as being "scary."
While I secretly delight in being seen as such an intimidating figure, I do admit that I find myself confused as to why people would think of me that way. Yes, I have presence, which I personally define as being able to walk into a room and be impossible to ignore. I recognize this as a strength, but it is wholly separate from being intimidating. I am essentially a giant bundle of hugs and cuteness and pyrophobia, from whom there is little to fear. It was then explained to me that my intimidation manifests itself in the form of my upfront, confident, and often aggressive personality.
Let me clarify that I do not deny that yes, I do hide that giant bundle of giggles and teehees under a thick coat of booby-trapped titanium (see WIA Part 7: MARSHMALLOW), but this particular brand of fear is, according to experts (i.e., people I like), not what fuels the intimidation. It's just good ol'-fashioned fear.
So, back to the point. Apparently, the majority of people I know find the fact that I am very upfront with my opinions as being intimidating. This group of people are people I generally like but are not very close with, even though I interact with them on a semi-regular basis. These people also tend to find it refreshing that I am so upfront, particularly when people left and right love to hide what they really think behind masks of political correctness and apathy. I am also honest about my opinions, no matter how controversial. People closer to me generally don't find me intimidating at all (most likely because they know better) and they have grown used to hearing me spit out an opinion every five minutes (seconds). All agree, however, that I am aggressive and have a very domineering personality.
Then you have a pocket of people who say what I have suspected all along: their annoyance with how I have to have an opinion on absolutely everything. Generally speaking they tend to wonder why I can't just keep my trap shut and roll with it instead of having something to say about even the most mediocre, mindless topics.
Since these people are not my friends so much as fringe acquaintances, I find that people who think this way are not people I tend to like.
I also find that while I do in fact have an opinion on most things, there are key topics that I just don't care about and I certainly don't express these opinions at inappropriate times. For example, I'm not going to attend someone's very Christian wedding and then ramble on and on and on about how I feel about religion in general. Not unless asked, anyway, and even then I am very careful with my tact.
That said, I think being upfront and honest with your opinions falls under the same rule that most other things in my life tend to follow: I like doing it, I know when not to do it, so I will keep on doing it when I can be doing it.
For me, something that definitely pisses me off is being wishy-washy. Wishy-washiness is for pussies and wimps. Sure you can have those issues that you just don't care about, that's normal. But not having an opinion at all is something that rubs me the wrong way. You don't have to take a stand, you don't have to defend your point of view, you don't have to debate every damned thing that comes up in conversation. But have a stand, have a point of view, and be able to have a damned conversation that goes beyond the versatile yet overly-used utterance of "meh."
So someone might disagree with you. So what. You really want to go out there and please 6 billion people?
Naturally, the other edge of the sword (at least in my case) is the frustration that arises when I feel like the other person simply isn't listening or is refusing to grasp the point. So stubbornly locked into what they think that they refuse to let me finish making my point before interrupting and jamming in something that ultimately derails the conversation away from the original point. They "think" they know what I'm going to say and jump in anyway because to them it's all "recycled garbage" and they have a prepackaged response to it. This frustration, if built up to the point wherein I feel like the other person is absolutely convinced that s/he is right and I am wrong without even trying to see where I am coming from (and wherein I have afforded them that courtesy), I generally explode in a violent blast of impatience. This is also known as a tantrum. I am seldom proud of myself when this happens, but suppressed, seething anger is, in my case, infinitely more damaging.
I am well aware that I am not perfect and that I have very likely interrupted other people in such discussions, but I have gotten significantly better since I decided to put the focus on listening to what people say rather than what I am waiting for my turn to say. (You can't tell I know but the change is there and I like it a lot.)
My conclusion from this round of introspection is that, like everything else, there is a time and place for everything in moderation. Being that this is the policy I already adhere to, I've since decided that this particular aspect of my personality is a positive one. Some people will like it, others won't, but those that won't are probably not the sort of people I'd like to hang out with, in any case.
TL; DR - fuck you, Sil.
My choice of imagery is stellar, I know.
[ This post is brought to you by Victoria's Secret and my Xbox 360 and Social Entropy Plus Plus. ]
I am also well aware that my previous entry was so awesome that I have left myself a tough act to follow. That said, I do not care, I'm just going to write whatever I want goddammit and you are going to like it.
As those of you on SE++ may know (as I posted this twice in the same thread), I am currently riding the crest of the wave known as my self-image. At present, I could not be happier with my physical appearance, my personality, my relationship, and my career. Confidence is at an all-time high and while I am perfectly aware of the fact that I stand on the precipice of one hell of a nosedive, I am just focusing on enjoying this for as long as I can.
With a significant boost in confidence comes an increase in the opine aspect of my personality. While already upfront with my take on basically everything that enters my line of sight and beyond, the tendency to verbalize exactly what I think about anything has basically reached critical levels. It's actually gotten to the point where I do it without thinking.
Constantly expressing my opinion is a habit of mine, though I haven't yet decided on whether or not this is a good thing. Sure, it can be termed a "bad" habit in the sense that I clearly do it much too often, but as something that is "bad" or "good" for me, I remain ambivalent. In an effort to sort this out once and for all, I opted to put myself in the shoes of someone on the receiving end.
I remain as clueless as ever on this matter, as it does seem to come down to individual personality. There is no universal way to look at someone who is opine to the degree of helplessness, and by now you yourself have realized that I really like the word "opine." (It rhymes with porcupine and as such is awesome.) Depending on your own personality and experience, you will either find it refreshing, annoying, or you may not notice it at all.
I have been told by multiple people (both online and off) that I am an intimidating, aggressive individual, and that this characteristic is fueled by how opinionated I am on everything. I do not hesitate, they say, to fill others in on what I think of anything, from celebrities to the color green to the Republicans to relationships to South Park. In some ways, my very "animated" way of expressing these views is termed as being "scary."
While I secretly delight in being seen as such an intimidating figure, I do admit that I find myself confused as to why people would think of me that way. Yes, I have presence, which I personally define as being able to walk into a room and be impossible to ignore. I recognize this as a strength, but it is wholly separate from being intimidating. I am essentially a giant bundle of hugs and cuteness and pyrophobia, from whom there is little to fear. It was then explained to me that my intimidation manifests itself in the form of my upfront, confident, and often aggressive personality.
Let me clarify that I do not deny that yes, I do hide that giant bundle of giggles and teehees under a thick coat of booby-trapped titanium (see WIA Part 7: MARSHMALLOW), but this particular brand of fear is, according to experts (i.e., people I like), not what fuels the intimidation. It's just good ol'-fashioned fear.
So, back to the point. Apparently, the majority of people I know find the fact that I am very upfront with my opinions as being intimidating. This group of people are people I generally like but are not very close with, even though I interact with them on a semi-regular basis. These people also tend to find it refreshing that I am so upfront, particularly when people left and right love to hide what they really think behind masks of political correctness and apathy. I am also honest about my opinions, no matter how controversial. People closer to me generally don't find me intimidating at all (most likely because they know better) and they have grown used to hearing me spit out an opinion every five minutes (seconds). All agree, however, that I am aggressive and have a very domineering personality.
Then you have a pocket of people who say what I have suspected all along: their annoyance with how I have to have an opinion on absolutely everything. Generally speaking they tend to wonder why I can't just keep my trap shut and roll with it instead of having something to say about even the most mediocre, mindless topics.
Since these people are not my friends so much as fringe acquaintances, I find that people who think this way are not people I tend to like.
I also find that while I do in fact have an opinion on most things, there are key topics that I just don't care about and I certainly don't express these opinions at inappropriate times. For example, I'm not going to attend someone's very Christian wedding and then ramble on and on and on about how I feel about religion in general. Not unless asked, anyway, and even then I am very careful with my tact.
That said, I think being upfront and honest with your opinions falls under the same rule that most other things in my life tend to follow: I like doing it, I know when not to do it, so I will keep on doing it when I can be doing it.
For me, something that definitely pisses me off is being wishy-washy. Wishy-washiness is for pussies and wimps. Sure you can have those issues that you just don't care about, that's normal. But not having an opinion at all is something that rubs me the wrong way. You don't have to take a stand, you don't have to defend your point of view, you don't have to debate every damned thing that comes up in conversation. But have a stand, have a point of view, and be able to have a damned conversation that goes beyond the versatile yet overly-used utterance of "meh."
So someone might disagree with you. So what. You really want to go out there and please 6 billion people?
Naturally, the other edge of the sword (at least in my case) is the frustration that arises when I feel like the other person simply isn't listening or is refusing to grasp the point. So stubbornly locked into what they think that they refuse to let me finish making my point before interrupting and jamming in something that ultimately derails the conversation away from the original point. They "think" they know what I'm going to say and jump in anyway because to them it's all "recycled garbage" and they have a prepackaged response to it. This frustration, if built up to the point wherein I feel like the other person is absolutely convinced that s/he is right and I am wrong without even trying to see where I am coming from (and wherein I have afforded them that courtesy), I generally explode in a violent blast of impatience. This is also known as a tantrum. I am seldom proud of myself when this happens, but suppressed, seething anger is, in my case, infinitely more damaging.
I am well aware that I am not perfect and that I have very likely interrupted other people in such discussions, but I have gotten significantly better since I decided to put the focus on listening to what people say rather than what I am waiting for my turn to say. (You can't tell I know but the change is there and I like it a lot.)
My conclusion from this round of introspection is that, like everything else, there is a time and place for everything in moderation. Being that this is the policy I already adhere to, I've since decided that this particular aspect of my personality is a positive one. Some people will like it, others won't, but those that won't are probably not the sort of people I'd like to hang out with, in any case.
TL; DR - fuck you, Sil.
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