On falling in love

People talk about being afraid that they'll never find their better half, their soul-mate, their match. Me, on the other hand? I'm afraid I will, and I'm afraid of what will happen after. All my life I've depended on two things - me, and being hurt by men (and as a result, I've become a bit of a misanthropist). So what happens when I no longer have that grudge to carry? I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

I don't know how to be happy with someone. To me, it's a foreign concept, uncharted waters, and what-have-you. It's unknown, and I'm afraid of the unknown.

The statement "I'm afraid of being happy with someone" sounds absurd, and perhaps it is. But not all fears are rational. And what's so absurd about being afraid of the unknown?

What's so great about love, anyway?

"If love's so great, why do you fall into it? You fall into a puddle. You fall into the mud. You fall into the abyss.
"It is not very promising company."

No, it isn't. It's an act of insanity.

On five months

Has it really been exactly five months since I've last updated this blog? Clearly, the answer is yes, since the previous post is dated September 16, 2009 – but I'm still having trouble believing that a) so much time has passed and b) I neglected to write for such a span of time.

Then again, I probably shouldn't be so surprised – I haven't been in the mood to write for a while now. Disheartening thought, actually.

That being said, I'm back! So my journalism hopes have been dashed into thousands of teeny-tiny irreparable pieces – so what? I can still write for myself. For now, that will have to suffice.

In the five months that have passed, I've acquired a permanent position at SDSU Research Foundation, I came dangerously close to being in a relationship (okay, so dangerously may be a pessimistic/negative/generally displeasing adverb. I'm a generally pessimistic/negative/displeased person), and… well, that may be it, actually. Family is about the same, friends are about the same – life, in a nutshell, is about the same. (Maybe that's why I haven't written in five months. Not much to write about, really.) I've been looking at the bright side as much as possible (the bright side of what, exactly, remains a mystery as, aforementioned, I am generally displeased), and for the most part, it's been working. Great friends, great city (yes, I'm somewhat contented with the fact that I'll be in SD for at least the next year, probably more), great love-life (it's nonexistent, which makes it great from my point of view). Not much to complain about, in other words. (Yet I'm still generally displeased. Hm.)

First things first – the job (i.e. the reason why I'll be in SD for the foreseeable future). This harkens back to the whole "I'll never be a journalist, woe is me" thing: I'm essentially back to square one, and trying desperately to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Option A: Pray that my sister's business gets off the ground soon. Option B: Project Management. Option C: Win the lottery. I'm not a gambler, so at the moment, I'm shooting for Option B. And, as luck would have it, I'm in the perfect atmosphere for project management, since that's essentially what the people at the Research Foundation do – manage the professors' projects (to a certain extent). If this is the road I choose to wander down, I couldn't have stumbled across a more opportune place to be. I don't want to stay here, since this isn't exactly the type of project management I would want to do, but the experience will be (in)valuable.

My favoritest (as in, least favorite) holiday, Valentine's Day, has come and gone, and I can say with completely true enthusiasm – it was the best one yet. I spent the day with amazing friends – Jessica M., Taylor, Kolbe, Erika, and Allison – and I really could not have asked for a better group of people. We girl-talked (Kolbe napped through that part, and I think Taylor zoned out), we played Imagine Iff… (don't know why that board game needs to spell "if" incorrectly), and we went out for Thai. It was a great mix of new and old friends all on their best behavior, and if we concentrated hard enough we could forget that we were all there together because we were all single. \

The good vibrations from yesterday will keep me going for this whole week, I think – it was THAT good of a day. They may soon be negated by my coworkers going on and on and on about the cakes they baked for their boyfriends, however. Were cakes trendy this year, or something? Whatever happened to going out to dinner?

I'm not bitter.

So earlier, I lied. (Yes, I realize I said I wouldn't. Whatever.) The love-life isn't exactly nonexistent. It's non-nonexistent. It doesn't exist, but it doesn't quite not-exist. (If you think about this hard enough, it makes sense. Or it gives you a headache.) Long story short – I met a guy, I was interested in him, he was interested back, I DIDN'T RUN AWAY (yes, you read that correctly!)… and he moved to Seattle. Second long story short – it's happening again (but with a different guy). I guess I can't shorten this story, since it's still in the works; we'll just have to see how it unfolds. And if the universe still hates me. And if I still fail at life.

So – that's what's happened in the last five months. See you in July! (I kid. I think.)

Isn't it ironic?

Taylor and I were chatting about deal-breakers during dinner earlier tonight, and we discovered that we have plenty in common.

Later in the evening, I remembered another one: social ineptitude.

I was reminded of this when I could come up with no good reason for a text message I'd received earlier in the day; Taylor kindly reminded me that guys have a tendency to be stupid. While I agreed, I didn't think that it was the reasoning behind this message.

I was at my friends' house, watching "Grey's Anatomy" and discussing relationships (which inevitably happens while watching "Grey's"), when I mentioned the text. My friend turned and looked at me and said, "He's a social idiot! There's nothing you can do about that."

Lightbulb.

I can't take social idiocy, nor do I have the patience to try and fix it - if they're even willing to consider their ineptitude an issue. Most won't.

So there it is - I knew something had to be wrong with him. He's interested in me, after all, and I seem to attract social idiots by the swarms.

I'll still talk to him, I'll still hang out with him, but as far as I'm concerned, there is no dating potential there whatsoever.

Probably a good thing I'd still rather be single.

On love, hate, and everything in between.

Just as a heads up - I'm going through some tough shit right now, which I'll react to by either withdrawing into myself once more or by pleading for attention, hugs, and kisses. Either way, I may or may not tell you just what it is that's bothering me, but just know that I am having some difficulties adjusting to certain events.

With that being said, I'll acknowledge here that this time around, my heartbreak has nothing to do with loving someone completely and utterly wrong for me. No, my heart breaks for someone else who made that mistake nearly 30 years ago, and has dealt with the repercussions with strength and willpower that I am only now beginning to fathom.

At the same time, my heart is fortified by the incredible love this woman still manages to have for myself and for my sisters, a love so strong that she has put up with all sorts of abuse and disrespect for over half her life. A love so strong that she has lived and persevered when a lesser woman would have not. It is for our sakes that she has endured levels of shit that I had sworn I would never suffer.

I've discovered, in the light of this past weekend, not only the kinds of strength a woman needs to leave a toxic relationship, but also the iron will it requires to stay.

I have, in short, discovered the amazing, wondrous thing that is the love of a mother. My only hope now is that one day, I can prove I am worthy of being her daughter. I've already demonstrated that I am quite capable of making the same mistakes that have nearly ruined her life. Let's hope that I am equally capable of the same strength.

"As a woman, I wish she had. As her daughter, I'm grateful she didn't."

For the longest time

For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to get married, have three children, and live the happy home life I didn't truly have. I always wondered why both of my older sisters wanted neither marriage nor children of their own; I thought it was bizarre and wrong that two women would not want that typical, sugar-sweet family life.

It hit me only recently that perhaps they responded to our home life differently than I did. All three of us were under great pressure growing up, and it didn't help that my parents' loveless marriage frequently led to violently angry arguments. Psychology argues that the three of us should have grown up to be complete and utter messes, drug-addicts or alcoholics. Instead, we've all had varying degrees of success in our lives.

The experience still scarred us all deeply, however. I grew up idolizing happy marriages and promising myself that my children would never suffer as I did. My sisters, on the other hand, shunned marriage and children for themselves. Again, I found this mindset foreign to my way of thinking, and to America's way of thinking as a whole.

But now, I look at their beliefs with a little more clarity. My solution to the unhappiness of our home was to build a better one for the future; my sisters' solutions appeared to rely on not ever taking the risk of building one for themselves. My parents' relationship nurtured in me a painfully intense desire for true love; my sisters appear to avoid repeating the same mistakes by avoiding marriage.

The eldest of us three, however, is the only one to have actually committed herself to relationships (as far as I know. I don't think S. has been in a relationship with anyone, but I could be wrong). Her current relationship is, in my eyes, truly something special. For as long as I've been alive, J. has always had to look after me (and believe me, I was NOT easy to handle) and bear the burden of being an adult when she should have been enjoying her youth. But with her boyfriend, she doesn't have to carry the all responsibilities on her own shoulders; her boyfriend knows what it's like to be the product of a torn household as well as being the eldest of three. He is, in almost every respect, her perfect partner, and I have never seen her happier in my 22 years (on October 13!) of life. They've made living a shared life while still retaining independence and their individual personalities look disgustingly easy. Yet she still refuses to consider marriage, and I can't help but believe that this mindset is one of the scars left on her by her experiences. Our shared experiences.

J. is six years older than me. If I can remember the shouting, the throwing of dishes, the driving off in cars, then what does she remember? What does S. remember?

Not much good, it's safe to say.

I bring this up because only yesterday, Fadiya and I were discussing how we used to think that the idea of not wanting to get married was freakish and abnormal. We talked about how we, as little girls, wanted to grow up and get married. Then, we grew up. We grew up paranoid, suspicious, mistrustful. We grew up scarred, scared. We grew up afraid to love and be loved. And our childish conceptions of love changed, our ideas of marriage changed. Suddenly, I understand that one good marriage will not automatically undo the mess left by one horrible marriage. Suddenly, I wonder whether or not I'm even capable of maintaining a relationship at all, in any shape or form. I'm a self-diagnosed Avoidant, and though I turned out well enough by societal standards, I'm still carrying a lot of baggage as a result of my childhood. I may have to rewrite my own assumptions of what I wanted as a kid, because as a pseudo-adult, my childhood aspirations are far from what I want now.

I dreamed big, as a kid.

Am I hard to please?

Am I hard to please?

In a word? Very.

Let's face the facts:

1. I'm complicated. My moods shift constantly, and are easily affected by a word, a change in the weather, a book, and so forth. For the most part, I come off as optimistic and cheerful, but often enough, the cheer and optimism mask my true feelings. I care deeply what other people think, and if I think that they want me to happy and outgoing, then I'll do the best that I can do be that person. What can I say - I'm a people-pleaser. Unfortunately, this usually means that when a burst of temper or depression breaks through the mask, the people are taken entirely by surprise and are none too pleased.

I'm making an honest effort to be more true to myself and to my feelings and emotions as they occur. I firmly believe that people cannot truly know and love me if I continue disguising myself for their own benefit. It's a lie, and lies are no foundation for a relationship.

So yes - I'm complicated. Mercurial, even. That's just me.

2. I'm emotional. Sometimes in the stereotypical way, but mostly, I mean that I feel emotions very strongly. I feed off of the energies of the people around me; if they're down, then I'm down. My highs are truly incredible, however. When I'm feeling the good vibrations, it'll take some monumental effort to bring me back down.

Again, this reflects the up-and-down nature of my moods. I feel emotions strongly and and am affected by them so quickly it'll make your head spin.

3. I'm distant. I have quite a few acquaintances, but very few close friends. Let's face it - I have trust issues, rooted deep in my past. Don't expect me to trust you and call you a best friend within months. Instead, think more along the lines of years. People have to see me through a lot of thin before they earn my trust.

And even then, it takes a lot to get me to sob on their shoulders. As much as I feel emotion, I don't like showing them, particularly the more negative ones. I'll gladly show frustration and irritation - as long as its over some little thing (such as TWCSD not providing me with internet for several weeks). If it relates to a person in my life, or some important circumstance, I'll be very circumspect. Even more so if I'm hurt - I hate, hate, HATE crying in front of people. It's a weakness that I refuse to show.

4. I reclusive. My friends, especially those that I talk to more often on the internet than I do in person, often note that I retreat from my social life for extended periods at a time - usually during the early summer months. I need that time to recharge, recuperate, and reflect. I do a lot of journaling and thinking during that period, whether it revolves around sorting through yet another mangled love affair or addressing concerns over my future.

I think this happens during early summer because it's right around the end of a school year. A lot happens over the course of a school year, and I'll generally need some time to look over what happened (and sometimes, what didn't) and to make some sense of how I feel. I'm no longer in school, but it'll still happen, whether it occurs at the end of something important, or if I'm simply feeling swamped by life at large.

5. I'm pissing-in-my-pants terrified of love. I've addressed this topic time and time again because of just how hugely this fear factors into my life. I've yet to commit to a real relationship with someone because I'm simply too scared to give so much of myself to another person. It goes back to the trust issues, and my family life.

Also (and this can't be denied), I've set my standards pretty damn high. Many of these standards aren't exactly tangible - I can't set a list in stone like I used to do back in the seventh grade. I refuse to set my standards any lower because I feel absolutely no need to settle for someone. Not with my fears, not with my experiences, do I plan on just resigning myself to someone who isn't quite right. I would rather spend my entire life single than settle; I refuse to be my mother.

Yes, that scares people off. So what? I didn't want them anyway. If they can't see past the complications, the masks, the distance, and the space, and into the heart that truly is capable of the biggest and greatest love, then they aren't worth it. If they aren't patient enough to work through my fears, and to realize that I want to work through them too, then they aren't man enough.

Because I will fight the fears. I will compromise, though I will never compromise my absolute standards. I will be everything that I can and do everything that I can do, short of sacrificing myself. Because love isn't about sacrificing yourself, your being, your you-ness for someone else. It's about loving that someone completely and truly because of all the things that make that person special and unique - even if it does mean putting up with some kooks and quirks.

I won't settle for anything less.

You know you're in a relationship when...

My last post was full of unhappiness, so instead of adding this to the end of my rant, I decided to just write a new entry. This way, if people only read the top post, they won't run across Sad!Hanna in the second.

Continuing with the list I started in my annual Valentine's Day post, BSW ran across some new overly cutesy, couple-y behavior.

You know you're in a relationship when...

- You go grocery shopping together.
- You have an "I<3YOU2" license plate (not literally less-than-3, but one of those sickening hearts. The less-than-three would have made it bearable).
- You're getting hitched. At 22 years old.
- You sit next to your date at a restaurant, rather than sitting across from them (and being separated for an hour).
- You coordinate your outfit with your Significant Other.

[Edit: who says you have to be dating someone, to be in a relationship? I have relationships with lots of people.]

On being alone, but not lonely

I've discovered a breed of people just like me, known as Quirkyalones; I am a person who "enjoys being single (but is not opposed to being in a relationship) and generally prefers to be alone rather than dating for the sake of being in a couple."

This is, almost word-for-word, my mantra when it comes to love and relationships. I've gone through the "fuck love!" phase to the "I need love!" phase, and finally struck a happy medium with my heart - something that people worldwide have apparently embraced.

My Quirkyalone quiz results:
How quirkyalone are you?
Your score was 110. Very quirkyalone:
Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!

"Romancing the world" - I like that. Treating the world like a lover - lavishing it with attention, taking good care of it - sounds like a good plan to me. Better alone, and in love with the world, than in an unhappy relationship just to be half of a pair. Better to be entirely myself, than part of a whole.

Relationship-phobic

As Valentine's Day approaches, the Bitter Single Woman in me begins vomiting at every display of public affection; I have to restrain BSW from hurling muffins (long story) at every couple she comes across.

Don't get me wrong - there are advantages to the Single State that I prefer infinitely to the Relationship. Hitting on people left and right, enjoying the attentions of the cute salesman at Nordstrom, flirting shamelessly with waiters and coffee baristas, having a girl's night out whenever and wherever - all things I couldn't get away with if I had that extra weight on my arm.

However, there are advantages to the Relationship that the Single State never enjoys - late-night phone calls for a spider infestation, warm hands to hold, a spare jacket, inside jokes. And about this time every year, BSW cries for the lost opportunities.

This year, however, BSW is a little less whiny. I'm in a state of flux right now - I'm about to graduate without knowing quite where I'm going yet; I'm banking on being across the nation in a year's time. I don't want to form any attachments for fear of breaking them off. So for now, I'll enjoy the Single State a little while longer - though BSW comes through every now and then.

Take the following list, for example - it's my version of "You know you're when..."

You know you're in a relationship when...

- You go grocery shopping together.
- You have an "I<3YOU2" license plate (not literally less-than-3, but one of those sickening hearts. The less-than-three would have made it bearable).
- You're getting hitched. At 22 years old.


It's a work in progress. Expect BSW to update it, as she runs across sappy couples in the upcoming weeks.

EDIT: Interesting fact - the fear of chins is called "geniophobia": defined as "a persistent, abnormal, and unwarranted fear of chins", each year this surprisingly common phobia causes countless people needless distress.

I don't think I'm geniophobic, but I do admit that the chin is a deciding factor in whether or not I think a man is attractive. Take, for example, Pretty-Boy Brady, whom you've heard me complain about in the past few posts. Attractive man...

UNATTRACTIVE chin!

Interesting, how that just throws everything off.

Let's get married

OMG, EVERYONE AND THEIR DONKEY IS GETTING ENGAGED!
Jessica and Megan (both engaged to Chris', coincidentally) have been proposed to. Brian has popped the question. And Zach got down on one knee first, out of all of my high school friends (Megan is actually a college friend), and started off this chain reaction. It's... *Hanna struggles for an adjective* BIZARRE, knowing that my friends are all preparing for marriage. I mean, it's also wonderful, and I'm extremely happy for them! But knowing that we're all of marriageable (or engageable, at least) age is just... *struggles once more* FRIGHTENINGLY REALISTIC.
Damn reality. Damn it to insufferable chick flicks, 24-7 hell. I feel almost obligated to stay single, now. SOMEONE has to be Spinster Cat-Lady.
Actually, I prefer dogs. Can I be Spinster Dog-Lady, with my Jack Russells and whatevers?

PoP! Goes my heart!

"PoP! Goes my heart!" - Music and Lyrics soundtrack

---

In just these past few weeks, three of my friends have gotten engaged. And it's not the false engagement a la Facebook (if that counts, I've first been married, then divorced, then in a relationship, an open relationship, and back to a regular relationship) - no, it's a full-blown, diamond ring, down-on-one-knee prelude to marriage.
The oldest of these girls is 22.
Once upon a time, I'd hoped to meet the love of my life in college, be engaged for a little while - take the time to see the world together and all - and then get married at around 25. This is the road that these girlfriends of mine are all headed down, and the most shocking event of these few weeks is the realization that this hasn't been the road I want to travel, and hasn't been for some time now. I couldn't see myself being so committed at this age; I'm genuinely happy for my friends (who've all been dating their fiances for at least a few years now), but I really couldn't see myself in their shoes.
It is widely known that I am a commitment-phobe.

---

"Erotic passion may, after all, be the one thing capable of attaching even the most individualist human beings to something outside of themselves. Erotic passion is individualistic, even egoistic, yet leads to the most intense devotion and willingness to sacrifice." - Steve Forde

When I think about cheating

"Oh, and I'll vent in my LJ as well, so you'll have advance warning of the Hanna Hurricane. Trust me, it'll blow over - one big storm and it's done and gone. You only have to really worry when the storm starts off as a light rain, and doesn't leave. Then it'll build up, it'll grow, and it'll destroy whatever is nearby. But don't worry - those are few and far between."

I wrote this early in fall quarter, after one of the rare Hurricane Hannas had blown through. Hurricane Hannas come by every now and then, but not often, and they pass through with relatively little harm done.
This right now, though, is no hurricane. It's an even rarer event. The irritation and frustration grows layer by layer, until it's strong enough to be cut down and used as a battering ram against my well-fortified walls. These protective barriers, however, stand no chance against this brute force, the ram wielded by Anger.
Once the walls have fallen, a whirlwind of emotion ensues - I am impassioned, violent, loud - and it leaves me drained. I shout to make myself heard, but in the very few times that this type of storm has occurred, my voice has fallen on deaf ears.
When the emotional cyclone ceases, it leaves me utterly exhausted, but the storm hasn't ended yet. I now methodically pick through the aftermath, salvaging what remains are still useful, and leaving the rest for dead. I close in on myself, I retreat, and I soul-search. Skies are brooding and gray; light rainfall lasts all throughout.
When I finally emerge, I'm resolved.
These storms never occur unprovoked. The only two times they've passed, I've ended up losing friends. Actually, I won't call it "losing" - it's more like putting to rest good, fond memories, and extracting myself from a situation before too many bad memories take their place.
The storm's come and gone. Salvageable is my good cheer, my optimism, and my capacity to love. Broken beyond repair are two very different relationships.
While I will still enjoy the company of these people, I don't think we'll ever be great friends. Without the presence of one, the other and I aren't capable of conversation. In the past few weeks, very rarely have I been with the two of them and NOT felt the part of complete outsider.
I can do so much better than that.
During a chat I had with my supervisor, I came to the realization that these two and I aren't ever going to be close friends. And I've come to terms with that. I'll treasure the good times, and I'll (eventually, but not right now) enjoy being in their presence, but I don't think that we'll have anything beyond a friendly working relationship.
And I've come to terms with that.
---
EDIT: "At this rate." That phrase could be added to the ending or beginning of most of my above sentences. At this rate, I'll no longer want to be their friend. Our friendship is irreparable at this rate. But what I haven't yet given up on is building something better. Is that still possible?
I think so, and I'm willing to try.
At this rate, anyway.
---
"When I think about cheating" by Gretchen Wilson

Change

Right now, I've either got to see some positive changes taking effect, or I've got to throw everything to hell and stop caring.
I sincerely hope it's the former, but if it comes down to the second option, then so be it. One way or another, I cannot have such negative, draining influences in my life and stay sane (relatively speaking). Things are going to change, no matter what.
I'll do whatever I can to try and fix this, but I can only do so much before I'm forced to give up entirely for the sake of my sanity. And I'm going to go nuts a helluva lot faster if I don't see any reciprocated action.
I think we're all trying, but I could be wrong. I'm trying. I'm trying to have conversations, I'm trying to honestly speak my mind. I'm honestly fine with having more uncomfortable discussions about feelings and emotions if it'll lead to a stronger, better foundation. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all.
I won't be neutral, either. I'm not going to play Geneva, here. I have way too much invested in this to remain above and distanced from all of this. I care too much about the people, and I care too much about my own feelings to play mediator, and I don't think that was understood from the beginning. How can I be neutral when this whole thing revolves around my friendships? How is that possible of anyone? I don't want to neglect any relationships, and if that means that I lose my neutrality, then fine. I never wanted that kind of status in the first place. And after all, that was part of how this all started - neglect of attention, neglect of honesty. So why anyone would think that I'm trying to remain the third party here is absolutely incomprehensible. Honestly, how does that appeal to ANYONE'S sense of logic?
Anyway. This situation is affecting everything in my life right now, and none of the effects are positive. It's hindering my performance at my job and as an RA, it's corroding my relationships with all of my different groups of friends. I can't have that in my life.

S.A.D

The time once again approaches. Every year, it is inevitable. The month of January crawls inexorably toward February, and once the shortest month of the year arrives, it's only a matter of days.
You know what I speak of. Valentine's Day is fast-approaching, once more.
Of all the holidays that come to pass in one year, Valentine's Day always strikes me as the most fabricated, the most Hallmark, of them all. It's a very gooey sentiment, celebrating love and lovers; I've never really wrapped my mind around the concept.
My history of Valentine's Days, in a nutshell:
- Elementary school: forced to give cards to everyone, so that no one feels rejected.
- Middle school: secretly longing for someone to buy me a Valentine Gram (sold for a paltry dollar and delivered during class).
- High school: Resignedly accepted my fate to be alone on Sap Day; turn my attention to giving gifts of chocolate and overly pink cards to my friends, instead.
And that's been my approach ever since. In all my 20 years of existence, I've never once celebrated a Valentine's Day with any lover of any sort, but it's only been in the last few years that I've come to terms with it. Nowadays, I celebrate love in its other forms - I give cards of appreciation to my friends, I hand out chocolate to anyone and everyone - and I pelt people whom I feel are being overly affectionate (at least, I imagine myself doing so).
This Valentine's Day looks to be no different. No lover, but no cares. I'll be on duty - I've warned my residents that I'll document people for overly excessive PDA. :] I'll give cards, I'll arm myself with candies (my friends gave me a couple of bags of my favorite Valentine's Day treat - Hershey's Hugs!) and fling them at the unsuspecting, and I'll enjoy the love and affection of true friends.
I've never known any other sort of love on Valentine's Day, and this year, I won't be looking for it. I'm more than pleased with what I've already got.
<3

Ah, l'amour

I have an obsession - a passionate, deep, unabiding love - for words. I analyze them constantly - their original meanings, their societally ascribed meanings, their connotations (both negative and positive). I look to their surfaces - the way they're spelled, the way they look when written on paper (have you ever noticed how funny "week" is?). Occasionally, when my vocabulary slips below the surface and leaves me floundering, I'll invent a word or turn a noun-verb-adjective into an adjective-noun-verb (or any other combination that 3 X 3 makes. YOU'RE the math major/taking math classes - what's the total number of possible combinations?).
Sometimes, I wonder what possessed people to create the words that now constitute the English language (I really only take into consideration English because that is the only language I'm fluent in).
Very rarely am I ever speechless. There are so many words, phrases, sayings, expressions to sum up my feelings. It isn't very often that I am unable to describe how I am feeling.
So why is it that one little emotion can leave me without words? Why is one little, stupid failing of the heart so incomprehensible? There have been countless numbers of poems, essays, novels, and so forth written on the subject, but has it ever really been defined? Described? Explained?
I have an all-consuming love for words and their subtleties, their nuances - but my words cannot ever fully encompass love.
Funny, how words work sometimes.

This is your heart on love

I've taken to re-reading Sinfest recently. I can't get bored of Tatsuya Ishida's cynical stings and one-liners (plus, Pooch and Percy are incredibly adorable).
This particular strip, though, is one of my all-time favorites; Slick really hits the nail on the head. (If you can't read it, click on the strip to enlarge the image.)
I'd hate to see what happens to the nads.
Thank goodness that's one question I'll never have to worry about.
I've always wondered which gender takes a broken heart worse, but I've come to realize that, in all actuality, the question's probably unanswerable. Girls stereotypically wallow in chocolate/ice cream/chocolate ice cream; guys stereotypically put up a front. Neither way is particularly effective (I've tried both), but that's the point. Love's a bitch, and we're all susceptible to heartache and pain. Love doesn't discriminate between the genders; it takes us all as victims.
---
Along the same vein of thought, what ever happened to courtship? I don't see people courting one another, I don't see men or women attempting to woo their loved ones. It's not so much that I think romance is dead. I know lots of very romantic people and couples. But I don't see courtship.
Back in the day, courting someone meant, generally, that a man would call on a woman regularly, make himself affable to his beloved's family, dance only with his particular lady should the occasion arise, write long letters, go for walks, etc.
Modern times don't exactly allow for this elaborate display of love and affection anymore, so my question is - what is contemporary courtship, and where is it? Am I missing something, here? Do emails and instant messaging count as exchanging letters and indulging in long conversation? Is a rendezvous at a Starbucks the romantic equivalent to a walk beneath clear skies and tall trees? Does grinding at a nightclub, amidst sweaty bodies infused with alcohol compare to country waltzes?
I favor old romance to modern rituals. But does it still have a place in today's society? Could it be revived? What IS today's twist to courtship and wooing?
A penny for your thoughts.

The New Year meme, part 2

If you've already read my elephantine post found below, I apologize, for I am going to sum it up now in just a few short(er), and less angry, paragraphs.
2006, as a whole, was an experience. It was an experience in new adventures to be had and lessons to be learned. I've done a few things I'd never done before, gone through some trials I'd never faced before, and so forth.
Let's begin with the less complicated subject at hand. During the summer, I interned at KGTV-10, a newsstation based in San Diego. I learned quite a bit about how a local newsstation gathers its information and prioritizes its daily dosage of news - and I learned why I don't like the trivial, localized approach. This was a highly lucrative endeavour in that I finally got a first-hand look into the workings of my chosen career, and have modified my goals accordingly.
(My hands are so cold and stiff that typing is proving to be a real challenge.)
Now into the gritty stuff - namely, relationships, and how they've proved to be a real bitch and a real source of joy.
My relationship with my family has never failed to be a struggle. We've declined from years past; we've become resigned to a situation that had never had a chance to be truly loving and happy; we've improved in our understanding of one another. It's truly hard at times for me to be a Choe. I've tried explaining it to my friends - one sister is working at three different hospitals, the other is teaching English is Korea. I, as the youngest, have always had these standards to live up to, and I've never failed to come up short. My relationship with my mother has always, for me, been more challenging than any course I've ever been enrolled in, any test I've ever failed, because of my inevitable shortcomings. What I choose to do, what I do to distinguish myself, she cannot understand. She never understood how much work I put into KIWIN'S during high school, and the amazingly postive impact it had on a SHITLOAD of people - all she saw were my poor grades in my math and science classes. She doesn't see the effect I have as an RA - she only notes that I'm attending a good enough school (by her standards) and that my grades are staying up (not realizing how challenging it is to keep them up, what with the other responsibilities I've had). She cannot recognize that I'm trying to make a difference by being an able leader, since this is out of her power to grade and judge. In this aspect, I far outshine my siblings - since neither of them cared for this type of extracurriculars - and it has yet to bear any recognition from my mother.
"And Mom, I know that my being a whiny bitch can get on your nerves, but guess what? You get on my fucking nerves, too. We're human - don't expect me to be your goddamn perfectly perky princess, 'cause that isn't my choice and it never FUCKING was. (Yes, I'm angry right now. No, I don't normally use "fuck" so often. Yes, sometimes, I just need to.)" I wrote this last night, when I was filling out the epic meme below, and I was so angry with her. We can't communicate, my mother and I. Our language barrier is too tough of a divide, and I cannot wholeheartedly pursue the Korean language when there are other things I find more worthwhile of my time. So I won't be able to explain to her that being measured against my sisters, and constantly failing, is not my fault. It was never my choice to be judged by THEIR accomplishments. She does this actively, and out of her own will, and I can't ever win.
Now, I've stopped caring. I've accepted it. And I'll cherish what I do, and be recognized by those who realize my worth, and take true pleasure from that. And from my mother, I'll have undying love and support, and for that I'll be eternally grateful.
I don't fight with my father because we rarely have conversations. Once again, the language barrier. For this, I'm sorry. However, my future does not hold a world where my lacking proficiency in Korean will matter.
My relationships with my various groups of friends have changed greatly. I once placed one group of friends above others for my overall entertainment and amusement. I sought them because there, I felt at ease and myself.
And then the group expanded for their benefit, but not for mine. They found a large circle of friends with a common interest - nay, passion - that I didn't share, and it carried over into everything they did and said. And I was stuck outside.
I left. It was my decision, and I'm happier for it. I do still care for them, though, something I hope they understand.
And in leaving this circle, I returned to a smaller one, one I established in the years preceding #sdcolleges. I made two true, long-lasting friends during my first two years of school, and I neglected them shamefully during Fall quarter. I've poured my heart out to these girls, told them all my sorrows, all my secrets. They never once spoke to me in a language I couldn't understand; if anything, they understood and empathized with me better than any person save one, who I'll get to. Without Fadiya and KLo, I would have failed where I actually triumphed, and to them, I vow to be a better friend.
I like smaller groups of close friends. I adore larger social circles for social gatherings, but when I just need to be me in all of my unedited, uncut, not-rated glory, I only need a few true friends around me. And one who's never failed me, in all my times of stupidity, vapidity, and vanity - the only one who's made any impact on me whatsoever for the long haul - is one Stephi Graf. I've seen vast numbers of people go in and out of my life, and the one presence that will never change is Steph. I'm BLESSED to have that kind of luck in my relationships.
I've found my clique on the RA staff, but our relationship is still forming itself. It's funny - we RAs went through so much together in a very brief period of time, resulting in our unabashedly loving 19 near-strangers after just a month of working together. We had to, in order to be this cohesive of a force, but now that we've had time to come into our positions, we're all slowly making real friendships. Mine have been with 3 other RAs, though I still genuinely adore all of the other 19. What I have with the other 3, though, was at first a friendship of convenience. We're all on campus, we're all separated from our other friends, and we all like boba. :D We became more than co-workers through late-night boba runs, board game marathons, and dining out, and we've shared some great experiences. We're still working out the subtle nuances of our personalities, though. I'm not nearly as open with them as I am with Steph, or Fadiya and KLo (forever a duo in my mind). They don't catch on to the hints that would hit Steph like a load of bricks. They don't sense things in my manner that trigger alarms on the two's sensors.
I think that they're still learning that I DO have moods and emotions other than cheer and happiness. Maybe it's coming as a bit of a shock, but hopefully they'll still love me anyway.
I conquered my heart - I told the man I'd loved for 1.5 years that I cared about him, and got the answer I'd been expecting. I didn't cry, but I was even more desperately unhappy for a period of time. Then, I reflected - I came to a realization that I was still wasting precious time over someone who would never love me quite like I loved him. I faced reality, and I MOVED ON. My heart's forever changed by that experience, but my God - when I threw off that baggage, it was with a hurrah of unexpected depth and true enjoyment.
" Getting over love is better than being in love (in my personal experience. Don’t fucking tell me otherwise, because I don’t care if it’s worked for you – I wouldn’t know. No offense or anything, but that’s just how it is). Loving myself is better than loving another person, and I need to work on that. I need to take some people less seriously, ‘cause they don’t mean to hurt me. Some people need to take me more seriously, because they’re hurting me in spite of their intentions. And finally, good friends are better than anything else in the world, EVEN chocolate." This was my final paragraph in my Meme-to-end-all-memes, and it sums everything up nicely, doesn't it?

Emotional

To you:

I try and try to express this, but as you should know by now, I'm terrible when it comes to dropping hints. Especially around you - they always seem to fall onto deaf ears and blind eyes.
Well. Since I know you aren't blind, there's no missing this hint.
Please stop belittling my emotions. Please stop boxing me into this nice, tidy little label. Labels never fit as properly as they seem to.
You call me "happy" and "cheerful," and you always accompany that with a sigh or a headshake. You're sending me mixed messages - you use these kind, complimentary words with body language that indicates that you mean something quite opposite. What am I supposed to listen to - what you say, or what you imply? And if it's the latter, then explain something to me - why the hell is being me a bad thing? What exactly is wrong with seeing the lighter side of things? And when did it become your business to judge me? What gives you that right?
Did it ever occur to you that my emotions know their polar opposites, and know them well? That I can be as equally sad as I am happy, as equally pissed off as I can be cheerful? No? Well I am.
Did it ever occur to you that I hide these things from you purposefully? You've never seen me angry - you only say that I'm "nicely annoyed." Have you ever wondered why? It's because I don't want to hurt you. When I'm angry, I'm destructive. I aim to hurt the people around me, because when I'm down I want to drag everyone else down with me.
People tend to be unappreciative of that type of behavior, which is why I've got through great pains to hide my negative emotions' existence. But you had better believe that it's there.
I grew up with my father throwing more than just words out of his anger. I grew up with my mother driving away from our home as fast as she could because of her anger. I grew up feeling abandoned and alone, thanks to my parents' anger. And I never ever want to hurt those I love the way I've been hurt before.
So don't reduce me to this one-dimensional :) because there is so much more to me than that, and I'm just afraid that if you ever dig a little deeper, you'll be scared shitless of what you'll find. That you'll give up, that you'll throw in the towel.
I'm scared that if you anger me enough, I'll throw my rage, full of the intent to hurt, and that I'll hit my target - you. And I'm scared that you'll drive off, and never return.
Try and understand that, while packing away my emotions isn't the healthiest of methods, it's the only way I know how to survive. Try and understand that this is my way of showing you that I care. I love you enough that I never want you to see me at what could be my ugliest. I don't want to leave scars on your heart; that's why I've covered up my own.
At the same time, try and understand that I am as equally capable of feeling all the emotions that you feel. I'm just not as vocal about it as others are, and hopefully you can now see why. It's not that they aren't there - they're just hidden. But, if you look a little closer, they might not be as far beneath the surface as it may seem. I force happiness when I'm down. When I'm angry, I isolate myself from you, and the others, to protect you from being hurt.
Look closer, if you want to, but the closer we become, the harder it is for me to let you in. Sounds backwards, but there you are. And don't say that I never warned you.
You might not care enough - you sure as hell never asked for this explanation. But I'm tired of you cheapening my emotions, especially since you've never tried looking deeper. I care enough about you that I'm willing to share this, though I should say this in person and not on some blog that you probably don't even read. But that's just asking to open another can of worms.
Point is, it doesn't matter if you care enough about me, because I care enough about you and your opinion of me, and your slander hurts. So please, try to understand where I'm coming from, and stop.

Love, Me

The trouble with love is

I understand that, for some people, the only way to show and give affection is to relentlessly tease and ridicule whomever they call a friend. I understand that reducing friends to the butts of endless jokes is their way of loving. I understand that they don't mean to hurt their friends with their never-ending flow of sarcastic jibes and one-liners.
What they need to understand is that I don't need that kind of affection.
I can take it to a certain degree; in fact, I can give back as good as I've got. But once I start becoming this constant source of fuel for others' amusement, once it stops being funny for me - that's when I let people know that the joke is over, and that it's time to change the subject. When they fail to get the hint (raised voice, physical thwacks of warning), that's when it goes from being merely annoying to downright painful.
I don't need that, because I've had better.
This job - being an RA - is stressful and taxing, and it's only reasonable that we RAs would turn to one another as sources of comfort. After all, who else understands how tough of a job this really is? And yet, for these foundations of support, I've let a lot of other pillars go to waste, and for this, I'm sorry.
This is when I miss my apartment from last year. This is what #sdcolleges provided, despite the constant talk that I never understood. This is why I so love Steph, after 9 years of friendship. Because not one of these people ever reduced me to just a joke. A very small number of these people ever carried a poke at anyone's offense, not just mine, too far (and I'm fairly certain that we're all sorry for the mistakes we made).
I miss the girls from my first and second year for their constant presence. I could tell them anything, without fear.
I miss the Friday folk 'cause whenever we get together, there's bound to be lots of laughter and cheer. Good food + good company = great fun.
I miss Steph because she just may be the only person in the world who knows most - if not all - of my faults, and loves me not in spite of them, but because of them.
I love the friends I've made through this job. They're wonderful people, and I enjoy sacrificing sleep, studying time, and money to enjoy their company. I understand that they don't mean to hurt me.
What they need to understand is that, sometimes, it hurts anyway.

Falling

How do you stop yourself from falling for someone? Or, more importantly, why is that always my first reflex - to stop - when I realize that I'm falling? I can never just let myself go. It's as if I don't trust myself to woo the other person, to send him head over heels for me, and as if I don't trust the other to live up to these standards I've created, this impossible bar that I've set. It's as if I don't trust him to not break my heart.
I'm just setting myself up for disappointment by not ever giving myself a chance.
So. I guess the question of the night (morning?) is actually this - how do I convince myself that I can fall for someone without suffering repercussions?

EDIT: What the heck is up with p.n.n?