Late-Night Thought

Maybe I should have done things differently.

Social Circles

I’ve never been the type of person to say things like, “You should come to this party with me, there are these people I’d like you to meet.” Rather, it’s always been something like, “I’m going to a party, you’re welcome to join me if you’re interested.”

I think this fits somewhere between being selfish and thinking that socializing and making new friends is really an art. It takes a lot of effort, and I simply don’t find it fair that one should be able to meet new people through others. I’m not talking about the kind of situation where you go out with your friends and their friends happen to be coming out as well; that’s just luck. I’m talking about straight-up “I’d like you to meet so and so, please come out.” I’m not one to mix my various social circles together; I like to keep them separate. I’m not one of those people who want all their friends and acquaintances to be one giant happy family, either; to be frank, I couldn’t give less of a fuck if a number of my friends didn’t get along or downright hated one another.

It’s called “caring” — haven’t you ever heard of it?

It’s ridiculous how many people can walk right past a sobbing elderly woman in a wheelchair and not say a goddamn thing to her. Would it kill you to stop for a few minutes and find out why she’s so distraught? I’m looking at you, Saturday jogger; and you, woman walking her dog. Doesn’t look as though you really have to be anywhere!

I saw this very sad lady while rushing to a dentist’s appointment this morning; she was crying and not really reaching out to anyone. I stopped to ask her what was wrong.

“I just somebody to talk to but no one will talk to me,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I just need somebody to talk to,” she repeated. I found out that she didn’t have enough money for her medicine. She blew her nose; it bled. She said between sobs, “I’m in so much pain. I just need somebody to talk to, but no one will talk to me.”

Long story short, her medicine cost $25 — which I gave her, along with a big hug. She slowly stopped crying and said “Thank you baby.” I wished her a good day and resumed walking.

Yes, she could have been a liar, in which case she’s really good at what she does. It’s true; if you play your part well enough, once in a while there will be a sucker like me who will stop and actually give a shit. But if she wasn’t lying, at least I can rest easy knowing that she’ll be okay for a little while longer.

Late-Night Blogging

I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I can’t sleep I CAN’T SLEEP.

And my brain is no longer in academic mode, so there’s so way I can work on my paper at this hour.

I never learn . . .

Communicating with some of my friends can be like pulling teeth sometimes. Everyone claims they love emails; yet no one bothers to reply. And then you have those who don’t reply, but do send you another email with completely different content. What gives? Typical scenario:

- friend sends email
- I reply

From there, it goes into two possible directions:

a: friend replies to my reply, I reply to that reply, and then nothing.
b: friend sends a new email, I reply, and then nothing.
b: nothing.

I’m never the one who drops the ball, so please, help me understand.

In other news, I’ve decided to start a list of things that I want to learn; similar to 43things.com, but less complicated. Here we go:

- archery
- gun shooting
- knife throwing
- woodworking
- glassblowing
- fishing

Em…to be continued.

Falling Forever

Do you ever wonder what that feels like? I do, often. I imagine it to be a prolonged version of the rollercoaster/vertical drop feeling, just maybe not as intense. Or I’d probably liken that feeling to the one I get from listening to certain songs (see: For All The Marbles by Amandine; Welcome Home, Son by Radical Face; most of the songs by the Kings of Convenience; etc.) — maybe that’s how I want it to feel like. And if that is indeed the case, I would like to fall forever.

Unfortunately, it’s not a very useful feeling to get while I’m writing a paper.

Being home is strange. There are still students here that I know; I think it’ll take a couple more years before no undergrads recognize me. You know what’s funny? At AU, all undergrads are babies to me — even the seniors. But not the seniors at Penn, no. The ones I know, I met them when they were freshmen and I was a junior; maybe that has something to do with it? Maybe it’s because I wasn’t a grad student here?

It’s already Thursday. There’s this paper that I need to write (I have until June 1), which means I’ve been spending every day so far at the library (Van Pelt). And this is okay because Mom is working — but she has off next week, which means that I won’t be able or even want to work at all. This also means that I won’t be able to see my friends, because I feel bad not spending time with Mom when she’s not working; because when she’s not working, she’s alone; because when she’s alone, she gets literally bored to tears. You know, when she calls me sobbing and saying that she just wants to hear my voice? It’s heartbreaking, really. It’s bad enough that I live in fucking DC.

It’s already Thursday. So far, I’ve met up with Ashley for lunch twice, run into Frank after one of those lunches, and run into John at the library. I’m having lunch with Luke today, with Bob tomorrow, and seeing Star Trek with (the same) Luke tomorrow — or at least that’s the plan. And then? There are still a shitload of people that I want to not just see but actually spend time with. Maybe that means I should move back to Philly.

It’s already Thursday. I still haven’t stopped by the old workplace to visit. Well, “old” — I’m still doing work for them. Actually, they have work for me to do. Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow. You see, the problem with me is that I’m never fully satisfied with getting a big group of people together and hanging out. Yes, good food and good company make for good times, for sure, but for some reason I feel the need to meet with people one-on-one first; I think it’s because catching up is easier that way. Well, that and I’m never too keen on mixing my circles of friends together; I like to keep them separate. Is that crazy? I don’t care. I actually find that to be quite normal and logical, but I won’t tell you why, because 1) I don’t feel like getting into it and 2) I don’t have the words to explain it. Besides, logical things don’t need explaining.

Socializing can be so awkward sometimes.

Nearing the Two-Year Mark

Sometimes I can’t help but feel incredibly lonely at times, even when in the midst of a group of great people.

I went out on Thursday night and met up with some people for a good night of drinking; that was the fourth time since the previous Saturday, and, well, I’m pretty sure my liver was already hating me pretty hard by that time. I don’t know what it was exactly — the three beers and five tequila shots in one hour, the mindset, the empty stomach, or my current situation — but the anticipated good night turned sour in the blink of an eye. And then, as I leaned over the sink in the dive bar’s bathroom, as a girl I had just met tied my hair up and stroked my back, I lost it; I cried, and cried, and cried, and was completely unable to stop the tears from coming. Every time I opened my mouth, another sob came out, harder and louder than the previous one. I stopped crying long enough to rush out of the bar and get a taxi with my new caretaker. Once I was inside my apartment, which felt even emptier with Lilly in India, I let myself fall onto my bed and resumed my crying.

Upon checking my call logs the next morning, I realized that I called a total of eight people while completely hysterical — including two people whose phones were off, and one number that I don’t even know or recognize.

That somewhat-minor incident aside, I really had a great week. Time out of school means time to socialize — and god knows I haven’t been doing any of that since I moved down to DC. But now I’m back in Philadelphia for a full two weeks, and I don’t think it’s ever felt better than this (even though I have a paper to write…fucking hell). Tents are being set up on what was formerly known as “College Green”; Commencement is one week away. I’m not sure how successful this week will be — in terms of productivity — but I’ll be damned if I don’t get to hang out with those wonderful friends of mine.

Do you remember?

When I have time, i.e., when finals are all over, I will read over ALL of my AIM/Trillian/Pidgin/Gchat logs and pull out the best bits of conversation ever.

Get ready.

[10:37] ii: twat
[10:37] ii: we’ve had this word before
[10:37] ii: i’ve looked it up before
[10:37] me: and you had the wrong definition of it
[10:40] ii: mmm
[10:40] ii: starburst…
[10:40] ii: a twat is a starburst

A Craving for Chicken Pot Pie

Delicious, isn’t it?

I love lounging in bed with my laptop, but I hate moving it from my desk. Tonight, though, I couldn’t resist; I’d been sitting in that chair forever, and I’d probably have gone crazy if I hadn’t moved. It’s not like being in bed kills my productivity any more than sitting in that chair would. Whatever, it’s Friday night.

It’s Friday night already. Spring Break has been over for pretty much a week now, and I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished much. Still thinking about the deadlines I have, past-due assignments, assignments that are hanging over my head, etc. Still thinking about May, what to do next, where to go. Still thinking, and not getting anywhere. Talk about a lack of accomplishment.

It’s Spring now. My eyes are watery but I think it’s because I’m sleepy and not because I’m starting to feel allergies coming on. God, I dread the Spring.

Life has been insanely boring and unexceptional these past few months. When nothing interesting happens, I feel like I’m just sitting here and rotting — which is basically what everyone’s doing, but I’d rather be running around and rotting than just sitting there not doing anything spectacular with my life.

“Spectacular”. Now THAT’S a word I never want to hear or see again for a long time. Once I finish with all the translation work I have to do, I will compile a list of words that are now lethal despite their innocent appearances. Nothing’s really spectacular if you use that term to describe fifty million different things, is it. I suspect Lilly will be compiling a list of her own once she quits her job for the fourth or fifth time.

Speaking of words that should be banned, what’s the deal with abbreviations? I understand typing or writing with abbreviations to save time (e.g., when you’re taking notes), but when speaking? Can those people hear themselves and how ridiculous they sound? “Totes” for “totally”? Are you fucking shitting me?

Now, there are abbreviations that are widely used and accepted — so much so that we forget they’re abbrevations; words like “ad,” “math,” “econ,” “poli sci,” um… basically “ad” and a bunch of academia-related terms. On the other hand, French has a huge number of abbreviations that have nothing to do with how “hip” you are. No; those terms have been a part of colloquial French since forever.

French also has standardized abbreviations strictly for writing (I’m serious, you could never pronounce these): “tjrs” for “toujours” (always), “ms” for “mais” (but), “m” with a ^ on top for “même” (same), “pr” for “pour” or “par” (for or by), etc. Students are taught these abbreviations sometime in middle school or high school, when teachers stop writing everything on the board and lecture instead.

High school in this country was so weak.

On Typing Posh (and how ridiculous that sounds)

Corbin Hiar blogged on moreintelligentlife.com that “proper, punctilious e-mails [go] to clients (or editors) and stream of conscious, lower-case lettered e-mails filled with abbrevs [go] to everyone else.” Later, he says that he “would rather devote more of [his] time keeping in contact with [his] far-flung colleagues  and friends than pondering the poshest phraseology.”

While I agree that business-related emails and the like should be more carefully crafted than emails addressed to friends and relatives, I have a problem with him calling proper, standard orthography “the poshest phraseology”. And whether or not he intended it to be that way, I take it to be somewhat offensive.

My writing tends to be of the stream-of-consciousness variety, too — and this may surprise you, but I don’t think in abbreviations. Do you? Who does? Probs the peeps whose speech is full of abbrevs, no? Like, totes! Yo Corbin Hiar, r U kidn me?

It’s not like typing every word in its entirety takes an incredibly huge chunk of time out of my life; nor does inserting proper punctuation. I understand writing with abbreviations, however, as I do when I take notes during a lecture — writing by hand takes a significantly larger amount of time than typing dies. Furthermore, it’s ridiculous to imply that all who use “the poshest phraseology” ponder it — even more ridiculous than using the term “posh” to describe it.

Look, it comes naturally for some, and not for others. We don’t all sit behind our computers and debate the use of a semi-colon for half an hour; either we know how to use it or we don’t. Those who don’t will, I would hope, look it up and then judge whether or not its use is appropriate in whatever sentence they are constructing.

It’s true, “Sincerity and regularity in correspondence is more important than the use of semicolons.” I won’t let the grammar nazi in me emerge and point out the flagrant mistake in the sentence quoted above, but I will say this: yes, sincerity and regularity in correspondence are important, but aren’t they both in vain if your message gets lost due to a missing or misplaced punctuation mark? Ever heard of the panda who eats shoots and leaves? People find it difficult enough to determine an email sender’s tone of voice; why not make our recipients’ lives a wee bit easier by helping them along? THE SAME WAY READING TEXT WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS MAKES US FEEL LIKE WE’RE BEING SCREAMED AT, reading text that doesn’t contain any punctuation marks may leave some of us gasping for air because I don’t know about anybody else but when I read something I hear a voice in my head usually it’s a male voice and not my own saying everything aloud.

So don’t hate; punctuate! Or don’t, but please quit calling it “posh” (if you met me, you’d understand. I’m not uptight, either, so don’t even go there).