Archive

Monthly Archives: January 2005

Passing Thoughts


“To err is human, to forgive divine” — Alexander Pope

According to some people, I’m fake. Maybe they think I think I’m
morally superior than others. Or smarter. Or prettier. Maybe they think
I like to portray myself as the victim in circumstances, eshewing
responsibility for my actions. There is some truth to this. A lot or
all of these things they may think are true. These awful things and
much more than anyone ever really knows.

I don’t claim to be perfect. I am well aware of my faults. I’ll be the
first one to admit to them. Every bad thing anyone’s ever thought about
me is something I’ve thought about myself.

The shortlist of my shortcomings: I am short tempered. I am petty. I
have a hard time letting go of things. I am insecure. I am vain and
proud. I cannot admit I am wrong, yet I am always willing to point out
I am right. I can be manipulative, deceptive and selfish. I am capable
of being sarcastic and mean. I am spoiled and at times, irresponsible
and dependent.

I know all this. I have many faults. My worst, however, is that I hold
on to grudges. Y’know how people say “Forgive and forget”? I can do the
“forgiving” part fine. I let people screw me over multiple times, and
I’ll still bend over backwards to do them a favour. Someone can insult
me telling me how horrible and despicable I am, kick me while I’m down
and laugh/spit in my face; yet I will still wholeheartedly believe that
person is good. Don’t get me wrong; I’ll express my disappointment in them to them. But I won’t hold it against them. In short, I am a doormat.

And yet, I have this horrible tendency of internalizing all the ways
people have hurt me. I bottle it all up until it eats away at me. And
while in my conscious mind, I’ve forgiven this person, I still always
remember what they did. I’ll even go so far as to subconsciously punish
that person by constantly bringing up the past and showing my distrust
in them.

But lately, I’ve been wondering something. Am I really forgiving
someone if I don’t forget what they did to me? A few months ago, there
was this lady on Oprah
who said something so profound that it stuck
with me. This lady was a rape victim who said that she would invite her
rapist into her house for dinner. Because true forgiveness means you
truly forget about the wrongs that person has done to you. I don’t know
if I have that capacity to forgive. But I don’t think I’ve been making
an honest effort to forgive and forget.

Afterall, we are all imperfect people. That’s what makes us human. I
can’t expect someone to be perfect or hold them to a perfect standard.
I shouldn’t measure people (their value, their worth) by their faults.

Loveless lies of lasting love
infect my mind, body and soul;
my blindness makes false
perceptions of ideal love.

Delirious, deceived and destroyed
in my own delusions
cut by the callous truth of your
kind of cowardice.


An acrostic poem by Anna.

I am a shopaholic.

I like to spend my money. Quickly. I get paid, and immediately some
part of it is spent on one of the following (or a combination of them):
a) clothes
b) books
c) shoes
d) accessories
e) makeup
When I am in a mall, I usually walk out buying something for myself.
Sometimes it’s on an expensive item, such as a $100+ angora sweater
from plen+y (my favourite store) or a $200 pair of Earl Jeans. Usually
it’s on a sale item. One of those “it’s such a good deal that it would
be a shame not to buy it” items. Y’know what I’m talking about. The $20
shoes at Joneve, the $15 Chinese Laundry purse at Satchel, etc.

All of this leads to me being close to broke. A situation I’m not proud
or happy to be in. What’s the point of working if all I have to show
for it as a rack of clothes and a handful of new makeup?

So this year, I’m making a real effort to curb my spending habit. First, I’m
avoiding malls as much as I can, unless I need to get something for my
mother. Then it’s just a quick run – in and out. Next, I’m only allowing
myself to carry as much as I need to buy whatever it is, so I can’t
afford more than that. Another strategy I’m using is,…when I’m looking at a new (fill in the blank)
I
ask myself “Do I really need this?” and usually the answer is “no.”
Finally,  if I have nothing to do and some time to kill, I’m
visiting friends rather than window shopping. If my friends are busy, I
go/stay home. Conversely, it’s comforting to know world also isn’t
mocking me either. For instance, fashion these days doesn’t appeal to
me, (Maybe it’s the excessiveness in fashion today. I grew up in the
90s, an era known for its minimalism.) so I’m not tempted to get the
newest whatever. Also, stores all seem to carry the same styles with
slight variations between them, such as the cropped jackets and ruffled
mini-skirts. Nothing original about them.

It’s been going pretty well so far. I’ve only slipped once this month,
buying myself two $5 shirts and two $11 sweaters at the sidewalk sales.
Otherwise, I’m holding myself up pretty well. Not shopping. Not even
tempted to go.

However, today’s been extra hard. It’s my day off and I’ve got nothing
to do. I feel the itch to grab my keys and head over to Chapters to
check out the latest books on sale, available in paperback and new
releases. The money in my purse seems to be beckoning me to go spend
it. I’ve tried all the distractions, from reading (I’ve gone through
over half of my Lemony Snicket books and finished off The DaVinci
Code
.) to watching tv, from trying on all my favourite clothes to
updating Xanga, from phoning my friends to chitchatting on MSN. Still I
can’t shake this urge.

I am Becky Bloomwood.

Who knows if today I’ll break down… wish me luck. I’ll need it.

Passports and Dentists

I’ve been putting off completing my passport application this past
month. It’s taken me three days to fill it out. Two days to haul my
butt over to a place to get my picture taken. Then it was another
week before I finally went to my doctor so he could verify that I
actually do exist and am who I say I am. Unfortunately, he was out to
lunch, and I really wanted to get just this done or else I’d never do
it. So off I went to my dentist’s office just another two blocks away.

I am very afraid of dentists. The drilling sound, the poking, the
drooling from the anesthesia, the cold sterile environment. It just
makes me shudder, right down to my bones. Although I know it’s bad, I
avoid my dentist at all costs, unless I absolutely have to see him. The
last time was two years ago, right after I had my wisdom teeth removed.

I felt chills running through my body as I entered his office, the
smell of the flouride (or what I assume to be flouride) hit me and
stirred up bad memories. My dentist recognized me right  away and
asked how I was doing. I told him I was filling out my passport and I
needed him to do something for me. He gladly took it from my hands and
I turned to leave, until,…

“When was the last time you were in here?”
*damn!*”Uh,… I don’t really remember. I’ve been really busy.”
“Let’s just see here on the computer. *awkward twenty seconds* Let’s see… It says here it’s been two years this May!”
“Oh, okay… Well, I guess I’ll make an appointment for a checkup this week!” *yeah right!*
“I can see you right now. My last appointment didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”
“Oh, okay…” *aw, crap!*

So I popped myself into the chair, steeling my nerves and getting ready
for the half hour of torture. He poked, He prodded. He scrapped. He
didn’t do the dreaded freezing. (Those needles are scary!) He kept
asking me questions about my family – he’s been our family dentist
since before I had teeth. (*on a related tangent, why do dentists ask
you questions when they know you can’t really answer with much more
than barely comprehensible sounds?) Then cleaned and polished. I forgot
that spit sucker was so much fun.

Before I knew it, I was picking out a toothbrush and sent on my merry
way with my completed passport application and $52 poorer. Wow, that
wasn’t so bad afterall. What as I so scared of? Maybe I’ll actually
getting my teeth checked every six months. Probably not.

Oh, and no cavities!


Checklist

Number one irritant: When dumb people think they’re smart.
Number one source of amusement: When dumb people try to sound smart.

In my effort to help dumb* animals, I’ve decided to compose this handy
little checklist. If you’re going to launch into a diatribe about how much
better you are than someone:

1) Be smart. Of course, you can’t help this. It’s pretty much you are
or you aren’t. If this doesn’t apply to you, proceed to #2,…

2) If you aren’t smart, don’t pretend like you are. This especially
applies when you are attempting to engage in a battle of wits with
someone smarter than you. Obviously, intelligence isn’t your strong
point. Stick with clubbing your opponent over the top of their head and
limit your vocabulary to “ughs” and “ooga boogas.”

3) Use words you can pronounce or at very least, spell. Misspelling
and misusing words only displays your lack of intelligence. Also, try
not to make too many grammatical errors as they impede from your
writing.

4) When making insults, make sure of the following:
    a. They make sense. For instance, if you’re going to
accuse someone of being a hypocrite, make sure they have actually
contradicted their words with their actions.

    b. They do not apply to yourself. For example, try
to refrain from calling someone tactless if in the very same rant,
you lack tact as well.

5) Make sure you’ve used some sort of logic. A+B=C. Keep logical fallacies to a minimum. Just because A is B, it does not mean B
is A. (All giraffes are mammals. However, it does not
mean that all mammals are giraffes.)

*note: This is a reference to an old Archie comic joke. Yes, I realize that “dumb” here means mute.


Passing thoughts

In the past month, we’ve seen a tsunami kill hundreds of thousands of
people and destroy whole towns and villages in Asia. We’ve seen snow
throw our dear city into a virtual standstill for a week. Then the
freezing rain, slush, black ice, mud slide and flooding as of late.

It really goes to show how, although human beings have made great leaps
and bounds technologically speaking, we aren’t invincible. We haven’t
conquered the world and tamed nature. Ultimately, we are still at the
mercy of nature. In a single instant, everything and everyone we know
and love could be taken away.

Now that I’ve gotten my point across… *private* it goes.

******< START OF ENGLISH MAJOR/TEACHER RANT >

My ex-boyfriend likes to call me a language nazi. Last night, while we
were on the phone, he used a word that’s been bothering me for a while.
It’s a word
I’ve seen and heard a lot of people using and everytime I hear it, it
feels like nails scratching on a keyboard.

Conversate is not a word. Converse is the word you’re looking for. You converse in a conversation. You do not conversate in a conversation.

Don’t believe me? Think about it this way. What is the verb form of
preservation? Preservate or preserve? Exactly. If you still don’t
believe me, look up “conversate” andconverse” in your dictionary and tell me what you find.

</ END OF ENGLISH MAJOR/TEACHER RANT >

Must. Stop. Reading. Diary. Burn them. Burn them and the memories they contain. Fire. Sweet sweet precious fire…

Unfortunately, I’ve been keeping a diary since just before ninth grade
and I can’t bear get rid of them. I’ve completed approximately fifteen
diaries. (I still keep a written one, in addtion to both Xanga and
Livejournal.) They’re all tattered and torn. I flipped through a few of
the really old ones, where I’d staple in extra entries written in
class, pictures of the boys I liked, tickets to shows I saw, letters I
got from friends, etc. The pages have yellowed and some are falling
apart. I love my diaries. They hold all my memories of:

Robert: “Why does he have to be so cute?” (October 14th, 1994)
Alfred: “He said to me not to kiss anyone or he’ll get very jealous.” (December 19th, 1994)
Waiter Guy at Pink Pearl: “His stare is all I need to be sent up on cloud nine!” (December 26th, 1997)
Derek: “What I’m scared of is that he said that he never felt this way about anyone before.” (December 14th, 1998)
Duc: “I miss how when we’d fool around, and he’d stop to watch me.” (May 15th, 1999)
Dexter: “And geez, it’s almost a crime to look THIS good with someone in a picture!” (September 29th, 1999)

…And that’s just the nineties! (Let’s not get into 2000, that’s too
close to recent memory.) Yes I was certainly boy crazy back in the day.
But things have changed now. These days, I’m man-mad. Hehehehe 
(Do you recognize this old Archie comic joke where Betty accuses Veronica of being boy crazy? I
swear I’m not making it up. They were at the beach discussing how Veronica has
other interests besides boys. She says she’s into exercising. She then
does all these stretches and bends in front of a lifeguard who just
falls all over her. And she says it’s not that she’s boy crazy. The
boys are the ones crazy over her. I swear this was for real.
Anyway, I digress…)

Y said to me I should consider getting rid of my diaries. Apparently
it’s unhealthy because it keeps the person in the past. I think of it
as a reflective activity, to help me understand what I’m feeling and
how much I’ve grown or haven’t, whatever the case may be.

Plus, it helps keep my penmanship neat and it helps me better express what I’m feeling.

The following were stolen off BebeinWonderland‘s page.

I am
nerdier than 14% of all people. Are you nerdier? Click here to find
out! I am 38%
loser. What about you? Click here to find out!

I read some old diary entries tonight, to confirm to myself about
something that happened earlier this week about someone who may have
thought I lead him on almost a year ago. And I guess it got me reading
about the other stuff what was happening almost a year ago.

And I realized that I was forgetting those details. I didn’t remember
some of those talks we had at 2am at Tim Hortons (oh God, I had to wake
up at 6:30 am the next day to TEACH no less!). The details of when I
confessed  in my car that I liked him slipped my mind.

It hurt though, to read those entries that had so much hope, so much
optimism and so much expectation and happiness and to know that it was
all going to end so soon. I wish, I really really wish there was some
way to tell myself to keep from falling head over heels so to avoid the
hurt. It’s almost even embarassing to know I was feeling all these
emotions that were…wasted. That everything I was feeling and was so
sure was reciprocated wasn’t.

It wasn’t that he was my first love. It wasn’t like he was the first
one to hurt me. It was just he was the first one that I trusted
that
hurt me. I let myself become vulnerable and it just bit me in the ass.
I was so sure and I turned out to be dead dead wrong. And I didn’t
understand how I could be so wrong.

So it leads me to tonight. I was lying in my bed, thinking about my
boyfriend and writing about how I wasn’t even sure if he’s into me even
though it’s been more than four months since we got together. I don’t
even know he likes me – much less love me. I find myself with all these
stupid insecurities about a man whose feelings I should be sure of. But
I’m not because I can’t trust myself.

I can’t be sure of anything anymore. Because it could be taken away.
And I don’t want to be so emotionally invested, even though I know I am.

So I keep myself one carefully measured step back because I keep thinking
that at any minute he’s going to leave me. Or he’s going to change his
mind about me. I asked him about it a few times before – why he likes
me, why he’s with me, what he sees in me, does he think I’m pretty. I
know these questions infuriate him and hell, they’d annoy me too. But I
have them – these stupid irrational insecurities. He sees it in me – my
lack of confidence in each other – our relationship. And he’s so
wonderful for putting up with it. And I still can’t bring myself to
just believe that he wants me for me.

Because the last time someone told me he wanted me for me, he lied. He
wanted me for the perfect person I could have been. So how can I
believe this time will be any different?

I’m probably going to read this tomorrow morning and think “wtf was I
thinking?” and throw it in private/protected. I’ll probably sincerely
regret it but what the hell. It’s not like it isn’t the truth. Blah, it’s Friday night. WTF is going to read this crap anyway?