An Essay On Friendship Part 2: The Wonder Years

Elementary school was a grand old time, and when most of my neurosis began. Now, before I start to sound too much like Woody Allen, let me clarify: I was sometimes lonely. Cue the tiny violins.

Okay, I wasn’t the saddest kid around, and people liked me just fine.  While I had more than one imaginary friend, I was definitely not an outcast.

The reason I felt so lonely was because I wanted a best friend. I had a bunch of school friends, but none of them were really the best. This is the time of your life when best friends are EVERYTHING. Adults, the media, and marketers seem to really love shoving this stupid idea down your throat.

I remember assignments in school would cruelly make us write journal entries about our BEST friend. For some reason I’d accumulate all these best friends necklaces (you know, those hearts that break in two and one necklace says “best” and the other says “friend”), and suddenly feel pressure to publically give half my purple colored heart to the one person deemed worthy of such an honor. All the Disney channel shows had main characters with one, maybe two, best friends, letting you know you needed someone who would never question your stupid schemes on how to get into the popular group and would go along with lie you decided to tell your parents.

Sometimes I had someone to share my purple heart with, and sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I had to pick between two people. Jealousy sure ran rampant in the playground, because people REALLY took best friend statuses seriously.

Despite my best efforts to label people best friends, good friends, and enemies, I always felt like I never really found The One. Later girls would solve this problem with their first boyfriend who they could give all their time, attention and love to in a strangely unhealthy way, but in elementary school it was all about the best friend. Your best friend was an extension of you. They defined who you were.

For a period of time, teachers would mix me and my elementary school best friend up since I guess we appeared to always be together and we were both Chinese. We had our ups and downs, but she was definitely the one I passed notes to in class the most, and she was really the only person’s house I would go to after school.

She was a really, really great friend. Probably a better friend to me than I was to her at times, but part of me still felt like I was missing that BFF aspect. Like, you know, that person who your PARENTS couldn’t even tell where one of you ended and the other began. For some reason, I thought that would be a great thing to have.

I became obsessed with finding a pen pal. I didn’t really know how to get one, but the thoughts of a secret, amazing pen pal, preferably from another state or country, really got my imagination going. We’d tell each other all our secrets, and have inside jokes, and we’d have the type of friendships they base movies on. I wanted something like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, before the series even existed.

Sometimes I also wished I was a twin. There was a built-in BFF right there! It required absolutely no effort, and we’d even LIVE together. I imagined that if I had a twin, I’d have the courage to be more fun and outgoing. I was a painfully shy kid, and I thought all I needed to be less shy was someone to stand there next to me, validating how awesome I was. People would see how cool and fun we were, and they would start clamoring to join our exclusive group of two.

I wished I had a best friend who would join the soccer with me. Never mind the fact I had no idea what soccer team there was to join. I had never played soccer in my life, but it seemed like a really great thing to do. This was back in the 90’s when women’s soccer was in the headlines and Mia Hamm ripping off her shirt after scoring a game-winning goal was the epitome of female empowerment.

When I had stopped thinking boys had cooties, I also entertained the thought of a male best friend. That would have definitely skyrocketed me to some sort of cool, but unfortunately no one stepped up to the plate. I thought we could be like Corey and Topanga, and develop some sort of epic romance as we matured throughout the years. Movies and TV shows really shoved this scenario down young kids’ throats too.

Funny thing was, I actually did live right next door to a guy exactly my age. We were in the same classes all throughout elementary school, but alas, we never developed a Romeo and Juliet type of love affair. We were sort of friends maybe for a short period, but that’s about it. What a wasted opportunity.

I’m still a bit envious of people who have a BFF, but I now know that only valuing that type of relationship is really limiting you to the many different kinds of friendships you can have, and even the possibly of multiple BFFs.

If anyone’s down, however, I still have half a purple heart ready to be given away.

[End of Part 2.]

today is my birthday

I have a backlog of entries I need to post, but I just wanted to share what I got in my email this morning.

You know, 23 is one of those NBD (‘no big deal’ for all you uncool kids) years that everyone says is sort of “in-between”– in between what, I don’t know. But that makes me even more thankful (woo, Thanksgiving tie in!) for all the really great people in my life who will celebrate it with me. Sometimes multiple times. Yay!

Oh, back to the email. A couple years ago I must have been on some sort of kick because this morning I received something from futureme.org in my inbox. This is what it said:

The following is an e-mail from the past, composed 1 year, 7 months and 8 days ago, on April 14, 2010. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org
Dear FutureMe,
Since this will only be a little more than a year from now, I’ll avoid doing the stamps cost $0.43! I’m listening to Jay Sean on my iPod and watching Glee! type of stuff.
Anyway, what is there to write? It’s 2am and the beginning to a pretty shitastic day. I actually cried tonight just out of stress, which I feel like I haven’t done since high school. Back then there was the nagging feeling of failing classes and the question of WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY LIFE?! And here we are almost 4 years later and I still feel the same way. I’m sure by 2011 I’ll still be experiencing the same feeling, even though I won’t even be in school anymore (YIKES!). I sure don’t make things easy for myself, do I?
There’s a lot more I want to write, but I don’t know how reliable this website is, and I don’t want to pour out my heart if it’s just going to be erased into the nethers in a few minutes.
I’ll conclude with this: FutureMe, I hope you have found some kind of happiness that I’ve always been searching for. I hope that you keep things in perspective and know that even on the gloomiest days, the sun still shines behind the clouds. I hope that in between all the pain and heartache, you remember too the fun and laughter. I hope you have a happy birthday and have on a super cute outfit.
Love,
PresentMe

Apparently I become quite the salty sailor at 2AM. My have things have changed (I no longer watch Glee OR listen to Jay Sean).

I kind of wish I was more specific with why I was having such a terrible day, and why I predicted so much pain and heartache in the near future. Yikes, drama queen. But overall  past and present me remain simpatico since I did struggle over picking something to wear this morning. Gotta look cute!

That One Time I Was Totally A Homewrecker

Okay, so maybe that title was a bit misleading. But it was the closest I’ve ever come, and for five seconds I got to feel like how Angelina Jolie probably feels all the time. And it was awesome.

A few years ago I was at a party. It was some girl’s birthday party that I barely knew, and it was one of those college beer pong type of parties. I knew a few people, but my friends and I got there kind of early (as in like 10pm probably– gosh those parties always ‘started’ SO DAMN LATE) and it was hard mingling with a bunch of acquaintances.

Isn’t talking to people you sometimes see around always so awkward? It’s like, hey I kind of know you. How are you? Oh yeah, we have nothing in common, and that’s why we’re not actually friends. Anyway, it was nice to see you! Go away now, please. I’d rather talk to strangers. At least there’s a chance they’ll be interesting and tell you about what it’s like to be a part-time ninja, or something.

I know most people probably don’t think this, though, since no one else left the party to stand outside and talk to a friend on the phone for an hour.

When I came back the room had filled out, and it was much easier to stand next to the couch with some jungle juice and smile vaguely so I felt like I was fitting in. I probably took a couple shots of cheap vodka at this point.

I forgot why or how but a little later on I had finally scored a seat on the couch and was sitting next to a guy. I had seen him earlier (pre-phone call) and had been introduced to him as the birthday girl’s sister’s boyfriend. Basically, the BG had invited her older sister, we’ll call her S, who went to some state school, and that girl had brought her boyfriend. I think they were the ones who bought all the alcohol.

My first thought when meeting the new couple was: “Hm. S is a slightly uglier version of BG. Her boyfriend is pretty cute. I wonder if she has a really great personality.”

S was still pretty attractive, mind you, it’s just that had always thought BG was insanely hot, and it’s hard to live up to that. S seemed pretty nice though. She smiled kindly at everyone and was friendly to all us undergraduates.

So now I’m on the couch with S’s boyfriend and we’re chatting about something. I think he complimented me on my shoes. Not in a “OMG your shoes are fab” way, but I was wearing these zebra print flats and I think he was just being polite.

He told me he noticed that we filled our beer cups with two cans of beer on each side, but white people use 3-4. I was fascinated. We laughed and joked and I thought, I really need more white friends. He was nice and easy to talk to, but in no way were either of us thinking anything beyond polite friendliness. Our conversation lasted probably 3 minutes.

S must have saw us and took my look of hunger for more white people in my life as a look of hunger for her boyfriend specifically, because  when I looked up she was staring daggers across the room at me. She was basically saying with her eyes “If we were in a dark alley I would totally shank you.”

I was pretty weirded out and figured she must have mistaken my Asian features for some sort of sexy exoticness. If she had been a local she probably would have realized there was no way I could have stolen her cute boyfriend from her.

I awkwardly excused myself and tried to hide in the crowd. I wondered if I was imagining the look, but the iciness from her in the next few minutes made it kind of clear she thought I was a Class A Slut.

Cool.

I was both excited and embarrassed that someone would ever think this of me, which I know means I’m probably more of a Class A Dork.

After a while both of them disappeared, and I imagined BF was doing a lot of reassuring while S pouted in her sister’s room semi-drunkenly. I honestly felt kind of bad for him, and neurotically hoped he didn’t hate me. But I’m sure their fight lasted like 5 minutes anyway, and the rest of the time they just spent making out.

So that was my exciting brush with homewrecking. I was basically like, one beer away from a steamy love affair.

Heroes I Never Had

"No, don't call me a hero. Do you know who the real heroes are? The guys who wake up every morning and go into their normal jobs and get a distress call from the commissioner and take off their glasses and change into capes and fly around, fighting crime. Those are the real heroes." -Dwight Shrute

I never really understood the importance of a hero. I get why people like superheroes, or why troubled kids (or actors) need mentors, or why people think certain athletes are really cool.

But I never got heores in the everyday sense. Maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way.

For some reason the most popular prompt in any education-related essay is “Write about your hero and how they impacted your life,” or something like that. I remember these prompts causing me extreme agony. I swear to God, I had to write several of these stupid hero essays throughout middle school and high school. Most recently I had to write one a couple years ago when I applied to be an RA in college. Is there was something wrong with me because I never had use for a hero?

Here are a few people I chose for my various essays throughout the years:

My parents

For no other reason other than the fact was they were raising me as their child. Is this heroic? Yes. Is it worth an essay? Probably not.

Michelle Kwan

Things I know about Michelle Kwan: She heartbreakingly got the silver medal at the Olympics one year. She is an ice skater. She is Asian American. Surprisingly, I don’t think I entirely convinced my teacher I worshiped this girl.

A babysitter I made up named Susan

By high school I was seriously over this hero shit and I made someone up. I made her a cool 20-something with a good girl name and traits I thought a heroic figure for a teenage girl should have like, confidence and compassion. Looking back I wish I could say I was being ironic and rebellious with my creative decision, but I honestly just did it because it seemed easier to make someone up than to pick someone from my life, which would have been as equal a lie anyway.

This isn’t to say I wasn’t surrounded by upright, wonderful people. I just didn’t admire people in the way the school system thought I should. I valued them for their strengths and sought to understand their faults, but their life really had nothing to do with my life or the decisions I wanted to make.

Why would I want to be somebody else, when I was just ME? (Name that 90’s pop song!) Again, maybe I’m looking at this hero thing wrong. Please explain how this works to me. Seriously, I’m curious.

Fast forward to today.

I realize I’m usually drawn to admire people or characters who have traits I could never possess. Something I admire most in people is bravery. I hate cockiness or arrogance, but a person with intelligent bravery has me at hello.

You know, someone like Ella from “Ella Enchanted” or Harry from “Harry Potter.” Or… someone not fictional and from a children’s book.

I think that having a hero to similar to myself is hard because instead of inspiring me to be better, they really just remind me of everything I’m not. They’re a better version of myself. Yuck.

These brave, fictional characters are safe to admire because it means that I value the right things, but will never be put in a similar situation where I have to demonstrate these traits. I will never be cursed or prophesied about, so I can be like, Yeah, that person was pretty great… but hey, I’m just a copywriter. Leave me alone!

But someone who is tangibly related to who I am and what I want to do? Oh gosh.

Someone like that would be Tina Fey. She writes comedy for a living, works in television and movies, is pretty geeky but also kind of nerdy hot. She’s powerful and smart, and takes her job seriously but herself not too seriously. But being her takes a good work ethic and bravery, neither of which are my strength. She’s like a way cooler and more successful version of myself, if I were talented and hilarious and not just mildly amusing.

So I’ll cheer Tina on and be thankful of her awesomness, but to stay sane I’ll probably think of her more like my talented best friend than my talented older sister. We’d totally have the same favorite restaurant in LA and watch Archer together in our PJ’s and go to bed early, but no one would ever look at Tina Fey and say, “Gee, Christina, why can’t you be more like Tina?”

Maybe someday someone will read this blog and offer me a book deal for a memoir-type manuscript called “Sassypants,” or they’ll say “Hey Christina, you sure watch a lot of TV sit-coms, why don’t you write, produce and star in one? The fact that you’ve seen every episode of Cheers and Friends 3 times makes you kind of an expert in television comedy. You’re really talented. And beautiful.”

Until then I’ll just watch re-runs of 30 Rock and revel in smaller achievements, like remembering to get my teeth cleaned twice a year.

An Essay On Friendship Part 1: Compartmentalizing My Life

From enemies to frenimies. Obviously, the story of my life. (If it were a Broadway musical, and I had ever been a cheerleader.)

While on the way home from work today I heard on the radio an advertisement for “Bring It On, The Musical.” After my initial excitement over such a glorious combination of things (a cheesy teen comedy AND show tunes!), I realized I was in a predicament: Who would I go with?

There’s a surprisingly small number of people who share my weirdly specific taste in entertainment. In other words, I’d probably be going alone.

This little anecdote brings me to my first installment of fancy shmancy entries I’ll call “essays.” That means I actually wrote an outline for what I want to say. Watch out, 8th grade English teacher; eight years later I’m finally taking your advice.

Anyway, let’s get started.

I’ve realized that because my tastes and interests are a bit unconventional, I’ve learned to compartmentalize my friends.

Long gone are the days when I thought I’d find my BFF, my soul mate,and my platonic lovah in one single person. Can’t a girl have more than one #1?

So nowadays I have my friends for gossiping, my friends for clothes and makeup advice, my friends who send me clips of The Daily Show episodes that I’ve missed, the ones who know who Lando Calrissian is, and my friends that I call up to help me slash the car tires of those who have done me wrong (this has never actually come up in my life, but you know the type of friend I’m talking about). Oh, and my friends that read my blog. Hi! (all two of you)

I don’t so much have a “person” as a group of people who barely know of each other’s existence.(It all centers around me! Mwahaha!)

In some ways living this kind of life can be hard. Not having more consistent figures in my life can be a bit unsettling (who do I call first for the REALLY big things?!) and there are certain things that are just more fun to do in a group (karaoke, for example, is something best experienced with three or more).

In other ways, it’s pretty great. I rarely have to worry about hurt feelings or jealousy, and scheduling a time to meet up is a breeze. Plus, I’m pretty much always doing what I want to do.

For a short time period, I wanted my boyfriend to be my #1. I didn’t realize that boyfriends by default are number one.

I didn’t understand why he didn’t want to go to concerts with me, or watch my favorite TV shows. I wondered how we could ever stay together if he didn’t even know who Cary Grant is. I thought a soul mate had to be everything you are, and if they aren’t then they are failing.

But now I’m glad I stopped dragging him to farmers markets, and I thank God he never makes me watch him play poker. That’s what friends are for. (More on this later)

Now, this may sound like I have friends coming up the wazoo, and that I collect them and their personalities like I would Troll dolls with different colored hair, but honestly, if I really had that many friends, do you think I’d have the time to write ESSAYS in my free time? For every hobby or interest I share with someone, there’s one that no one else I know really seems to care about. Enter, The Internet, and all it’s forum-filled glory. (But that’s a story for another day.)

Compartmentalizing friends has helped me balance my insanely high expectations of people. There’s always going to be something you don’t like about another person. They’re going to be weird in some way that makes them kind of hard to accept, and being able to avoid that aspect of them by only talking or doing certain things I think actually makes a friendship stronger.

This is not to say I believe in secrets. I’m a naturally secretive person, I think, but with friends I may just be a chronic oversharer. Full-disclosure is key to a healthy relationship, and I don’t like it when someone’s holding back. I simply mean that we appreciate each other but don’t have to do EVERYTHING together. I don’t expect my besties to go to ComicCon with me, but I DO expect them to be at the hospital when I have cancer.

Here’s a for instance: Religion-wise, I’m sort of an agnostic (commitment issues? Why yes, I do. har har), and most of my friends are either atheist or non-practicing Christians. But I do have a couple friends who are full-blown God-lovin’ believers, and I can still consider them a fucking good friend of mine. (Notice how I cussed to piss them off? Yeah, we’re tight like that.)

I’ll definitely roll my eyes when they post things on facebook like “Today I saw a sunset and I wondered how anyone could question His existence with this kind of beauty in the world,” but hey, whatever floats your boat. I accept that I’ll have to attend the occasional baptism, and I’ll overlook the fact they think I’m damned to hell for only seeing pollution in sunsets and thinking it’s the delusional who see God’s work in global warming. They simply won’t ask me for advice on raising children, and I won’t ask them to join any threesomes.

I kid. (I know Christians are totally into that kinky stuff.)

Anyway, my point is, my friends range the spectrum of piousness, geekiness, weirdness, awkwardness, shallowness, and whatever else you can be. It’s actually easier to accept someone how they are when we can laugh over the good, cry over the bad, and accept that some things about a person I will never fully understand, so long as I understand who they are as a whole (and they understand my jokes).

But as long as you’re interesting, funny, smart, witty, a good listener, open, and really, really, ridiculously good looking, I will love you like you’re my #1. Because you are. (And I’m literally talking to you, as one in two people who are reading this.)

[End of Part 1.]

…Stay tuned for Part 2: Elementary School & Best Friends

books & stuff

WHAT HAVE I BEEN UP TO? WHERE HAVE I BEEN? DID I DIE? Nope, you silly reader. Here’s what happened:

I’ve been working full time, and my job involves me basically sitting at a computer for over 8 hours a day. The last thing I want to do when I get home is go online.

But I keep meaning to get back to blogging… it just takes a lot of work. Each entry takes a good amount of time, so cut me some slack, yeah?

Anyway, I’ve had other things to distract me, here are a few:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

                    & 

 

In a nutshell, I’m apparently the girliest girl who’s ever girled. But here’s the break down of what I’ve been doing anyway:

1. Dreaming of the Tardis and the Doctor

2. Starting a photography class (finally)

3. Feeding my heart and soul

4. Enjoying funny women like Amy Poehler, Tina Fey and Mindy Kaling

5. Pinning like car-razy on Pinterest & up to various interior decorating shenanigans (I FINALLY HUNG UP MY CURTAINS AND USED A POWER DRILL FOR THE FIRST TIME OMG)

tobolowsky & misdirection

At work sometimes I’ll get tasks that are kind of mindless and repetitive. That’s when I turn on my iPod and listen to “The Tobolowsky Files.”

“The Tobolowsky Files” is something I recommend to everyone, especially those who like a well told story. (I just remembered he mentioned he put a Google alert on his own name, and how trippy would that be if he read this? Trippy as in embarrasing (for me)).

Stephen Tobolowsky is a perenial Hey! It’s that guy! actor, who’s had roles in everything from Groundhog Day to the TV show Heroes.

His podcasts ocassionally touch on his acting career, but they’re mostly a detailed, annectdotal look back on the life he’s lead– love, heartbreaks, victories and losses– and what a life it has been!

His stories make you laugh and cry, and help you appreciate life in a way that makes it seem like truely a gift.

It makes me wonder if I should even bother being reflective at the ripe old age of 22, since what the hell do I know? Hindsight is 20/20, and you never know what misdirections you’ve had in life until you end up some place solid.

I’m a pretty impatient person, and hate waiting to get to the end of the story, so part of me just really wishes someone would tell me what happens in my future, but right now I feel like I’m just treading water.

It’s kind of weird being this complacent with everything. In my head I probably see myself that pseudo-artistic type that craves heartache and misery as a way to fuel my craft (I can never seem to write anything when things are going well for me, which may explain my lack of blog entries). Or I’m forever that geeky wallflower, waiting to blossom whe the future becomes the present and people finally “get me” (ugh).

I guess my point is, people who write memoirs about their lives come from a dangerous, winding road. Right now I feel like I’m walking down a paved street, with clearly marked signs and neatly trimmed bushes.

Should I feel guilty for liking how things are now? It just seems so easy. So inconsequencial. So ordinary.

I used to look down on people who seemed so satisfied with their ordinary life (I know, snob alert), and I wondered why didn’t they ever strive for more?

But you know, it’s not for a lack of imagination people settle down in the traditional sense. Just because you don’t feel like you belong means you’re actually more special.

I’m starting to ramble but I’m thinking (hoping) the moment I post this, life is going to come punch me in the gut and say “Hey, you think you know exacly where I’m taking you? Well, how’s THIS for a curveball…” And chapter five of my memoir will be written.

writing is dark and moody business

Update: I just realized all this quarterlife crisis talk is a bit premature since I’ve really only had this lifestyle/state of mind for like THREE months. Sheesh, talk about antsy. Someone tell me to please calm down and count to 10.

Update 2: Re-reading this makes me think it was kind of a mini psycho rant, but I kind of like it anyway since I feel like it’s a snapshot of the strange thoughts that evolve in my head just from listening to a simple podcast.

This reminds me of last week when I messaged my BF online (his phone was broken) about how I felt like he clearly valued his friends more than me and how much I basically hated his guts since he left me alone for a couple hours on a Saturday night (after I had spent the whole day out without him. Some people are so thoughtless!).

He had to rush over to my apartment and ask me what the hell I was talking about since he sees me every single day and hangs out with his friends like once a month. He also had to reassure me that even when he goes out without me once in a while, HE WILL COME BACK. Ha. After pointing that out all I could think to say, through a tear stained face, was something like, “Oh, good point. (Okay, you win this round, buddy!)”

And so what if my highlight of today was figuring out how to fix a broken link on my company’s website? I got to pat myself on the back after that little bit of computer magic. Good job, Christina.

Oh, shut up, you know you’re jeals of my life.

then & now

I’m begining to have a backlog of posts I keep meaning to write. The problem is by the time I get home, I’m tired of writing on the computer and don’t feel like blogging. Instead, I watch youtube videos until it’s prime time TV hour(s). Speaking of which, I’ve been watching so much cable reality shows (a la, “Keeping Up with the Kardashians”), it’s kind of weird to watch sit-coms again.

Um, anyway, since I haven’t written in a while, I thought I’d share something I got in my email today. A year ago I did this thing called 10Q, where you answer 10 questions over the course of 10 days, and have it sent to you a year later.

Reading over my answers has helped me realize that while a lot has changed in a year, not much really has, at least as far as my feelings/perspective go. But without further ado, here are my answers to questions you didn’t even know I was asked (my “today” reflections are in italics):

Day 1:
Describe a significant experience that has happened in the past year. How did it affect you? Are you grateful? Relieved? Resentful? Inspired?

Your Answer:

This past year I got a boyfriend. It was definitely a roller coaster of a ride (it was me adding all the sharp turns and loops), but I think I learned a lot about myself by learning a lot about another person. I learned that I can be just has crazy as the next girl, but also just as loving. I’m grateful for this relationship, this experience, and would never change one minute of it.

Ew I’m a cheeseball. Did I really write a roller coaster metaphor? Lazy, lazy writing.

Day 2:
Is there something that you wish you had done differently this past year? Alternatively, is there something you’re especially proud of from this past year?

Your Answer:
I choose to not look back, dwelling on what ifs. That, my friend, is a dark and dangerous road! As for something I’m proud of? I guess I’m proud of my modest accomplishments, but then again they seem tainted by the fact that I could always have done better… ah, the life of a pessimist. Some days I’m just proud I made it out of bed. All in all, it wasn’t a perfect year, but it was a damn good one nonetheless. This year I plan to keep better ties with the people I love, work hard at school/internship/etc., and find a job!!!

I think I need to do a better job with the “keeping ties” portion of this, but I DID work hard at school (got a 4.0 my last quarter! [/shameless brag]) and internships, AND GOT A FREAKING JOB BEFORE I GRADUATED YAY.

Day 3:
Think about a major milestone that happened with your family this past year. How has this affected you?

Your Answer:
My brother started college this past year, and it makes me excited because both our futures now seems so much closer to becoming the present! I feel like he has the potential for such an exciting career and I’m maybe looking forward more to that than my own career. The closer I get to graduation, the less glamorous work, and life, seem to be. Right now, at this exact moment I mean, I just want a simple life. I don’t need adventure. I don’t want a challenge. I just want peace.

Yep, work and adult life is definitely unglamorous. But I’m extremely thankful for all that I have nonetheless.

Day 4:
Describe an event in the world that has impacted you this year. How? Why?

Your Answer:

The economy getting worse with no end in sight, despite all the talk of a recession, makes me realize how volatile our situations all are. One day you can be solidly middle class, and the next you can be on the streets. A lot of times I wonder why people who end up like that couldn’t help themselves more. Surely it’s a long way to fall, and couldn’t they have done something to avoid rock bottom? But I’ve never been put in a situation of being laid off, or anything like that, so I can’t really say for sure whether or not it could ever happen to me. But anyway, this is becoming a ramble, and I’ll just end with saying… basically… this shitty economy is making me wish I wasn’t becoming a grown up.

Economy still bad. Very, very bad.

Day 5:
Have you had any particularly spiritual experiences this past year? How has this experience affected you? “Spiritual” can be broadly defined to include secular spiritual experiences: artistic, cultural, and so forth.

Your Answer:
I read “The Year of Living Biblically” by AJ Jacobs, and it inspired me to live more spiritually, in a secular way. I want to start small, by sending out good vibes and appreciating the little things. One idea that I got from the book was how to be thankful for things simply by stating you are thankful for it. For example, if I think about the food I am about to eat, really imagine where it came from and how it ended up on my plate, I can appreciate it more and maybe even better my experience eating it. The only problem is, I keep forgetting to do this… usually I’m so hungry I just want to eat.

I’ve concluded that I’m just not a very spiritual person. Oh well.

Day 6:
Describe one thing you’d like to achieve by this time next year. Why is this important to you?

Your Answer:
Dear Universe, I would like to have full-time job with some sort of notion about what I want to do with my life! Love, Christina

Lesson-learned: full-time job does not equal having any idea what you want to do with your life. But at least it lets you pay rent!

Day 7:
How would you like to improve yourself and your life next year? Is there a piece of advice or counsel you received in the past year that could guide you in this project?

Your Answer:

Oops, guess I was sleeping this day. No answer. Good thing, I guess, since no self-improvement projects were undertaken and acheived. ‘Til next year!

Day 8:
Is there something (a person, a cause, an idea) that you want to investigate more fully in 2011?

Your Answer:
I want to investigate life, my future, my career more fully. Journalism, traveling, love…

Wow, this was an incredibly selfish answer.

Day 9:
What is a fear that you have and how has it limited you? How do you plan on letting it go or overcoming it in the coming year?

Your Answer:
I have a fear of failure. I have problems taking chances, committing to certain things, and often don’t try my hardest because of my fear. It’s like, if you don’t put your heart into it, it can’t break, and I know that’s the wrong way to think about things, but I can’t help it. Sometimes you just gotta take a leap of fate, and I don’t know how exactly I might overcome this in the coming year, but we’ll see how it goes!

Hm, I still seem to have this fear and it still holds me back. I have learned over the year I tend to live very catiously, maybe too catiously, but at the same time, maybe others shouldn’t live so dangerously! Sheesh!

Day 10:
When September 2011 rolls around and you receive your answers to your 10Q questions, how do you think you’ll feel? What do you think/hope might be different about your life and where you’re at as a result of thinking about and answering these questions?

Your Answer:
I think I’ll feel… I dont know… I don’t feel like I was particularly insightful or anything. Maybe I’ll be surprised with how little has changed.

My feelings exactly. Good job, past-me.

Day 11:
What are your predictions for 2011?

Your Answer:
I predict love, laughter, sadness, optimism, disappointment, and joy.

God, what a cop-out of an answer.

life & the silver screen

The other night a very dramatic scene played out that makes me look back and think, “Yeah, that was sort of like a movie.”

Without getting into specifics, I stormed off from my boyfriend in an angry huff as he yelled for me to please come back. The only thing missing was the rain.

I got annoyed with him and overreacted a bit, and refused to let him apologize. Even as I was doing it, I thought about how immature I was being, but I had turned into a charging bull and couldn’t be stopped.

So I spent the rest of the night alone, wallowing in self pity, dreading the apology I’d have to make to HIM tomorrow.

And even though the scene that night had played out like a 1980′s John Cusak movie, I realized something important: real life isn’t like the movies at all.

 

Now, normal people might be all, “Well, yeah, duh.” But it’s taken me 22 years to realize this little fact. Hey, I never said I was the sharpest tool in the shed.

I feel like I’ve grown up waiting for my “movie moment;” for my movie-love, movie-sadness, movie-victory. But even though a real life scene may play out so perfectly you’d swear it was choreographed, real life feelings are strangely shallow, and strangely uninspiring.

Whether it’s good or bad, real life emotions are merely an echo of something seen and felt on-screen.

Even though I felt like I was going through the motions of a character in a movie, all I felt was anger, and there was nothing complicated or romantic about it.

I’m almost shocked with how simple my feelings were, but honestly I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. Rarely are our emotions very complicated. They’re merely instinctual.

A great philosopher once argued that fiction exists because it allows us to tell a story that emits the most passion possible out of it’s audience. An author is not restricted to the confines of an every day event. In real life, I go back and apologize the next day. In movie life, a rift forms between us and we go without speaking to each other for 20 years, only to be reunited one day to realize it was all just one big misunderstanding.

Stories are worth telling BECAUSE they are fictional. Their inherent falsity allows for true beauty.

When I watch a particularly moving scene in a film, the nuances of my emotions are felt in every fiber of my being, and I feel my heart soar, or drop and everything in between. I can love a character because of his faults in a movie, whereas in real life I would just see him as a pitiful person. A character is celebrated in a film as an “anti-hero,” whereas if he existed in reality, he’d merely be a villan.

While things in movies are often bittersweet, in life they rarely are. In real life I’m just angry, or sad, or annoyed. I’m excited or happy. Those base, boring adjectives are really all there is to what I’m feeling. I never feel tragic or forlorn, serendipitous or invincible. At most I’m kind of lonely or in a really good mood.

That’s why movies and TV shows, book and stories are so entertaining. It really is an escape because it allows you to release emotions real life doesn’t offer you.

And this is the moral of the story: I should really just leave the melodramatics for the theater. It’s not as satisfying as it seems.

gullible & impatient

I consider myself a very reflective person– sometimes to a fault, in fact– and yet I have these tendencies to jump to conclusions and believe anything anyone says. I’m also very impatient, which doesn’t really have anything to do with (what I guess you could call) my gullibility, except for the fact it’s another fault of mine.

So there you have it, I’m gullible and impatient, and often lack the common sense to prevent these shortcomings.

For example, my brother got me with the old “gullible isn’t in the dictionary” trick… twice.

I also have the tendency to read something and declare it to be the greatest, most insightful article or study I’ve ever come across, and it takes someone else to point out any inconsistencies or a lack of thoroughness.

I think that’s why I did so well in school. I honestly believed everything teachers told me, and I was very good at regurgitating that information back to them on tests. Who doesn’t like to read an essay that reflects exactly their own thoughts? A+ for me!

I guess I’m not really what you’d call an “out of the box” thinker, which is a shame because I’d like to be creative and imaginative. Don’t think that’s really me, though. (If you think I’m creative, I’ll tell you a secret… I’m really just copying someone else.*)

*Then again, all “creative-types” say this, so maybe I’m just not giving myself enough credit?

I’m really impatient, which also hinders any creative processes I might attempt.

Take for example this little project:

sittin' pretty on my rug

 

holding stuff on my nightstand yay!

Yeah, looks not bad from far away, in picture format. Good enough to use for now.. but here’s the story behind it:

I’m at JoAnn’s Crafts, which is pretty much my favorite place in the world, and I see this completely unfinished wooden tray for a few dollars. “Oh,” I think to myself, “I was going to buy one of these, but maybe I’ll just make my own! Ooooo I’m soooo crafty!” Or something like that.

So I pick one up, along with some scrapbook paper, paint and mod podge… not quite sure what exactly I’ll do with it. I’d usually just paint it, but thought I’d might be crazy and adventurous and use the mod podge instead. Oh yeah, I know how to have fun.

a Revlon cheap-o file

After getting home, I realize I should have picked up some sandpaper from Lowes too, but since I’m already home, it’s pretty much too late for that. Instead, I opt to “sand” the wood with a nail file I have lying around. Because, that’ll work, right?

Okay it didn’t. But I get impatient and want to paint anyway. I know I should prime the thing at least, but since it was cheap wood, I think, what the hell, and start slapping on the gray. (GRAY IS AMAZING.. oh wait, that was my last post).

When you paint, thin layers is key. I know this. So what do I do? Glob it on. I mean, I tried to make it nice and thin, but honestly, it was nighttime and the lighting was not great, and it was hard to see my work…

Then you wait for the first layer to dry and paint a second layer. I waited about five long, excruciatingly long, minutes, and then decide it’s dry enough to get a second coat. It wasn’t. But it’s okay! Moving on!

gloopy spots and un-sanded edges

I actually did wait until the second day to mod podge on the scrapbook paper that would line the bottom of the tray. Go me! Measuring the paper to fit exactly was becoming kind of a drag, though, so I kind of eye-balled it, and trimmed it down until it was about right. One of my sides didn’t turn out exactly straight, but man, this project was taking a long time.

Finally, I’m ready to apply the paper. I put a layer of the mod podge on the tray itself, then press the paper onto the bottom of the tray. Um, it’s not perfect. In fact, it’s quite wrinkly, which I try to smooth out with my fingers. I wonder if I’m suppose to let the bottom layer dry first, before putting on a top layer of mod podge over the paper. I decide it’s not that important so I start painting on the top layer anyway.

An hour or so later, it’s dry and ready to use! Thank God it de-wrinkled a little in the drying process. That mod podge is pretty good stuff.

And that, my friends, is how you DIY.

Wait, was the point of this post that I’m an awesomely creative person? Doubt it, but since this is where we ended up, I’m going to say…

THE END.

(Update: after looking at these pictures, I decided to change the scrapbook paper I lined the bottom with anyway because of how it clashes with that black and white container I have. Uh, completely different aesthetics? Yes, good planning, Christina. Sigh.)