Archive for March, 2009

25 things about me

Sunday, March 8th, 2009

Yes, it’s self-aggrandising.  But, then again, so’s most of what I see around me every day…

1. While I value friendship over all other life’s joys, I am very strongly introverted (this fact surprises most of my friends).  That means the world only makes sense to me after I’ve had an opportunity to process it all completely on my own.  An example: weddings.  I’ve been to 103 of ‘em (including my own), and at every single one, I had to step away during the reception for at least 20 minutes to walkabout on my own and to begin to feel again like I belonged in my own skin.

2.  The first six years of my life, at least one of my parents didn’t work so I’d always have a parent around during those important developmental years.

3. For Father’s Day, when I was 10 years old, I was asked for a school project to write down some things I loved about my father.  I sat there for an hour and then began to cry because I didn’t know what to write.   My dad had gone back to school to get his Master’s degree and then, after that, worked at a job with over an hour commute in each direction.  I didn’t think I knew him.

4. I was wrong.  My dad and I are EXACTLY alike in almost every imaginable way.

5. At UC Santa Barbara, there is a bike and foot path tunnel that connects the campus to Isla Vista, the adjacent community where most of the college students live.  When I attended, on the north wall of the tunnel, there was spray-painted a single-line poem, stretching straight from one end to the other: “He silently drives me home in the rain.  He holds open the screen door while I fumble for the keys to my life.  He comes in.” It has since been painted over; I still don’t know what it means, but it’s one of the most haunting things I’ve ever read.

6. I have read the following, in their entireties, aloud: All seven Harry Potter books; Dune; all of Lord of the Rings (including the appendices); all five books of Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, all of Raold Dahl’s short fiction and children’s books.

7. For about a third of my life, I’ve lived within a quarter mile of the ocean.  I love the ocean, but hate the beach (I really don’t like sand).

8. When I’m home alone at night, I often sing to my dogs.

9. Before I turned eighteen, I had spent over a year’s worth of nights camping.

10. On my eighteenth birthday, I was backpacking: the penultimate day of the planned trip.  I had spent the last seven birthdays away from home, and I had much earlier and emphatically told my parents, who had planned the trip with our Boy Scout troop, that I did not want to be on the trail for my birthday.  I was so upset, that I threw a fit, and pretty much forced everyone to hike out a day early.  I was a very strong hiker, and in order to achieve my goal, I went back up the mountain twice to pick up the packs of the weaker hikers in the group. That day, I hiked 37 miles and ruined the end of everyone’s trip just so I could have pizza on my birthday. I deeply regret having done this not only because it was horribly immature, but also because I haven’t backpacked since.

11. With the exception of fingers and toes, I have never broken a bone; however, when I was five years old, I was balancing on a step stool when watching TV with my parents, despite their repeated warnings to stop, lest I fall and hurt myself.  I fell off on purpose to see what it would feel like.  My parents and I ended up spending seven hours in the ER waiting room that night with a dislocated right elbow. I’ve never told my folks I fell on purpose.

12. I’ve broken both the big toe and little toe on my right foot over a dozen times collectively (not ONCE on purpose, I promise).

13. I detest bad grammar (though I’m far from perfect, myself), but if I could get away with it, I’d never use a capital letter again.

14. My corrected vision is exceptionally sharp, and I can see extremely well in the dark.  Even if it’s completely dark, I usually can navigate a house purely from memory, if I’ve spent more than 15 minutes in it.

15.  At night, I prefer to work/live in dimly lit spaces.  Dim light, to me, is like a smooth glass of red wine and a Chopin nocturne playing.  It just soothes my soul.

16. Teachers are my heroes: especially those who mirror Einstein’s great quote: “The greatest teacher is not experience; it is example.”

17. I own on DVD everything Aaron Sorkin’s ever screenwritten: All 7 seasons of West Wing; both seasons of Sports Night; the first and only season of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip; The American President; A Few Good Men; and Charlie Wilson’s War.

18. I’ve never hit a ball with a bat.

19. Genetically, I’m an absolute orthodontic mess: for the smile I have now, I had 14 teeth pulled and wore braces for five years.

20. I recently ran a long-distance relay with colleagues from work (187 miles total); I sprained my ankle 200 feet into my last (and shortest) leg of the race.  I ran over 4 and a half miles with a sprained ankle; I could have walked it faster, but I was determined to accomplish what I’d set out to: to run the entirety of all three of my legs of the relay.  It took nearly four months for my ankle to heal.

21.  When I was eleven, I bought a copy of Roget’s International Thesaurus, 4th edition.  It organised its word and phrases by their meaning, making it what Amazon now calls “the most efficient word finder and a cutting-edge aid in stimulating thought, organizing ideas, and writing and speaking more clearly and effectively.”  I would spend many very late hours (naturally, by a dim light) thumbing through its pages, looking at the words like arcane components to a spell I might conjure, as if they possessed magical powers.  I’m still convinced that, at that age, I had perceived them quite correctly.

22. I have 9 years of higher education and no degree.

23.  One of my biggest pet peeves is when people stop the microwave before it counts down to zero without also clearing the timer.

24.  The two most important things I learned from my dad are: “Do something you love to do so much that you’ll do it for free, but do it so well that folks will pay you handsomely to do it”; and “Better is the enemy of Good.”

25.  The most important thing I learned from my mom is: “Do nice things for people who’ll never find out.”  My hope is to have learned it at least a tenth as well as she’s taught it.

The opportunity costs of playing it safe (in love)

Sunday, March 1st, 2009

After the whole set of Juli misadventures, I found myself incredibly cynical. I’d see ads in the newspaper for diamond rings and such, and I’d scoff at the naiveté of these fools rushing into love, not knowing how much hurt lay in store for them. Part of me wished I could simply forget my pain and enjoy the veil of innocence I was once under. I’m sure, however, it was more than anything simply the sting of betrayal mixed with a bit of jealousy.

After a while, though, I tried to get back into the game a bit. I was seeing a girl for a bit… there was a good chemistry, and we had fun together, but I purposefully didn’t make any overtly romantic gestures. So, it was a friendship with an interesting chemistry and the possibility for Friends-with-benefits.

But I still sat on it: for two reasons. A) I didn’t want to get hurt, so I was being careful; B) I didn’t know whether I was interested in this girl long term, and I worked with her and had kinda integrated her into my friendship base. So, after about two months, things kinda came to a head, and she disengaged, not even wanting to talk to me for about a week. In the end, we’ve become pretty fast friends again, but we’re not as thick-as-thieves as we were doing that two month stint.

I bring this story up because when it kinda fell apart, I was surprisingly unhurt by it all. I’m the type of guy who falls in love really darn easy. Perhaps it’s abandonment issues or something, but when I find someone who wants to be with me, I fall right in, even if it’s wrong. This time, however, it was strangely easy for me to maintain that emotional distance I’d never done before. Could it all have been something more if I’d just jumped in? Certainly, multiple mutual friends have said so since. But in the end, I know that the relationship couldn’t have lasted, and I’m happier thinking that months or years later, I can call her a friend instead of an ex-girlfriend.

But the crux is this: at some point in each new relationship, one must ask oneself, What am I willing to risk? For the chance to see if this could be something stellar, what am I willing to sacrifice if I’m wrong?  What level of hurt am I willing to sustain for the possibility of joy?

I’ve managed to not get hurt over the last year and a half, but at the same time, I wonder… what have I missed out on, too? What has playing it safe really gained me?  What opportunities am I essentially choosing to pass up in order to continue to don this armour?