"But he's groping behind his aviator sunglasses for the point of his anecdote - that forgiveness is ultimately less self-destructive than the bitter desire for revenge. Or perhaps that there is no such thing as revenge, in the sense that it never actually offsets the original grievance. " - Michael Lewis in Trail Fever

I don't believe in keeping tabs. At least I don't want to.

While I am quite difficult to anger, once someone crosses me, especially someone on whom I'd placed my complete trust, I rarely ever forgive. The heartbreaking experience of being hurt to my core seems to leave a deep trace in my soul.

Compared to many others, I haven't suffered any major disasters in my life, so when I run across stories of people who've suffered intolerable torture and are still able to forgive their offenders, I feel small. I feel petty.

As much as I don't believe in the necessity of revenge, I also haven't been able to forgive as easily as I should. I think the above quote is a perfect explanation of why revenge is useless. People seek revenge with the hopes that they can undo some terrible sadness or unfairness that occurred many years ago. Over the years sadness gives place to anger and bitterness. They focus all of their energy towards their enemy and grow to believe that if only they could seek revenge, all would be all right with the world once again. And, inevitably, it never works out that way.

Revenge leaves a bad taste in the person's mouth. It becomes misplaced anger, an emotion that surfaces way after its time. It resolves nothing and the person suddenly realizes he's wasted his entire life looking forward to this one moment which fails to deliver the magic. Talk about a wasted emotion.

While I don't live my life with the hopes of seeking revenge, I certainly do have a hard time forgiving people who hurt me. People who take my kindness and generosity for granted. People who forget that I have feelings.

But it's time to grow up. Time to let go. Time to learn to be a bigger person.

Time to forgive.

Previously? Know It All.

A friend of mine recently sent me some bad news.

She's been going through some tough times with a friend and she told me that she knew I'd say "I told you so" and I'd be right.

The first thought that crossed my mind as I read the words was "I'd never say that." What's the point of making such a cruel comment to someone who's already suffering? The more I thought about it, the more stupid it seemed to me. Was I really the sort of person to make such a remark?

I called up my friend and told her how badly I felt for her recent falling out and how much I wished she'd work things out eventually. I said, "I wouldn't say 'I told you so' I would have never wanted you to have to go through this." She thanked me and we chatted for a brief period before it was time for me to get on the plane to Turkey.

Even though she didn't say, or probably even imply, that I was a vindictive person, the idea of getting satisfaction from having been right about her potential to have a falling out with her friend felt disgusting. The more I thought about the phrase the more repulsive it became in my mind. If I were the sort of person to enjoy being right so much, I needed to change immediately.

Giving advice is not necessarily a bad thing. Often times if a friend asks for my opinion on a subject matter, I'm more than happy to offer my opinion of experience with the subject matter. Especially if the friend is someone on whom I can count to take my words as nothing more than my opinion. I don't want people to do as I say, I just want to offer them my perspective, as I believe in hearing everyone out before I make a decision.

I also get annoyed at people who give me advice and then get cross if I decide not to do exactly as they recommended. What these people seem to fail to understand is that this is my life. I need to make and be responsible for my own decisions so that if something doesn't turn out as expected, I only have myself to blame. Disappointments are hard enough to live with as is, the last thing I need is the excuse to blame it on someone else. Nor do I want anyone putting the responsibility of their own misfortune on me.

And 'I told you so' accomplishes nothing besides making everything about you. It's as if you're saying 'See you messed up you life, cause you didn't listen to me. You didn't take my advice as gospel and now you're screwed.' It doesn't matter if the friend is sad, all you're thinking of is gloating about how you were right.

Talk about a good friend.

Previously? Home Again.

This time tomorrow, I'll be over the Atlantic Ocean.

I've already written about my feelings when it gets this close to going home.

I've already written about hugging my nephews.

I'm sitting here and trying to come up with a pithy entry. Something that will make you think during the next few days that I won't be updating the site. Something to keep you entertained. Something to keep you busy.

But all my thoughts fail me.

This is about the time when my feelings have completely taken over everything else. I go through my daily motions and do what I need to, but the whole time there's this loud voice inside my head and all it says is:

"You're going home!"

It's not quiet. It's yelling. It's not subtle. It's a continuous loop. It's there during all my waking hours. It even creeps into my dreams.

I've packed all my presents, Jake's clothes, my clothes, 4 library books on education, Derek's book into a piece of luggage. Add to that a bag pack full of printouts on education reform, Trail Fever by Michael Lewis, The Language Instinct by Pinker, my laptop and my Japanese homework and our passports and tickets. We're set to go!

All this for nine days.

I hate packing. I want to take everything with me. All my books. My cameras. My laptop. More clothes than I could wear in a month. Mostly cause I hate to have to choose. I want it all so I don't need to make any decisions. What if I finish all six books in one day and I have nothing left for the rest of the week. That's what I think. Even after the last eleven trips where I barely finished a book, I take six with me just in case.

Just in case what? Your guess is as good as mine.

I simply suck at packing.

I apologize for the lack of depth in this post. But the voice in my head won't let me do anything. All it can think of is lying on the couch in our balcony, playing with my nephews. Hugging my nephews. Hugging my nephews. Hugging my nephews.

My mom, my dad, my sister, my brother in law, my grandmas. But most importantly, my nephews.

See? This is why I should stop writing now!

I promise to have something much deeper to say as soon as I arrive in Burgaz.

Btw, I am in the process of putting together a new idea and I need volunteers. If you're interested email me.

Previously? Courage and Fear.

"Courage is the mastery of fear, not the absence of fear." - Mark Twain

Mark Twain's quotes are often my favorite, but this one has a special significance to my current state of mind.

I think most people assume that if you take a risk you must either be stupid or fearless. Why else would you give up all you have for a questionable future? Especially now that the markets are bad, the future of everyone is up in the air. This is no time to take risks.

So I must be fearless, right?

I must be a snob. I must be secure in my abilities. I must be rich. I must be dumb.

Well, I'm not.

I just believe in the power of fear and the necessity of conquering it.

A while back, I wrote about how sometimes it's okay to ignore an issue. Sometimes time helps issues disappear. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just learn to let go.

But that's not the case with fear. Fear tends to grow with avoidance.

Imagine you're in a bad relationship and you're scared to leave him or her for fear that you might never find 'the one.' So you put it off. Another year passes and now your relationship is even worse, yet you're a year older, and even more scared to leave. Another year and you're even worse off. One more year, and you're completely stuck. You may never get out.

The same applies to pretty much everything of which you're afraid. A bad job, moving out, moving in, a bad friend. The longer you're in, the harder it is to get out.

The trick is not 'not to fear', it's to face your fears. To attack them head on and remind yourself that you deserve better. Or at least that you owe it to yourself to try. As Shakespeare said, "Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt."

Cause if you don't try, you cannot possibly achieve.

So I'm going to try. I am scared. But I want to try. I need to try. I will try.

Care to join me?

Previously? Cuppcik.

I'm not a bird person.

When I first moved to New York City, I knew I was going to live by myself in a city where I knew practically no one. Ideally, I wanted to get a dog. But with the obscene investment banking hours, I knew that the shelters wouldn't let me have a puppy.

So I figured a cat might be a better alternative. Cats are more self-entertained, I assumed. Well, I found out I am dreadfully allergic. So much so that the white of my eyeballs swells when in the same room with a cat. That ruled out the cat option.

My mom kept saying that I should get a bird. Wouldn't I want a cute, little bird?

A bird? Who wants a bird? You can't hug a bird. You can't give him kisses and have him curl up on your lap. No, I told my mom, I wouldn't want a bird.

A few weeks later, on my way home, I saw a bird store with tons of colorful lovebirds in the window, chirping loudly. I don't know what made me walk in, but next thing I knew a parrot the size of my face was sitting on my arm, looking into my eyes. When the storeowner quoted me several thousand dollars for the fascinating creature, I balked. Maybe I could see a cheaper, more affordable size?

Which is how I ended up with cupcik.









In the five years that cupcik and I have shared the same apartment, he's never ceased to amaze me. This tiny, blue creature is curious, intelligent, and playful. He imitates the phone ring, he figures out how to maximize his level of fun and he makes our life much more entertaining.

His little feet make small clicking sounds when on the parquet floor. He walks over to the mirrored legs of our chairs and pecks at the bird he sees. He is so excited by the clicking of the computer that he flies on to the keyboard to have a piece of his own. He loves chewing on paper and landing on your head. He's sweet, kind, and comes to everyone.

He's made me into a bird person.

Previously? 121,110.

I registered the domain karenika.com on June 5, 2000.

I put up a page and started writing. Nothing in particular. Just anything that crossed my mind. I had begun reading a few weblogs and as a person who wrote diaries for years, I loved the idea.

On August 20, 2001, I started using blogger.

I changed the layout of my site. I kept reading. I kept writing.

At first, I had one loyal reader. My good friend Cheryl.

But then it changed. I kept checking my referrer logs, trying to find out where people came from. Certain sites kept appearing in my logs over and over again, making me feel giddy.

Last week, I downloaded all of the main karenika writings into a Word document. Running wordcount showed that the file had 121,110 words.

121,110 words.

That's almost two novels.

And it doesn't even include the excerpts, tidbits, or 'what I learned' section.

And here I was feeling miserable that I couldn't finish my novel.

In the last year, I've shared many of my emotions, thoughts, frustrations and joy with the entire world. I've met some incredible people. I've been sad, mesmerized and inspired. I've learned an enormous amount from the community that is exclusive and inclusive at the same time.

I love writing my page and to each one of you who come to read every day, or even once in a while, I thank you. You encourage me to keep writing, even if you don't say a word. Just the fact that you come to my site thrills me endlessly.

And if you've been coming for a while and haven't ever shared or dropped me an email, please do so. What makes the web amazing is the people and I'm delighted to be a part of this wonderful place!

Here's to another great year!

Previously? Burgaz.

When I tell people that I'm from Turkey, the visions they imagine are nothing like my actual life.

Istanbul is actually quite similar to New York City. People running around, always in a rush, the streets dirty, the nightclubs open till the morning hours and blocks and blocks of shops continuously open. The mosques, the low skyline and the widely spread city reassure you that you're not New York City and the Turkish doesn't help either, but the lifestyle isn't so different from most other major cities.

But Burgaz is.

Burgaz is a tiny island, one of four, in the sea connecting the Black Sea to the Aegean, the Marmara Sea. The islands increase in size, Burgaz being the second smallest. We have spent our summers there for as far back as I can remember.

The island is so small that you can walk its entire circumference in two to three hours. As children, we used to make the trip several times a summer. Burgaz has no cars, only horse carriages. The only vehicles on the island are the two fire trucks.



Fishers make the island a heaven for the hundreds of cats that are its inhabitants. As you dine in one of the seaside restaurants, live fish jump up and down in their buckets. It has the best ice cream I've ever tasted in my life. Sweet corn and caramelized apples are available all day long. Most of the kids either skateboard or swim during the day and hang out in one of the two clubs at night. I must admit that dancing in front of your parents and your grandparents during your teenage years isn't anyone's idea of fun, which is why every teenager, as soon as the parents okay it, takes the evening boat to the biggest island to dance in the one disco. The same boat picks up the kids around 4 am, after the disco is closed and the early morning snacks are eaten. I have breathtaking images of walking up the hill to my house as the sun rose.

Burgaz is a piece of history. A tiny community with a single pharmacy, one grocery store, and a few restaurants. You know every one of your neighbors cause just like you, they and their parents and their parents' parents have all grown up here.

As of next week yesterday, Jake and I will be relaxing in the balcony of our small house in Burgaz. Watching the waves dance, the sailboats slide back and forth, the kids run around, eating delicious Turkish food.

I believe in making mistakes.

I know that in the overall scheme of life mistakes are meant to be bad. They lead us to failure and who wants to fail?

But that's not entirely true, similar to yesterday's point, the importance of learning firsthand also applies to making mistakes.

Let's say you didn't want to learn firsthand, how could you avoid making mistakes? Well, by listening to other people of course! With that approach, you're making two fundamental assumptions:

One. What they consider to be a mistake in their environment and circumstances is also going to be a mistake in yours.

Two. Repeating the actions that led them to their mistake will result in your facing the same mistake.

I believe that both of these have cases where they become incorrect assumptions.

Let's take the first case. Decisions and choices are extremely environment-based. Divorcing an abusive partner may be considered a huge mistake in some societies and the correct path in others. Same goes for abortion and many other controversial issues. Dropping out of school to help save your family's financial situation might seem shortsighted to some people but might lead you to go through doors that would not have been available to you in some societies because in yours family values are extremely highly regarded. What I consider to be a stupid move might be an act of genius for you.

On a related note, just because you do the same thing I did doesn't mean you will reach the same results I did. We could both cut school and go to the movies and while I get caught and end up getting detention, you might end up meeting someone who changes your life in that movie theater. (okay, it's not likely but it could happen) A lot of our life depends on people or events outside our control. The likeliness of a certain set of actions resulting in the same exact outcome is very low.

Even if we ignored the above points. I still think there's much to be said for making your own mistakes and learning from them. When you make a mistake, depending on the significance of that mistake, it stays in your mind for quite a long period of time. You don't need someone to explain to you why it's a bad idea, you lived through it and you learned. Even when the same actions result in a mistake, there might be different reasons why it was a mistake for you than why it was a mistake for the other person. And it's important to know the difference.

When we make mistakes, we learn about ourselves more than anything else. Yes, we learn about our environment, too, but we learn so much more about our logic. Our assumptions. Our ignorance. Our unrealistic expectations. Our naive outlook. We try to sit and pinpoint where exactly things went wrong. At what point did the great idea turn into a disaster?

That's not something any other human being can teach you.

Previously? Show Me.

One of the fundamental creeds of writing is telling versus showing.

Imagine you're reading a novel and the writer has the following line:

"She must be out of her mind," said Jennifer. She was angry.

What do you know about the character? Well you take the author's that Jennifer's angry. You don't really have proof, with the possible exception of your added voice to the words. If you read it in an angry manner, you might feel okay about taking the author's word for jennifer's state of mind. But if you read it ironically, you might be surprised when you hit upon the word "angry". Depending on the sentence, you might even have to go back an reread.

Now take this sentence:

Jennifer stormed into the room. "She must be out of her mind," she hollered. She slammed her schoolbag on the table and turned on the TV.

Okay so it's not the most elegant prose you've ever read, but the author didn't come out and say that Jennifer was mad, yet you got the idea. Why? Cause you could see Jennifer "storming" into the room and "hollering" and "slamming her bag" those are all signs of anger. The reader can play it out in his mind and figure out that Jennifer must be mad. You haven't "told" the reader what to feel; you've let him experience it firsthand.

The same strategy can be used in teaching. It's the fundamental difference of being told how things work and seeing how things work. Especially in topics in the sciences, since we have real world examples of how things work, firsthand knowledge can't measure up to a few lines in a textbook. No matter how many times I tell you that a chemical solution is very acidic, as soon as you dip the litmus strip into it and it turns red, it will carve a place in your memory. And it's important that you dipped the strip and not me. You figure it out all by yourself. You deduce. You conclude.

Same idea applies to basic math, instead of saying two plus two equals four, why not line up two balls and then add two more and ask the student count? This way it's not as if you're divine and just imparting knowledge, but you're showing people how they can derive their own, correct, conclusions. I think that we tend to remember firsthand experiences much more vividly than information we're told.

Maybe it's cause we don't inherently like to take other people's word for things. Humans always observe the world around them. It's in our nature. And maybe in the processes of letting the students or readers come to their own conclusions, you elevate them to the same level as yourself. You show them that they're intelligent enough to figure it out.

In the end don't we all like to be treated as equals?

Previously? The Obvious.

Can you light a bulb with a battery and a wire?

Really? How?

It's amazing how little attention we pay to things that are part of our day to day experience. We often focus on the task at hand and pay little attention to the peripherals in our world.

For example, let's take this question: "If you wanted to see more of yourself in a mirror, do you move backwards of forward?"

Go ahead, think, I'll be here.

You thought it through? You sure? What's the answer?

Nope. It's not "you have to move back."

The fact is no matter how far back you move, you still see the same amount of yourself in the mirror. Trust me, you can test it out.

Isn't it amazing that we use mirrors every single day, but we never really notice that? When we look in the mirror, we're busy concentrating on our task: brushing our teeth, combing our hair, etc. But we don't wonder much about how the mirror works.

Mostly because we don't have to. If it's not broke, don't fix it, right?

I think we could all benefit from looking harder at the world around us. Maybe I feel that way cause I'm surprised when a basic assumption I make turns out to be wrong. At the age of twenty-six, I believe I should know about fundamentals of how the world works or at least how things I interact with on a daily basis work. I don't mean that you should know how each chip of a computer works, but how does electricity work, or mirrors, or cameras. Those are pretty fundamental.

Here's another question for you: if by some way we were able to create a room that was completely dark, could you see an apple that was in that room? What about after ten minutes?

Let me know what you think, you might be amazed at the answer.

Most of us take these fundamentals for granted. Most of us are never taught these core functions well. Most of us never had to light a bulb with a battery and wire or sit in a completely dark room. Most of us never cared to look at a mirror just to see how the reflection is affected by the change in the distance of the source. Most of us either don't care or work off of some, and often incorrect, assumptions.

Buy maybe you're much more observant than I am and have learned all the basics. In that case I look up to you and think you're amazing.

Because you've conquered the ideal of looking beyond the obvious.

Previously? Categorical Imperative.

Act only on that maxim by which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law. - Immanuel Kant

I was watching a TV program about the above philosophy tonight and since I've never studied philosophy before, Kant's categorical imperative was completely new information to me.

While most of us would probably agree that only doing things that we would be okay with the entire public doing is a pretty safe moral attitude, I wonder if it's actually used. I'd be interested in putting our own behavior to the test.

Let's say you're not really good about recycling. You mean to, but you just never get around to it and it's so much easier just to mix it all up and take it out as one big bag of trash. Well, that's not a huge deal. How many recyclable items are you throwing away? Maybe 10 a week, maybe 20. At the end of the day it's not a major disaster.

Now let's assume, no one recycles cause what you do became universal law. Suddenly, the numbers have grown exponentially. Suddenly, it became a huge deal. Suddenly, you're the cause of a major problem. Don't you feel responsible?

You'd better.

Yet in our day-to-day encounters how many of us actually use such a barometer?

I can personally volunteer the information that I would fail this test in a different way almost every single day. Some days I don't show as much patience as I would expect other people to show, or at least the world would be a bad place if everyone practiced as little patience as I do on those days. Other days, I'm too lazy. And at times too selfish. I try to be conscientious and I try to not overdo any of my negative traits, but I can not in good conscience say that I'd measure up.

On the other hand, I can see cases where Kant's theory doesn't work so well. Life is often not so black and white. Sometimes we have to reprimand people, sometimes we have to lie, sometimes we have to be mean in the short term to ensure the long term turns out okay.

But those are the exceptions.

Overall, I think the concept of "imagine everyone in the world did exactly as you did" is a good strategy to live in a society. Maybe if we all kept the principle in mind more, we might rethink a lot of our behavior or at least grow a conscious seed.

Sometimes a seed is all it takes.

How well do you measure up in Kant's barometer?

Previously? All-nighter.

The night before her philosophy paper was due, my college roommate swallowed the two Vivarins that came in her Freshman box.

In our first week in college, we each got a box with the 'essentials'. A small box of shaving cream, a razor, a pack of advil, tampons, tooth paste and a toothbrush, deodorant and a pack of Vivarin. Two years later when I became a Resident Assistant, I tried to get the Vivarins removed from the package but I lost. Well, that's another story for another time.

My roommate ended up pulling an all-nighter but her brain was completely asleep yet the chemicals wouldn't let her body cooperate. So she couldn't write her paper and she got no sleep. The next morning, she felt like shit. And she still had a paper to write.

My first all-nighter was to guard the fence. At CMU, we have a tiny fence that's outside one of the main buildings. Much of the campus-event advertising is done through painting this fence. The rules are that you need to guard it all night, before you can paint it. So my organization got a tent and we spent the night by the fence. A perfect college experience.

All-nighters are exactly what college is about.

Thanks to a full load of classes, real good friends, several jobs, and unquenchable energy, I spent many all-nighters in my four years. To be fully honest, most of them had nothing to do with homework. I was having too much fun, I enjoyed being around the people and sleep seemed to be a waste of time.

Since graduation, I have pulled one, a single, all-nighter. It was during my very first year in New York, when I was chatting with friends on the computer and working on my 3-D trumpet. I modeled and rendered it all that night. I'd been working on it on and off for a long time but I kept getting it wrong. The energy I got at three in the morning and the excitement of talking to my friend, allowed me the concentration to actually get it right.

I can't seem to stay up all night any more. By the time my watch says eleven, my eyelids are heavy and I struggle to make it to bed. It might have something to do with getting up at seven, or that I'm six years older now, but I think it's just that I'm lacking the environment.

The enticing setting.

I miss school. I miss the friendship, the chatting about everything, even the work. But most of all, I miss the all-nighters. The wee hours when your body is tired but getting its second wind. When you're giddy and laugh at everything. When you don't care that you'll be dead tired tomorrow.

When you just do it cause it's fun.

Do you remember your first all-nighter?

Previously? Reality.

There are many theories of reality.

Some people say that reality doesn't exist unless someone's there to observe it. Others claim that there is a fundamental reality regardless of its observers. The age old question of "If a tree falls in the forest and no one's there to see it, does it make a sound?"

About three years ago, I started writing thanks to a web site that offered a free writing course. As time passed I got more and more involved in this site and became a part of it. So much so that I wrote for their monthly e-zine and wrote one of their classes a year and a half down the road. I even went down to Virginia to meet some of my fellow classmates and the brains behind the site. The site was part of my daily routine, I made friends who changed my life.

A year ago, I decided to take a break and stop writing there altogether. I wanted to take a local class on writing and get some face-to-face feedback. I told everyone I was taking a break and literally cut myself off. A few months later, at the end of my NYU course, I injured my back and stopped writing completely. Each time I thought of my novel, I'd get depressed and try to put it out of my mind.

This week, I finally decided that unless I got back to the site, I am never going to finish my novel. And the characters refuse to leave me alone. Plots attack me out of nowhere and I keep hearing dialogue. So I logged back onto the site and started surfing around.

The thing that surprised me the most was how little things had changed. I don't mean the site hadn't improved; they offered more and better classes now and they had many more members. But most of the old-timers were still around, still writing their novels, albeit they're much further along. I just felt like I'd never been away.

It was so eerie.

I just thought it odd that when I was incredibly involved in this community and then I removed myself, for some reason it was as if the community disintegrated. But of course it hadn't. When you quit your job and come back to visit a few months down the road, you can often see that things are pretty much the same way they were before you left. Similarly, just because you stop reading a website, the poster doesn't stop writing it. It only feels to you as if the world stopped cause you're not observing anymore.

It made me realize how insignificant one person is in the grand scheme of things and how, thankfully, the world goes on.

With or without you.

Previously? Intimate Stranger.

A little over a year and a half ago, I lived in Japan for about six months. Knowing I was going to be alone in a non-English-speaking country for that long, I brought along twenty-three books. I figured they would last me at least for the first month, after which I was scheduled to be in New York to celebrate the new year with Jake, and to be at work for Y2K support.

One of the books I had with me was Jane Smiley's Duplicate Keys. The novel, in my opinion, isn't Smiley's best. Actually, it was quite forgettable and such I can't remember most of the plot.

But, as in most of her novels, the characters were enticing and one of them mentioned something that stuck in my mind. Since the novel is about a murder, each of the characters that has a key to the apartment where the murder occurred, of which there are many, starts discovering things about the others and suspecting them. One of the characters mentions that she's surprised how little she knew about her boyfriend with whom she'd been for quite some time.

The question of "how well do we know the people we think we know" starts dancing around in my mind. I sit down at my computer and start typing everything I know about Jake. I start with the basic facts: how he looks, his family, his background, etc. I move into preferences, past concerns, life goals, wishes, dreams, failed attempts. Then I move onto the really private things. Traits that I assume only I, or an exclusive set of people, know.

I look through my list and feel good. After five years, I know Jake quite well. Or so I think. I move on to make lists for the other special people in my life. Close friends. Even my sister.

I'm surprised at some of the details I remember. I'm also interested to see the pattern in some cases where I know a lot in one category and practically nothing about another. If it's so consistent, it must be me and my way of relating to others.

I like the idea of 'seeing' how much I know about a person in my life. I like knowing the holes in my familiarity. I like speculating on why they're there. Was it my choice or his? Did she just not want to divulge or did I never think to ask? Are we really as close as we seem? Do I know anything about her childhood? What about his disappointments?

I recommend that you try to make your own list. At least one. Pick a significant other, a best friend. Write down all you know. From the most obvious to the subtlest detail. Put it all on paper.

See how well you know the people closest to you.

Previously? Permanence.

Forever didn't use to be a scary thought to me.

I was the sort of person who made long-term decisions and stuck to them. I decided to come to the United States for college at the age of twelve. I chose computers as my main field at seven. Those goals never changed. I came here; I studied information systems. I got a programming job.

The same pattern applied to my relationships. I hung on regardless of how bad situations got. An abusive boyfriend. A cruel best friend. But I was in it for the long run, I knew how to stick around. I didn't do things on a whim.

I was Ms. Consistent.

Deep down, I always resented myself for not being daring or impromptu enough. I secretly wished to do something crazy, like get a tattoo or pierce my tongue. But I never had the courage.

Today, I was chatting with Daphna about how I don't like tattoo's anymore and it got me thinking. Why had I changed my mind?

And I realized that getting a tattoo wasn't necessarily an out-of-character thing for a person like me. Whether the receiver is aware of it at the time or not, a tattoo is a permanent commitment. It's quite difficult to remove and even then leaves a scar. It's not temporary.

It seems I've decided to put permanence on hold for a while.

Temporary sounds more attractive for now. Not temporary in the sense of "this week" but temporary in the sense of "it's okay if you change your mind ten years down the road." I want to try different things. Do something that I'm passionate about. Shake my beliefs up. Shake my life up. Not worry about doing something that wasn't 'part of the plan.'

I want to fall and get up. Just to see that I can. Just to see that there's nothing to be scared of. I want to conquer surviving within a world of unknown and handle situations as they come my way. I want to stop anticipating potential problems and worrying about them. I want to stop putting myself on a path. I want to climb trees instead and figure out what branch to jump to at the end of each one.

At least just for a little while.

So I don't secretly wish for a piercing anymore. Instead, I'll have temporary tattoos, henna, jewelry and beads.

But no tattoos.

Previously? Body Image.

I think there's a skewed opinion of body image in the world.

Well, at least in most of the cultures in which I've lived.

Many women try to change their body structure to fit the range of what's 'desirable to a man'. Most of the women I've talked to who are struggling with their weight or self image seem to link it to being wanted. If I'm pretty, men will get attracted to me more, and then I can find someone to like me. It might sound convoluted and desperate to some people, but I've heard this concern multiple times.

Putting the issue of whether you need someone else in your life to feel good about yourself aside, the notion of getting thin to please men doesn't really work, in my opinion.

From what I've experienced, the ones that judge women's bodies are other women. Most men I've met are not really affected by weight as much as women think they are. Some like thinner, some like fuller but none of them notice the extra five pounds you gained last week. At least not the men who are worth having.

Women, however, size you up and down and can tell if the skirt you wore yesterday is a tiny bit tight, if you're bloated from your period, if the shoes you're wearing are scuffed. Women scrutinize other women. It's as if they find you to be a constant threat and therefore need to find fault. Not only do they analyze you to bits, but then they call up your mutual friends and share.

Of course I'm generalizing. Of course it's not true for every woman. Some women are wonderful and kind and caring and don't spend any time feeling good about other women's weaknesses. But, in my experience, women notice other women's body structures and criticize them a lot more than men do.

Most of the women's magazines give tips on losing weight and looking thin. They promote thinness simply by plastering their magazines with thin people. They don't come out and tell you that it's bad to be above a size 4 but they imply, coax and leave subtle hints.

In my opinion, many of today's eating and self-image issues are caused by the women in our lives. The magazines, the movie stars, the family members, siblings, and many others.

So if we want to address these problems, I think we should really start looking within our gender.

Previously? Web People.

When Jake and I bought tickets to go to West Palm Beach, Florida, I emailed the three people I'd love to meet.

The next day, on Aim, I asked Rony if he was sure he'd like to meet us.

He said, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Sometimes people don't like to meet web-people."

"But I'm not just a web-person, I'm person-person, too," he replied.

Which of course made me laugh.

I've met web-people before. By web-people, I mean people whom I first interacted with over the web. Each time I hung out with people whom I'd conversed on the net with, I worried that we might feel awkward when the opportunity for face-to-face interaction arose.

But I never did.

The fact is, as many impostors as there may be on the web, every person I ever met was more real than most people I call friends today. The web creates a barrier through which people feel comfortable releasing their true self. It takes the place of the mask we wear in our day-to-day interactions. This causes the conversation to be more real, deeper and accelerates the friendship process. By the time you meet the person, you already know so much about them that it's nearly impossible not to get along.

But none of this prepared me for how easy it would be for Jake and I to hang out with Daphna and Rony. We met at 5pm on Saturday afternoon and chatted till after 10pm. Conversation flew like water, not even one single awkward silence in five hours.



We then coaxed six into meeting with us at 10pm on Sunday evening. Here's a person whose name I didn't even know until a few days ago, but whose life I'd followed for months. Someone who helped me do a lot of soul-searching. Another encounter that surpassed our already high expectations.

As if we hadn't taken up enough of their weekend, Rony and Daphne met up with us once more on Monday to introduce us to the pleasures of Cuban cuisine. And it really wasn't spicy! They were way too kind and generous. It was as if we'd met long ago.

The great thing is that, to me, Daphne, Rony and Six are no longer web people.

They are real and I have the pictures to prove it.

Previously? South Beach.

I don't think I could ever live in Florida.

We drive down streets surrounded by palm trees. The sky is covered with soft, white clouds like dots on a Dalmatian. The buildings are a rainbow of pastels.

We leave the jacked-up air conditioning to be taken over by the humid heat. A block from our hotel, we can see locals walking on the beach, colorful bikinis showing much of their perfect bodies. People are suntanned. People are dancing on tables while they sip fruit drinks. They're laughing, chatting, partying.

It all seems too good to be true.

I stare at my surroundings and mentally compare the environment to the one at home, in New York. New York is just as hot right now. But it has no palm trees. The buildings are much taller and they are brown, gray or mirrored. They tower over you and pierce the sky. People have no time to chitchat. They're walking down the street in hurried steps while talking on the phone about an urgent matter.

Women wear stockings. Men are in suits and ties. Each person is carrying a nondescript briefcase and looking at their watches every three minutes. Most of them don't acknowledge their surroundings. Who has the time to look around? They all have things to do, places to go.

No one notices the trees on Wall Street.

Life here seems so different. People are relaxed, they try to enjoy life. They don't seem to spend their time running from meeting to meeting and even if they were, the streets and the weather make running so much more fun here. The entire place feels like a continual summer resort. How can anyone be miserable in this weather, in these surroundings?

I look at the beach again. I wonder what I was thinking when I turned down the job offer in Florida.

And then I realize that I could never live here. This feels too much like vacation. If I lived here where would I go for vacation? If these beaches were the norm for me, I'd be so spoiled. I'd probably end up taking it all for granted.

And then I'd have nothing to whine about.

Previously? Spontaneity.

Jake and I are not the most spontaneous people in the world.

I tend to enjoy mulling over issues for weeks before I come to a decision (even though the big decisions seem to invariably be decided during inspired whims). I spend hours considering the benefits and disadvantages of even buying a sweater.

I've always considered this to be a negative personality trait. Some small voice inside me insisted that as a teenager, and then as a twenty-some-year-old, I should be more creative and less logical. I should be able to act on a whim. I should do crazy things. I mean if I didn't do them now when would I ever do them?

As with most of my recognized weaknesses, I tried to find ways to remedy the lacking by looking for opportunities to show that I could be spontaneous.

A few years ago, my company had a Valentine's Day special where you could go to Paris for the Valentine's Day weekend at a pretty low cost. This was my chance! I grabbed the phone and excitedly explained the plan to Jake. I told him how romantic it would be and how we would just pick up and go. And he brought me right back to earth. How would I get a visa so quickly? Did I really want to spend fourteen hours on a plane to be there for about the same amount of time? February wasn't really the best time of year to visit France. And so on.

I felt deflated.

Even though I knew he was right, and that this wasn't the best idea, I was mad at Jake for ruining my chance to be out-of-character. A few more opportunities rose in the last few years, but we turned them down pretty quickly.

Spontaneity simply wasn't in our blood.

The last few weeks have been very taxing on both of us. Due to a change of arrangement at work, I found out that I'd get a five-day weekend this weekend and Jake wouldn't be working on Monday and Tuesday for the first time in over a year. This time, we seized the opportunity. Last night at 11pm, we bought last-minute-deal tickets to Ft Lauderdale, Florida and made car rental reservations. Today, we booked a hotel. Tomorrow morning at 6am, we will be leaving for Florida.

Our first spontaneous trip.

We have no set plans. We didn't book it months in advance. As of 10pm tonight, we haven't even packed, yet. Our only mission is to have a great weekend. No matter what.

Maybe there's room for change in us after all.

Previously? Anonymity.

My friend Manu talks about writing personal entries.

I've had my own battle about this subject matter.

I started writing this site about a year ago. For the first few months, I didn't really know what to say and I spent too much time reading different logs and emulating their styles. I wavered back and forth between posting links and short vignettes and opinions, etc. I was very aware of my audience and the need to please them. And pleasing an invisible audience is a very difficult task.

I spent the first few months concentrating so much on how many hits I got and whether my visitors came back for more, that it didn't occur to me to worry about divulging personal information. I remember telling a few coworkers about my page and feeling slightly weird about it for a little while.

And then everything went downhill from there. I went through a bout of utter discomfort about my content. I kept questioning every idea, pausing on every word and it got to a point where writing a post became more torture than fun. And what's the point of doing this if it's not gonna be fun?

I emailed some of the people whose sites I read, ones who published content that I considered very personal. I asked them how they managed to feel comfortable divulging so much about themselves and the people in their lives. I read their thoughts and I thought.

I thought for a long time.

Finally I came to the conclusion that it's a lot of work to read my site daily. Or even once a week. I write long entries that require more than glance and a click. Most people would probably get bored before they hit the third line. So if anyone actually bothered to read my site religiously to find out my personal thoughts, opinions, feelings on things, they can be my guests. At that level of dedication, they deserve to know everything about me.

As someone intelligent once said, "If you stopped worrying about what people think of you, you'd notice how little time they spend thinking about you."

So I made a few rules; I rarely mention names (since my friends might not share my opinions on not needing anonymity and they deserve their right to privacy), I don't say anything that I would mind someone repeating back to me, I don't post issues that I am extremely touchy on or news that I'm not ready to tell the world, yet. I also choose the people I tell about my site. I don't explicitly tell any family member, work mate, or really close friend about it.

That's about it.

If people track me down using a search engine and find the site on their own, than they're welcome to read all about me. So far, this system has worked wonderfully for me. I write what I want and I really haven't gotten email or comments about anyone that made me anything short of proud of what I write.

I think the call on how much you divulge is totally yours. If you don't want to get personal, don't. But if you do and feel constrained by an invisible audience maybe you should rethink.

After all, like your life, you should be the one who has control over the contents of your site.

Previously? Meanie.