I enjoy the written word. I always have. When I was in college, I used to ask friends to write letters to me. Most of them, since they were such neat people, after telling me what a total whack job I was, actually wrote me really interesting letters. To the day, those are some of my most treasured college items.
I spent a good chunk of my day reading someone’s online diary or something along those lines. Now, I’ve never met this person. He doesn’t even know my name. I only know his cause it says it on his web page. Yet I spent several hours of my day, work day nonetheless, reading about his life. These entries were dated, too. Around last February.
After all that time, I wondered why I was interested in reading about details of his life. Why did I care about the affairs of this guy whom I will most likely never meet? I’m not even into published non-fiction, why did I enjoy this stranger’s writings so much?
Then I realized that this was just like those letters I used to ask people to write. As opposed to what they assumed, I didn’t want them to write about me or how they felt about me. I wanted to know what they were thinking and how they felt. I have always believed that people are more honest when they write. Lack of instant reaction helps ward off worries about the effects of your words. These writings have given me a glimpse into this guy’s soul. Or at least a part of his thoughts.
I love meeting new people. Getting to see how they think, what makes them tick and what choices they’ve made fascinate me. Every person I meet, on or offline, teaches me something new about myself. New people open my mind, broaden my horizons, and challenge my thought process.
The neat thing is, pages where people write about themselves give me a similar opportunity. While it’s a skewed and one-sided relationship, it’s still a peek into someone’s thoughts, feelings or life. I look at their hobbies, their passions and learn about new things. That’s why I prefer personal pages to ones that simply contain daily links.
Even though I might never tell him, I’m delighted about the insights I gained from today’s visit.
So I wanted to thank him.
Previously? Straight Shooter.
When I was in college my friend Mike used to say that I never knew how to keep my opinions to myself.
The thing is I spent most of my childhood surrounded by people who made an art form of talking behind people’s back. Actually, they brought it to new levels. Imagine three girls in a ski slope. Let’s name them Jill, Mary and Anne. Together, they’re a bunch of giggles and hugs. But, as Jill and Mary share a ride up the hill, they talk about Anne’s new boyfriend and how he’s sleeping around and how they think Anne is such a moron for not noticing what everyone knows. The next round, Mary and Anne take the ride up the hill as they talk about Jill’s new haircut and how she looks like a rat with her nose job. Finally, Anne and Jill, as they sit together, talk about how Mary will never have the fashion sense they do. I kid you not; these are the kids I had the fortune of growing up with.
Me? I was the lowest of the low. Nicknames? I got them all. Trust me.
Why didn’t I stop hanging around these people? Cuz I’m a wimp.
I have this amazing need to make sure everyone likes me. The thing is I know that it’s impossible to have everyone like you. I don’t like everyone.
After all these years and many better friends later, I still hate it when I hear someone talking behind my back. I hate being someone’s inside joke.
If you have a problem with me, just tell me. This is good for both of us. I get to find out what about me might be annoying you and I can choose to fix it or I can choose not to associate with you any longer. It all depends on what the thing is. You have benefits, too. If I fix it, all is good and if I don’t, well you don’t have to worry since I won’t be around.
I just don’t understand what good it does to tell someone else about issues you might have about me. If I snort when I laugh or blow my nose in a way that gets on your nerves, what’s your friend Lily gonna do to fix it?
What good does it do to bitch and moan behind my back and smile to my face?
That’s what I hate most. The fake people. It must be a present from my childhood friends. I’d so much rather know what I’m dealing with than have a million false smiley faces.
I may be crass, but when you’re my friend, you always get pure honesty.
Previously? Remorse.
I haven’t made many mistakes in my life.
With my record of letting go, that’s a real good thing.
The few mistakes I have made, I have never been able to forget and let go. The choices I made; the choices I didn’t make. Each and every mistake haunts me. Imagine what life would have been if I’d made more of them.
Regrets.
Lance’s new creation, The Dead Letter Office is all about that. I spent some time reading a few of the letters and it seems most people talk about what they didn’t do, what they wish they’d had the guts to do.
It’s amazing to me that so many people thought of mostly what they didn’t get to do in their death instead of all their accomplishments and happiness and loved ones.
Many people mentioned not getting to be with their loved one. I’ll leave that one for another day.
Tonight we watched The Family Man which is about a similar subject matter. It’s about the questions we ask ourselves. The “What If?”s
What if I’d never left Turkey?
What if I’d agreed to go out with him?
What if my parents never divorced?
What if I never met Jake?
There are two different kinds of what ifs. The ones you can control and the ones you cannot. Leaving Turkey was a choice. So was saying No. But the divorce and meeting Jake were beyond my control. It’s only the ones where I decided that I can regret. The reason I don’t most often is cause I remind myself of the choices I made and the rationale behind them.
No matter how much I think I’m bound to make some mistakes. I am only human, but everything is undoable. It’s never too late.
If it helps you to write the dead letter so you can figure out what your regrets are, that’s wonderful. But the real key is to fix them while you’re alive and live the rest of your life regret-free. What’s the way? Maybe a cheesy Nike logo: Just Do It.
You’ll be amazed how easy it is once you start.
I don’t need to write my dead letter, I already know what it would say. I do need to learn to get over my regrets.
They wear me down.
Previously? No Fights.
So we made it.
Jake and I spent most of yesterday watching football. Well, he watched football and I lay in bed, reading my book. Around 9pm, we started playing Ms. PacMan and we only stopped several minutes before midnight to walk over to the living room and watch Dick Clark as the ball dropped. After watching twenty more minutes of TV, we walked back into the bedroom and played video games for several more hours.
This was the first year since I moved to New York that I had no plans for New Year’s eve. Well, at least none that I was able to follow up on.
This was the first year most of my friends didn’t even know I was in town.
This was the first year Jake and I gave each other’s presents well before New Year’s in anticipation of not being in town for the actual night and not wanting to carry the presents through three states and back.
This was the first year in three years that we went to bed well after midnight.
We had sparkling cider and toasted with a kiss.
And we didn’t fight.
This is going to be a good year; I can feel it.
Previously?
Despite the recent unfortunate circumstances, 2000 has been an amazing year for me.
I got my green card. The one thing that ensures I won’t get kicked out of the country, unless I do something illegal of course. Ever since I got a job, I’d been working endlessly to get this small, and not green but white card. Thanks to my amazing and patient lawyer and loads of luck, I am now the proud owner of a plastic that says I am a permanent resident of the United States thanks to my Extraordinary Ability in the field of Information Technology. A huge ordeal that took me over three years of blood and sweat is finally over.
I changed my job and my hours. If I had to describe my last job in one word I would most definitely choose “pain”. There are many others that leap to mind but that is the most prominent one. Thankfully and luckily, after I returned from my business trip and got my green card, I found the balls to finally get myself out of this emotionally abusive relationship between me and my job. Now, I work three days a week at a job I adore and I didn’t even have to change firms.
I lived and worked in Japan for six months and learned Japanese. I don’t like being alone. I didn’t know a word of Japanese and the Japanese, for the most part, don’t speak much English. All my friends recommended against this trip. But I went anyway. I’m still not sure why. But I am so glad I did. If nothing else, I learned that I can be on my own. Important life lesson.
I started volunteering weekly. I’ve wanted to be more active with my volunteer efforts for years. I’ve also wanted to practice and master sign language. I put these together and started volunteering at the New York Society for the Deaf. I learn something new each week and I love meeting different people.
I got Laser Eye Surgery. This was unplanned and not an active wish but it changed my life drastically. It was one of the most painless, speedy and amazing operations of my life. it had no after effects, no pain and outstanding results. Last time I could see without my glasses, I was ten years old. This is beyond incredible.
I did so much more. I quit Diet Coke. I started exercising five times a week. My relationship with Jake improved tenfold. I started my second novel. I started writing this website. I kept up my reading and classes. I learned more about art. I made new friends. I celebrated my nephews’ first birthday and my mother’s fiftieth. I felt happy.
It wasn’t all good, of course. It had its bad moments. I lost a friend. I didn’t lose weight. I’m still unsure of my career path. I should be eating healthier. I slipped two discs on my back. And I’m sure there were many other painful moments that I cannot now recall.
But to be fair, I’d have to admit 2000 was good to me.
As for 2001, all I want next year is to be a better person, inside and out.
Happy New Year Everyone!
Previously?
My house is a total mess.
Over a month ago, my computer had a virus which caused me to reinstall the registries on my machine. Thanks to an illness that renders sitting a very painful activity for me, I haven’t used my desktop since that night. I do know however that the soundcard is still not working and I have absolutely no idea how to fix it. I can only imagine the more subtle errors that are still sitting on my machine, which I won’t be able to catch until my discs stop digging into my back.
My clothes are all over the living room couch and the chair in my bedroom. Until we packed for Christmas, our luggage sat on the floor, unpacked since Thanksgiving. This morning, Jake kindly unpacked our bags from our shortened vacation so now my clothes decorate the chair, the treadmill and the bed.
I am supposed to put pillows under my knees when I lie on my back and under my tummy when I lie on my stomach and somewhere under my legs when I lie on my side. On my bed, we currently have six pillows, just in case I am in a certain position and a pillow is not at hand. These pillows start in their correct location (under my knees, for example) but end up on the floor after several hours of battle during the night. A few hours later, they’ll end up back in bed, possibly even under my head this time. The dust in my house and I have become close friends.
Jake has been doing all the house errands, cooking me three meals a day and doing anything in his power to make me put as little effort on my body as possible. He’s kind, loving and generous.
I love him.
I don’t know what I would do without him.
Previously?
I celebrate New Year’s. I mean really celebrate it. I make resolutions, I stress about what to wear, where to go, what presents to get. I want everything to be perfect.
As you might have already guessed, everything goes wrong. Two years in a row, Jake and I spent the stroke of midnight in a fight. No bubblies, no laugher, no pretty dresses, just screaming and tears.
After the disaster of last year, I decided that from now on, Jake and I were to spend New Year’s out of town. I figured, and he agreed, that if we leave town, I won’t be stressed worrying about everything being perfect and will be delighted just to be out of town.
So we made plans. First it was the Galapagos, then Cuba, and then the Bahamas. After they all fell through, we finally settled on a trip to Savannah with Jake’s family. The location didn’t matter to me, I just wanted it not to be New York.
When I got real sick at the beginning of December, I panicked about the planned vacation. The doctor told me to relax and that I’d make it to my vacation no problem. So I skipped everything to ensure I’d get to go on this vacation. I didn’t go to my volunteer job three weeks in a row, I missed Jake’s family’s annual Christmas party, I spent endless hours on my couch, getting bedsores just so I could make it to Savannah. This New Year’s would be fun, even if it meant ruining December.
Two days before our trip, I felt 1000% better. I could sit, walk and stand without much pain. I was ready for Savannah and I knew it was ready for me. We took the train from New York to Boston (where Jake’s parents live) and celebrated Christmas with them. On the morning of the 26th, all of us went to the airport. My back had started aching slightly but I figured I’d keep up my exercises and rest a lot and things would be fine.
Well it didn’t turn out that way.
The morning after we got to Savannah, I woke up with acute pain. Jake and I walked around for an hour and pain shot up and down my legs. In the last month, the one thing doctors had asked me was whether the pain went down to my legs and it never had. They kept saying that as long as the pain didn’t go down, I was fine. And now it was going down. All the way to my toes.
We went back to the hotel and after several hours of sleep, the pain wouldn’t stop. Finally, I called my doctor and he says my MRI results are back and I have two herniated discs on my back. He said if the pain is back I should come back home and have bed rest for a few days. He goes, “You can get up to go to the bathroom, but no moving otherwise.” Gee. Thanks.
Lumbar 3/4 and 4/5. Two discs for the price of one.
Jake and I take the 6:30am plane back to New York. I spend all Thursday in bed. Today I went to my physical therapist and pain is attacking my back, my legs, my knees.
Here we are, two days before the year is over and I am to lie in bed for twenty minutes and walk around the house for twenty minutes as I alternate between having heat and cold applied to my back.
Happy New Year.
Previously?
Karenika is on a much-needed vacation. I wish you the best of everything on this holiday season. May all your dreams and wishes come true. Happy Holidays and a Very Happy New Year.
So I went to a new back doctor today and even more interesting stuff about my body surfaced. It seems I lack any reflex on my right ankle. Odd? Yep. Bad news? Most likely. Looks like I’m gonna need that MRI after all. Yum.
This holiday season I seem to be spiraling into a rather odd mood. I don’t know whether it’s the excessive amount of medication that’s been piling up in my body, just usual holiday blues or something else, but I do know that I’m a little off. I go from ecstatic to miserable in a matter of seconds. One minute, I’m sitting on my couch, watching something stupid on TV, relaxing and the next minute I’m weeping uncontrollably. Does this mean I should see a professional? Probably. I think it’s just the overwhelming amount of stress I lay upon myself. I have seven untouched books, all due to the library in ten days. I have a novel that’s waiting to be written and I am really behind at work. But what do I spend my free time doing? Watching TV and sleeping. I just don’t feel motivated to do anything.
Let’s hope this week in Savannah turns out to be what I need.
For those of you who celebrate, Happy Channukah!
As the holidays approach, I get more and more homesick. One of the downsides of being so far away from home is not being able to visit my family on a whim. Usually, I’m fine with this major choice that I’ve made. But at times, especially during the holiday season, I just can’t bear being so far away.
Two days ago a close friend of the family came to New York. My mother, as is often the case, sent me a package with her. She sent me the marrons glaces I mentioned earlier this week. She also sent me the following photograph of my sister, brother-in-law and my twin nephews.
When I look at that picture, my heart melts and I suddenly feel that all my selfish reasons for living a million miles away from my family are terrible. I want to be there. I want to see my nephews walk and talk. I want them to see my face and smile just the way their faces light up when my mother enters the room. I want to hug them every single day.
Sometimes my decisions are too hard to live with.
Previously?
After a three-week hiatus, I went back to my volunteer job today. Today’s task was to call the supervisors of each employed client to find out whether the employer is still happy with the person. Hearing comments like ‘He’s awesome’ and ‘We’re very happy’ made my day even though I don’t know any of these people personally. When I think of my job, that’s what counts most. I want to be doing a good job. Cheesy? Maybe, but it’s the truth.
When I was in Japan, there was an arcade right by my house. I’m not originally a huge fan of arcades but this one had a typing game that my friend John and I played until the wee hours of the morning. It’s the same game as The House of the Dead but instead of shooting, you have to type the words that appear on the screen to kill the monsters. The Japanese version had Japanese words, therefore making the typing really hard. I almost bought a Dreamcast just to be able to play this game but there was no American version. Until Now. Yeaaaaayyyy!!!
Ten Passed Technologies [ via slashdot ] Real interesting but they certainly should have included Betamax as well.
Okay, I admit. I watch the Rosie O’Donnell Show. Embarrassing? Probably, but I like it. It keeps me abreast of many upcoming movies. I like that she’s so nice to all her guests as opposed to other talk show hosts who try to squeeze out the juicy bits of the guests’ lives. Today she had on the man who won the Teacher of the Year award from Disney and this teacher was so excited and he talked about how he had a second job as a waited cause his salary was so low and his bills were so high. Thanks to Rosie’s show Barnes and Noble donated 10grand worth of books to this teacher’s class and Rosie made his lifelong dream of seeing the Great Wall of China come true by buying him and a friend tickets to China. This guy was so amazingly thrilled that I teared up. I know slate hates her and I know that I should be embarrassed to be watching it, but I love seeing all the happiness that she works so hard to give. In a world where there are so few well-intentioned people left, she makes me smile.
Previously?
Mmmm. My mommie sent me some marrons glaces. Yummm.
I had my last art class today. We had several student presentations. One girl picked hands as her topic. As she spoke I realized how much we convey through our hands. Some of the things she mentioned were really interesting. For example, how come we put our hand in our mouth when we’re sad? We tend to inadvertently use our hands to symbolize our emotions. Think of when you’re happy or sad or mad or excited. I remember when I took a public speaking class. The hardest part was to figure out what to do with my hands.
We had another presentation about cultures influencing each other. For example, he mentioned how Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon was painted over when he was influenced by African Art. If you look real closely at the woman on the lower right, you can see clear marks of something that was originally there and then erased to be painted over. The idea that Picasso erased his own work and put a darker complexion on the woman on the left and the masks (very much a tradition in African Art) on the two women on the right is quite fascinating.
One of the other students did her project on nudes. Her final image was Magritte’s The Rape. What an amazing painting. Says so much, doesn’t it?
Talking about figuring out what to do with my life, my friend Natalia sent me the following quote from Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. “…we can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come…”
Previously?
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projects for twenty twenty-six
projects for twenty twenty-five
projects for twenty twenty-four
projects for twenty twenty-three
projects for twenty twenty-two
projects for twenty twenty-one
projects for twenty nineteen
projects for twenty eighteen
projects from twenty seventeen
monthly projects from previous years
some of my previous projects
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