At some point while I was at badminton tonight, something must’ve happened. At least, I imagine that something must’ve happened, because I went from being my mostly normal self to something like…a me that on the whole, I think, is kind of unpleasant.
I’ve never had much tolerance for stupidity–for bs, wacky crap, unfunny, useless or pointless things…those things always tended to annoy me, and for the past few hours I’ve felt like I was at almost something of a culmination of that no-nonsense attitude. It was one of the stranger moods I’ve been in, in that part of it is a stronger awareness of myself, and maybe that awareness is part of what bugs me.
…huh. 2:41am now, I’d lay my head back about an hour ago, and apparently I’d passed out, b/c I just woke to find myself still on the couch outside. I’ll write some more for this entry and then explore the sleep earlier option.
So at some point in the night I went and sat down by at the side of the court, thinking that I needed to sit back a moment and try to collect myself or something. I don’t think it worked that well, and soon I jumped into one more game, which we ended up losing. So after that, I figure I’d head off, despite the fact that it wasn’t much past 11 yet. I walk back to Silvers, thinking of things, and almost immediately after getting back, I figure I should get some takeout, so I head out again. Wait in line for a bit, then the lady at takeout gives me just a handful of nuggets, which isn’t really all that important…but didn’t much help my grim mood.
Grim…huh. I hadn’t thought of that word in the last few hours, but suddenly it seems fitting. Right now, having just woken up from a mostly unexpected nap, I’m not feeling exactly the same as I was before, but I feel that kind of mood, lurking near the surface of my consciousness. Grim…what do I have to be grim about?? I guess that there actually are a few things, most important of which are my own problems, caused solely by myself.
Feb 15, four days ago, was an old friend’s birthday. He and I used to be better friends many years ago, though we didn’t have too much contact through the last couple of years since we did different things. But he’s an old childhood friend, and I’d decided to try to call him at some point on the 15th to verbally wish him a happy birthday and also see how he’d been doing. Turns out I didn’t have his number, but it worked out, he called me, we talked a bit, and on the whole I was pretty glad to have reestablished contact. One of the reasons I’m writing about this, though, is because I’m a bit worried about my own motivations for talking with him. I mean sure, it was pretty good to talk with him, and it’s a fact that I hate drifting away from old friends, but I’d wondered a few times, if the fact that he goes to CMU has anything to do with it. So I guess my point there is that I’m a little wary that I might’ve been more likely to talk with him just because, well…CMU. That’s where an old friend is also at now, one of the friends that have kind of drifted a bit.
Grim…because I’m at an uncertain period of my life; because there are too many days now where I go to sleep or wake up thinking, “I hate it when I do that”; because I think I see most of my problems, but I can’t FIX them, for lack of willpower, lack of motivation. In Abnormal Psych class the professor mentions that a lot of people, deep down, think that they’re bad people, which causes certain issues. I wonder what my own true feelings about that are. What I think is that I’m a person who’s trying to be good…a person who’s had troubles before, who’s not been the best, but who tries to do some good and tries to help. I guess even by saying that, there’s some kind of implication that I’m not good and thus am trying to be…but I dunno.
One of the important concepts that the Abnormal Psych professor stresses is that “We confuse who we are with what we do.” That’s something that I’m still thinking about and trying to figure out for myself. I’m a little confused by it, actually, because in so many things, we’re told something to the effect of, “our actions show who we are”, that kind of thing. So I wonder, if a big problem that most people have is confusing who they are with what they do, then, what kind of thing shows who a person is? What kind of thing shows who a person is, if not the actions they take? This is an issue that’s starting to get to me more and more, especially as I’m in this grim kind of mindset. I feel that there is something to our professor’s concept, because I can see that even with myself, in some of the things that I’ve built my identity around…they don’t entirely feel right, I guess. The biggest two things, I think, have been Lion Dancing, and more recently, badminton. But if describing myself, I don’t know that I’d immediately put either of the two on my list. Lion Dancing, badminton…are two of the things I do and occasionally take pleasuring in doing. But are they part of who I am? And if not, then who exactly am I? Or is the more proper question: what ways do I describe who I am, if not through things that I do?
So a friend of mine commented on my Facebook wall a while ago, something to the effect of, “badminton really is your life nowadays”. Has it been? I think what it’s been, is that I’d started to attach myself to badminton, start to build a bit of my identity around it, what with the decrease in Lion Dance. But…badminton as taking up most of my life? No. It’s not extremely important to me. But while saying that, I wonder, what is? I know a few things, like my close friends, are very important. My grades and schoolwork, and especially my future, should also be in that category, but the thing is…they only half are. My priorities…have been a bit misplaced, but it’s been so hard to bring myself to care about these things. I’ve been finding out how terrible my self-discipline either has become, or just is. It’s been tough to just…care…and that’s quite a problem.
Care. I have to say…I was a bit surprised when the Abnormal Psych professor explained to us his view of his craft–that everything was connected to love; how difficulties in life mostly came from the dynamic between love and loss of love. I was surprised, because it was in many ways an echo of thoughts that I’d had in the months prior, of something that I guess I slowly discovered about my own life. The professor uses the word “love” to try to describe the undescribable, as part of the concept of caring for more than just oneself, the idea that we’re all interconnected and that what hurts another also hurts us. But I had noticed the same idea earlier as a result of the whole “aftermath”, for lack of a better word, of getting over a certain friend. So where I’m leading to in this rambling is that it seems that things all come back to ‘care.’ There was an online questionnaire posted by a friend more than a year ago now, in the later portion of the summer of ’07, and in it, there was a question that asked something like, “what do you consider to be most important in a relationship?” The friend who initially posted it wrote a simple word: “care.” And when I was reposting that questionnaire with my own answers, I gave that question a good amount of thought, and my answer was “care, and all that it implies.” I couldn’t have know that in those four letters are some very important concepts.
I think about the word every now and then and sometimes mentally shake my head, usually thinking, “gee. who’d have known it was so important.” Care, I think, implies a lot. I think that my Abnormal Psych professor and I mean a lot of the same things, but that we use different four-letter words to describe most of the same concept. He says most problems stem from love and loss of love. I wouldn’t go out and say that most problems stem from care and loss of care, but I think it amounts to almost exactly, if not exactly, the same thing. I’ve come to think that a little bit of care can do a lot, and that’s from personal experience as well as observation. And it’s because I was shown a little care, that my eyes were opened to it, and, well…that happened over a week in the summer of ’07, and I’m still learning and trying to grow right now, even though that care is gone. “What hurts the most, was being so close / and having so much to say, and watching you walk away”…from Rascal Flatts’ “What Hurts The Most”. Those words perfectly describe what did hurt the most–once there was connection, care, and then it went away.
I don’t know yet how I’m going to deal with this whole feeling grim and dark-mooded business. I think part of it had to do with being so tired, and still going to play badminton, and then having to deal with some of the normal stressing things there…all the things adding up, pushing over my capacity for dealing with these things. Walking into the apartment earlier, I was so glad that at least for a bit, it was empty and quiet, because I felt that I really couldn’t deal with any crap in those moments. I’d envisioned what might’ve happened if I’d found something of mine missing…I couldn’t say, right now, what might’ve happened if I’d found definitive evidence of more theft going on. But I do know that right now, I’m feeling that I’ve had absolutely enough crap–I’m tired of having to move to the living room just to get some quiet, tired of living with my freshman year roommate who I can’t trust. I guess it’s a ‘good’ thing that the biggest complaint I have of my current roommate is that he’s too noisy. But I appreciate quietness a lot of the times, and there are some times when I just want to be alone. I wonder, though, if it’s that I want to be alone, or if it’s that I don’t want to be near the people I’m near–as in, that there are some people I wouldn’t mind being around. But that’s something yet to consider.
Well. One more thing, I think, and then I’ll go to sleep for real.
Happy 19th Birthday, one more time, Tiff…pcttsai.
I bought a card to send a few days ago, but I’ve dropped the ball with that again, as I still have the card and it’s basically your birthday. I’m not sure if I should send the card–not because I don’t want you to have it, obviously, but because, well…I don’t really know how much effort to put into it. I’m not saying that I don’t think your bday isn’t a good reason to put time into making a card look nice, but I just wonder if it’d mean much of anything anymore.
I’m sorry that I haven’t been so good at staying in contact. I guess I haven’t tried as hard as I could have, but…I looked for any cues, any signs saying that “ok, let’s try to stay in contact”, but like…I don’t know if I saw any. And that’s hardly any excuse at all, I know, but what made more of an impression than any imaged cues were all the times that I did try to contact you, or try to catch up. I tried to IM you, email, Facebook message…occasionally I’d forward an email or send some news article that I thought was interesting. But aside from the rare few-word response (to the forwarded things, mostly) back, there wasn’t anything else. The IM silences were daunting, probably more so given that you’d once mentioned to me that you’d sometimes just not respond to people who you didn’t want to talk to. The IM silences…haha, were pretty bad. I really would’ve preferred if you’d just responded to them and told me not to IM, or that it wasn’t a good time, anything but silence…but maybe you were just hoping that I’d get the hint and just scram. I dunno…am I looking for excuses as to why I shouldn’t fully blame myself for losing the last strands of connection? I’m trying to look towards the person who usually makes mistakes, and that’s myself, but I’m also thinking of the 50/50 thing to keep distant friendships going.
Honestly…the biggest thing on my part as to why I lost contact was because I was afraid. I was afraid of just more silence and of what that would mean, and I guess through being afraid, I ended up losing what little connection was left anyway. There were two times, I think, that I tried really hard to like…regain connection, reach out a hand and see if you’d even notice it silhouetted in the air…and I guess you did, judging from your responses. I was so relieved the second time when you did respond and said that we should catch up sometime…but it didn’t happen. More of that fear, I guess, of silence. The IM thing started to annoy me, actually, since I’d never know for sure whether you ‘weren’t there’ or if you were just selectively ignoring me. Not to let my overactive imagination get away with me, but even a relatively thicker male can finally catch a hint when it’s been blinking in his face a bunch of times. The message that I got was, bluntly put, “don’t have time for you”, with a parenthesized “anymore” after that to twist some knives in me.
And…did I pick up the wrong message? Haha, I didn’t know how else to keep interpreting IM silences. I guess you might’ve had a point in trying to avoid IM conversations for fear that they’d turn out…awkward? …I dunno.
Mm. I’ll send the card, assuming I still have your CMU address. I don’t know how much designing I’ll be able to do, but I think sending a card’s still the least I can do, because after all…you did open my eyes to a lot of things. That kind of care leaves deep marks, I think, and you know what? I didn’t really mind. In Buddhism class two semesters ago, a small realization happened when the professor was explaining that it was okay to feel pain, as opposed to distancing oneself from one’s emotions, because feeling pain in the context of love or a relationship means that you care. And so I remember walking out of class that day feeling like I’d understood something–that it was almost like I’d been given permission to hurt a little, because it verified that there had been some deep connection before.
Ahaha…in the paragraphs above since the birthday greeting, I’ve said a few things that I think have been in my brain for the last few months, even years. I was never really able to express these thoughts anywhere else, and part of why I’m able to now, aside from having come to terms with some things, has do do with one of those quotes I like, from Oscar Wilde, that says: “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth.” That holds true, I guess. Even in the xanga, though I don’t know if you see what I write, just knowing that there’s the possibility of you seeing might change anything of what I say, whether I mean to or not. But with this account, since I haven’t mentioned it to anyone, I’m writing fairly anonymously, and so I’m certain that all of what I write, I write exactly as I’d say. Kinda strange that I wrote to ‘you’, but that you don’t know about this? Yeah maybe. But I don’t think it could’ve been written any other way that would satisfy me.
Wrapping up: I don’t know how to wrap up, actually. Part of why I’d never really asked you directly about your IM silences was because of more fear–of consequences, of what might result. And so now, having written the most important things of what I’ve had in my head for so long…I don’t know what’s next. I’m not going to post a link to this site anywhere for a bit…I’ll probably eventually put it up on FB, in a limited profile kind of thing, maybe. So, I guess even though I’ve let some things out–you don’t know about it, and in some way that kind of defeats the point? Yes and no, I think. I hope that at some point you’ll see all of this, but that…I dunno. I know you’ve got your own things to deal with, and at this point, I think all I am is something like some apparition from the past who occasionally tries to say hi. Haha…that’s one of the things I’ve hated the most. But what’s there to do, really?
I don’t know where to head with this. I always like a story that wraps up nicely–I’ve always preferred happy endings–but I don’t know what might happen here. If there was a story, I wonder…did I blink and miss the ending pages? Or is this one of the gaps in the story that comes between occassional events? Up to you, I guess. But I’m open to any options.
The second half of this entry is straight from my heart to the keyboard…doesn’t get more straightforward than that. I hope…it means something.
No more to be said. Sleep, now. 4:15am whoa.