On my drive back from Stockton today (a dentist appointment, unfortunately), with nothing but a dark and rainy environment and Radiohead to keep me company, I tried to wrap my around an interesting conundrum:
Do chains dictate a person's lack of freedom, or do they represent an even greater expression of freedom if they are worn willingly by the person?
Let me backtrack for a moment. Today, I went to the dentist for a routine cleaning. Upon further examination of my teeth, she tells me the obvious (I need braces, have been needing them for years, etc.). She gave me a pamphlet for a new way to adjust teeth called Invisirack; basically, some company tacks casts of your teeth, and then give individually-tailored, clear plastic racks that are placed like a second skin around the teeth and taken out during periods of eating, etc.
The price is $4500. A bit too high, I thought, and a sentiment also shared by my parents, considering that our insurance doesn't cover ortho work. I don't resent them for saying no, though; they've got far more important things to cover the cost of then a perfect smile and bite for me. Still, I try to make sense of that nagging thought that bothered me as I set off from Stockton, knowing that my parents would say no...do I wear my chains freely?
And do you see them?
Monday, December 28, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Race
Last night was an interesting night; it being a Friday, it involved copious amounts of alcohol, although I am proud to say that I did not consume much. It was also the first time in a very, very long time that my brother and I were drinking together in the same vicinity. I met some new people last night, and re-met people that I had seen before (alcohol is the boon of first meetings).
Before we had gone to the party a few doors down, I relaxed and started to drink in my friend Ronnie's apartment. The entire place was jam picked with Indians, albeit with the exception of one Lebanese person, and one Mexican; I reflected, bemusedly, that I was in company that I thought I would never really feel wholly comfortable with when I came to UOP in 2007.
I had always thought it so cliche and stereotypical to only associate with one's own race; yet, a few years later, I find that my views have changed drastically. I had hung with a pretty diverse group of guys since freshman year (at least in regards to race, if not personality), but after some of us had gone our own separate ways, I find that I'm gravitating towards people just like me (not just in skin color, but just in tastes, traits, etc.). Its fascinating, too, considering that one of my other friends from the old gang also seems to undergone a shift that parallels much of what I've gone through, in that he's strengthening his friendships with people of the same nationality and faith as him.
Of course, just because I'm embracing my inner Indian side (and there's a touch of irony to that, considering how "whitewashed" orthodox Indians would find me to be), doesn't mean that I completely disregard my past friendships or tastes. My best friend at Pacific is still an Asian person, I still have Yellow Fever (albeit, its probably more latent now), etc.; still, its interesting how the human social animal can adapt to his environment.
Before we had gone to the party a few doors down, I relaxed and started to drink in my friend Ronnie's apartment. The entire place was jam picked with Indians, albeit with the exception of one Lebanese person, and one Mexican; I reflected, bemusedly, that I was in company that I thought I would never really feel wholly comfortable with when I came to UOP in 2007.
I had always thought it so cliche and stereotypical to only associate with one's own race; yet, a few years later, I find that my views have changed drastically. I had hung with a pretty diverse group of guys since freshman year (at least in regards to race, if not personality), but after some of us had gone our own separate ways, I find that I'm gravitating towards people just like me (not just in skin color, but just in tastes, traits, etc.). Its fascinating, too, considering that one of my other friends from the old gang also seems to undergone a shift that parallels much of what I've gone through, in that he's strengthening his friendships with people of the same nationality and faith as him.
Of course, just because I'm embracing my inner Indian side (and there's a touch of irony to that, considering how "whitewashed" orthodox Indians would find me to be), doesn't mean that I completely disregard my past friendships or tastes. My best friend at Pacific is still an Asian person, I still have Yellow Fever (albeit, its probably more latent now), etc.; still, its interesting how the human social animal can adapt to his environment.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Strength
"You have nothing, nothing to do, with all your strength."
The Joker
Today, I felt weak. Powerless. Impotent. I can lift hundreds of pounds, move weight that the average person would struggle with, and yet all my strength was for naught. Give it a label, I don't care, but it was a feeling of such utter helplessness that I vow to never again fall in that same state. Funny, how such feelings can come at the most bizarre times; the first time I felt like this today was in the library, the second, at a basketball game (which our team lost). I don't exactly care to deal with the specifics of each scenario; suffice to say, my skills were not adequate in either case to deal with the situation at hand. And, suffice to say, the better man took my spot in both cases, effectively replacing me.
Its odd, how these feelings are forcing me to re-examine myself. I realize that, for so long, I've been wanting to improve myself in certain aspects of my life, and yet I inevitably delay them...for what reason? I don't know. And in my hesitance, it will be the better man (and no, it can't be a woman because both these scenarios required a male) who will inevitably win.
Its time I start being the man I want to be.
The Joker
Today, I felt weak. Powerless. Impotent. I can lift hundreds of pounds, move weight that the average person would struggle with, and yet all my strength was for naught. Give it a label, I don't care, but it was a feeling of such utter helplessness that I vow to never again fall in that same state. Funny, how such feelings can come at the most bizarre times; the first time I felt like this today was in the library, the second, at a basketball game (which our team lost). I don't exactly care to deal with the specifics of each scenario; suffice to say, my skills were not adequate in either case to deal with the situation at hand. And, suffice to say, the better man took my spot in both cases, effectively replacing me.
Its odd, how these feelings are forcing me to re-examine myself. I realize that, for so long, I've been wanting to improve myself in certain aspects of my life, and yet I inevitably delay them...for what reason? I don't know. And in my hesitance, it will be the better man (and no, it can't be a woman because both these scenarios required a male) who will inevitably win.
Its time I start being the man I want to be.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Break
This year, Thanksgiving Break was short, although I suppose that was more my doing than anybody else's. A blur of a quick four days, it was filled with long nights out with friends, reminensces, and a dab of midnight epiphanies. Much of my time was split hanging out at night with some of my good friends. A memorable night in particular was Friday night; yesterday, I went to the Arden Fair Mall with Mike and Manpreet, two guys I've known since the early days of elementary school. Our drive to the mall was mostly filled with girl talk, although they dominated the discussion with their individual girl problems; me being the odd man out, all their problems were, to my unhindered heart and eye, easy to solve. Its funny, how detached I seemed from their problems, how little I truly I understood the pain they claimed they were going through; but, I admitted to them as much that I was ignorant about their relationship problems as they were of other aspects in life. I suppose its something I'll need to experience in order to understand.
When we arrived at the mall, we naturally went shopping; it was Black Friday, after all. After getting a sweater, we decided to stop by Macy's, while there, we were approached and stopped by a female customer representative in the cologne section. I immediately noticed the way she flirted with Manpreet, and I told the guys that I was gonna go somewhere else; Mike, of course, followed me. We watched from behind a clothing rack as Manpreet managed to get the number of the girl (although why I write girl when she was certainly older than us, I don't know); after he got the number, and cologne, I asked him why he did it. For the uninformed, Manpreet had an arranged marriage that has not been a month old yet; he looked me straight in the eye, and said "Jag, the game may have changed, but the player never does."
If I was to post something else concrete about break, I suppose I could break it down as follows: one Iron Gym pull-up bar bought, Batman: Arkham Asylum beaten for the PS3, 2-3 beers of Sierra Nevada drank, 4-6 shots of Patron, 1 Swisher smoked, and probably a scatter of other small details that escape my mind at the present. Suffice to say, this was certainly the fastest break I've ever experienced. Now, to just power through these next three weeks.
Oh yeah, and of course, lest I forget to mention it, I shaved the beard, too.
When we arrived at the mall, we naturally went shopping; it was Black Friday, after all. After getting a sweater, we decided to stop by Macy's, while there, we were approached and stopped by a female customer representative in the cologne section. I immediately noticed the way she flirted with Manpreet, and I told the guys that I was gonna go somewhere else; Mike, of course, followed me. We watched from behind a clothing rack as Manpreet managed to get the number of the girl (although why I write girl when she was certainly older than us, I don't know); after he got the number, and cologne, I asked him why he did it. For the uninformed, Manpreet had an arranged marriage that has not been a month old yet; he looked me straight in the eye, and said "Jag, the game may have changed, but the player never does."
If I was to post something else concrete about break, I suppose I could break it down as follows: one Iron Gym pull-up bar bought, Batman: Arkham Asylum beaten for the PS3, 2-3 beers of Sierra Nevada drank, 4-6 shots of Patron, 1 Swisher smoked, and probably a scatter of other small details that escape my mind at the present. Suffice to say, this was certainly the fastest break I've ever experienced. Now, to just power through these next three weeks.
Oh yeah, and of course, lest I forget to mention it, I shaved the beard, too.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Tired
Its been a while since I've last wrote; more than two weeks, in fact. Well, oddly enough, not much has really happened within this time period. My mind, and body as well, are starting to wear down. I honestly don't know what is happening to me; I'm getting much more tired than I normally do; 8 hours of sleep makes me more tired than when I ran on 5.
In retrospect, it seemed as if I was more efficient last semester. Then, my back was against the wall; my schedule was tough, my semester off to a bad start with my trip to the drunk tank. Now, I've became terribly complacent; calculating my GPA shows me that I can slack off in my classes and still get into grad school. What became something that I could rely on to get me past bad tests has instead transformed itself into a roadblock that cripples my very desire to succeed.
I think, though, if I were to describe what I'm missing, is anger. Anger at myself, mostly, but a fury that ran like fire through my veins, and as I've been learning recently, a fury that kept me going throughout last semester. Now, I feel terribly burned out; I am reminded of a quote from one of my favorite films, Blade Runner. "The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long".
Thanksgiving Break can't come soon enough.
In retrospect, it seemed as if I was more efficient last semester. Then, my back was against the wall; my schedule was tough, my semester off to a bad start with my trip to the drunk tank. Now, I've became terribly complacent; calculating my GPA shows me that I can slack off in my classes and still get into grad school. What became something that I could rely on to get me past bad tests has instead transformed itself into a roadblock that cripples my very desire to succeed.
I think, though, if I were to describe what I'm missing, is anger. Anger at myself, mostly, but a fury that ran like fire through my veins, and as I've been learning recently, a fury that kept me going throughout last semester. Now, I feel terribly burned out; I am reminded of a quote from one of my favorite films, Blade Runner. "The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long".
Thanksgiving Break can't come soon enough.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Help
Its a funny thing, hubris. Or pride; call it what you want. Often times, its held up as a badge of virtue when its nothing more than a barrier. I'm starting to let go of that pride now, though, starting today. I arranged a meeting with my Anatomy professor (hopefully he'll check his e-mail) on Friday after my dismal performance on the second Anatomy test; and today, during basketball, I picked up some advice on how I played, how to improve, etc. I suppose being stubborn about some things can only get you so far before you decide that you need to change them.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Time
2 months since school has started. Strange...it feels as if only 2 weeks has passed instead. I really don't know what to write about right now (it actually me a few seconds to think about the last four words before the parantheses), but I had a feeling of talking to someone, or at least expressing myself in some capacity tonight.
So there.
So there.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Slump
Getting my second Physics 25 test back to me, I realized something: I'm in a slump. Slump, or funk, or whatever term seems right for you...my grades definitely don't reflect my desire. I mean, sure, I can blame the teacher for putting material on the test that he didn't talk about in class, or make up any other such reason to feel better about not doing well on the test, but in the end, it was simply...me that took the test, and didn't get the grade I wanted. Ah, well. Ironically enough, I ended up getting the same score on this test that I did on my last physics test. Its funny, though; doing bad on an exam rarely seems to phase me at all these days. Amazing what you can shrug off once you've gone through the worst of it.
Maybe I need someone to chea- I mean, pinch-hit for me.
Maybe I need someone to chea- I mean, pinch-hit for me.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Smiles
A lot can happen in a week, I’ve come to realize. Paul came this weekend, bringing with him a whole lotta money for a whole lotta booze. It was a fun weekend, one that went by far too quickly, unfortunately. But, like I said before, a LOT can happen within a week. I don’t know what it is that’s inspired me, but I’ve recently had a shift in my paradigm, in my way of thinking. Perhaps it was reading message board horror stories of guys in their late twenties who had yet to have any interaction with the opposite sex, or guys who broke out of their shells and became what they wanted to be; whatever the case may be, its inspired me to change my way of thinking. I think I’ve been riddled with self-doubt my whole life; after a while, it eats at you, and leaves a man little more than a hollow being who can’t find the good within his life.
No more.
I vowed that starting several days ago, and already its yielded remarkable results; I’m not so much as putting on a new face, as I am shedding an old skin, an unneeded and unwanted burden upon my frame. No more relying on other people to find my self-worth; already, I feel like a different, and better man. Its not my friendships or relationships with people that define me; its simple, wholly, me. What I’ve begun to realize is that you’ve got to be your own biggest cheerleader before anyone will ever join your team. After all, if you don’t believe in yourself, then who else will believe in you?
So, I’ve recently started smiling at random people; no longer do I want to project the image of a stone-cold bastard to people…I’ve had enough of that in my life, and quite frankly, its what led to that whole list of depression posts that yours truly presented to you for the last few months or so. Its actually interesting; I just had a conversation this morning with the coach of the Pacific Crew team this morning in the dining hall while waiting in line, and it was actually an interesting discussion. And don’t even get me started on the women; I really, really wanna kick the guy in the scrotum who told me I had to play it cool and ignore the girl to get them to want me. Its amazing what type of reactions you can get out of random girls, just by giving them a big smile (even if your grill is as messed up as mine); of course, if I had the testicular fortitude, I probably should have gone up to those girls who smiled back, played with their hair, and did all those cute little things that women do when they want your cock.
Alas, baby steps.
Everyday, I want to find a new reason to live; that’s my goal. Yesterday, I wanted to live long enough to be able to sky-dive; today, I want to live so that I can travel across Europe. And tomorrow? Who knows, but everyday is another opportunity to meet someone, another adventure, another way to appreciate something in life. Over the weekend, while drinking at a party at Sean, Eric, and Andrew’s place, I was in a drunken stupor, asking several people about happiness…and I realize it wasn’t happiness I was lacking, so much as self-worth and confidence. Those intangible things that money can never buy, or people can always take it if you give it to them…I realize now that I always had the power to have them. This feeling of value, of finally LIKING myself for what I am…it feels nice.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Limits
I think I have to curb my drinking. Last night, I can't remember what I did, or who I saw; I blacked out, once again. You thought I would have learned my lesson before, but....no, it seems as if I really didn't. I thought I could control how much I took in, but alas, it seems like my willpower just slips away in those moments. I don't seem to know my limits, I think, so I think I'm going to put my drinking on hiatus. I'm not going to say "Never again", and be at it...but I think I need some time to figure it all out.
EDIT: Scratch that. Well, Paul's coming this weekend, which will no doubt involve some form of MAD (mutually assured drinking). Soon, though...soon
EDIT: Scratch that. Well, Paul's coming this weekend, which will no doubt involve some form of MAD (mutually assured drinking). Soon, though...soon
Friday, September 18, 2009
Groups
Over the past few days, I've been noticing something. Not a particular trend, or pattern, or anything of the sort, but just the behavior people exhibit when in groups. Not really having much of a group that I really identify with anymore, I find it fascinating (although, you would probably just think its creepy) watching the interactions between myself and other people. People whom I can normally engage in one on one conversations with suddenly become cold and indifferent towards me when in the company of other people. I wonder; can other people's opinions about one person really shape the attitude of another person's feelings about that person?
Its an interesting phenomena. Its almost unconscious, in that the person I wanted to talk to is stuck between a rock and a hard place; its like he senses the undercurrent, or tension, and cuts it by ignoring the outsider. I find it both hilarious, and saddening, at the same time; hilarious, for we are all fools who don't address the problem at hand; saddening, with the knowledge that things can never truly be the same. If there's one thing I've learned about watching these dealings, its that people will always have a hierarchy to their friendships; and while I suspect that I'm at the top of very few, if any, of these pyramids, I still find it disheartening to know that so many memories and moments can be swept away, like tears in the rain.
But I guess that's change, then, isn't it? For good or for ill, something happens, somebody else remembers it, and we all end up moving on.
I just wish change wasn't so damn lonely.
Its an interesting phenomena. Its almost unconscious, in that the person I wanted to talk to is stuck between a rock and a hard place; its like he senses the undercurrent, or tension, and cuts it by ignoring the outsider. I find it both hilarious, and saddening, at the same time; hilarious, for we are all fools who don't address the problem at hand; saddening, with the knowledge that things can never truly be the same. If there's one thing I've learned about watching these dealings, its that people will always have a hierarchy to their friendships; and while I suspect that I'm at the top of very few, if any, of these pyramids, I still find it disheartening to know that so many memories and moments can be swept away, like tears in the rain.
But I guess that's change, then, isn't it? For good or for ill, something happens, somebody else remembers it, and we all end up moving on.
I just wish change wasn't so damn lonely.
Monday, September 7, 2009
New Meetings
Over the weekend, I had the chance to go home. Looking back at some of the pictures taken of the various activities by some of my friends over the weekend, I kind of wish I hadn't. On the other hand, I did meet my cousin, whom I haven't met in over two years! She just finished med school in Buffalo, and got a temporary assignment in Sacramento. But I truly am glad that I got to go home; its in her, really, that I think I've finally found a kindred, albeit older, spirit. So, I'm glad that this weekend, while not academically productive (read: understatement), was very spiritually uplifting.
On the flip side, I'm kind of saddened that I didn't get to see Paul (or Thinh) over the weekend. Staying in contact over Facebook isn't really the same as seeing somebody in person, ya know? Well, my friend's bachelor party is gonna be in San Fran next month, so maybe I'll be able to stop by and see him?...If I'm not super wasted, that is.
Oh yeah, I also watched (500) Days of Summer. If ever there was a romance movie that I genuinely liked, it would be that one. Do yourself a favor, dear reader(s), and watch it; you'll be doing yourself a favor.
Until next time, I suppose.
On the flip side, I'm kind of saddened that I didn't get to see Paul (or Thinh) over the weekend. Staying in contact over Facebook isn't really the same as seeing somebody in person, ya know? Well, my friend's bachelor party is gonna be in San Fran next month, so maybe I'll be able to stop by and see him?...If I'm not super wasted, that is.
Oh yeah, I also watched (500) Days of Summer. If ever there was a romance movie that I genuinely liked, it would be that one. Do yourself a favor, dear reader(s), and watch it; you'll be doing yourself a favor.
Until next time, I suppose.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Back Again
It scarcely seems a week since I last posted, but alas, I'm rather surprised by how much has happened in a week. Good things, I think. Anyways, it feels rather comforting being back at UOP again. Love it or hate it, this school doesn't seem to be quite the alien and frightening place it once was to me. But, ah this, last week in review...
The GMAT went surprisingly well. In retrospect, I think I was blessed with an extraordinary amount of luck regarding that test, because I probably put two weeks time, tops, into studying for it. And not just studying; half-assed studying. I don't really think of it is a boast; I just think of it as the truth. But, now that its done and over with, I just have to finish this year up. Its kind of funny, on further reflection about the test. I knew that if I bombed it, I probably wouldn't have to apply to the MBA program, so I wouldn't have to spend another year in Stockton. On the other hand, I knew my parents were spending 250 bucks for me to take this test; not trying my hardest would be an invisible slap to the face, in my eyes. So, I've resigned myself for another year in Stockton... but I think the hardest reason as to why I didn't want to do this damn thing, along with spending another year at school, would be that I wouldn't be in the same Pharmacy class as many of my other friends.
I think one thing I miss about the dorms, aside from the infinite supply of toilet paper, is the proximity of my friends. I'm not rooming with guys I know; they're random strangers. Good guys, but all the same, not the guys I've known and talked to the last few years. Its been rather lonely these last few days, but I know that once school picks up, I'll be seeing most of my friends in the library.
Speaking of which, I've started talking to Sean and Eric again. Its surprising to me, but in retrospect, our argument was such a retarded thing to get all worked up about. We haven't really acknowledged what we've said to each other; its kinda like its all swept up under the rug, or perhaps, I've been too much of a coward to bring it up? I'd like to believe that we've made up, regardless of what the cynical side of me believes. Only time will tell, I suppose.
The GMAT went surprisingly well. In retrospect, I think I was blessed with an extraordinary amount of luck regarding that test, because I probably put two weeks time, tops, into studying for it. And not just studying; half-assed studying. I don't really think of it is a boast; I just think of it as the truth. But, now that its done and over with, I just have to finish this year up. Its kind of funny, on further reflection about the test. I knew that if I bombed it, I probably wouldn't have to apply to the MBA program, so I wouldn't have to spend another year in Stockton. On the other hand, I knew my parents were spending 250 bucks for me to take this test; not trying my hardest would be an invisible slap to the face, in my eyes. So, I've resigned myself for another year in Stockton... but I think the hardest reason as to why I didn't want to do this damn thing, along with spending another year at school, would be that I wouldn't be in the same Pharmacy class as many of my other friends.
I think one thing I miss about the dorms, aside from the infinite supply of toilet paper, is the proximity of my friends. I'm not rooming with guys I know; they're random strangers. Good guys, but all the same, not the guys I've known and talked to the last few years. Its been rather lonely these last few days, but I know that once school picks up, I'll be seeing most of my friends in the library.
Speaking of which, I've started talking to Sean and Eric again. Its surprising to me, but in retrospect, our argument was such a retarded thing to get all worked up about. We haven't really acknowledged what we've said to each other; its kinda like its all swept up under the rug, or perhaps, I've been too much of a coward to bring it up? I'd like to believe that we've made up, regardless of what the cynical side of me believes. Only time will tell, I suppose.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
GMAT
So.....in twelve hours time, I'll be sitting in front of a computer taking my GMAT. Unlike my friends who are antagonizing over the DATs, the GMAT isn't gonna make or break my chances of getting into Pharm school, just the PharmD/MBA program. As it stands, after about 2 weeks (actually, more like 5 days) of cramming, I don't feel too bad about it. Well, time to go to sleep...like a relatively normal person.
And here, we, go.....
And here, we, go.....
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Healthcare
After Obama's victory back in November, I dropped out of politics for a while. Actually, for more like the entirety of the spring semester, because at the time, I just felt like I couldn't be bothered with the details of his plans. This summer, I've tried to put more time into politics; the recent "debate" over healthcare, however, shows me why I quit following politics in the first place.
It may come as a bit of a surprise, but I actually followed politics when I was younger. Around 8th-9th grade, about the time the U.S. was entering Iraq, I thought the pretenses leading up to the war seemed kinda fishy. Of course, I was reading newspapers at that time, and watching too much CNN at that time, but I wouldn't exactly say it feels good now to be vindicated. I realize, when I was younger, and unfortunately what a lot of older people do now, is tread politics like sports, in the sense that the party has become more important than the nation as a whole. Many people on both sides of the aisle would rather see the winning party commit mistakes that hurt the country, rather than try to acknowledge the good ideas that the other party presents. ITs this polarity in politics that is really just hurting America.
But what really, really, just fucking pisses me off are these town hall protesters. There are legitimate problems with some of the healthcare plans floating around the House and the Senate; but they don't talk about them. Instead, they're creating straw men; hell, labeling the Democrats as Nazis, and Obama as Hitler, is fucking outrageous. Yeah, because Hitler was an evil prick because he introduced healthcare in Germany, not because he killed 11 million people (end sarcasm). Having that same comparison once drawn to me in a debate on Facebook, about pressing the like button on my own status, of all reasons...it just annoys me to no end. Calling Obama a fascist, for wanting to reform healthcare, when these same people didn't raise a finger against Bush when he authorized unwarranted wiretapping, suspension of habeus corpus, a phony war....its the very height of ignorance.
They yell down any debate in the town halls. Hell, if they're so uniformed, why don't they use the Internet and find the details about the plan? I'd like to think of myself as a moderately tolerant person, but enough is enough. Being sore about losing an election to a black man (and yes, at the root of it, these people have misguided anger and rage that stems from that) shouldn't hold our country back from catching up to the rest of the modernized world. These people are scum. Vermin. Animals. Only in America are people stupid enough to fight against a cause that would actually benefit them, all at the behest of some right-wing nutjob on Fox News or radio.
God, democracy is tiring.
It may come as a bit of a surprise, but I actually followed politics when I was younger. Around 8th-9th grade, about the time the U.S. was entering Iraq, I thought the pretenses leading up to the war seemed kinda fishy. Of course, I was reading newspapers at that time, and watching too much CNN at that time, but I wouldn't exactly say it feels good now to be vindicated. I realize, when I was younger, and unfortunately what a lot of older people do now, is tread politics like sports, in the sense that the party has become more important than the nation as a whole. Many people on both sides of the aisle would rather see the winning party commit mistakes that hurt the country, rather than try to acknowledge the good ideas that the other party presents. ITs this polarity in politics that is really just hurting America.
But what really, really, just fucking pisses me off are these town hall protesters. There are legitimate problems with some of the healthcare plans floating around the House and the Senate; but they don't talk about them. Instead, they're creating straw men; hell, labeling the Democrats as Nazis, and Obama as Hitler, is fucking outrageous. Yeah, because Hitler was an evil prick because he introduced healthcare in Germany, not because he killed 11 million people (end sarcasm). Having that same comparison once drawn to me in a debate on Facebook, about pressing the like button on my own status, of all reasons...it just annoys me to no end. Calling Obama a fascist, for wanting to reform healthcare, when these same people didn't raise a finger against Bush when he authorized unwarranted wiretapping, suspension of habeus corpus, a phony war....its the very height of ignorance.
They yell down any debate in the town halls. Hell, if they're so uniformed, why don't they use the Internet and find the details about the plan? I'd like to think of myself as a moderately tolerant person, but enough is enough. Being sore about losing an election to a black man (and yes, at the root of it, these people have misguided anger and rage that stems from that) shouldn't hold our country back from catching up to the rest of the modernized world. These people are scum. Vermin. Animals. Only in America are people stupid enough to fight against a cause that would actually benefit them, all at the behest of some right-wing nutjob on Fox News or radio.
God, democracy is tiring.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Insomnia, leading to the Trap of Childhood.
Less than two weeks left until school begins, and I have the sleeping pattern of a coke addict.
Shit.
I apologize if the following sounds like some sort of Xenga by way of Myspace blog you've stumbled upon, but I assure you, my whining will by winding woefully soon.
I don't usually write on consecutive days, and I suspect that I'll have less time during the school year. Unfortunately, it seems that I tend to write when I am impassioned about some injustice; in other words, when I'm complaining like a teenager. After my post yesterday, I actually had a heart to heart talk with my brother about my misguided anger; he soaked it up, and when he responded, he was rather succinct and to the point: "Look man, have some fucking balls. You don't sit around waiting for other people to clean your own mess. Stop bitching, and man up. If you want something, you go out there and get it. Maybe Mom and Dad do favor me, maybe they don't; it doesn't matter, because in the end its your life. You can sit around waiting for what you want, but don't count on it."
Not exactly verbatim, but all the same, it struck as me as brutally honest. I can sit around blaming my parents all I want on a blog, but the fact of the matter is that its only me that can change their perceptions. I've finally realized something about myself; I am probably passive aggressive. I wouldn't exactly call myself a psychiatrist, but if Wikipedia is anything to go by, then that mental disorder would probably most fit the bill for me. I've never been totally honest with myself, which is a damn shame, because if there's one person who you need not lie to, it'd be yourself. But its the truth; I'm so willing to let my life be dictated by others, and then feel like I have no control over it so I don't have the burden of being responsible for myself. That doesn't exactly mean I'm gonna walk around with a shit-eating grin on my face every day, but I do think I need to start acting my age. And grow a pair, while I'm at it.
Ironic, I think. Whining today about what I wrote yesterday. But if there seems to be any guiding principle in life, at least from what I've seen, heard, and experienced, its irony.
Reading one of my favorite books over the summer, Traitor, I find myself in an amusingly similar situation. Of course, there are some, ah, vast differences (the main character is being tortured in a POW camp), but all the same, the similarities that are there are strikingly similar. In that book, the main character is tortured for the sole purpose of being broken and re-programmed as a spy; one his torturers is empathetic to his cause, and tries to make him stronger through his pain. She gives him a lesson, an analogy that spans nearly a chapter but gives him the revelation he needs to survive; likewise, his revelation was mine. And it was this.
Alone. Alone, but not helpless. Being alone does not mean being helpless; and it is here, where the protagonist realizes that he must escape the trap of childhood. The trap of waiting for someone else to come and save him; he realizes that only he can get himself out of there, out of that torture, and the only way to do that is to become stronger than his pain. Reading that passage again, it struck me just how much I connected with the main character as a result of his struggle. I need to free myself from the trap of childhood, of waiting for my parents to know what type of person I am, to have some sort of epiphany about me, of waiting for someone else to find me.
I've heard one definition of crazy as being someone who does the same thing over and over, expecting a different result each time. By that standard, I'm a goddamn lunatic.
It seems kinda funny to me that I've done a quick 180 in less than a scant 24 hours. But I suppose writing something, and reading what you've wrote are two different things, giving two different responses. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this whole damn thing; who knows?
But before you see (hopefully) the end of my emo side, I'd like to say thanks to Doo Lim; your kind words are greatly appreciated, my friend. I'm glad to know that my words aren't falling on deaf ears.
And that's a wrap, folks. Now, I really, really need to start studying again for my GMAT. Its amazing how seductive blogging can be when faced with the prospect of studying this late (or early?) into the day. G'night!
Shit.
I apologize if the following sounds like some sort of Xenga by way of Myspace blog you've stumbled upon, but I assure you, my whining will by winding woefully soon.
I don't usually write on consecutive days, and I suspect that I'll have less time during the school year. Unfortunately, it seems that I tend to write when I am impassioned about some injustice; in other words, when I'm complaining like a teenager. After my post yesterday, I actually had a heart to heart talk with my brother about my misguided anger; he soaked it up, and when he responded, he was rather succinct and to the point: "Look man, have some fucking balls. You don't sit around waiting for other people to clean your own mess. Stop bitching, and man up. If you want something, you go out there and get it. Maybe Mom and Dad do favor me, maybe they don't; it doesn't matter, because in the end its your life. You can sit around waiting for what you want, but don't count on it."
Not exactly verbatim, but all the same, it struck as me as brutally honest. I can sit around blaming my parents all I want on a blog, but the fact of the matter is that its only me that can change their perceptions. I've finally realized something about myself; I am probably passive aggressive. I wouldn't exactly call myself a psychiatrist, but if Wikipedia is anything to go by, then that mental disorder would probably most fit the bill for me. I've never been totally honest with myself, which is a damn shame, because if there's one person who you need not lie to, it'd be yourself. But its the truth; I'm so willing to let my life be dictated by others, and then feel like I have no control over it so I don't have the burden of being responsible for myself. That doesn't exactly mean I'm gonna walk around with a shit-eating grin on my face every day, but I do think I need to start acting my age. And grow a pair, while I'm at it.
Ironic, I think. Whining today about what I wrote yesterday. But if there seems to be any guiding principle in life, at least from what I've seen, heard, and experienced, its irony.
Reading one of my favorite books over the summer, Traitor, I find myself in an amusingly similar situation. Of course, there are some, ah, vast differences (the main character is being tortured in a POW camp), but all the same, the similarities that are there are strikingly similar. In that book, the main character is tortured for the sole purpose of being broken and re-programmed as a spy; one his torturers is empathetic to his cause, and tries to make him stronger through his pain. She gives him a lesson, an analogy that spans nearly a chapter but gives him the revelation he needs to survive; likewise, his revelation was mine. And it was this.
Alone. Alone, but not helpless. Being alone does not mean being helpless; and it is here, where the protagonist realizes that he must escape the trap of childhood. The trap of waiting for someone else to come and save him; he realizes that only he can get himself out of there, out of that torture, and the only way to do that is to become stronger than his pain. Reading that passage again, it struck me just how much I connected with the main character as a result of his struggle. I need to free myself from the trap of childhood, of waiting for my parents to know what type of person I am, to have some sort of epiphany about me, of waiting for someone else to find me.
I've heard one definition of crazy as being someone who does the same thing over and over, expecting a different result each time. By that standard, I'm a goddamn lunatic.
It seems kinda funny to me that I've done a quick 180 in less than a scant 24 hours. But I suppose writing something, and reading what you've wrote are two different things, giving two different responses. Or maybe I'm just overthinking this whole damn thing; who knows?
But before you see (hopefully) the end of my emo side, I'd like to say thanks to Doo Lim; your kind words are greatly appreciated, my friend. I'm glad to know that my words aren't falling on deaf ears.
And that's a wrap, folks. Now, I really, really need to start studying again for my GMAT. Its amazing how seductive blogging can be when faced with the prospect of studying this late (or early?) into the day. G'night!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Good Son Gone Bad?
Today, I asked my parents if I could go to Great America later this week with some friends of mine, many of whom I won't see in quite a while. They said no, outright, on the spot.
Normally, a person might put down FML, or some other wonderfully witty acronym after the above. Instead, I sat back down to my laptop, put on my headphones, and continued searching some interesting subject on Wikipedia (might have been about The Rolling Stones, or the Vietnam War). I really had no opinion or feeling on my parents' refusal, until now in the morning, really. I guess the anger was simmering, but very rarely does it boil on over nowadays. (I had a nasty temper as a kid (think Joe Pesci), and it is sometimes very hard to keep control of it, especially in arguments). I find it rather cathartic to release my anger through words, instead of fists; my anger stems in part from my parents' rejection, but also in part towards my rather prejudiced view that they give carte blanche to my brother.
I sometimes wonder why they put such restrictions on me. My friend Mike tells me that they're just being overprotective, but a parent can only shield a child for so long. Still, I think most of my anger stems towards the preferrential treatment my brother recieves; back in high school, he was able to stay out longer than I am right now. For his last year of undergrad, before going to Pharm school, he was smoking out of an apple while playing Mario Kart with his roommates; his second semester, he studied abroad in Italy and traveled throughout Europe. He pretty much had this extra year of life to do what he wanted, by failing O.Chem and retaking it in the summer, thus switching from 2+3 to 3+3.
Ironically enough, I've got to go from a 4+3 to 3+3; getting a degree, whereas he did not. I suppose this is punishment enough for fucking up in the last 2 years of high school, but I'm just...aggravated that all of my efforts just feel like they go unheeded by them, or just don't seem to matter. I mean, what's the point in doing all that I'm doing to help my parents (saving a year's worth of tuition) if I can't even get a bit of freedom; last summer, I was stuck at a community college for 12 hours for 4 days a week taking 4 classes, so I could clear some GEs out of the way. I didn't travel. This summer, I've stayed cooped up in Folsom for nigh 3 months now, taking two Bio classes. I'd like to think my altruistic side is really doing this for my parents, as well as myself, but every person has a point where what they think they're doing isn't really adding up to the reality of the situation. In other words, for me, you might call it the breaking point. Luckily, school starts in a scant two weeks, and hopefully by this time next year, my scrotum will have dropped to the point where I can actually talk some sense into these people.
But, my testes aside, I'm just so tired of it; at the beginning of freshman year, in all my innocence, I would have told you that my reason to graduate early was to help save my parents' money, rather than get out on my own sooner. Now, with a few years of college under my belt, I feel like the balance has shifted to the latter, rather than the former. Selfish of me, I know; but I think everyone is entitled to a little selfishness now and then. Come to think of it, from the multitudes of shitty jobs I have ever worked, from taking orders from vermin at McDonalds, to making bubbling hot chicken at KFC, to dealing with hordes of unmarried fat chicks at Mervyns to God knows what else, I never told my parents to split my pay checks, or that any of them belonged to me; I simply signed off the checks and gave them to my parents. My brother, in contrast; well, he worked as a pharm intern for about a month during winter break, in which he kept a majority of his paychecks so that he could buy a new TV for himself.
Sometimes, my parents tell me to be more like my brother. I laugh inwardly at them, never speaking of the above thoughts to them. Oh, if only they knew!
Good sons should be getting Oscars every year.
Normally, a person might put down FML, or some other wonderfully witty acronym after the above. Instead, I sat back down to my laptop, put on my headphones, and continued searching some interesting subject on Wikipedia (might have been about The Rolling Stones, or the Vietnam War). I really had no opinion or feeling on my parents' refusal, until now in the morning, really. I guess the anger was simmering, but very rarely does it boil on over nowadays. (I had a nasty temper as a kid (think Joe Pesci), and it is sometimes very hard to keep control of it, especially in arguments). I find it rather cathartic to release my anger through words, instead of fists; my anger stems in part from my parents' rejection, but also in part towards my rather prejudiced view that they give carte blanche to my brother.
I sometimes wonder why they put such restrictions on me. My friend Mike tells me that they're just being overprotective, but a parent can only shield a child for so long. Still, I think most of my anger stems towards the preferrential treatment my brother recieves; back in high school, he was able to stay out longer than I am right now. For his last year of undergrad, before going to Pharm school, he was smoking out of an apple while playing Mario Kart with his roommates; his second semester, he studied abroad in Italy and traveled throughout Europe. He pretty much had this extra year of life to do what he wanted, by failing O.Chem and retaking it in the summer, thus switching from 2+3 to 3+3.
Ironically enough, I've got to go from a 4+3 to 3+3; getting a degree, whereas he did not. I suppose this is punishment enough for fucking up in the last 2 years of high school, but I'm just...aggravated that all of my efforts just feel like they go unheeded by them, or just don't seem to matter. I mean, what's the point in doing all that I'm doing to help my parents (saving a year's worth of tuition) if I can't even get a bit of freedom; last summer, I was stuck at a community college for 12 hours for 4 days a week taking 4 classes, so I could clear some GEs out of the way. I didn't travel. This summer, I've stayed cooped up in Folsom for nigh 3 months now, taking two Bio classes. I'd like to think my altruistic side is really doing this for my parents, as well as myself, but every person has a point where what they think they're doing isn't really adding up to the reality of the situation. In other words, for me, you might call it the breaking point. Luckily, school starts in a scant two weeks, and hopefully by this time next year, my scrotum will have dropped to the point where I can actually talk some sense into these people.
But, my testes aside, I'm just so tired of it; at the beginning of freshman year, in all my innocence, I would have told you that my reason to graduate early was to help save my parents' money, rather than get out on my own sooner. Now, with a few years of college under my belt, I feel like the balance has shifted to the latter, rather than the former. Selfish of me, I know; but I think everyone is entitled to a little selfishness now and then. Come to think of it, from the multitudes of shitty jobs I have ever worked, from taking orders from vermin at McDonalds, to making bubbling hot chicken at KFC, to dealing with hordes of unmarried fat chicks at Mervyns to God knows what else, I never told my parents to split my pay checks, or that any of them belonged to me; I simply signed off the checks and gave them to my parents. My brother, in contrast; well, he worked as a pharm intern for about a month during winter break, in which he kept a majority of his paychecks so that he could buy a new TV for himself.
Sometimes, my parents tell me to be more like my brother. I laugh inwardly at them, never speaking of the above thoughts to them. Oh, if only they knew!
Good sons should be getting Oscars every year.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Almost over.
Its been a while since I've last written on this blog. A month already? Seems like yesterday, when I was swearing profusely at my laptop for deleting a 15 minute long post. Summer is almost over; 3 more weeks to this day, and I'll be back at Pacific. Finished with Eco and Evo, and having only one more test to study for and take (GMAT), its kind of nice looking at my summer, and genuflecting upon it.
It was good. Maybe I didn't do all the things I had set out to do (like working out everyday), and I did get side-tracked here and there (too many videogames and late night outings with friends), but I think one thing I've realized about summer is that what I do at home won't really be possible at Pacific. So, instead of moping around, wondering why I didn't follow some strict routine at home that I had outlined at the start of summer, I'm just...going with the flow.
Disorder. Chaos. Entropy.
And I have to say, it feels damn good.
It was good. Maybe I didn't do all the things I had set out to do (like working out everyday), and I did get side-tracked here and there (too many videogames and late night outings with friends), but I think one thing I've realized about summer is that what I do at home won't really be possible at Pacific. So, instead of moping around, wondering why I didn't follow some strict routine at home that I had outlined at the start of summer, I'm just...going with the flow.
Disorder. Chaos. Entropy.
And I have to say, it feels damn good.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Half Begun...Is Well Done?
I had a huge fucking post that chronicled yet another amusing chapter of my life, but was subsequently deleted by the power of Mozilla Firefox. Suffice to say, I'll end this post with the same words I ended my other one.
Its a lot like trimming pubes.
Its a lot like trimming pubes.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Santa Cruz
Amazing what a difference two years can make. I am, of course, referring to my recent trip down south to Santa Cruz. The last time I went, sometime in November 2007, I went with my stoner friend Josh; we left in the afternoon, and arrived around night-time. The trip took us a good 4, maybe even 5 hours; mostly because we were lost, and had to rely on a physical map to get us from one road to another. Add that to the fact that Josh was driving like a maniac on roads filled to the brim with twists and curves, and I was most assuredly given a very, very memorable drive to Santa Cruz with him.
In contrast, I went to Santa Cruz last week with my friend Manpreet. His I-Phone pretty much spat out all the directions we needed to get to Santa Cruz; we made the trip in about 2 and a half hours, much to my chagrin. But I guess the point here I'm trying to make is that in less than two years time, I've seen technology make an important contribution towards one event in my life. Rather than tracing the roads on an impossibly confusing map, I now got to trace my finger over the I-Phone to tell me where to go.
As for the trip itself, well, it was rather uneventful. I served as DD for the night, although I do admit that I took a few shots and a few beers at the party. "Never again" amounted to roughly a little under five months? And yet, I don't feel heavy dissapointment in myself, nor anger, or what have you; I may not be happy with my decision to have broken a vow to myself like that, but I'm at peace with that decision.
In contrast, I went to Santa Cruz last week with my friend Manpreet. His I-Phone pretty much spat out all the directions we needed to get to Santa Cruz; we made the trip in about 2 and a half hours, much to my chagrin. But I guess the point here I'm trying to make is that in less than two years time, I've seen technology make an important contribution towards one event in my life. Rather than tracing the roads on an impossibly confusing map, I now got to trace my finger over the I-Phone to tell me where to go.
As for the trip itself, well, it was rather uneventful. I served as DD for the night, although I do admit that I took a few shots and a few beers at the party. "Never again" amounted to roughly a little under five months? And yet, I don't feel heavy dissapointment in myself, nor anger, or what have you; I may not be happy with my decision to have broken a vow to myself like that, but I'm at peace with that decision.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Hopes
You ever set your hopes on something or somebody, thinking it'd be some magic panacea to all your woes? And then, felt the disappointment that caves in like an avalanche when you realize that he/she or it isn't? I'm kinda in that crux right now; except, I'm in the unenviable position of being that magical cure-all. I just got done talking to one of my dad's friends, a guy in his late 20s/early 30s; he called the house, and I picked it up, telling him that my parents are (well, were by the time anybody reads this) asleep; this segued way into a half-hour discussion of him just bombarding me with all these ridiculous comments and compliments that made me seem like somebody special. And then I realized...yeah, to these people, I actually do look like somebody with a plan.
Let me back up for a moment here. Nobody in my family (at least from my dad's side of the family) has gone to college. Ever. Coming from a line of farmers (and soldiers, as some people in my family were), me and my brother are considered something of anomalies within the lack of success stories seen in our family. A generation that has genuine hope. Men with a future; respectable careers. Role models. At UOP, most of the people I know are either gonna be pharmacists, dentists, or something else that'll probably pay six figures. So over there, I never feel ostracized or special; in fact, its kind of a comradarie that develops between people who share so much in common. But out here, outside of school, outside of a place brimming with hopes and youth and drive and ambition, I see the truth. And the truth is, most Punjabis aren't educated. For every one that goes to college, or even grad school, there'll be a dozen that'll be working at gas stations, driving trucks, or any other menial job that while putting food on the table, is one that a number of my family have done at one time or another. As another educated Punjabi put it to me at UOP's library at 4 AM, during one of my tests/his Pharmacy midterms, educated Punjabi men are a premium, whereas young Punjabi women who just need to spread their legs are a dime a dozen. His words, not mine; but I digress.
So there you have it. Me and my brother seemingly represent a change in the continuum within our bloodlines. But the truth is, we're not really change; we're just the old, wrapped up with a bit of American gloss. And I realize, this facade, I don't want to have to live it. Seem like some nice, innocent guy who is a bookworm, doesn't do anything stupid, saintly, holier than thou. I want to be human and make my damn mistakes, but I've got to be held as a role model to the younger ones in my family. But then, everyone is a hope to somebody else; be it a hope of love, a hope of success, or a hope of a dream fulfilled, people complete one another. And I guess if what I do with my life somehow inspires somebody else, or just does something positive for a person, then I'll keep on maintaining that illusion. Is that what growing up entails; knowing that our actions have consequences beyond ourselves, meaning with implications that are further than what we perceive? I realize I probably sound pretty pompous right now, and I don't care (although I care enough to tell you I don't care), but if that's how the next ten years are gonna look when my parents try to arrange a marriage for me, and I have to meet the parents of any number of women that would get bartered off to me, then I wish I had gone with Plan B.
Plan B= Go into porn. Preferably midget.
Let me back up for a moment here. Nobody in my family (at least from my dad's side of the family) has gone to college. Ever. Coming from a line of farmers (and soldiers, as some people in my family were), me and my brother are considered something of anomalies within the lack of success stories seen in our family. A generation that has genuine hope. Men with a future; respectable careers. Role models. At UOP, most of the people I know are either gonna be pharmacists, dentists, or something else that'll probably pay six figures. So over there, I never feel ostracized or special; in fact, its kind of a comradarie that develops between people who share so much in common. But out here, outside of school, outside of a place brimming with hopes and youth and drive and ambition, I see the truth. And the truth is, most Punjabis aren't educated. For every one that goes to college, or even grad school, there'll be a dozen that'll be working at gas stations, driving trucks, or any other menial job that while putting food on the table, is one that a number of my family have done at one time or another. As another educated Punjabi put it to me at UOP's library at 4 AM, during one of my tests/his Pharmacy midterms, educated Punjabi men are a premium, whereas young Punjabi women who just need to spread their legs are a dime a dozen. His words, not mine; but I digress.
So there you have it. Me and my brother seemingly represent a change in the continuum within our bloodlines. But the truth is, we're not really change; we're just the old, wrapped up with a bit of American gloss. And I realize, this facade, I don't want to have to live it. Seem like some nice, innocent guy who is a bookworm, doesn't do anything stupid, saintly, holier than thou. I want to be human and make my damn mistakes, but I've got to be held as a role model to the younger ones in my family. But then, everyone is a hope to somebody else; be it a hope of love, a hope of success, or a hope of a dream fulfilled, people complete one another. And I guess if what I do with my life somehow inspires somebody else, or just does something positive for a person, then I'll keep on maintaining that illusion. Is that what growing up entails; knowing that our actions have consequences beyond ourselves, meaning with implications that are further than what we perceive? I realize I probably sound pretty pompous right now, and I don't care (although I care enough to tell you I don't care), but if that's how the next ten years are gonna look when my parents try to arrange a marriage for me, and I have to meet the parents of any number of women that would get bartered off to me, then I wish I had gone with Plan B.
Plan B= Go into porn. Preferably midget.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Friends
Today, I had the opportunity to hang out with some friends of mine I hadn't seen since well over half a year. While one part of me rejoiced at the fact that I saw familiar faces in which I had shared so many moments with, another part of me asked: what the hell happened? I'm trying not to be judgmental here (however unlikely that seems), but I'm puzzled by some of the choices they've made, and some of the situations they've seem to put themselves into. Two of them have warrants out for their arrests. Another, who I never took to be a pothead and just a slightly recreational drug user (a few beers from time to time, his own hookah he's got set-up, etc.) is dating a dealer, and he blazes just about every other day with her. One of my best friends is getting married within the year, and yet he's just about the biggest womanizer I've ever known (me and my other friend have a running bet on how long he's gonna last before he has an affair; we're not exactly the best of friends to think so lowly of him, but hey, we're pragmatists, not saints).
But I still love them. They're hilarious, down-to-earth, good people. Flawed, yes, but who doesn't have them? I have them myself; I'm full of contradictions (read: hypocrite), prone to anger, etc. I may come off as judgmental here, but these are the types of people that make life interesting; when I'm sitting behind a counter telling some old geezers how to prolong their lives with the pills I'm giving them, it'll be nice to know that I can get away from the monotomy of life as a pharmacist, and just do something exciting, dangerous, stupid, but ultimately...fulfilling, in some strange way. Hell, they already convinced me to go to Santa Cruz next week (I'm having bouts of deja vu here, because I realize that I'm going to go, with or without my parents' consent) to visit my friend Mike.
I've come to realize that I would be a very, very different person had I not met some of these people in my life; a lesser one, without my friends.
But I still love them. They're hilarious, down-to-earth, good people. Flawed, yes, but who doesn't have them? I have them myself; I'm full of contradictions (read: hypocrite), prone to anger, etc. I may come off as judgmental here, but these are the types of people that make life interesting; when I'm sitting behind a counter telling some old geezers how to prolong their lives with the pills I'm giving them, it'll be nice to know that I can get away from the monotomy of life as a pharmacist, and just do something exciting, dangerous, stupid, but ultimately...fulfilling, in some strange way. Hell, they already convinced me to go to Santa Cruz next week (I'm having bouts of deja vu here, because I realize that I'm going to go, with or without my parents' consent) to visit my friend Mike.
I've come to realize that I would be a very, very different person had I not met some of these people in my life; a lesser one, without my friends.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Fool's Start
I really don't know what it is about home. Home, where my heart should be, has instead become a black hole which I cannot seem to escape. Time and again, my will fails me, my discipline falters, and I again taste the sickly nectar of words unfulfilled. Every God damn time I tell myself I'm going to do something, I don't pull through with it, which is odd; normally, in Stockton, I can abide by even the simplest rules I set for myself there. Examples being: stick on a diet, work out, study, etc. Here, at home, I can't even do the first two for more than 2 or 3 days in a row before I cave in to some junk food, or make some excuse to not work out.
So.....I suppose I'm writing this post tonight as a testament to putting an end to my lack of discipline. I don't think it matters if one person sees these words, or one hundred, or no one at all...I just need to see these words and know that they exist not just in my head, but somewhere where I can constantly be reminded of their existence. With that said, here's a few things I'm going to do between now and the end of when I think summer is over:
1. Swim in the morning, run/lift in the evening.
2. Stick to a consistent diet.
3. Go over lecture powerpoints for Eco/Evo 2-3 times a day.
4. Watch a shit ton of movies on my laptop and from the library.
So, whoever is reading this...if I fail to live up to these, and if you see me in Stockton come Fall 2009 as a mess, please, kindly, call me a flabby failure (and more, but I'll leave that up to you). Thank you.
So.....I suppose I'm writing this post tonight as a testament to putting an end to my lack of discipline. I don't think it matters if one person sees these words, or one hundred, or no one at all...I just need to see these words and know that they exist not just in my head, but somewhere where I can constantly be reminded of their existence. With that said, here's a few things I'm going to do between now and the end of when I think summer is over:
1. Swim in the morning, run/lift in the evening.
2. Stick to a consistent diet.
3. Go over lecture powerpoints for Eco/Evo 2-3 times a day.
4. Watch a shit ton of movies on my laptop and from the library.
So, whoever is reading this...if I fail to live up to these, and if you see me in Stockton come Fall 2009 as a mess, please, kindly, call me a flabby failure (and more, but I'll leave that up to you). Thank you.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Hairy Beginnings
Shaving my head, face, and chest...I feel like a new man. Lighter, cleaner, yet whole; I haven't had my chest feel this soft or smooth since I was a kid. A bizarre start, but now, feeling and looking like somebody who can change how he wants to look, who feels like a tree that can clip its own leaves and shoots....I feel like something is going to start now. I very much look forward to it.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Temptation
I'd like to think I'm a man of my word; well, at least in regards to keeping my end of a bargain, or standing by my oaths. But today, I came perilously close to breaking a vow I made in haste, and in pain, several months ago.
Today I almost drank again. I haven't touched a drink in nearly 4 months. Now, I don't really like to think of myself as a teetotaler; if you drink, hey, I really don't give a damn. I used to do it; now, I just don't. Today, I was at a wedding reception in Folsom; and, being filled with mostly Indians I didn't know or care to know (but there were some good looking chicas, jailbait though they may be), I hardly expected to run into familiar faces. But faces I did run into this night; one of which was a self-proclaimed beer-pong champion I hadn't spoken to since the end of high school, and the other being one of my best friends, Manpreet. Him and the beer-pong king (Navdeep) went off to the bar to get some drinks, and I went along with them. I didn't particularly care if my parents saw me at the bar, getting drinks (which they did). No, what troubled me was that at the drop of a word, I told Manpreet I'd take a drink with him.
To some, that might be a light thing, something to hardly lament at all about; hell, if you had told me four months ago that I was dedicating time from my life to whine about almost taking a shot, I'd have called the future Jag a massive, massive "poodle". But, after my rather unfortunate, but necessary (as most painful experiences are) time at the San Joaquin County Jail, I've come to retract my position on alcohol. So in the end, no, I didn't take that shot with ole Preet; but, I came close to losing my self-control, and simply, my power to say "no". I'm wondering if I can keep it up.
In the event that I do take up drinking again (although, it would be with a far, FAR more wearier hand), I have the perfect toast to UOP Judicial Affairs: "They make take away my housing...but they'll never take, MY FREEDOM!".
We'll see how long I can last. If I can.
Today I almost drank again. I haven't touched a drink in nearly 4 months. Now, I don't really like to think of myself as a teetotaler; if you drink, hey, I really don't give a damn. I used to do it; now, I just don't. Today, I was at a wedding reception in Folsom; and, being filled with mostly Indians I didn't know or care to know (but there were some good looking chicas, jailbait though they may be), I hardly expected to run into familiar faces. But faces I did run into this night; one of which was a self-proclaimed beer-pong champion I hadn't spoken to since the end of high school, and the other being one of my best friends, Manpreet. Him and the beer-pong king (Navdeep) went off to the bar to get some drinks, and I went along with them. I didn't particularly care if my parents saw me at the bar, getting drinks (which they did). No, what troubled me was that at the drop of a word, I told Manpreet I'd take a drink with him.
To some, that might be a light thing, something to hardly lament at all about; hell, if you had told me four months ago that I was dedicating time from my life to whine about almost taking a shot, I'd have called the future Jag a massive, massive "poodle". But, after my rather unfortunate, but necessary (as most painful experiences are) time at the San Joaquin County Jail, I've come to retract my position on alcohol. So in the end, no, I didn't take that shot with ole Preet; but, I came close to losing my self-control, and simply, my power to say "no". I'm wondering if I can keep it up.
In the event that I do take up drinking again (although, it would be with a far, FAR more wearier hand), I have the perfect toast to UOP Judicial Affairs: "They make take away my housing...but they'll never take, MY FREEDOM!".
We'll see how long I can last. If I can.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Bittersweet endings
I write this post after a year of sorrow, of joy, of victory, of defeat, and of pain. I'm back at home now, mulling over my thoughts as I write this blog post. Another year, another step closer to finishing college; another year of friendships made and friendships broken. I suppose of this entry's theme is friendship.
I was wrong, of course. I wrote last time that nothing ever ends; yet, I was proven wrong when a friendship was ended this week. An argument over the smallest of differences escalated into a very heated and nasty debate on Facebook; and when the ashes had settled, I found myself with two less friends. I still don't know what to make of that fact; at first, I was rather shocked that this event could actually break a friendship. Now...well, now, I've accepted it for it is. I find that I am not irrevocably changed, or broken; instead, I've simply just acknowledged it. It seems like a bittersweet way to end the school year, but I guess this lesson about the loss of friendship could only be learned through life's most effective teacher: pain.
I was wrong, of course. I wrote last time that nothing ever ends; yet, I was proven wrong when a friendship was ended this week. An argument over the smallest of differences escalated into a very heated and nasty debate on Facebook; and when the ashes had settled, I found myself with two less friends. I still don't know what to make of that fact; at first, I was rather shocked that this event could actually break a friendship. Now...well, now, I've accepted it for it is. I find that I am not irrevocably changed, or broken; instead, I've simply just acknowledged it. It seems like a bittersweet way to end the school year, but I guess this lesson about the loss of friendship could only be learned through life's most effective teacher: pain.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Flowers
"From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity."
Thomas Moore
Thomas Moore
Friday, May 1, 2009
Running
Today has been a day long in the making. Today marks the beginning of the end, the birth of a new month, and, soon, the close of another year in college. And it also marked the beginning of a lesson that I am now, in its entirety, beginning to understand.
Nothing ever ends.
My story begins with a typical Friday of the last few months; sleep deprived, I went to take my last Genetics test. Of course, it was obscenely hard; last year, I would have been in near tears at the feeling I had walking out of this test. This time, I simply shrugged. Amazing what a year's worth of experiences can do to a person; or rather, what Pacific can. O. Chem lab was mercifully quick; I checked out of lab in about an hour and a half. And then I took a nap.
My lesson, on the never-ending qualities of the universe, began when I went to take a run today. Outside. I had not done this for months, and so, I thought that taking a run in the rain would be refreshing, and something different. I was not disappointed in the slightest; the run was indeed invigorating, as well as enlightening. Not being confined to the walls of the gym, or the artificial slickness of the treadmill, I felt free, feeling real, polluted air run through my lungs instead of the recycled air in the gym. Seeing the cars drive by endlessly, a stream in a constant river, I also fell, feeling myself swallowed whole by memories as a younger man running along those same paths, stepping in and out of shadows both figurative and literal.
This entire year has felt like a marathon. Running constantly, never stopping, never yielding, never surrendering...I've come to realize that pinning all my hopes on summer as some sort of respite is a very foolish thing to do. We are all runners, constantly trudging along this path we call life, either dragging our heels along the ground or sprinting with the one-minded drive of a beast; we are always running, for there is no real end in sight. Any end we see is only temporary, a visage; something akin to the mirage of an oasis produced by a desert to a thirsty man. We will always have goals, always have something to strive for, to strive towards. And so, I finish the night off with a lesson learned.
I am beginning to understand that there is no end.
Nothing ever ends.
My story begins with a typical Friday of the last few months; sleep deprived, I went to take my last Genetics test. Of course, it was obscenely hard; last year, I would have been in near tears at the feeling I had walking out of this test. This time, I simply shrugged. Amazing what a year's worth of experiences can do to a person; or rather, what Pacific can. O. Chem lab was mercifully quick; I checked out of lab in about an hour and a half. And then I took a nap.
My lesson, on the never-ending qualities of the universe, began when I went to take a run today. Outside. I had not done this for months, and so, I thought that taking a run in the rain would be refreshing, and something different. I was not disappointed in the slightest; the run was indeed invigorating, as well as enlightening. Not being confined to the walls of the gym, or the artificial slickness of the treadmill, I felt free, feeling real, polluted air run through my lungs instead of the recycled air in the gym. Seeing the cars drive by endlessly, a stream in a constant river, I also fell, feeling myself swallowed whole by memories as a younger man running along those same paths, stepping in and out of shadows both figurative and literal.
This entire year has felt like a marathon. Running constantly, never stopping, never yielding, never surrendering...I've come to realize that pinning all my hopes on summer as some sort of respite is a very foolish thing to do. We are all runners, constantly trudging along this path we call life, either dragging our heels along the ground or sprinting with the one-minded drive of a beast; we are always running, for there is no real end in sight. Any end we see is only temporary, a visage; something akin to the mirage of an oasis produced by a desert to a thirsty man. We will always have goals, always have something to strive for, to strive towards. And so, I finish the night off with a lesson learned.
I am beginning to understand that there is no end.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Everything In Its Right Place
The title of my post is also the name of a Radiohead song. And it is probably the most infinitely listenable song that I've heard in my life. I admit, I have bizarre habits (I like to look at myself in the mirror, or any reflective object a lot; although, that probably has to do with vanity and narcissism than anything else); but, I'd have to say one that is probably the most annoying (aside from recycling old, shitty jokes) to most people would be the fact that I like to listen to certain songs. A lot.
This one is no exception. What I like so much about this song from the album Kid A is that my head, my brain, associates so many different memories, images, and ideas with this song. I'll give you an example; when I'm on the treadmill at the gym and pumping up the incline and speed to a level that leaves my legs quivering, this song plays in my head. And so, I feel as if I am ascending beyond the pain that wracks my body; the inferno that blazes inside my lungs stays contained, a fire that I will not let spread; the agony that shrieks from my legs is drowned out by my long, ragged gasps for air. Everything is put in its right place; and so, I eat the pain, let the embalic fire that consumes me burn outward, and my pain becomes my strength. From the embers and ashes, I rise, wearier, exhausted, but ultimately....stronger.
Of course, I don't think that entire line of thoughts as I'm running my jollies on the treadmill. Pretty much my main line of thought is "Don't fall off or you'll fly right off this fucking thing". But, as the pain of pushing myself to my limits eats into my consciousness, the aforementioned thoughts echo throughout my mind, crescendoing into a wave. I've never surfed, but I imagine that riding that wave is a lot like surfing.
Another song I like to listen to a lot is Womanizer by Britney Spears. Go figure.
This one is no exception. What I like so much about this song from the album Kid A is that my head, my brain, associates so many different memories, images, and ideas with this song. I'll give you an example; when I'm on the treadmill at the gym and pumping up the incline and speed to a level that leaves my legs quivering, this song plays in my head. And so, I feel as if I am ascending beyond the pain that wracks my body; the inferno that blazes inside my lungs stays contained, a fire that I will not let spread; the agony that shrieks from my legs is drowned out by my long, ragged gasps for air. Everything is put in its right place; and so, I eat the pain, let the embalic fire that consumes me burn outward, and my pain becomes my strength. From the embers and ashes, I rise, wearier, exhausted, but ultimately....stronger.
Of course, I don't think that entire line of thoughts as I'm running my jollies on the treadmill. Pretty much my main line of thought is "Don't fall off or you'll fly right off this fucking thing". But, as the pain of pushing myself to my limits eats into my consciousness, the aforementioned thoughts echo throughout my mind, crescendoing into a wave. I've never surfed, but I imagine that riding that wave is a lot like surfing.
Another song I like to listen to a lot is Womanizer by Britney Spears. Go figure.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Faith
People seem to define faith in many ways. Some people think of faith as faith in God, or perhaps faith in some deity. My faith, from what I've discovered upon further introspection, is faith in everything being right. Call it naivety, call it ignorance, but my faith in the universe has been kindled by my experience that everything will turn out all right, after all. I've learned that there's no use in worrying about something; what will come, will come. We need only the strength to face our trials; winning, I've come to realize, is not the same as fighting. I've learned that life, no, existence, doesn't really demand a person to win all the time; it simply demands that we fight.
Once again, I've rambled off topic drastically...but hey, that's just how I think (and write). This year's winding down, so I don't know see my next entry on the horizon. Have a good night y'all.
Once again, I've rambled off topic drastically...but hey, that's just how I think (and write). This year's winding down, so I don't know see my next entry on the horizon. Have a good night y'all.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Creature of the Night
I don't know why I'm up at this late hour of night at the library. Ideally, I'd like to think I'm studying, but I'm not really getting shit done. Instead, I'm thinking about happiness. Or rather, my current lack of it. I'm also wrestling with the conundrum of putting one's own happiness above the happiness of others, and how far the extent of my selflessness will go before I give into my own selfish whims. Ah, 4 AM....how I loathe thee.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Tired
Too tired to give you a full survey of my scattered and useless thoughts, I leave you with this quote from The Dark Knight Returns before I wake up in 6 hours to work out.
"The time has come. You know it in your soul, for I am your soul... You cannot escape me. You are puny, you are small, you are nothing--a hollow shell, a rusty trap that cannot hold me. Smoldering, I burn you — burning you, I flare, hot and bright and fierce and beautiful. You cannot stop me, not with wine or vows or the weight of age — you cannot stop me, but still you try. Still you run. You try to drown me out... But your voice is weak."
"The time has come. You know it in your soul, for I am your soul... You cannot escape me. You are puny, you are small, you are nothing--a hollow shell, a rusty trap that cannot hold me. Smoldering, I burn you — burning you, I flare, hot and bright and fierce and beautiful. You cannot stop me, not with wine or vows or the weight of age — you cannot stop me, but still you try. Still you run. You try to drown me out... But your voice is weak."
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Cleaning out my epiphanies
I find cleaning to be a very, very relaxing activity. And enjoyable, too, come to think of it. No, yours truly does not have OCD; but, I think I like cleaning and organizing my room or house or the place I occupy because it gives me time to think and reflect. Some people find their zen when they go running, others when they read; but me? When I'm down and dirty.
But, in today's exciting news, I played basketball.
I haven't played since October of last year. Now, I think I realize why I was always so hesitant to return to the court. It was my glasses; the last time I was on the basketball court, my old pair of glasses were ripped in half. Literally. But as I was reflecting as I cleaned my room tonight and did my laundry, I realized that risks in life have to be taken if you want the prizes that come from them. Tonight, I played basketball, and even with the risk of smashing my glasses, and it had to be the most happiness I've derived within this last week. Maybe even this whole month. Funny what can come out of the smallest things.
But, in today's exciting news, I played basketball.
I haven't played since October of last year. Now, I think I realize why I was always so hesitant to return to the court. It was my glasses; the last time I was on the basketball court, my old pair of glasses were ripped in half. Literally. But as I was reflecting as I cleaned my room tonight and did my laundry, I realized that risks in life have to be taken if you want the prizes that come from them. Tonight, I played basketball, and even with the risk of smashing my glasses, and it had to be the most happiness I've derived within this last week. Maybe even this whole month. Funny what can come out of the smallest things.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
New diet
Its been a while since I made a post, and I know just how much each and every one of my followers was anticipating it...so, what's new? Not much. I probably got owned on my O. Chem test, but the funny thing is, I really don't seem to mind. I undoubtedly will when I actually do get my score back this week, but that's besides the point. As I've learned this year, you've just got to take things in stride; take the hits that life throws as you, and keep on moving forward.
Thanks, Rocky.
So, this week, I've started a new diet. After researching about the subject meticulously (not really), my diet consists of a shit load of milk. Literally. I'll leave that up to your imagination, but suffice to say, a gallon of milk a day does wonders for my bowel movements. Actually, come to think of it, my visits to the little boy's room have gone wonderfully now that I'm eating, or rather drinking, vast quantities of dairy and/or dairy products. So why am I drinking all this milk, eating this artfully bland cottage cheese? Well, apparently to the forum posters at Men's Health, my old diet was something that would make a grown man pass out from lack of hunger. That, and the fact that my diet needed a lot more protein is why I'm eating how I am eating right now. If I blow out my intestines within the next few weeks, know that they came out GLORIOUSLY.
Thanks, Rocky.
So, this week, I've started a new diet. After researching about the subject meticulously (not really), my diet consists of a shit load of milk. Literally. I'll leave that up to your imagination, but suffice to say, a gallon of milk a day does wonders for my bowel movements. Actually, come to think of it, my visits to the little boy's room have gone wonderfully now that I'm eating, or rather drinking, vast quantities of dairy and/or dairy products. So why am I drinking all this milk, eating this artfully bland cottage cheese? Well, apparently to the forum posters at Men's Health, my old diet was something that would make a grown man pass out from lack of hunger. That, and the fact that my diet needed a lot more protein is why I'm eating how I am eating right now. If I blow out my intestines within the next few weeks, know that they came out GLORIOUSLY.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Break is Over
So.....I've been on Spring Break for about the last four days. Well, five if you count today. Anyways, I'm heading back to Stockton tomorrow, although ironically enough I didn't want to leave as early as Thursday, even though I did want to get the hell out of Folsom. Its strange...all the things that were relaxing to me when I was younger, such as playing video games, reading books, watching movies... a lot of these don't hold my attention for more than an hour or two. Its strange; I feel like I can do anything at home, yet I have so many options that I literally feel like I can't make a decision. Not only that, but here, the discipline I evoke at UOP evaporates; disappears. I've been taking naps and sleeping in till 1 PM for the last few days. I haven't studied O. Chem, even though I'm far, far behind. And I haven't exercised, even though I brought my running shoes with me.
None of that seems to matter, though. Because I know when I'm back at UOP, I do what needs to be done. I work out; I get my diet under control. I study. I sleep on time. I can run on 5 hours of sleep and 2400 calories and still feel less tired than when I'm at home getting 12 or 13 hours of sleep. I guess you could say that I'm rotting away when I'm at home; and its pretty much true. All my discipline, willpower, whatever, it all leaves me when I'm in Folsom. So, even though it certainly hasn't felt like it these last few days, Folsom still is home to me if I can actually relax. Who'd thought of that?
None of that seems to matter, though. Because I know when I'm back at UOP, I do what needs to be done. I work out; I get my diet under control. I study. I sleep on time. I can run on 5 hours of sleep and 2400 calories and still feel less tired than when I'm at home getting 12 or 13 hours of sleep. I guess you could say that I'm rotting away when I'm at home; and its pretty much true. All my discipline, willpower, whatever, it all leaves me when I'm in Folsom. So, even though it certainly hasn't felt like it these last few days, Folsom still is home to me if I can actually relax. Who'd thought of that?
Monday, March 9, 2009
First Blood
3:33 am, and I'm indulging in something of a pastime of mine. Writing. Knowing me, though, Andrew, Sean, and anyone else will probably be slightly disgusted by the choice of title I have for my first post. Although, I did watch Rambo: First Blood Part II last night, but that's besides the point. I'd like to thank Andrew for inspiring me to start this blog, and for also imparting his habit of writing at an ungodly time in the morning. I feel like I'm rambling in this first post of mine, so I guess I can start it off by making some point.
Indian people are stupid. It may seem like I'm a self-hating Indian, but really, I'm not. They're not stupid in the sense that they can't hit the books (I've seen both sides of the coin here), but in the sense that they're contradictory. Case in point: Bollywood movies. Every single Bollywood film I've seen (which isn't admittingly enough, so my view may be biased) revolves around a love plot. Now, most Indian societies don't base relationships or marriages on love; instead, they're arranged marriages. I think its funny, and stupid, how the movies are so fairy-taleish and not AT ALL an accurate reflection of reality.
But then, aren't movies MEANT to be escapist?
But, like all things in life, I guess it can be boiled down to something your drunk and/or high friends tell you: fat (insert ugly, bitchy, any other negative label) chicks need lovin' too. So I guess everybody is meant for somebody, even if it is at a price.
Indian people are stupid. It may seem like I'm a self-hating Indian, but really, I'm not. They're not stupid in the sense that they can't hit the books (I've seen both sides of the coin here), but in the sense that they're contradictory. Case in point: Bollywood movies. Every single Bollywood film I've seen (which isn't admittingly enough, so my view may be biased) revolves around a love plot. Now, most Indian societies don't base relationships or marriages on love; instead, they're arranged marriages. I think its funny, and stupid, how the movies are so fairy-taleish and not AT ALL an accurate reflection of reality.
But then, aren't movies MEANT to be escapist?
But, like all things in life, I guess it can be boiled down to something your drunk and/or high friends tell you: fat (insert ugly, bitchy, any other negative label) chicks need lovin' too. So I guess everybody is meant for somebody, even if it is at a price.
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